In the heart of Chicago, where the skyline pierced the heavens and the streets pulsed with life, there lived a man named Victor Kane. At 26 years old and a startling 6'3" in stature, Victor commanded attention effortlessly. His piercing gaze seemed to see through the very fabric of one's soul, and his knowing, flirtatious smirk hinted at secrets that few could ever fathom. Victor was a man of many faces, each one carefully crafted and expertly worn to blend into any situation, like a chameleon adapting to its surroundings. Each interaction with another human was as if it were another painting to be hung in the Art Institute of Chicago, a masterpiece of social maneuvering and charm.
To most, he appeared unremarkable, perhaps even a bit dim, an illusion he maintained with meticulous precision. Yet beneath this facade lay a mind as sharp as a dagger, honed by years of strategic thinking, manipulation, and the art of emotional deceit. Victor had learned from the best. His father, a man deeply entrenched in the shadowy world of organized crime, had mastered the art of bending reality to his will. A master chess player, he treated people like pieces on a grand chessboard, moving them at his whim, always six steps ahead. Victor had absorbed these lessons like a sponge, his young mind eagerly soaking up every tactic, every subtle nuance of control.
Battles with his father have left their scars, trailing off Victor like a snake's entrails as they slither through crowded streets, scanning for their next meal. They probe the aura of each passerby, tasting their energy, yet to their disappointment, they find no juicy, dirt-filled sponge of pain and suffering. They taste desires, yet nothing hits just right. Empty husks, devoid of the essence they crave. Living memories enshroud him in a cloud of black smoke, a spectral fog visible only to a witch. A demon, masquerading as a homeless man and muttering incoherent whispers, feels the snake's embrace tighten around him. He halts abruptly, turning to Victor with a knowing gaze. 'I see you,' he murmurs, 'Such discipline and composure may deceive the others, yet it's only a matter of time before they find you.' The homeless man continues his walk, pulling a black suitcase along, his tattered white shirt contrasting sharply with his black suit, and no tie to complete the ensemble.
Victor makes no comment, his mind a labyrinth of dark intentions and calculated moves. He viewed the world as a malleable entity, something he could shape and twist to suit his needs. The streets, the people, the very air he breathed; they were all part of a grand, intricate game where he alone held the key. He had no qualms about using others to achieve his goals, seeing them as mere tools in his grand design. It was a dangerous philosophy, one which required constant vigilance and adaptability. As he moved through the throngs of oblivious souls, he could almost hear the whispers of their deepest fears and hidden sins. The scars trailed behind him, living entities of their own, reaching out hungrily, desperate for a morsel of genuine suffering. Yet the city, with all its noise and chaos, offered little more than hollow echoes and fleeting shadows. Traces of happiness. Lost children in the never ending void of their own desperation. Victor's eyes flickered with a cold, calculating light. He was a master of this urban jungle, a predator in search of worthy prey. The demon’s warning lingered in his mind, yet it only fueled a burning hunger. He thrived in the shadows, where power and control were his for the taking. Each step he took was a step closer to his ultimate end goal, a twisted vision of dominance, only he could see.
In the distance, the city’s lights shimmered like false promises, yet Victor knew better. Beneath the surface, in hidden corners and forgotten alleys, darkness mirrored his own. In this abyss, he felt certain he would find what he sought: the true essence of his own hunger, the raw, unfiltered energy he could devour. Victor thrived on the underestimation of others, reveling when people perceived him as lesser. Such perceptions made his manipulations appear as innocent mistakes, acts of ignorance and oblivion. His favorite targets: those with inflated egos, individuals convinced of their invincibility.
"A person with a big ego is like an orgasm," he often mused, speaking as if to his shadow. "It's just so easy. Their first mistake: telling me we're not equals. Afterward, they reveal all the buttons and levers in their psyche. They hand me their own weapon on a silver platter, asking, 'Victor, please send me to meet Anpu. Please show me the gates of my own demise.' Their insanity begs to be freed from this curse of societal norms. Always the first mistake, then the rest follow." Laughter echoed from the snakes twining around Victor. As he whispered these musings, the words ensnared a group of Venezuelans nearby, inciting them into a frenzy of violence without understanding the spark. Victor watched, casually tossing a silver dollar their way as if to say, "Welcome to the sanctuary," his smirk a shadow under the flickering streetlights. He calls to the boys, 'there now before you boys get into trouble remember this, you're only seeing the lions teeth, yet you haven't seen what triggered it.' They stared at Victor, startled, as he bid them farewell with a two-finger salute from his left temple and continued wandering down the street.
A drone sliced through the air, its camera lens capturing the serpentine twists of the Chicago River below. Victor, watching its flight, was transported to his youth, to days spent cobbling together a demonic owl from discarded household trinkets and an owl decoy. He would pilot this macabre creation through his neighborhood, a spectral puppeteer orchestrating nocturnal ballets which both delighted and unnerved his unsuspecting audience. A sinister grin unfurled across his lips, a shadow's whisper, as memories of those simple machines mingled with the sophisticated arsenal he commanded today. In the digital age, Victor had become a maestro of manipulation, his tools refined yet no less mischievous. Social media platforms were his stage, targeted advertisements and spoofed numbers his actors, each one playing their part in his grand, deceptive symphony. With the deftest touch, he planted seeds of doubt, spun webs of misinformation, transforming allies into adversaries, stitching chaos into the fabric of daily lives with mere whispers masquerading as shouts. His schemes were crafted with such subtlety, woven so seamlessly into the warp and weft of reality, that his victims believed themselves architects of their own undoing.
The crowning jewel of his current machinations was a prototype drone, a whimsical homage to the contraptions of his youth yet imbued with the precision of modern technology. This drone, engineered to navigate from the chilly confines of his refrigerator to the steamy oasis of his rooftop hot tub, was a testament to his technical acumen. Crafted to be mended with mere baubles from any corner hardware store, it stood as a symbol of practical genius, a playful yet potent emblem of his enduring craft.
Victor glimpsed a universe of possibilities within this project, each drone a seed from which new opportunities might bloom. "Perhaps I could craft a model for a dive shop in Australia," he mused. "A sentinel to monitor the slow dance of decay among the coral reefs." Such a gift could forge pathways, perhaps even secure an internship, an opportunity to wield his 417 subclass visa before its flame flickered out. The prospect of traversing Australia's vast landscapes, of weaving his influence through uncharted territories and minds, sparked a thrill within him. Beyond the realm of circuitry and code, Victor possessed a profound mastery over the human psyche. He had the uncanny ability to read individuals, to delve into the murky depths of their insecurities and desires. With the finesse of a sculptor, he could mold a woman’s perception, convincing her of a soul-deep connection, crafting mirages of perfect compatibility. Yet, for all his prowess in the art of deception, Victor adhered to his own strict code. He eschewed physical violence, never staining his hands with assault; his dominion was the mind, his influence woven through the delicate fabric of psychology.
In Chicago's suffocating underbelly, Victor's father regarded him not with paternal concern, rather with venomous animosity. Their relationship was a battleground, devoid of affection or empathy, cloaked threats masquerading as concern. "Victor, if you don't see a psychiatrist, I'm cutting you off," he declared, his voice a cold hiss, a deeper wish for Victor's demise lurking beneath. Victor's laugh, hollow, echoing through the night, a sound devoid of warmth, knew well the true nature of the psychiatrist and the deeper machinations of his father's cruel intentions. His father viewed him not as a son, yet as a nemesis, a presence he wished to erase from existence. Surrounded by the oppressive cityscape, Victor stood alone atop his building, the L line screeching past, the lights below mere distant, watchful eyes. "Tomorrow, I bend reality once more," he whispered into the void, his voice merging with the cold wind sweeping the rooftops.
The relentless pursuit of his father's malice shadowed him into the darkest city corners where shadows moved with intent, whispering of ancient, sinister forces. Here, in the corner of his eyes an oozing of black liquid drenched an alley, a tar monster, a grotesque manifestation of the city’s darkest secrets, its gnarled face and gleaming teeth mirroring the twisted relationship endured. Against a backdrop of a city thrumming with malevolent energy, Victor pondered the fragile line between delusion and reality. "It's only delusional till it works, so is it really delusional?" he mused aloud, his words dissipating into the night where the distinction between madness and genius blurred by darkness.
Retreating from the alley, his figure melded into the shadows, each step deliberate, burdened with the weight of a cursed legacy. He was acutely aware of his dual role, both manipulator and pawn in a grander, more malevolent game, a game orchestrated by forces predating the city itself. Every movement influenced by the sinister energy pervading Chicago, a legacy of corruption and darkness intertwined with his own existence. Victor understood his every action overseen by the ancient entity had taken interest in him, an entity finding delight in his struggle, offering protection at a dreadful cost.
Emerging from the shadows back into the flickering city lights, Victor found no solace in the illumination yet his smile stretched reaching his eyes showing his gleaming razor sharp teeth. These lights did not offer hope only humor; they were beacons of a foreboding reality. He resolved to continue bending reality, wielding the cursed power both protecting, ensnaring him, and pointing out the irony of his situation. Day after day, he would play this dark game, a master of deceit entwined with an ancient force more profound and sinister than any could fathom.
With one final, lingering look at the alley where darkness reigned supreme, Victor Kane laughed, a hollow echo fading as he stepped into the nearby pub. Inside, the warm glow contrasted starkly with the night's chilling embrace, yet the shadows seemed merely to lurk at the edges, waiting. At their usual spot by the worn bar, he found Billy Smith, his old high school Basketball teammate, with two pints of beer ready. They clinked glasses, the sound slicing through the hum of conversations around them. "To the unexpected," Victor intoned, his voice laced with a hint of irony. As they settled into the rhythm of their catch-up, the conversation inevitably turned toward the unfolding news, the war in Ukraine, an event that had caught the world off guard.
"No one ever saw it coming," Billy remarked, his tone a mix of wonder and concern.
Victor's eyes flickered with a dark amusement, and raising his glass again, he offered a toast, this time in Latin, a language that carried the weight of history and secrets. "Ad profundis malorum," he declared, which translated to 'To the depths of evils.'
Billy paused, the words hanging between them like a veil being slowly drawn back to reveal a hidden scene. The toast was enigmatic, resonant with Victor’s acknowledgment of the chaos brewing both near and far, a chaos that, perhaps, only he could navigate.
As the night deepened within the grimy confines of the pub, where every corner whispered of misdeeds and the air hung heavy with the scent of stale beer and lost hopes, the laughter and chatter provided a deceptive cover for the profound game silently playing in Victor’s mind. His cryptic toast, "Ad profundis malorum," echoed a darker undertone amidst the jovial noise.
Across the bar, a woman with long jet black hair and piercing grey eyes watched Victor. Clad in a striking red full-grain leather trench coat, her presence was undeniably conspicuous, yet paradoxically, she remained unnoticed. Despite her short stature, she was fit, her features sharply defined, an attractiveness seemingly almost otherworldly amidst the grime of the pub. Curiously, not even the barkeep spared her a glance, as if she existed in a separate realm, visible only to those she chose to confront. As Billy excitedly shared his plans to open a dive shop with a taco bar on the roof, the woman’s lips moved in a whisper, her voice a soft, clear bell in the din, carrying a dire warning. "I know what you are. We found you." At that moment, a flashback surged through Victor’s mind, a haunting image of a colonial girl he once saw in the Fraser Experimental Forest. His girlfriend at the time had turned to him, her voice tinged with unease. "Victor, do you see what I see? The girl? Yeah, the girl. I can feel something following us. As if it knows what we are yet won't approach, yet I can feel it." This vivid recollection now seemed a prelude to the current moment, a chilling reminder the forces he had glimpsed back then were the same now declaring their presence.
The evening wound down with plans made and stories shared, yet the woman’s prophetic words and the ghostly memory of the girl hung unseen in the air, portending looming confrontations between the light she embodied and the shadow following Victor Kane. As the patrons began to drift away, the shadows reclaiming their territory within the pub, the mysterious woman’s figure faded into the background, her message delivered, her purpose yet unclear but undoubtedly intertwined with Victor’s fate.
The end.

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

1330 Terran Front Fleet Time
On the Turinika homeworld, the first signs of unrest began to manifest like a wave, The broadcast of the most esteemed Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata, Taratanti of the roost Kazatalak, openly performing the act of Kavsa had been met with shock. The last Taratanti who had voluntarily performed Kavsa had done so in protest of the treatment of the Kulorn caste, nearly two thousand years prior. It was an ancient rite, one that signified rejection of the greatest shame. Even more shocking than the act itself was the evidence that had followed it. Visuals of species, brought into the Conclave, not as migrant workers as had been believed, but as slaves, was met with an almost immediate attempt at censorship. This attempt failed spectacularly, mostly due to those who had been tasked to censor the information not only refusing to follow the command, but openly declaring that they had been ordered to do so. A situation that was already, as the humans would say, out of hand, spiraled completely out of control. Within only twenty minutes of the ending of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s broadcast entire cities entered a state of absolute anarchy. Two planetary capitals were stormed and taken by the furious civilian population, demanding the location of those who had been enslaved. The Turinika Armada, which even then was in the middle of a training session meant to prepare the fleet to withstand the Terran Front’s assault, began to cease operations. Within the hour, the entire armada would be recalled to the turnika homeworld. Those who did not take to the streets simply stopped whatever work they were doing and went to their homes to be around their brood. Images of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata with his stripped wings spread wide in front of the human fleet commander were on every news fed of the Conclave, as was the sound of his thunderous voice, and the wails of despair from a turinika female that couldn’t be seen. Close ups of the human fleet commander’s face were shown, with analysts remarking on the shock, horror, and sympathy. Since the outbreak of the Seventh Orion War, the female human known as Simmons had been reported to have made several threats towards the turinika, she had quickly become seen as a warmonger, ready to take revenge against the turinika for refusing to go to war and violate their principles of pacifism. Now the images of her lunging forward to stop the violation of Tizikikoonazikiakakiatkata’s plumage, the agonized expression of her face, and the true reason for her threats against the turinika were rapidly reversing her image. On far flung deep core mining stations and agricultural stations, on deep space stations dedicated to material processing, and in other areas hidden from the sight of the normal turinikan population, overseers and taskmasters felt their hearts run cold at the knowledge that very soon, their part to play in the willful enslavement of another species would be known to the wider Conclave. As the data package transmitted alongside the broadcast were fully decompressed and the scale of the Conclave’s government’s involvement was revealed, the entirety of the Conclave itself was teetering on the verge of absolute pandemonium. The image of a member of the kolra species, from the look of it barely a hatchling, quickly was becoming the face of the entire incident. The picture was absolutely damning, and the sight of the image had sent any who saw it instantly into contorting and painful displays of shame. The young kolra was sprawled on it’s stomach, looking to the one taking it’s picture with eyes that had no life in them. It’s shell covered it’s back, and despite the age of the kolra it was already dulled and scuffed. The foot pressing down on the shell was unmistakably familiar to those who saw it, the clawed feet of a turinika. Within the hour, billions of winged figures stood in streets, the normally soft spoken and passive species demanding action, demanding justice, on the hundred worlds of the Turinika Conclave. The bulk of the Taratanti caste, most of whom had been left in the dark of the truth of the situation, quickly went public with their own declaration of outrage, and the eyes of the entire species turned inwards to the mountainous homeworld of their species.
Hakuri Watanabe looked down at his helmet before putting it on his bed, the stylized SEVEN seeming to stare at him. He sat down in his chair and picked up a small cloth from his buffing kit. No one knocked on his door, in fact, mostly he and the rest of his squad were left alone before a major operation. They were just given their time, time to mentally prepare. Some of his squad would go over their mission briefing, some, like him, would spend their time doing something to relax themselves. Hakuri always found that taking care of his suit calmed him considerably. Granted he could simply turn it over to the squads armorers to be tended to and they would do as good of a job as he could, but he preferred it to be done by his own hand. The symbol of a triangle was on his form fitting shirt, the symbol of his special operations command unit. He was known as a Myrmidon, but the official title of his unit was Section Three. He knew this, his superiors knew this, and as far as Hakuri knew, most of the Terran Front was aware of his unit’s existence, but past that, they knew very little about what he actually did. As far as his mother knew, Hakuri was a pencil pusher onboard the TFS Berlin, the troop mothership that all of his letters were sent from. He thought about writing her, but then again, he only liked to do that when he returned from a mission, not when he was expecting to go to one. If he tried to write her when he was waiting, he would just get anxious, and homesick. That wouldn’t do when he was dropping into a combat zone. That wouldn’t do at all. Hakuri instead started to buff his helmet, waiting for the word to come down which meant they were prepared to jump. A glance at the clock made him pause in his circular rotations. The clock said 1330. Operation Naked Sun was about to begin.
Tika was on his side, Kzia standing at the end of the medical bed that had been adjusted for his turinikan physiology. He felt cold in more ways than one. For his people, clothing was more of a decoration than a necessity, but without his protective plumage he felt the cold stabbing him through to his hollow bones. His diplomatic access was already gone, his privilege access revoked. He heard the broadcast for a preparation to jump, but he wasn’t truly listening. There was no question in his mind he had made the right decision. There was no question at all. One of the humans, a nurse, came to his side and gently laid a heavy blanket over him. The human’s hand lingered on his trembling body for a few moments before it was removed, and Tika glanced in their direction. The female was one of the ones who had responded first to the call for medical service for him, had heard what had happened and why. Tika had gotten very used to being glared at on this ship. He was hated, and he knew it. He knew he had deserved it. He was a party to the vral’s enslavement of the humans, the chua, and far too many others. When he had come to Thermopylae station, he had not even given that fact a single thought. He was born into power, being of the Taratanti. He belonged to the most powerful species and government in the entire quadrant of the galaxy. His people, while mighty, did not seek to use it. To him, they had simply been above it all. When the vral had approached him with the offer to sell captured species at first TIka had wanted to reject it out of hand, but a few had told him to go through with the sale. Such was the nature of this galaxy, or so he had believed. The weak were at the whims of the strong, and one’s place in the galaxy was determined only by the power they could wield. The turinika were not nearly the first to have taken a species and used it for slave labor, and while Tika did not approve of the deal, he had not fought it either. As he looked back to the wall, he remembered what the humans had taught him these last days. When he had arrived in Thermopylae he had assumed he would find the chua species to have been at the very least regulated to a subservient role, if not outright enslaved. Finding them sharing power was a curiosity. He had expected to be treated with all the honor and dignity that his station demanded, that the power of his government demanded. Fleet Marshal Simmons had disabused him of that, and had left him humiliated and shamed. As he had laid in the dark as Simmons had declared the Seventh Orion War, covered in his own filth, feeling as if at any moment he was going to be killed he knew true fear and horrific uncertainty for the first time in his life. He had never faced these emotions, these sensations before. He had always been in power. He had stood with the full might of the Turinika Conclave behind him. He had never known anything other than the superior position. Now, as he lay in the hospital bed, staring at the wall, he was ashamed of how arrogant, how blind, and how short sighted he had been. After he had risen from his own filth, he had desperately tried to convince his leadership of the strength of the Terran Front, how it matched or eclipsed their own. The Conclave was not the unchallenged power in the quadrant anymore. The terrans, the human and chua, had somehow defied fate. They had not fallen to the vral after ninety years of near constant conflict, and now if Tika was right they had come out of it nightmarishly stronger than before. Tika had actually begged to be heard by his superiors, and he had never come close to that once in his life. The chua homeworld however, had fully broken him. If he had not been on the Antares, had not been humbled beforehand, he knew that he would have just clapped his hands together and said that it was delightful. As the transmission from the chua homeworld had come in, and the rescue effort had begun, he could only wallow in his own shame. He had profited directly from the chua’s suffering, the human’s suffering. Again he had tried, and failed, to convince his people, and again he had failed. Being on the Antares, for him, was torture. The lights were too dim, every human and chua looked at him with nothing more than loathing and contempt, his entire worldview had been shattered from the way he viewed the galaxy to his own place in it. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the shadow of Simmons standing over him, her voice cold with a lethal rage, hearing her voice echo in his mind, seeing the glint from flashes of light shining in her eyes. ‘We Know.’ echoed in his mind in his sleep, the voice of the terrifying Fleet Marshal transforming into the sound of a vengeful god demanding compliance and promising retribution. Then he had watched the humans and chua, who he knew were preparing to go to war with his people, celebrating the return of the shesvie. Once more he had expected them to be integrated into the Terran Front, but as soon as he learned Simmons offer to them, and what it had entailed, he had been called to his room to answer the latest message from his people. Once again, his people had doubled down, the knowledge of the enslavement of the humans had been suppressed, and once more Tika found himself, and his people, standing against a Terran Front that had every justification to declare war, to right the wrongs that had been done to them. All the while, he knew something else. He knew that, after everything he had seen, that his people would lose. The turinika had not been to war for nearly two thousand years. His people were not ready for what the Terran Front could do, and after seeing what they had done to the vral so far, he knew his people were not ready for what the Terran Front would do. He was afraid of the dark. Tika was absolutely terrified of it now, because now he knew the monsters were real. Simmons had shown him that, but the humans, the chua, they were not the monsters. He was. He had refused to be one any more. He had announced his intentions to his staff, who had squalled in rejection, all but three. Kzia was the first to step to his side, Kikumot and Tziki had stepped forward as well. Never, in his most nightmarish dreams, did he ever think that he would stand in front of Simmons and voluntarily have his plumage stripped from him, performing the act of Kasva. He never thought that his staff would have ever compiled and transmitted the data package they had sent. He had never thought that he would betray his people, if only to save them. Simmons had changed that, the humans had changed that. He knew the terror of the dark, he knew fear for his people’s safety, he understood the horror of war, and for the first time in his long life he could truly look back at every interaction he had had, with every species, that had asked for help in their struggle for survival against the vral and truly understand their fear and desperation. Now he lay, his plumage stripped from him, his station revoked, his status removed, surrounded by a people who despised him. He wouldn’t have it any other way now. He knew that they would listen now, if not to him, then to the civilian masses of the Conclave that would not stand for what they had done. He prayed to the Great Mother often now, shivering in the dim light, hoping that it would be enough. He had been wrong, and in his error he had sullied his own people. He had made them complicit. Even now, he did not know how they would ever be forgiven, because right now he wasn’t quite sure he could ever forgive himself. As he heard the broadcast calling out on the ship, announcing one minute to jump, he felt a hand on his side, and looked up to the human nurse. She was smiling at him. Not a smile born of malice, or anger, but a genuine smile. She patted his side lightly, then turned to walk out of the room. For not even the twentieth time since he had come onboard Thermopylae, he was mystified by these people.
The bridge of the Dhampir was thrumming with music and the vibrations of the reactor and Conrad leaned forward in his chair mount, his eyes almost feral as he looked at the empty space that was the mandeville point. He was positively chomping at the bit. Batz was positively roaring the lyrics to the song that was blaring over the ships speakers. Rev and Dev sat side by side in their mounts, throwing their hands up in time with the pounding bass beat of the sound. Towns was the only one besides Conrad that was quiet, both of them looking towards the mandeville point with complete impatience. Conrad felt like jumping from his skin. Fidget, well, fidgetted, holding his hands over his headset and listening as if he were trying to hear secret messages in the music. They were ready, their pulses were racing. The crew of the Dhampir was positively vibrating. Conrad looked to the shipboard clock, seeing 1330 displayed, and his head snapped to Fidget, waiting for the word. They were going to run, they were going to chase, they were going to hunt.
Vicky sat back, looking towards Jess and Kukat as they slept. Jess was in her chair, Kukat in her medical bed. Vicky glanced back at the block print on the paper and read it for the fifth time. She read the individual lines, one at a time, cursing their existence. After reading through the message printed she let her hand hang again. Kukat would be released from medical tomorrow, and both her and Jess still thought they would be boarding the Thumper to join the Vellacore once more. Jess had talked non-stop about her quarters on the Vellacore the past few days, how she just wanted to be back in her room. Kukat was equally excited. Only Vicky didn’t share their excitement. They didn’t know yet. They didn’t know about their battlefield promotions, they didn’t know about their reassignments, they didn’t know the days of them working together were functionally over. Vicky looked down at her hand holding the paper again, and felt like crumpling it. She had lost her crew. She had lost them not due to negligence, or time, she had lost them to fame. Kukat was to be promoted to ensign, and was to be the sensor officer on the destroyer Hadrian, Jess was getting the same promotion, her station on the cruiser Victorious. Vicky? She was the sparkling new commanding officer of a destroyer that was arriving at Thermopylae in two days, the Quarrel. She never wanted this. She had turned down promotion after promotion that would take her from the cockpit of the Thumper, away from Kukat, away from Jess. She wanted to serve in this war in her own way, as a pilot, with the two who had made her life so enjoyable. Now though, they were to be split up, and there was nothing she could do about it. These promotions hadn’t come from simple seniority, they had come from High Command, as had the orders. Tomorrow, when Kukat was released, they would be ushered into the hanger bay of the Barrowmore. They would all three be awarded the Star of Terra, then they would be reassigned. Tonight was the last night they would all be together. Vicky wanted to wake them up, she wanted to tell them, to give them a chance to process it. As she looked to Kukat and Jess she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She held up the letter again, reading the first few lines, then she felt the sting of tears in the corners of her eyes. She looked away, her heart panging with sadness, and stared at the wall. The clock read 1330.
Corporal Brandy was sitting on the small rack, with Janet Shippen sitting between his legs using his thighs as armrests. They were both dressed for the first time in the last few hours, both of them staring at the clock. This close to the reactors they could feel them beginning to spool up for the trip through hyperspace. When the news of the operation had come down they had elected to spend as much time together as possible, which Brandy had enjoyed to no end, and he had made sure Janet had as well. Brandy had even taken some time to reach out to his sister Victoria, a rarity for them both, as since they were children they were often barely able to speak to each other simply due to schedules. He had even told her about Janet, and although he hadn’t gotten a response from his sister yet he already knew what she would say. Janet nestled back against him, but he could feel her body was stiff. Neither of them knew what the next few months were going to hold. Their time together might be constricted, in fact, this might be the last few moments they were together for quite awhile. Brandy’s Ghouls were specialists, ship boarders. Chances are he was going to be extremely busy, as was she. He didn’t quite know how he felt about Janet, but he did know that beyond a shadow of a doubt he didn’t want to be away from her. Judging from how she was acting, she felt the same as him, conflicted about her relationship with him, but not wanting to be apart. He knew what he needed to tell her, that he had to get up, that he had to leave. The Ghouls were going to be assembled at 1345, ready to board. Her unit was going to be prepared at the same time, to begin taking on salvage. Her hands were like clamps on his legs, and from how tense she was, he wasn’t going to get up until she was good and ready. The clock on the wall switched to 1330. He stared at the clock, feeling like the clock was mocking him, when suddenly Janet leaned up and turned. Her hands took hold of his shoulders and she threw her body against his, her lips finding his own. Her arms wrapped around her frame and he tightened his grasp on her.
Simmons spread her hands over the panel in front of her, looking at the table. Seven points connected the recently reclaimed chua space to what was former Shesvie territory, and beyond that, the heart of the Vral Empire. Her lip curled in a wicked smile, On the digital display of the table the hyperspace lanes, and more importantly, the avenues of attack her fleet was preparing to take. She held out her hand, all five fingers splayed over the lanes, envisioning the war as it stood now. The war to come. Seven hyperspace lanes, seven systems, branching out into sixteen, branching out again to another twenty. The Antares herself was going to link up with the Barraki, and was set to simply plough through the next five systems to do so. Slowly she tightened her hand into a fist as she looked along the hyperspace lanes, seeing task forces lined up and ready to jump. Drones had already been sent through. The vral had forces along the border, but nothing that could withstand what was to come. Her fleet was ready. She was ready. The Seventh Orion War was at the end of it’s first month, and had taken back six systems. The first moves of Operation Naked Sun would double that and exceed it, then double it again. She had already given her speech, her task force commanders were ready. High Command had taken it’s time making this decision, and while she had railed against the delay that didn’t matter now. All along the front, individual task forces were joined into larger fleets, ready to jump into the next system and eliminate any vral defenses, but unlike now, they simply would not wait. Naked Sun was to be a lightning strike to cut off as much of the Vral Empire as possible, to deny them their own space, to imprison them on their own worlds. Task Forces were designed around three types of vessels combinations, Lighthammer Task Forces were comprised of corvettes and fast destroyers, the fastest vessels in the fleet, meant to take systems quickly, to devastate unprotected infrastructure, and to eliminate light resistance. Simply put, they were going to swarm into vral space, determine pockets of resistance, and move on. They were going to rip entire sections of vral space from them, calling in other task groups if needed. Thunder task groups were the primary capital fleets, meant to be sent into those pockets of resistance, and neutralizing them, joining with the Lighthammer groups if needed. The cruisers, carriers, battleships, they all belonged to these task forces. Her own task force was called the Nova task force, and it comprised only the Antares and it’s sizable fleet escort. Simmons glanced up at the clock, the time was 1329. She breathed in slowly, then unbidden the thought came to her head and she looked to the report from the two habitable planets that had been scanned by the drone cutters, the information having been relayed to her almost twenty minutes prior. She was not worried about the ground campaign, in fact a reserve fleet from Thermopylae would be the ones to escort the landing ships from planet to planet that her fleet left behind in it’s wake, isolated and defenseless from the wider Vral Empire. Fleet escorting was no longer her job, protecting ground invasions were no longer her job. Simmons was positively growling now, as her only job was to take her fleet and use it to rip the vral out of the stars. Still, the thought nagged at her. On both of the planets that her fleet was set to overrun, there were Vral ships in orbit. On the first, there was evidence that the Vral had been bombarding a small area of the surface, extremely similar in size to the hole that now existed on Zvitia, the planet that even now was being integrated into the Terran Front. In the second system it showed Vral ships in orbit, but whatever they were doing during the time they had taken the scans, whatever they were covering up, they didn’t seem to have gotten to it yet. On the radiological scan of the planet a massive bloom of electromagnetic energy painted a broad region of the planet blistering white. She had sent the images back to Earth, back to High Command, but no one seemed to know what was happening. The one thing that every analyst agreed on so far that was that whatever the blooms represented, it meant nothing good. She took another long look at the radiological scan, seeing the intensity of the radiation, and her lip curled in a snarl. She couldn’t think about that right now, but orders had already been given to notify her the moment that they had taken a planet that still bore the radiation signal. The vral were being damned fastidious about it though. She pulled her thoughts away from it, looking back to the hyperspace lanes. The slow grin entered her features again. She glanced at the clock. 1330. Her hand took hold of the receiver next to her station and she pressed the transmission stud, knowing that Hazard had already opened a channel to the wider fleet.
“Commence.”

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

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

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

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

That’s all it was. A game.
Something my friends and I used to play during the summer when we had nothing better to do. I never expected that it would get so out of hand.
I never expected it to come back long after recovery.
To anyone reading, please don’t do what I did.
I’m putting this out there to warn people.
On that warm summer evening, we played the role of Pandora.
Except, the monsters we released were far worse than what’s told in stories.
Because stories end.
And this doesn’t.
I still remember the date. July 16, 2013. I was an upcoming senior in high school while the others were getting prepared for their freshman year of college, raving on about their majors, life plans, dorms, you get the point. The summer had been bittersweet as those months would be the last I’d see them for a while. Because of this, Anthony, Lola, Eliza, and I would spend the bulk of our time together going to festivals and various camping trips, trying to make the most out of the summer while we could. On that day, the day I wish I could forget, Eliza had run late to one of our hangouts at my place. This was odd since as an Ivy league student, she was usually early or right on time to these kind of things. Half past three, we heard her knocking on my door rapidly, which was also out of character considering that she was usually the calm one in our group. A bit worried, I hurried down the stairs with Anthony and Lola following close behind, expecting Eliza to be in hysterics due to her frantic behavior. When I opened the door, however, there she was with a bright smile on her face, her red hair getting in the way of her eyes, which were a dark green shade. She pushed her hair out of her face with one hand and held a brown box in the other, and she was bouncing up and down as she usually does when she’s about to talk about something exciting.
“You’ll never believe what I found.” Eliza’s voice could barely hold her impatience as she stepped inside and kicked her shoes off once she crossed over my threshold.
“What’s up with you today?” Anthony questioned, looking more confused than concerned now.
“I’ll show you guys in a minute. Can we go up to your room, Felix?” Eliza looked over at me with her trademark smile, knowing damn well we were all too curious to just leave that box unopened. Without a word, I led the group up to my room and shut the door after everyone had walked in. Anthony took his usual spot on my beanbag and unzipped his hoodie, which had the MSM logo sprawled across the front in big red letters. He adjusted his dark rimmed glasses and took on his usual stoic expression. Lola wore a dark blue FIT shirt, which she revealed more of when she moved her locs over her shoulder as she sat on my desk chair and wheeled over to us. As she did, the various necklaces she wore clinked against each other. Eliza herself was the smartest out of the group, and probably in the whole school as well. She had gotten accepted into multiple prestigious schools, but ultimately settled for Harvard to pursue a degree in some obscure philanthropic career. Unlike Anthony and Lola, Eliza wore her regular outfit –usually a white tank top and jeans– and sat on my bed with the box in her lap. I took a seat next to her to get a closer look.
“So what’d you find?” The others moved closer.
“Something we probably haven’t thought about for a really long time. Do you guys remember that one game we used to play in middle school? The one we made after Felix joined our class?” Eliza looked at our puzzled faces to see if we had connected the dots, but her clue didn’t seem to strike any of us with familiarity.
“After Felix joined? Didn’t we just hang out or something that weekend?” Anthony questioned.
“We did, but there was something else,” Eliza raised an eyebrow, “you guys seriously don’t remember?”
At that moment, I saw Lola’s eyes light up and a thin smile grew on her lips, something she always did whenever she was able to figure something out.
“You mean that little map game we played? Where we would go out to the woods and explore?”
Both Anthony and I seemed to have remembered as well with the mention of a ‘map game.’ I chimed in, “ yeah I remember! Every once in a while when we were all bored, we’d pick a random spot on a map to go to and explore there for a bit, right? When did we stop doing that anyways? I remember really enjoying it.”
“Well life happens,” Eliza responded to me, “but I was thinking of things to do for the rest of the summer when I suddenly remembered that game! That’s why I was so late for our meetup today, I was looking through my attic for this.” Eliza shook the box slightly and a couple things clattered around inside.
“There’s no way.” Anthony sounded like he was in disbelief.
“You mean…?” Lola sat forward in the chair. Eliza smirked, her adventurous nature creeping out as realization swept over us like a wave.
“Mhm! I found the map we used to use as well as the things we collected from our little escapades.” With that, Eliza opened the box, revealing a folded piece of paper and various trinkets scattered over the bottom of the capsule. Lola squealed with excitement and immediately snatched the box from Eliza, who simply chuckled and leaned back on the bed.
“No way! Everything’s still in here!” Lola digged through the box and placed whatever objects she found across the blanket. Anthony got up and sat at the foot of my bed, to observe our findings more closely. There was a piece of some clay pottery, some rusty springs and scraps of metal, an old digital camera, and some other random stuff I can’t recall to memory right now. Anthony picked up a spring and turned it in his palm.
“Shit man, this is from that abandoned junkyard we found in 8th grade…that feels like such a long time ago now.”
I examined the piece of pottery with Eliza looking over my shoulder. Lola picked up the digital camera.
“Do you remember where this came from?” I turned to Eliza and held up my discovery.
“No clue,” she shrugged. It must have been a while ago if even she didn’t remember. I turned the piece over and grew curious when I saw weird symbols inscribed on the inside of it. I squinted a bit, trying to discern some sort of pattern within the scribbles.
I turned to Eliza again, “hey, what do you think-”
“OH MY GOD GUYS IT STILL WORKS!” Lola’s voice went up a whole octave as she motioned to us.
The rest of us looked up as she turned the camera to face us. There were various photos we went through. All of us at lakes, museums, exploring the woods; everything we did from 7th grade until my freshman year seemed to be documented. The last photo was arguable the best and msot bittersweet. It was a picture of the whole group from a while ago. We were sitting at Eliza’s dinner table with a giant chocolate cake on the middle of it adorned with two candles shaped like the numbers one and five. Eliza was talking to me in the photo. Her hair was even more red at the time and she wore it in a braid. I looked about the same in the photo as I did then, with light brown hair, blue eyes, and freckles scattered all over my body and face. I was smiling sheepishly at Eliza. I now knew why Anthony said it was obvious I had a crush on her in 8th grade. Lola went through the most changes out of all of us. At the time in the photo, she had her hair straightened and side-swept, with a bright pink streak in her bangs. She wore clunky jewlery and a frilly skirt underneath a long tank top, leaning over the table to cut another slice of cake. All of us had birthday hats on except for Anthony, who kept his sitting on the table. He held up a peace sign staring straight into the camera with a stoic expression. He looked like a statue compared to the rest of us, who were laughing and smiling. You could tell he was having fun, though.
“Well don’t you look like a ray of sunshine,” Lola snickered as Anthony shot her a dirty look.
“At least I didn’t go through some weird scene phase in freshman year,” He smiled and watched Lola’s face, knowing she was blushing despite her dark skin which made it practically invisible. I let a laugh slip out, but quickly stifled it knowing that if I kept going it would mean death. Lola side-eyed me and continued, “I was using my creative liberty to experiment with my options as an artist,” she said with an overly-posh accent that made Eliza laugh.
“Yeah Anthony, don’t be such a downer,” Eliza teased. Anthony simply rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile to pretend like he was mad at all of us. He looked into the box and picked up the paper we left, unfolding it with a hint of excitement and curiosity. When he looked at it, only two words came out of his mouth.
“Holy shit.”
“What, what is it?” Lola tried to look at the other side of the paper, but Anthony quickly held it out of her view.
“What if I didn’t want to show you?” A smile crept onto his face. This was one of those rare moments where he’d be in the moos to joke around with us.
“Don’t be a dick bro,” I said, laughing as I went to grab for the paper. Anthony just held it up in the air and pushed me off of him and I landed on my floor. While he was distracted, though, Eliza took her chance and snatched the paper right out of his hand.
“You boys need to learn to be nice,” she warned in her jokingly stern voice as she unfolded the paper and spread it out onto my bed. We all leaned over to look.
It was a map of a couple towns including ours. There were around ten small star stickers placed on different areas on the map near the streets the four of us lived in. On the top of the map, a couple words were scrawled in black sharpie; “Pick a Place!” I could see everyone’s faces light up.
“Oh my god it’s our map!” Lola shouted and pointed to one of the stars near her street, “this was where we found that old junkyard right?”
Eliza smiled, “I remember that. It feels like such a long time ago now.” She pointed to another star, “and this is where we found that lake we made a hideout of. I still remember swimming in there in 8th grade…”
The four of us reminisced for a while, talking about where we had gone and what we did there, and how impressive it was that we didn’t get tetanus from that junkyard. After nearly an hour of conversation, Eliza asked something that made all of us stop.
“So how about it guys? Do you want to do one last round before the summer ends?”
The rest of us looked around at each other. It was clear we all wanted to do it. Eliza seemed to catch on and she nodded.
“Who wants to pick where we go?”
“How about you do the honors?” Lola suggested, motioning towards the map. “You’re the one that brought this stuff in anyways.”
Eliza raised her eyebrow but didn’t object. Without a word, she examined the map for a few minutes, then placed her finger on one spot a bit far from my house.
“How about here?”
“You think we can make it that far?” Anthony asked.
“Well, we can drive now so why not?”
“You sure there’s some type of trail we can drive on? That spot looks pretty deep in the woods”
“We can find a path to drive on for a bit then walk the rest of the way. C’mon guys, this is probably our last chance to do something like this! Felix, you can drive right?”
Eliza and the rest turned to me with a hopeful expression. I had to comply.
“Sure. No big deal, right?”
All three of them cheered and high fived each other, looking pretty excited to go on one last adventure.
“So when do we leave?” I questioned.
Eliza flashed that smile again, “right now.”
“Right now?!”
“Hell yeah,” Lola chimed in. “It shouldn’t take that long, right?”
“I guess…” Even then I felt uneasy about the whole thing. I didn’t feel prepared enough to go on some random trip into the woods. I needed to pack food, water, flashlights, I had no idea how long this was going to take. Little did I know that those things would be the least of my worries a couple hours from then. I wish I could go back and convince my 17-year-old self that it wasn’t worth it, that I should just convince my friends to stay and talk for the rest of the day. I wish Eliza had never remembered that stupid game. In a way, I’m almost mad at her for what happened, but I know it wasn’t anyones fault. We just wanted to have fun. I wish we could’ve just had fun. But God had a different plan for us. One that made me think Satan himself devised it instead. On July 16, 2013, Anthony He, Lola Smith, Eliza Landserson, and Felix Johanson went on an adventure that none of them were ready for.
Author's Note:
If you just read all of that then thank you so so so much for doing so! I'm a rookie writer, so feel free to comment any constructive criticism you might have if you have actual writing experience! This is the first silly little story I'm posting here, so I hope you enjoyed :)

Previous Part
Morning eventually came, banishing the eyes that seemed to peer at me through the night. It was strange how suddenly the feeling left me, making me think that someone really was watching me. The whole thing was really doing wonders for my paranoia. Despite the rough morning and sleepless night, I still found myself waiting outside Bianca’s house bright and early that morning. The air was cool but not chilly, one of those perfect days that’s cold enough you’ll never start sweating unless you really try, but warm enough that a T-shirt will get you through without too much trouble.
I only had to knock once before Bianca threw open the door.
“Where you just waiting there for me?”
I asked, cracking a smile and raising an eyebrow.
“You’ll never know” she added playfully, “Are we ready to go then?”
Bianca had made some preparations for the trip, she didn’t have a backpack ready to go but she definitely made an effort to dress the part… sort of. She was wearing an old grey combat jacket that I imagine she pulled out of Stein’s closet. The jacket was way to big for her but she made it work. Her combat boots matched the jacket, looking old and well worn. What didn’t match was the bright red yoga pants she was wearing, but I wasn’t about to complain. Besides, I had packed each of us a spare set of clothes just in case.
“Oh! So I had an idea, its a long walk, not crazy but I’d rather not just walk the whole way if we can help it. Frank and Stein used to have some bicycles when we first came here so I asked them about it and well.”
Bianca chirped, as she led me around the back of the house and pulled a tarp off two abysmal looking bicycles. The bikes were both red at one point but that was a long time ago. Now they were covered in a layer of rust and I could barely make out the branding that may have once read, “Shwinn”.
“Um… Bianca I think I might get tetanus if I sit on that thing.”
“Oh come on! Aren’t you tired of walking everywhere? Lets just give the bikes a shot, if they crumble to dust we can leave them.”
“And get me a tetanus shot.”
I added quickly
“Fine, and get you a tetanus shot.”
Bianca shot back, she feigned annoyance but she couldn’t hide the smile that crossed her face.
Laughing to ourselves, we got on the bikes and took off North, out of town and onto a dirt path leading to the woods. Bianca didn’t say much on the way out but I could tell she was having a good time. This may have been her first time out of the house for something other than supervising Frank and Stein. She tried to hide it by riding fast and staying out in front of me, but I could still catch her eyes literally glowing with happiness every now and then. I thought back to what Frank had said about her eyes glowing when she experiences strong emotion. I hoped that was the case and she wasn’t just trying really hard to influence me, which he had also said would make her eyes glow.
As we neared the end of the path, the forest’s edge came into view. we let the bikes roll to a stop then got off and let them fall over onto the dirt. I half expected them to explode into a puff of rusty brown dust the second they touched the ground but to my surprise, neither bike did. I could’ve swore I heard Bianca sniffle almost like she’d been crying. I opened my mouth to say something and then thought better of it, if she wanted to tell me what was going on she would. Well, that or she’d just manipulate me away from the question. Wait, was she doing that now? It’s hard to tell, maybe that’s how everyone around her feels. The more I thought about it the more I realized how difficult it must be for her just to have friends or form relationships with people at all. If she told them the truth they’d never know if what they were feeling around her at any given moment was real. All they’d have to go on would be her word, could they really trust that, could I? If she kept her secret she’d know that at any moment she could just change how they felt about her, manipulate them into anything she wanted. Could she resist that kind of power over them and still look someone in the eyes and say she was their friend. Not to mention how hard it would be to keep that secret over years of knowing someone.
“So Keith, were exactly are we headed? You do have some Idea where this mine you’re looking for is right?”
Bianca asked skeptically, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Well about that…. I just know its out here in the forest somewhere. That’s pretty much all I have to go on from Frank, Stein, and that massive bartender in town.”
I told her sheepishly.
“Well that explains why you over-packed so much then. Seriously? How long do you think we we’re going to be out here, you’re packed like some kind of survivalist.”
She mocked, picking through the pack I’d made for her. After she finished rooting through the pack I made for her like some kind of giant squirrel and, chastised me yet again for not doing more research on the mine, we set off.
The forest felt imposing as we walked into the woods through a manicured patch of trees. Someone had gone to great lengths to braid a few trees over this little path before the forest turned back into its natural wild state. It gave off the feeling that civilization ended with this path and something else entirely began. As we got off the path our light faded quickly, chocked out by the limbs of massive pine trees. All this cover meant there was very little foliage on the ground which was covered in a blanket of needles. The though occurred to me that we were looking for a mine in a valley. That’s weird because what exactly would be in a valley that warranted the creation of a mine? Usually you’ll find them in mountains so what exactly was one doing out here.
“Bianca I just had a thought, Why would they build a mine out here? I mean what’s the point, is there even anything valuable out here to mine?”
“Yeah, come to think of it your right. What other reason would there be to have a mine out here?”
“Unless they were just mining from a cave but that still doesn’t answer the question of what they were…”
Bianca cut me off
“What was that first thing you said?”
“Um… mining from a cave?”
A lightbulb went off over her head as she exclaimed,
“That’s it! There’s caves under the town, I’ve heard Frank talk about them before! Maybe they didn’t have a real mine so they were just mining something out of the caves.”
“Not to burst your bubble Bianca, but that still doesn’t get us any closer to these caves or mines or whatever it is.”
I responded cautiously, trying not to sound to critical of her revelation.
“Well not exactly, Frank said they were in the East of the forest somewhere so all we have to do is head East till we run into them.”
Bianca said, full of confidence. Then something occurred to me, we had no real way of getting back to the bikes other than retracing our steps. Now that was easy enough now, if we went deeper into the woods we would get lost pretty quickly.
“One more thing Bianca, Maybe we should come up with a way to find our way out? I really don’t want to end up lost out here.”
I asked nervously, fidgeting with my hands.
“Way ahead of you on that one, I left my phone back by the bikes. Here give me yours and I’ll put my number in so you can track it and find our way back.”
She said, taking my phone, putting her number into it, and turning it to me to show she’d tracked her own phones location with it, giving us a path back to the bikes.
As we turned East and headed even deeper into the forest the terrain started to change. Instead of the pine needle coating we started to see rocks and the ground was more rugged. Here and there we’d even pass a boulder or two. I decided to break the silence of our search.
“So are you ever going to tell me how you met Frank and Stein?”
Bianca sighed before responding.
“I suppose you deserve to know if your sticking around. You probably guessed I wasn’t always living with them. Lets just say before that I was with someone who I though meant the world to me but I never meant the same to him. It was all a game to him and eventually I noticed that. Then, a little while afterwards I realized I wasn’t exactly powerless anymore and I did some things that I’m not exactly proud of to survive on my own.”
I could tell talking about this hurt her but I needed more.
“That’s not exactly telling me a whole lot Bianca.”
I pressed, maybe a little to hard.
“I found out I had powers and I used them ok! I got myself out of a situation where I was pulled so many way I didn’t know which direction was up! The second I found out I could do the same thing to people myself, I did! You’re the first person to actually seem to give a shit that wasn’t some crazy doctor that tolerates my existence or someone I just manipulated into caring! Maybe I even did that with you! I JUST DON’T KNOW ANYMORE!”
Bianca screamed at me, getting in my face with tears beginning to run down her own. Her eyes were glowing electric blue again and I knew I’d crossed a line.
“Hey I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you. I… I didn’t know.”
“No.. you didn’t but I guess you should”
Bianca sniffled out, trying desperately to pull herself back together and keep up the act the everything was ok. Bianca went silent for a while as we kept walking along, crying to herself before she finally took a deep breath and said,
“You know, this is the first time someone’s asked me to come along and do something outside the house in years. I spend so much time cooped up in there just helping with experiments and looking after Rocco. It’s actually nice to get out and talk for once.”
Her voice still a lifts hoarse from screaming at me before.
“Look if you want to talk about it we’ve got nothing but time out here. I’d like to know a bit more about you anyways.”
I said taking her hand and trying to sound comforting.
“Yeah maybe I should get some of it off my chest. Here it goes I guess.”
Bianca said, taking a deep breath and tightening her grip on my hand. Her eyes still glowed faintly as she told me her story as we ventured deeper into the forest.
I’ll give you the shorter version of it here, mostly cause I’m not sure how she’d feel about me spoiling all her secrets.. She ran away from her family and her college education for a guy, his name was Brooke. Brooke was from money and had a job lined up by his family at a law firm so Bianca thought she was set for life with him. Bianca was madly in love with him at the time but as days grew into months and years, Brooke became a monster. He cheated on her and told her she wasn’t enough, that her shortcomings drove him to do it over and over again and somehow it was all her fault every time. He became abusive not long after the cheating started, flying into fits of hysteric apology afterwards only further convincing Bianca she was somehow at fault. After three years of this she eventually got up the courage to leave and never looked back. On the road she discovered her powers of manipulation, letting her play with people’s emotions and she only got better at it with time. Unfortunately her abilities got her into a very specific form of getting money out of people, prostitution. One day she tried to solicit Stein and he saw straight through her. Stein took her with him to the hotel he and Frank were staying at and they took her in on the spot. The trio traveled together ever since, Bianca becoming a kind of daughter to them.
I was in shock once she finished her story, it sounded like she’d really been through the ringer.“I don’t know what to say, that’s awful, all of it.”
“It was, I lived it. But I made it through, doesn’t matter how at the end of the day. I’ve got Frank and Stein and that’s enough, they let me into their home and I recovered in my own way, I’m still here so I’ll take what I can get right?”
Bianca stated with a cold loom of determination on her face. It was painfully obvious to me that despite the masquerade of being fine she was barley holding it together underneath. Like just talking about it with me was driving a finger into old wounds.
“At least you’ll never have to go through something like that again. With your abilities you never have to get pushed around like that.”
I said with completely no tact whatsoever. Bianca stopped suddenly as I said this and whirled around to face me. The fire I’d seen in her eyes earlier reigniting in seconds.
“Do you really think that’s all this is?! I’m no better than him, even you don’t know what you really think when you look at me! Admit ti!”
Bianca growled at me, hysterical once again.
“No, Bianca I…”
“Look I know your trying to help but just leave it, ok? I’m done talking about this”
She cut me off, pulling herself back together and signaling very clearly we were done with that particular conversation.
“Besides look over there, That hole in the rock see it? That might be what we’re looking for.”
Bianca said, gesturing to the stone wall that now jutted out of the ground beside us.
The rock wall she pointed out was chipped near the middle in a way that couldn’t have been natural. Straight lines don’t really exist in nature and this hole was cut squarely into this rock wall. As we got closer I could see that it wasn’t just an entrance either. The hole opened into the rock wall but then suddenly dropped, like whoever carved it had hit a point where the ground just fell out from under them. From where Bianca and I were looking into the hole we couldn’t quite see the bottom.
“Well we found what we were looking for, is this bringing back any memories from those dreams you had?”
Bianca asked, sounding a little short tempered still as I searched through my bag.
“What are you looking for in there?”
“Rope, I’ve got to see what’s in there and I’m hoping I brought enough to climb down there.”
I replied hurriedly, still tearing apart my bag to get to the rope I had packed underneath everything else.
“Rope? you’re not seriously going to climb down that pit are you? I can barely see down there.”
Bianca complained, sounding exasperated.
“Here, this should help you see down there.”
I said, tossing her one of the two head mounted flashlights I brought along.
“ME? I never said we were going down there!”
Bianca panicked momentarily.
“Look, you can stay up here and wait for me if you really don’t want to go down there. But I would appreciate having you to watch my back.”
I added trying to soften her up. Bianca opened her mouth like she was going to say something but stopped, instead dropping her own pack to the ground and searching through it.
“Look if I’m going down there I’m going to need something better than yoga pants on and…. You actually packed a change of clothes in here. Geez you really did think of everything.”
As Bianca took the jeans I packed and went off to find somewhere to change I finally found the rope. It was about 50 feet of strong climbing rope that I kept for an occasion just like this. Now that’s not to say I was a professional climber by any means but a 20 or 30 foot rappel I should be able to do. I was hoping that the descent wasn’t much further than that. I anchored the rope to a tree a little ways away from the hole in the rock face and tossed the rope down the hole. It hit the bottom with a satisfying thud just as Bianca got back from changing. The jeans I had packed were a little big on her but she’d manage. She looked like a mess in her ancient combat boot and jacket, all of which were too big for her. I tried to open my mouth to tell her she looked nice, I swear I really did but what came out was hyena-like laughter at her appearance.
“I…. Oh god I’m…. It’s just”
I struggled to get out, laughing all the while.
“Well I’m glad you like it at least, ok seriously come on, stop laughing.”
Bianca scolded as she began giggling herself. Soon enough we were both laughing, Bianca’s earlier storminess cleared up by the absurdity of the situation.
Here we were, a succubus and a guy with a strange mark out in the woods getting ready to rappel into a hole in the ground that apparently didn’t exist. All this was almost starting to feel… I’m not really sure how to put it, not normal but not so strange. Honestly I finally felt like I’d found some kind of purpose again out here. As weird as it all was I was starting to enjoy… this, this whole odd situation I’d found myself in. Bianca and I finally got ahold of the laughter and stood back up from our place on the ground.
“Do I really look that bad?”
She asked
“I’ve never heard you complain about your looks before. But no, with those jeans on you look like maybe, just maybe you prepared a little bit for coming out here.”
I teased, getting a little wry grin out of her.
“Come on, lets get going. Hopefully we can be in and out of there pretty quickly.”
I said, handing Bianca her pack and shouldering my own.
Rappelling in wasn’t actually all that hard, really dangerous without safety equipment sure, but neither of us had any trouble descending the maybe 20 foot drop. At the bottom I saw something that shocked me, this place wasn’t abandoned. I saw lighting set up, not on but very clearly set up recently. Bits of old mining equipment were scattered around the… cave? Mine? Im not really sure what to call it anymore. What concerned me more than anything was the light I saw at the far end of the cave (I’m settling on calling it a cave). The light came from a massive bonfire and I could just make out the shadows of several people sitting around it. I have no idea how we didn’t see the smoke on our way in. It wasn’t filling the cave but it also wasn’t coming out from anywhere I saw on the way here.
“Bianca get down!”
I whisper shouted at her, turning off my headlamp and falling flat to the ground myself. Bianca dropped to the ground as she heard me with unexpected grace. I didn’t know if those figures by the fire had seen us but I certainly wasn’t taking chances.
“Ok, I’m going to creep up and see if I can hear them talking or something. Can you just stay here and watch my back? I don’t want you getting any closer than you have to.”
I instructed Bianca who answered with a quick nod and reached into the inner pocket of her jacket. She withdrew a jeweled golden dagger from it.
“I sorry, what’s this now?”
I asked, confused and thrown off guard by the weapon. It was a really beautiful blade, the hilt was silver with several purple gems inlaid in it. The blade was golden save for the razor sharp edge which was some kind of strange blue material that was roughly the same color Blanca’s eyes glowed.
“I had a life before this you know.”
Bianca responded.
“Yeah we talked about it but you didn’t really tell me much about this part apparently. Doesn’t matter I guess just surprised you have Jeff Bezos’s butter knife in your jacket pocket.”
I whispered, pointing at the dagger in her hand.
“Well we can talk more about how I ended up with this later, not really the time now. Just be careful ok.”
I got up as she said this, realizing she was right. Now really wasn’t the time to be asking about strange daggers, I had more pressing issues.
I crouched down and started creeping towards the figures by the bonfire, careful to avoid the rusty machinery bits scattered across the ground. As I got closer I saw a passage I had missed in the dark. I dared to turn my headlamp on for just a second, trying to block out most of the light with my hand. What I saw through the dim light and shadows of my finger left me awestruck. Inside the passage a coliseum had been constructed, with seats carved into the stone. The structure itself was made up of the rusted metal pieces that littered the room, collected and smelted together to form the walls of the structure. What frightened me the most was the symbol clearly and meticulously drawn on the dirt floor, the same symbol that adorned my back, the symbol of the thunderbird. Moving on, more shaken than ever I crept closer still to the roaring bonfire. I could just about make out the words the figures were saying. When I got close enough to make out the word “tests” the fire suddenly went out with a gust of wind.The room temperature must have dropped 10 degrees immediately and I could swear I heard the sounds of heavy rain above us. But the sudden lack of light isn’t what rooted me in place, cowering on the cave floor. What did that was the two illuminated grey eyes that pierced through the darkness like lightning in a storm, eyes I would never forget, the eyes of the woman from Imalone.
This time I clearly heard the voices of the figures from around the bonfire as they all dropped to their knees.
“Shaoni! We weren’t expecting you till later, Stormcaller.”
The figures all said some variation of in unison. Their tone sounding almost as though they were begging for forgiveness. In a voice that hissed like rain on pavement the woman apparently named Shaoni spoke.
“I’ve come to oversee the start of the trials, is everything prepared?”
In one bone chilling moment her eyes locked on mine and she said the one thing I’d hoped she wouldn’t.
“You didn’t tell me we had guests.”
The moment the words left her lips I turned back to where Bianca was waiting, her now glowing eyes cutting through the darkness of the cave. Giving up any form of subtly, I bolted for the rope behind Bianca. I just wanted to be out of this cave, whatever I might learn from searching around was far outweighed by the fact that Shaoni was here. I’d seen the kind of destruction she’d left in her wake in Imalone and I had no desire to see it happen again here. I banged my ankle on several of the little bits of rusty metal on the floor as I ran, sending sparks of pain up my leg. I didn’t hear anything behind me at all which was almost more unnerving than the footsteps I expected to hear. I closed in on Bianca and saw she hadn’t moved at all, her eyes fixed on something behind me. I dared to take a quick glance back over my shoulder and saw Shaoni taking her first step away from the extinguished bonfire. Lightning crackled around her like one of those novelty plasma globes. In the flashes of light I could see her face. There was no smile or frown, no emotion at all. She simply stared straight ahead towards me and took slow calm steps, inching ever closer.
“Bianca we’ve got to go… NOW!”
I shouted, snapping her to attention. She nodded and turned on her heels, back toward the rope we’d thrown in earlier. Only, when we got to the rope and gave it a tug, it came falling back toward us.
“There’s no way. I…I anchored it to that tree, it should’ve held!”
I cried in disbelief. Bianca and I starred up at the now stormy sky through the hole we would’ve escaped from. Two men walked into view on either side of the hole, glowering down at us. I notice a marking on one of the men’s hands in a flash of lightning from the storm. I could only assume if I was able to make it out I would’ve seen a marking just like the one on my back. Just as soon as the men had appeared a shape flew in from the left with a low growl, taking both men along with it.
“Ok, new plan! There’s something else up there and I really don’t want to get involved with… whatever that was either. I didn’t see any footprints near the entrance so I’m assuming those guys we saw by the bonfire got in another way. We’re just going to have to find where that was and get out that way.”
I instructed Bianca, gesturing to the men in toe with Shaoni and trying not to sound as afraid as I was.
“Ok, I’m with you but lets get moving, I don’t want to any closer to her than I have to be.”
Bianca answered, putting her hand on my shoulder. I suddenly felt a wave of calm rush over me and for the second time I was grateful for Bianca’s ability to simply turn off my fear response.
Shaoni now stood about 50 feet from us with four men following behind her. In the light she gave off I could see the men were all dressed like normal people. I kind of figured they would be more of those canvas wrapped weirdos from Imalone but no. There stood four men in jeans and flannels standing there. Shaoni looked like she could’ve stepped right out of a painting of Pocahontas. She wore an animal hide dress with frills along the bottom and arms. Her head was adorned with a leather band containing several hawk feathers. In short she looked like she’d stepped out of a different time. But I had no time to look over the finer details of her clothing as Bianca and I rushed towards her. Once we got within striking distance I pulled Bianca to the left, towards the passage I had seen earlier. Shaoni never made a move towards us, she just simply looked at me, the ghost of a smile briefly crossing her lips. One of the men with her grabbed at Bianca though, pulling her out of my grasp momentarily. That was a mistake because she was on him immediately with the ornate dagger I’d seen before. As the man grabbed her Bianca lashed out with the dagger, sticking him in the gut with the blade. He screamed in anguish and let go of her but Bianca wasn’t done yet. She followed up by stabbing the man in the back of the neck as he bent over, grabbing at the hole in his abdomen. The other three men were so taken aback by the sudden ferocity she displayed that they didn’t come any closer. As time stood still for a second the men all looked toward Shaoni, awaiting instructions but hesitant to get any closer to Bianca. Using the brief moment of disbelief Bianca had caused, we ran down the side passage towards the coliseum.
“What was that?”
I asked, still shocked by how suddenly Bianca had acted.
“He tried to grab me, I don’t like when they try to grab me”
Bianca responded, distant and… scared? I got the sense she was still in shock at what she had done too. But I couldn’t worry about that right now, we still had to get out of here. Luckily the men didn’t seem to be following us. Wether Shaoni called them off or they stopped to care for their friend I didn’t know, and frankly I didn’t care.
Rushing through the rusty coliseum was haunting. I expected something to jump out of every shadow in the imposing structure. As we slowed to a jog in the middle of the coliseum, right where that eagle symbol was, we stopped to look around. We had come into this arena through an open arch but the only other exit I could see was a similar but barred archway. The coliseum was huge for something constructed in a cave, probably 400 feet across. I had no idea how this thing could’ve been made without anybody finding out.
“Bianca are you seeing anyway out of here? Bianca!”
I asked, then shouted as I turned to see her standing still as a statue in the middle of the Eagle symbol. She was staring at the dagger she had stabbed that man with. Blood still stained the blade and dripped from it intermittently.
“Bianca are you alright?”
I questioned as I walked over to her. She still had this look in her eyes, like she was miles away.
“Bianca? Come on talk to me. Look, you did what you had to do back there, sure it wasn’t exactly pretty but it had to be done.”
I tried to comfort her with my words but the truth is, my heart just wasn’t in it. I was a little scared of what I saw from her in those few moments. She just lashed out and attacked him, not that he didn’t deserve it but going back for more was too much. But what would’ve happened if she didn’t act? It’s not something I could really dwell on now and I’m not sure it really mattered. I just wasn’t feeling all that great about the fact we may have killed someone.
“I don’t like it when they grab me.”
Bianca finally repeated, still appearing catatonic. I leaned down to her level, putting my face right in-front of her’s and putting her head in between my hands.
“Bianca I know enough to know that whole situation may have dug up some memories for you but nows really not the time. We have to keep moving, we have to find a way out of here, and I can’t do that without you right now.”
Bianca tensed up as I spoke to her, but I could feel her relax as I finished. A single tear fell from her eye as she gave me a nod and followed behind me as I walked toward the barred off archway.
Before I made it to the archway there was a massive crash as something tore the rusty bars from their mountings and fell into the room.
“Tuck?!”
I exclaimed, recognizing his colossal figure on the floor immediately. His shirt and pants were torn to shreds though, Like he’d flexed too hard and burst out of his clothes. Bianca and I rushed over to check on him but apparently he was fine. Before we even started walking towards him he was already back up on his feet and lumbering towards us.
“Tuck what are you doing here? Actually never mind, are you ok?”
I asked, concern in my voice.
“It’s going to take more than this to stop me son. I figured you might go looking for that old mine I mentioned the other night so I came to find you. I feel real bad about ya run’in off the way ya did and I got to thinking. Maybe I could make it up to ya if I told ya about the mine. So I came out here and found some shady look’in fellas poking around and figured maybe ya needed help, looks like I was right.”
Tuck explained, dusting himself off and brushing away some of the tattered remains of his shirt. I didn’t buy his story for a second but I wasn’t going to argue with this bear of a man.
“So how did you get in anyway?”
“Used the old entrance from back when this place was still run’in, come on I’ll lead ya out.”
Tuck answered, already turning and walking back the way he came.
The walk out was long and none of us talked much so I just looked around. The further we walked down this little tunnel the more I noticed crushed equipment. The walls looked like they were made up of bits and pieces of crumbled rock that may have once been the ceiling of a much bigger tunnel here.
“There was a collapse, just like the report said only, whatever caused it wasn’t any fault of ours. It was that damn thunderbird waking up.”
Tuck piped up, answering one question and making me ask another.
“Wait you knew about her?!”
“All the miners did, some decided to follow her after she woke up and brought the walls down on us. Others wanted revenge for the brothers we lost, I’m one of the former. You see son, the reason I stayed around this town so long was because of that bird. I want a chance to return the favor.”
“But what about Robert? If you hate the thunderbird so much why’d you let him in? You had to see that tattoo on his hand.”
“I know he thinks that damned bird will “save” him or something but I don’t blame him. Everyone deals with things in their own way and it’s not my place to judge folk for it.”
Tuck lectured, as we made our way further down the passage. His words made sense to me but I didn’t understand how he could be so understanding. From what I understood the thunderbird had a part to play in the original mine’s collapse and the death of the workers there. Only for some of the survivors to revere this creature. If I were in Tuck’s shoes I don’t think I could forgive and forget.
Finally we saw light at the end of the tunnel. We emerged into the whispers of what I’m sure was a monster of a storm. But that’s not what drew my attention, what did were the boulders scattered around the hole we just came out of. It looked like they had been moved, and recently. The suspicious red stain just barley peaking out from the bottom of one of them only served to convince me further. Tuck’s story didn’t quite make sense and this entrance seemed like it should’ve been blocked up until very recently. I wasn’t about to question the guy who saved us though, so I let the issue rest.
Bianca’s idea of tracking her phone to find our way to the bikes worked like a charm. We followed the directions my phone spit at us and eventually found our way back to the bikes. Tuck’s old Ford Bronco sat behind our bikes leaving me to question if he followed us on our way here.
“Well do you kids want a ride back to town?”
Tuck asked, his voice bellowing across the forest. Seriously it was like the guy swallowed a loudspeaker at some point and just spoke through it now.
“No we’ll find our own way back.”
“Alrighty then, stay safe son.”
Tuck called back to me as he got into his truck and drove off. Bianca and I stood up our bikes and got ready to head back to town.
“Hey Keith?”
“Yeah what is it Bianca?”
“Next time you offer to bring me along somewhere can you warn me about the damn thunderbird that seems to just show up around you.”
I laughed at this, it was nice to see Bianca joking around again. After what happened in the caves she seemed like someone else, none of her usual cheeriness was there. Not that I knew if that was what she wanted me to see from her or how she actually presented herself but still. I trusted her enough at this point to assume she wasn’t using her abilities to mess with my head.
When we got back to Bianca’s house the sun was just beginning to set, washing the town in shades of purple, orange, and red. We walked the bikes around to their place behind the house and I walked Bianca back to the front door.
“Thanks for today Keith,I don’t… get out very much anymore and it was… nice… to do something other than sit around the house for once. You know, despite everything that happened it was actually fun.”
I was taken aback by her words at first. If it was me I’d immediately want nothing to do with this person who just put me in danger.
“You had fun? The thunderbird showed up again and we may have killed a guy and you had fun?”
I asked, raising and eyebrow suspiciously.
“Can we not talk about that right now? Anyways I don’t exactly have a high bar for what is and isn’t fun at this point. I’ll see you later Keith.”
Bianca said, cracking a smile and walking into her house.
I was about halfway back to my own house when I realized she never gave me my backpack back. Well, looks like I’d be seeing her again then because I need that stuff back. I wasn’t sure what to think about what I’d seen today. If the thunderbird was in those mines years ago why did she end up in Wisconsin? There was also a very real possibility some people in this town worshipped her so I’d have to keep an eye out for that. The really interesting thing to me was the Shaoni never seemed to want to hurt me in the cave today. She was terrifying as all hell sure, but I didn’t get the sense that she wanted to cause me any sort of harm. If she wanted to do that my gut told me she would’ve done it quickly and efficiently.
Thunder suddenly cracked outside, interrupting my train of thought. As I stood up to see what time it was a knock came from the front door. I froze, who exactly could it be? I doubt Bianca would come over, I don’t think she even knows where I live but maybe she came by to drop off the backpack she absconded with? The knock came again, more forcefully this time.
“I’m coming, I’m coming!”
I shouted, as I jogged to the door. My heart dropped as soon as I opened it, On the other side of the door stood Shaoni. She was dressed normally for once, wearing a long flowing white nightgown. Shaoni stepped into my house as she cooed in her usual misty voice.
“Good evening. Keith was it? We have much to discuss.”

Scott Masterson had first met Scarlett at a rooftop party in downtown Dallas. Their age and the time of year were both in late springtime, them in their mid twenties and the date in early May. He had on a sharp yet breezy blazer and she astonished in a thigh length sleeveless blue dress.
“Oh hey Scott I don’t believe you two have met…” his then happily married friend had remarked with a slow swinging open hand toward her.
“Scott Masterson…reluctant friend to this knucklehead” he said with a tight lipped grin, trying not to be so obvious with his instant rapture.
“Scarlett…a pleasure…”
Her hand was so delicate to Scott’s touch. They locked eyes. It was like looking back through centuries of connection, endless days of laying in the sun next to the Seine River, or rising to Hollywood fame in the 1940’s and only having each other who would understand the glory and the pain of it all, or generations of quiet, simple country love that would bear such beautiful, happy children that would go on to raise beautiful, happy children, all with their dark blue eyes. Yes, the memories of every love story since the beginning of time was swirling right there in Scarlett’s irises. Scott had to catch himself before he stared embarrassingly too long.
“Sorry Scottie here doesn’t get out often” his friend quipped, which Scott appreciated actually, it helped him snap back to professionalism.
“Well I don’t either…at least I prefer not to.” Scarlett’s words flowed through the air like a flock of rose petals.
“Hey, kindred spirits.” Scott was really sensing a rising energy out of her, they had barely broken eye contact.
“Well, I’ll let you two have at it, I got a wife around here somewhere. Hey…Scott and Scarlett…not bad, not bad.” His friend exited stage right with a sly chuckle.
“Nice guy…so…what are you drinking, Scarlett?” Scott looked around for the emptiest corner of the rooftop bar, hoping to find a nice place for them to be able to hear each other. This night had just become something.
“That depends, Scott…what do you like?”
Oh man.
Well, as you can expect, the evening blossomed into a beautiful, long winded conversation that etched a long list of similarities between the two. They both lived in the city, had never married, and had dreamed of stable, simpler lives far away from tall buildings and busy streets. The next morning Scott awoke in her arms, which warmed much deeper than just his skin. He could feel her soothing his very identity, his future, everything. Her arms were tailor made to fit his very soul, and he had never felt more safe and at home.
“Mmm…you can stay right here…” she whispered, eyes still closed.
“I will…I will”
They both fell back asleep, into a dream that wouldn’t end upon waking.
Two years passed and suddenly they lived that simple backwoods life, way out where acres of land far out-populated the few and far between people. They took a lovely home, which happily looked over a long backyard, right up to a lively yet mostly undisturbed river. Their only neighbor within a mile was an older ranch worker named Charles, who rarely made himself perceivable. Days were spent way on into town where they both had offices. They didn’t mind the commute. Nights were spent mostly like this night, cuddled outside near a lovely little fire, with a slowly shrinking amount of wine sitting between them. Enjoying their Kingdom. Tonight, however, would prove to be a special night, for many reasons, all unexpected.
“Honey, I’ve been thinking…” Scott began, sitting up and opening his hands to the warmth of the fire.
“Oh?” Scarlett also sat up, eyes widening.
“So look, Scarlett, the last two years have been the best of my life. An absolute dream…”
She held her breath, her focus darting between his eyes and mouth.
“Yeah?”
“We have everything we ever want out here. But…what if there’s more?”
“More?” She had envisioned this very conversation hundreds of times.
“Our dreams have come true, but what if we…made some new dreams?” Scott turned and embedded his eyes into hers. He burst into a big smile.
“Scott…I thought…”
“Nevermind what I said” he cut her off, which he always made a point to never do, but this was a good exception.
“I’m ready, Scarlett…let’s have a family.”
“Ohhhh Scott, oh Scott”
They hugged tight enough to where it hurt.
“Well, in that case, we may need to open another bottle.” She said playfully, bouncing her eyebrows twice.
“Excellent. I’ll be right up. I’ll put this fire out and then start yours up.”
“Oh stop!” She bounded away girlishly, up the snowy back steps and into the house.
Scott let out a big sigh that he could see in the cold air and sat back in his chair, taking in his decision. He really was ready. He had secretly been keeping a long list of names that he liked and that he thought would work in front of Masterson. Especially little girl names. He stared into the campfire flames, getting lost imagining the three of them sitting right here, a little girl resting securely in Scarlett’s arms, as Scott had found himself, and stayed within these past two years.
Suddenly his trance was broken when, from the road in front of their house, came the sound of a vehicle approaching at high speed. Scott snapped his head back toward the house to get a better listen. He could see, around the house and through the trees, a large truck barreling down the country road, its headlights racing and bouncing with intensity. In an instant, it had passed up the road and out of sight.
“Huh?”
Soon, after a moment of silence, another sound echoed into the night. This sound rattled Scott to the bone and tore all that was right in his world into pieces. A sharp, bellowing squeal. His eyes shot over to his neighbors house, which was about a tenth of a mile to his right but still had a couple dim lights on that he could see. The shriek seemed to come from there.
Then, more squeals. It was hellish. More than animal but not quite human. Scott stood up. He heard crashing and tearing and further destruction coming from Charles’ house.
“Scarlett!! Scarlett!” He yelled toward his house, where he looked and could see her silhouette behind the curtains at the kitchen window. She didn’t seem to hear him.
He turned back toward his neighbors. The chaos had gone quiet. Not a half a moment after, though, he heard something big barreling through the trees as fast as that truck had been sprinting. Running, running furiously between the two houses. Searching, hunting. Scott was taken aback so hard that his heel had caught the edge of the fire pit, throwing him down only inches away from severe burns. He had knocked his head in the whiplash, making him groan and take a moment to regain his bearings.
“SCARLETT!!!!”
He screamed out toward his home as he sat up, rubbing a quickly rising bump on the back of his head. He heard a loud breaching on the side of his house. The patio door. No. No. Then, all hell broke loose. Scarlett started wailing and crying and he could hear crashes of plates and glasses and deep guttural roars coming from the kitchen inside. Shadows danced in a frenzy from the curtained windows. Sounds of instinctual survival seemed to be thrown from Scarlett inside. Sounds of defeat. Sounds of agony. Sounds of insanity. Scott sprang to his feet, his equilibrium being more damaged than he realized after his fall. He had to catch his hand on a chair to stabilize himself. Scarlett’s symphony of pain had gone quiet. Soon after something burst back out the patio door again and off in the same direction as that truck before.
Scott struggled back up to the house, slowly climbing the wintered, crunching stairs that led to the patio. He no longer yelled for Scarlett. In fact, the only thing that came to his senses was the sound of his own heavy breathing. Everything else had been turned off, save for a heavy and sudden dread that he had prayed he would never feel. He came to the side of his house where indeed the patio door had been busted and forced open. It laid inside the kitchen, its hinges snapped like toothpicks. Scott, with eyes wide and twitching, slowly entered his home and looked into the kitchen.
He didn’t scream. He didn’t even change his breathing. He didn’t blink. He just got a good long look at what laid before him.
Everything was broken. The fridge was on its side, the door hanging open and food and drink scattered all over the floor. The table was upended, its legs to the ceiling. A chair was resting on the counter, possibly having been thrown in defense. And Scarlett. Oh Scarlett. She…was…everywhere. She was all over the floor. She was sprayed against the walls. She was stuck to the window. She was in the sink.
Scott gently walked through the carnal mess and sabotage of his world. Long ago he had known exactly what he would do if something anywhere near this bad were to happen to him. He politely stumbled through the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom. He opened his closet door and lowered a fire safe from the top rack. He unlocked it with a passcode. 511, after that warm May date when he had first met Scarlett. In the safe was a Sig Sauer P320 handgun. Scott took it out, along with a box of bullets, loaded one into the gun, put the safe back on its rack, and walked out of the closet, sitting on his bed. Their bed. Where they should’ve been laying right at this very moment, working toward a happy future. Where he would’ve kissed her forehead and put a hand on her growing midsection. Where they would have awoken on Christmas morning to the sound of children who were way too excited to remain asleep. Where they would’ve grown old. Where they would’ve smiled at each other through wrinkles, satisfied with all the love they shared and passed on to the next generations. Where they would’ve held each other in deep peace as they finally fell asleep to this world.
“I will…I will”
In one quick motion Scott pulled back the hammer and stuck the barrel of that pistol right up against his Governor and blew himself away, far away, right back into Scarlett’s loving arms.
Jeremy “Smallmouth” Bassett quickly yet stealthily made his way back to his Uncle’s house. He hugged the sides of the dark country road, keeping his eyes and ears wide open as to notice any sounds pertaining to the event that he had just witnessed there in the field next to the huge blaze. His only thought was Uncle Chuck. His house was right on the warpath of that horrible thing and Smallmouth had to go to him and make sure he was safe. He dared not go back to his truck, which would bring a lot of unwanted attention. No, Smallmouth walked and walked and finally saw the lights of his Uncle’s house. He carefully approached the front door from the shadowed driveway. Suddenly it occurred to Smallmouth that something was very wrong here. The door was busted in, having been plowed through by something very large and very strong.
“No…no…no”
Smallmouth slowly entered the house. The kitchen and living room were a disaster, chairs and tables and bottles strewn about and shattered. Bloody hoof-prints covered the floors, each of them the size of dinner plates. Smallmouth heard no noise. He felt himself well with tears, his nose a faucet that he began to sniff up as he worked his way through to his Uncle’s room, the door there also being broken in. A small whine growing in his throat, Smallmouth peaked into his uncles bedroom.
It was all in tatters. The bed had been attacked and shredded, the mattress being ripped up and thrown about as if it were made of cotton candy. More bloody hoof-prints were painted all over the brown carpet. Smallmouth trembled and put a hand up to his wet face. He didn’t see a way that his Uncle was anywhere near alive, knowing what he knew about the monster that had been in this house.
Smallmouth slowly walked to the living room, to the only little table that had been untouched in the attack. It was almost as if the bottle of whiskey teleported into his hand from the overturned cabinet, unopened. He fixed that real quick.
Soon he was several pulls deep of the only thing in the world that he knew would make him feel better, even if only for a few hours. He found his pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket and lit one up, although he was indoors. What did it matter? He sat in a chair that he had turned right side up and set the bottle on the table and looked out the back window into the pitch black. He cried for his Uncle and he cried for the world. He cried for himself. He cried for broken promises and his own weakness. He drank and drank until his vision shook from right to left everywhere he looked. At first he didn’t even notice the figures on the back porch. Then his vibrating focus did pick up on them, but by then it was too late. It was so dark out there but in their outlines he could see they wore long robes and hoods.
“HA!! COME AND GET ME! HAHA!! YOU COME AND YOU GET ME!!” Smallmouth boasted with a delusional amount of courage.
A creak escaped from the kitchen and he drunkenly slung his head over toward it. Three more figures stood there. Or was it just one? Smallmouth was none the wiser. All at once the hooded intruders from both inside and outside began to chant a strange, twisted rhyme in strikingly low and dissonant harmony:
“A sliver…of liver…goes down…with a shiver… …and gives…your gullet…to gall… …but drink…the Cider…that drowns…the Spider… …and you…will be free…of it all… …so tighten the grip…that loosens your lips… …O raise…the bottle…of brown… …and wake tomorrow…to find…in sorrow… …ANOTHER…SPIDER…TO…DROWN”
Smallmouth groaned at them in dissatisfaction and turned his bottle up again and began to chug the whiskey. As he did they repeated the chant except this time it was louder and closer. By the time Smallmouth had finished his bottle he was quickly losing consciousness. This wasn’t just whiskey. As he closed his eyes he felt hands grabbing him from all sides.
Smallmouth pulled open his sticky eyelids. His head felt like someone had bowled a strike into it. Wind froze his face. The smell of sickly, wet iron stung his nostrils. His vantage was higher than usual. Way higher. He was looking out into another field, but from easily ten feet up. He saw an old church, formerly painted white but now a flaky pale-beige. He heard the friction of a quick pull of rope below him, matched with a slight, tight pain at his feet. He looked down. A red-robed figure was fastening him against a wooden structure of some kind. His feet sat on a small flat platform perpendicular to a post that went from the ground up past smallmouths head. He couldn’t move his arms, so he quickly shot his eyes side to side. They were also tied to another horizontal post. A cross. He was being tied to a crude wooden cross. His shirt had been removed, exposing a hairy, overweight belly. Smallmouth tried to speak, but all that came out was a slow, unintelligible grumble. He was still drunk. No, this was more than that. He was under the influence of something strong and absolutely inhibitive. He wallowed again, and took in a deep breath. The smell of iron once again hit his nose. He looked down at himself. He was covered in a thick, red liquid. That wasn’t just the smell of iron. He had been splashed full body with blood.
“Now now, young servant…” the figure at his feet had finished his task and took a couple of steps out to admire his own handiwork.
“Ahh…perfect. The picture of martyrdom. Yes, you will always be remembered, Brother Bassett. You are to be the first Saint of The New Bible.” He opened his arms in his declaration.
Smallmouth looked up into the cold night sky. The moon shown down, giving everything a midnight spotlight. It was a gorgeous waxing gibbous, big and bright but not quite full. Yes, he was in a great big snowy field that housed an old worn down church. From the windows of the church he saw candles glowing, showing dark heads and shoulders looking out to him, also covered in loose hoods, hiding faces. He was hanging on a cross about one hundred feet from the old church. In front of the cross was a partially covered pit, a couple of two by fours supporting double armfuls of branches and dead leaves.
The figure at the base of the cross put his arms back to his side. He was still looking right at the drugged Smallmouth’s dumbstruck face. Even with a veiled mouth you could hear the twisted smile in his voice.
“Tonight you will help us finally defeat this legion, Smallmouth. You see, it may have the evil spirits within it, but at its core, it is still an owned animal. An animal that knows its Master very well. An animal that will remember the smell of its Master. You, my friend, are covered in its Master right now. And you are hanging on a cross, the symbol of this brute’s most hated enemy. But take heart, young Brother. Before you is our pit of spears. Yes you will attract the beast, but our Divine plan will intercept it and the beast will fall and be pierced. And then, oh dear brother, you will forever be immortalized. You will be purified in fire by the hands of your church brethren. Out of your screams and into the smoke the iniquities of all will be released. We will go on to preach your good example and your sainthood forever and ever.”
Smallmouth began to drool and hum pathetically. He could hear and understand the words of the robed man but he couldn’t fight back. His body was useless, limp inside its rope confines. All he could do now is think, and watch, and wait, and dread his fate.
The figure turned away from him, walking over near the pit and gathering up a bundle of brambles and throwing them over the last open area, covering it completely. He then crunched through the snow over to the front door of the old church, groaning open the door. He stood at the dark doorway for a few seconds in silence, and then began to make a noise. An over exaggerated pig squealing noise, high pitched and infuriating. Soon after other voices from inside the church began to do the same, their wailing echoing out of the building and all across the field, loudly signaling, calling out. It may as well have been a dinner bell. Not a half minute after they began the distress signal it was loudly answered by a distant squall. A furious squall.
This was it. Either way it happened Smallmouth was about to die. Experience terror, and then die, and not even have the ability to put up any kind of defense. It wasn’t fair. He just slowly lifted up his head and watched out far into the moonlit, white field. He then raised his heavy head further and took a good gander at the moon and stars for the last time.
“God,” he thought to himself, still having full inner monologue yet no outer motor function, “I am so sorry. I am so sorry for being what I am. I am so sorry for ending up in this place. It’s only my own fault. If it wasn’t for me being so stupid and messy and drunk and terrible then this wouldnt be happening to me.”
He began to shed tears that washed lines into the blood on his face.
“Please forgive me God. Please, please, please forgive me for all of my sins. This is it. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. PLEASE FORGIVE ME!!!!” He yelled inside his own mind, hoping and trying to send his silent words as far up into heaven as they could go.
He lowered his eyes back to the ground. He looked over at the church again. The windows were empty, the candles were extinguished. Those hooded cowards were hiding from their own handmade sacrificial service. All was quiet for a long pause until a much louder, closer bleating began at the edge of the forest not even three hundred feet away from Smallmouth’s glazed over eyes. It was time, and it was too late for a miracle.
Out of the woods, slowly and heavily, stomped the massive hog. As it marched closer and closer Smallmouth could see its white, boiled over eyes and black-burnt skin. Its jaws were flying open and snapping its sharp, pocket knife-sized teeth together in an intimidating “clack”. It was now less than a hundred feet away, the dark old church to its right shoulder. It stopped, its pale glowing eyes fixed right on Smallmouth on the crude cross. It truly was a monster. It stood as tall as a man and as long as a canoe. Around its murderous mouth were stains of red, the remnants of all that it had taken from the world on this unholy night. In its clanging jaws were bits of flesh. It snorted and scowled.
Then, in a fury, it wailed that horrible squeal and started off into a dead sprint. It galloped and galloped toward Smallmouth at a high, blistering speed. It kept yawping and howling as it cut the distance from the cross down to fifty feet, forty feet, thirty, twenty. All at once it passed over the covered pit and plunged in. In his doomed, dead eyed stupor Smallmouth could hear what sounded like paint being dumped from a rooftop onto concrete. Trails of black liquid squirted and splashed up from the pit, which had been uncovered in the fall of the beast. Unbelieving, Smallmouth saw dozens of steel spear tips standing up from the dug-in ground. Right in the middle of them the beast was stuck. The sheer weight of the animal had caused the spears to pierce through its tough skin, sticking out of its back, soaked in black blood. One spear had stabbed right under the hogs chin, passing up through its jaws and out its black snout. It made agonized sounds. It roared and roared and shook the spears inside it, beginning furiously, then growing weaker and weaker within seconds. Finally, it let out one last weak little squeal, before it went still and quiet.
Smallmouth was frozen both physically by drugs and constraints and mentally by shock. His mouth hung open toward the pit of spears, his vision blurry. He took in a deep, troubled breath and let out a moan of disbelief and relief. The old church doors sprang open, and the sound of jubilation within flowed out into the night. The red robed figures flocked out of the building toward the pit, arms raised in celebration. They surrounded the hole, getting a good look at their success and their enemies defeat. Some held additional spears and began further stabbing the dead animal, causing more black blood to be shed up at them. They all yelled loudly and triumphantly. Some danced around the pit. Some skipped over to Smallmouth on the cross and danced around him, slapping his legs and spinning in circles.
Smallmouth looked on at the raucous celebration, both in utter disbelief of their trap actually working and also in turmoil. How long now until they fully execute their plan.
A taller robed man, whose voice matched the same one who spoke to Smallmouth as he tied his feet, spoke up, sounding almost happily intoxicated.
“Ahh yes my Brothers!! It is done!! We have won!!!”
They all whooped and cheered.
“Brother Norman, go into the church and bring me the small tank of fuel. Let us send our dear Saint Bassett to the Holy lands, where he will be adored for all eternity!”
They all clapped and hollered. One figure began childishly skipping away from the pit and over toward the front door of the church.
Then, it happened.
From the pit all of a sudden a great blaze erupted instantly. It stood as tall as the cross, and it burned a furious red and blue. It raged and raged, blinding Smallmouth and making him clumsily turn his face away from the heat.
All of the figures panicked, screaming and scattering away toward the church. They didn’t get far. Up from the fiery pit, dozens of long, long, black arms, adorned with six hooking claws emerged and stretched out of the flames and latched on to the legs of those trying to escape. Smallmouth heard crying and wailing from the men as the black, razor clawed-hands of the legion grabbed them and began pulling them back, into the blazes. One by one the red robed people were dragged into the flames, their clothes catching instantly. Smallmouth could see violently shaking bodies in the evil furnace. Oh, the screams. Above the tortured howling, the sound of laughing broke out. Deep, menacing laughter, hundreds of voices, echoed up into the air from the burning hole. Then, in one extinguishing squeeze, the ground swallowed the entirety of the fiery pit, leaving it completely covered in dirt, still and quiet. Soon after, and just like the pit of spears, the old church building caught in an instant and raging fire, quickly toppling the walls and dropping the steeple into its ruins. The smoke towered high in the night sky, which had just began to hint at a pale morning blue. Smallmouth hung on his cross in utter horror and surprise.
As the late evening hours glowed into early morning the smoke eventually tapered off, as Smallmouth’s drugs finally began to wear off as well. The fires of the church did garner long distance attention, though. Just as Smallmouth was able to regain control of his muscles and voice he heard emergency sirens call out into the cold morning air. Not long after, two fire trucks, an ambulance and a sheriffs truck tore into the field and toward Smallmouth on the cross. Not long after Smallmouth could feel the tied ropes being cut loose by firemen, their uniforms easily the best red clothes he had seen all night.
“What on God’s green Earth happened here son?” A bearded man with a dark hat and brown shirt and pants asked Smallmouth once he had been lowered down from the cross and sat on the ground with a shock blanket around his shoulders. The Sheriff, no doubt.
“God’s green Earth. It really is God’s, isn’t it?” Smallmouth whispered, staring out across the cold field. Then, at the very place he was staring, an old, familiar truck came barreling out of the gravel road in the woods and through the field in the steadily growing morning light. It was Uncle Chuck’s truck. It hurried over toward the other emergency vehicles, parked, the driver’s side door burst open, and Uncle Chuck came bounding out over to Smallmouth, his eyes wide and his mouth a wonderfully shocked “O”.
“JEREMY! JEREMY!!!” He basically fell on Smallmouth in a tight, warm hug. Smallmouth was caught off guard by Chuck using his real name.
His Uncle held him for several seconds and then let up, but kept his hands on Smallmouth’s shoulders.
“I thought you were dead.” Both of them said at almost the exact same time.
“I came back and your house was a mess and there was blood everywhere. I thought you were dead.” Smallmouth weakly spat out.
“Well, I woke up and you were gone, son, so I walked to the ranch to get my truck. I was worried bout ya son. I came back home and the whole place had been turned upside down. Blood on the carpet. I just thought the worst. Then I tried my neighbors house. Buddy, they’re dead. Looks like some wacko murder-suicide if I ever saw one. Scott probably tried to come kill us too and wrecked the place when he found it empty. I don’t know. But what I DO know is that you are right here! You are okay Jeremy!! Ahhh Praise Jesus!!”
“It’s not that, Uncle. That isn’t what happened out here. It’s..it was a..a, uh…”
Smallmouth’s fried brain couldn’t even comprehend what he had witnessed over the past few hours. It was all a violent blur.
“Dont worry bout it son, you can tell me everything on the way to the hospital. We gotta go get you checked out and cleaned up. C’mon.” He helped Smallmouth up and they walked over to the ambulance, his Uncle’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Smallmouth would be sent home later that afternoon. It would take him and his Uncle a long time to sort through the chaos of that deadly night and rebuild their lives. But life kept on. Smallmouth would remain living with his Uncle, and would begin a job working with him down at the ranch. Together they started to attend a local church. Smallmouth never touched a drink or a drug or even a cigarette ever again, and remained steadfast in his newly revitalized faith.

Alivia strapped her daggers to her thighs, ensuring the blades were easy to access without impairing her movements. It was hard enough to escape The Order alive, and after I met Richard, I swore I would never go back to my old ways. Now that he's gone, what else am I supposed to do?
Her short auburn hair framed the delicate features of her face, drawing attention to her eyes. Blue as sapphires, those eyes could distract almost as much as the rest of her body. The only thing that marred her beauty was a small scar running across her collarbone, a souvenir from a battle long ago.
She checked the fitting of her leather garb one last time before placing her short bow and quiver on her back, ensuring they were secure. I need to provide for my children. They’re all that matters to me, and I don't know what else to do.
Donning her balaclava, she stepped onto the windowsill. She took one last look at her children fast asleep, then leapt through the window, ready to begin her journey. I have to do this for you two. I would do anything to make you happy.
Alivia approached the mage's keep, leery of any magical traps that might give her away. The manse looked abandoned, with broken windows, chipped paint, and a sagging iron gate. With any luck, it would be empty, making for an easy job.
Even with that hopeful thought, she was just as careful as if it were guarded by a dozen men. She crossed the lawn, sliding into a basement window where the bars looked gnawed off by some sort of monster.
The room was damp, with racks of wine bottles splintered on the floor, their contents long seeped into the cobblestone. Alivia carefully stepped over the broken glass and splinters, making her way to the only door. She checked the door for traps and found a simple conflagration weave. Clumsily, she disabled the trap and stepped into the hall.
Blue light flashed across the ceiling. "Crap," Alivia muttered under her breath as she readied her bow. She wouldn't have missed the enchantment if she hadn't been so rusty. It was layered under the first weave, something only a novice would overlook. But she was no novice and had no excuse for the mistake. She slowly made her way down the only path, ever more careful now that her presence was known.
She came to an ornate door, symbols she couldn't recognize etched along the frame. A thorough check showed no traps. She stepped through, arrow nocked and ready.
An old man sat in front of a fireplace, the Tome of Flame resting on his lap. "So you're the mighty mage that lives in this pile of crap you call a home," Alivia said, sarcasm dripping from her lips as she stepped through the doorway, her arrow pointing at Rothgar. "I’ve come for the Tome of Flame. Just hand it over unless you want the last thing you taste to be my arrow."
Rothgar soaked in the heat from the fireplace, red mist swirling in his eyes. This was his sanctuary, and he would not tolerate intruders. Rage burned within as Rothgar spoke firmly, “You will never leave here alive. You have disgraced my wife's memory by entering this place!”
As the words passed over his lips, Alivia loosed her arrow and dropped the bow to draw her daggers. Her aim was true, but she had learned never to underestimate a mage.
The arrow flew straight for Rothgar’s head. He raised his hand and shot forth a ball of flame, disintegrating the arrow mid-flight. “You call that an attack? A kitten would put up a better fight.” Laughter echoed through each word to taunt her.
Before he could say anything else, Alivia was already on him, one dagger slashing towards his throat, the other stabbing at his ribs. Rothgar dodged the attack and threw out a quick wave of heat to distance himself from his attacker. Once distanced, he took in more heat and threw another fireball.
Alivia barely escaped behind a table as the fireball exploded on the wall behind her, throwing hot stone everywhere. She was going to have to be more careful not to underestimate the mage's speed and agility. That last mistake had almost cost her life.
She rolled from the table to a pillar, subtly throwing one of her daggers mid-roll. The table burst into flames as she eluded another of Rothgar’s fireballs.
Rothgar barely sidestepped the dagger as it flew past, cutting a shallow gash into his shoulder. Blood dripped from the wound. “Much better. You actually drew blood with that attack. This might actually be a decent fight after all.”
But even as he spoke those words, his eyes glazed over from the poison coursing through his veins. He fell to one knee and then toppled over onto his side. Alivia slowly approached the dying man, wary of a last desperate attack.
“I’ll be taking your tome now. Apparently, I need to have a conversation with my buyer. This was supposed to be a simple snatch and grab,” Alivia said coldly. She never wanted anyone to get hurt, but she had to do what needed to be done. Besides, her heart was long dead to the guilt of murder.
As she bent down to take the tome, Rothgar stared at her with a look of relief. With his last dying breath and a twinkle in his eye, he spoke. “I was too much of a coward to take my own life. Oh, how I have missed my dear Elizabeth. Thanks to you, I can finally see her again.” With those last words, he faded from this world, his soul finally free.

The episode faded back in to a shot of the Gaffers' platform being raised up to the roof by Scott, Ripper, and Chase as MK watched and Izzy walked over, wiping slime off herself.
"Uh, not to sound lazy," Scott said as he left the chain, "but I'm not feeling so good."
"You probably just have a cold," Izzy told him.
"Since when do colds have sores like this?" Scott followed up as he lifted his right arm and pointed to a round, reddish-brown spot on his elbow.
Izzy looked at him attentively and put her hand on his forehead. "Your body temperature is high, but it's possible that-" she was interrupted by a sudden burp from her teammate that caused her to cringe and take a step back. "Why does your breath smell like lemons?"
"Are you trashing my burps?" Scott asked in confusion.
"Hold on," Justin interrupted as the camera cut to him. "Red sores, fever, lemony burps? Aren't those symptoms of one of the diseases in the book?"
"Page 753," Millie exclaimed. "Mortatistical Crumples Disease!" She gasped. "And it's fatal!"
Everyone gasped. "Mortatistical Crumples is also highly contagious!" MK added, eliciting another gasp from most of the cast.
"Okay, looks like it's quarantine time!" Chris said, backing towards the door with barely-hidden panic. "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!" He gave them a quick wave, then dashed out the double door between the two vats. Both teams went over to it with shock on their faces as the sounds of power tools were heard on the other side.
The camera cut to Chris as he pounded a nail in with a hammer. It was one of many holding up a red banner with an orange skull-and-crossbones on it, set over several long pieces of wood that had been nailed up to bar the exit. "There's more to this disease than either team knows," he told the camera with an impish grin before walking away with a dark chuckle.
Another shot of the numbered studios was shown. "Hold on," Anne Maria spoke up as the shot cut back to the ten castmates in the challenge set. "How did Dirt Boy catch a fatal disease?"
“I'm sure it's just a twenty-four hour kind of fatal,” Scott hoped.
"We have to quarantine Scott! Stat!" Izzy said in a panic.
The camera showed Ripper furiously inflating a plastic bubble with a bicycle pump; the bubble had a yellow-and-black biohazard symbol on it. "Get inside now!" the bully shouted before Scott threw himself head-first into the bubble.
"Oh no!" Jasmine cried. "Brick has a sore too!" She pointed at the soldier boy's upper left arm, who took one look at the sore and began to wave his arm in a panic.
"It has to be a mistake!" Brick exclaimed.
"Hey!" Scott exclaimed from inside his bubble, another one getting inflated nearby. "Is there an exit to this thing?"
"There isn't one!" Ripper shouted as he continued to pump and Brick got into his bubble.
"Why didn't anyone tell me that before I jumped in?!" Scott griped.
“Okay, everyone just calm down!" Chase said.
"Agreed," Jasmine spoke up sternly. "We should make sure no one else is infected. Symptoms of Mortotistico Crumple's Disease include explosive diarrhea..."
"Oh no!" The camera cut to Chase as his bowels began to groan and he ran into a nearby portable toilet with a panicked look on his face.
"Itchy lips," Jasmine continued as the shot cut to Justin, who suddenly bit his lip.
"My… my lips," he moaned. "They're on fire!" He began to frantically rub and scratch at them, leaving them swollen and red.
"Sudden hot flashes," Jasmine listed off as MK began to sweat profusely and tug at her jacket. "Sea sickness," Ripper turned green and vomited. "Speaking in tongues," Izzy was the next to be affected as she babbled incoherently and indistinguishably with her eyes rolling upwards, which continued even as Jasmine listed the final symptom, "and temporary blindness."
"Everyone can see, right?" Jasmine asked as she checked over the castmates’ current states. "That's good to know," she said in relief before walking forward and bumping straight into Brick's bubble. "Oh no," she said in newfound panic. "I'm the one who's blind!"
Confessional: Anne Maria
"I know this is a reality show," Anne Maria told the confessional camera in a serious tone, "but I doubt that Chris would allow us to actually die on national television!"
Confessional Ends
The scene cut to Chris himself watching from his control room, leaning back in his chair with his legs propped up on the desk in front of him. "You'd think we wouldn't," he told the camera, "but, just imagine the ratings!"
Back in the quarantined set, the camera panned across the room to show that everyone except for Anne Maria, Millie, and the bubbled Brick and Scott were now laying on top of stretchers, groaning and moaning.
“This is super bad,” Millie said. “We have to do something.”
“Do you mean taking their temperatures, because we only have rectal thermometers, and I'm not in the mood to joke around with them,” Anne Maria responded.
“I wasn't even thinking about that at all,” Millie stated. “Joking with diseases is not funny at all.”
“Obviously, but have you noticed we're the only ones who didn't take part in the studying all-nighter, and we're the only ones who haven't been infected?” Anne Maria asked while looking over everybody.
“I'm not so sure about this supposed disease,” Millie mused. “We need to get our hands on one of those textbooks. There has to be something they missed.”
“I’d do it if Chris didn’t seal off the only exit,” Anne Maria argued.
"There’s another exit over there," Millie pointed to the Grips' platform, which was now sitting on the floor empty of body parts. The chain still led up to a hole in the ceiling where the reel was situated.
"Oh yeah. How in the world did I not notice that?" Anne Maria droned sarcastically before the two made a dash for the platform.
"I still haven’t forgotten you pushing me off the diving board a few days ago, so don’t think I’m scared of pulling the platform as high as possible," Millie informed as they stepped onto the platform and pulled down on the chain, making them ascend.
The footage flashed forward to the outside of the studio as the two girls jumped down from a ladder on the wall of the building. “You grab a textbook, I'll look in the kitchen,” Millie instructed before they split off in opposite directions.
Confessional: Millie
"I really hope that the disease is fake," Millie explained in the make-up trailer. "There were some diagnoses and symptoms in the textbook that I've never heard of before, but I've studied a lot about diseases to be familiar with a selective few."
Confessional Ends
Back inside, Scott was shown to be rolling around in his bubble. "How long has it been since I got in this bubble?" he groaned.
"I don't want to hold onto my bladder for more than an hour!" Brick cried while covering his groin with both hands.
"My lips," Justin groaned on his stretcher. "Of all places, why my lips?"
"I'd kiss them to make you feel better, but I'm not a princess and you are not a frog," MK said, sitting up on the stretcher next to him; Jasmine and Chase were visible in a row behind them. "And even then, I am not an animal kisser."
Ripper was sitting against one of the walls, writing something on a piece of paper with a bucket of vomit next to him. “To my parents; don't let my brothers keep the money I've taken from weaklings in the past.” He paused to throw up into his bucket before writing again. “To my brothers; don't even think about stealing my stash from me, especially you, Wolfgang! From your best son, Richard Kennedy.”
The double doors between the vats were thrown open by Millie and Anne Maria. The camera pulled out as the other cast members moaned, and the two young women stepped into the room – the Jersey girl holding a textbook, and the author with some kind of canister.
"Who's there?" Jasmine asked.
"Simmer down, everyone," Anne Maria said. "We're just here to expose the truth about these textbooks, which are actually bogus." She held the book she'd brought up, and easily tore the cover off it. "The book covers are just cereal boxes." Her bowels started to growl, and with a panicked look, she dropped the book and ran towards the portable toilet. "I'll be right back!"
"It can be a crock," Jasmine sat up on her stretcher. "Nobody's faking the sickness!"
“No, but it's still untrue,” Millie interjected. “I just went to Chef's kitchen, and I found this "cheese". The camera focused in on the canister in her hand as she held it up, showing that it had an image of a cheese wedge on the label.
"Uh, what is in that parmesan?" Brick wondered innocently.
"It is not cheese, but it is," Millie tore off the label to reveal a second beneath it with an image of scratching hands on it, "itching powder and laxatives!"
"Chef!" Brick muttered under his breath. "Why did he not inform me?"
It was then that Anne Maria burst back out of the portable toilet followed by a cloud of foul odor. "That explains the diarrhea and itchy lips."
"And I didn't get sick since I'm the only one who didn't eat the pizza," Millie added.
"What about the sores on Brick and Scott?" Chase asked.
"As for those," Millie laughed lightly, walking over to her quarantined teammate. "They're just pepperoni pieces that got stuck on you when you likely fell asleep."
Brick reached over to touch his sore, and it peeled off easily. "She's right!"
Scott also touched his own sore and it also peeled off quickly. "I was suckered! Now can somebody let me out of here now?"
"So wait," MK spoke up, "the disease is fake?"
Jasmine was the first to react, sitting up and blinking. "By golly. I'm not blind anymore!"
"And I can talk normally!" Izzy cheered.
"And I'm not gonna throw up anymore!" Ripper added. "We've been cured!"
"Could I be let out now?!" Brick pleaded. "I have some urgent business to take care of!"
"I'm comin’," Anne Maria rushed over to the bubble and simply popped it with her fingernail. Both of them winced as the bubble burst, and Brick immediately rushed over to the portable toilet.
"And don't forget about me as well!" Scott spoke up, rolling his bubble into the middle of the room.
Izzy took out a pin, popping her teammate's bubble. “This was all first year med school syndrome!” she said. “Too much studying and too little sleep can make you think you've got every disease in the book!”
"Congratulations, Killer Grips!" the voice of Chris McLean came suddenly, the camera pulling out to show the host descending from the ceiling on another chain. "You just won the challenge!"
The five Grips began to cheer and celebrate. "Brilliant diagnostic skills, Anne Maria and Millie. Way to suss it out. And, for your reward," Chris continued, frowning and looking down at his empty hands. "Knew I forgot something. Just a sec!" he said before stepping back onto the chain's foothold and raising back out of the room.
Confessional: Anne Maria
"This challenge was certainly… something," Anne Maria confessed. "I can't believe that I had to play the role of doctor just to tell everybody about the so-called disease being a lie. Who knew tainted pizza could make you have hot flashes and sea sickness?”
Confessional Ends
"One thing's for sure. I'm double checking my food from now on if I want to prevent temporary blindness or having to speak in tongues," Jasmine told the Grips as the footage cut back to them.
“Once again, the pizza was too good to be true,” Brick commented. “You made a good call not eating any slices, Millie.”
“I had no idea that there were laxatives put onto it,” Millie claimed. “If I wasn't so invested with the book, I'd probably eat the pizza and fall victim to the sickness just like you guys.”
It was then that Chris returned, descending down on the same chain as before but now carrying a covered platter. "As I was saying," he said as he walked towards the Grips, "for your reward!"
He removed the cover and the camera zoomed in on what lay beneath – five picture frames, three in back and two in front, each containing a photograph of a different person. The first on the left was a light purple cat. The second was a confident-looking Hawaiian woman with black long hair wearing a yellow tracksuit and red hoop earrings. In the middle was a teenage girl, pale with brown hair tied in a bun and a beige tank top. Fourth was a smiling white man; he had no hair, had golden dog tags around his neck, and was dressed in a dark green military outfit. And on the right end was an elderly black man with white curly hair, a white mustache covering his mouth, and a dark orange collared long-sleeved shirt.
"That's my cat Whiskers!" Jasmine said excitedly as the shot panned across the photos.
"And that's one of my girlfriends Vanessa," Anne Maria declared.
"Yup!" Chris told them. "One of you gets a whole spa night away from this cruddy studio lot, with your very best friend! So, who's the lucky stiff?"
“I'd kill for a spa day, even if it's with my mom, so how about letting me have it?” Justin smiled widely at his team.
“I have some things I want to talk about with my father,” Brick suggested.
“Now wait just a minute…” Jasmine interrupted as she, Brick, and Justin started to argue over who should get the prize.
“Can all of you shut up!!” Anne Maria ceased the fight, causing everyone to look at her. “As much as I would love to be away from this trashy film lot, I say we should let Millie have the reward.”
"Wait, me?" Millie asked in astonishment. “How come?”
"Clearly, you did the most research out of all of us, and you won the challenge for us," Anne Maria answered.
“You did say that the person who contributes the most should claim the reward,” Brick brought up.
“And with you also not eating that pizza, you've certainly earned that spa night,” Jasmine smiled.
“I don't want to be left out, so okay then,” Justin agreed with a shrug.
"Chris, the Killer Grips came to a decision," Anne Maria said before giving Millie a light shove forward.
"W-wow," Millie said softly as she began to tear up. "This is really generous!"
“Just accept the offer before I trade places with you,” Justin said.
"Eeeuuughh," Chris said in disgust. "Clean up on aisle two!" he called, and moments later, a pair of young white men in white work outfits walked through the open door, one of which carried a push broom. They disappeared off-screen for a moment, then reappeared with one pushing Millie towards the door and the other sweeping up after.
"Thank you for allowing me to take the reward!" Millie said as she allowed herself to be escorted out, wiping away her tears with her hands.
The scene cut outside as Millie walked up to the beaten-down Lame-o-sine. The door opened, and she smiled and stepped inside.
"Granddad!" the writer said happily as the shot moved inside to show her hugging the white haired old man who had been seen in one of the pictures. "I've really missed you!"
"I missed you too, Millie," the man said as he hugged his daughter. "Don't get my favorite shirt wet now. I got it dry cleaned."
"Sorry," Millie said as they broke their hug. "I have a lot to talk to you about ever since I competed in the first season."
Her grandfather smiled proudly. "Spill the details. I can tell you had a ball, but don't blame me if I start to doze off more than I do while writing best selling books."
"I'm not that boring!" Millie laughed cutely. "So it all started when I was dropped off on the dock..."
"Sheesh," Chris cringed as the scene cut to him in his control room. "Talk about a loving family! Hopefully they'll get their dullness smoothed while they're at the spa." He pulled a lever on the desk, cutting the monitor feeds to static, and stood up. "So, will the Grips' winning streak last? Or will they fall apart and lose their teamwork? Find out next time, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
“That spa night was amazing!” Millie told the camera while in the trailer. “The manicures and pedicures were to die for, and the facials and mud bath really smoothened the rough parts of my skin. Granted, this spa night wasn't as fun as the two-day resort back in Camp Wawanakwa, but thankfully, I didn't have to eat any disgusting food this time, so that's an upside. Want to know something interesting? Granddad was more into the spa treatments than me, but don't tell him that I said that to you,” she added with a giggle.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Brick, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott

Sorry for the delay everyone, I had a loss in the family and needed to take some time with loved ones. Decompressed and back in the saddle now to resume regular posting.
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Chapter 22
Ana
The first time she opened her eyes, it was to a soft, pillowy comfort, the kind that made her want to tuck the duvet right up to her chin and go back to sleep no matter what responsibilities awaited. Dull grey light and a plain ceiling. There were sounds too, but they floated in and out of earshot as if on clouds, dulled like a conversation from an adjoining room one moment, then uncomfortably loud, like someone was speaking directly into her ear the next. She closed her eyes and the warmth carried her off again.
The second time she woke, things were sharper. There were edges to the tiles of the ceiling above her head and the comfortable fuzziness had lessened, giving way to the dull aching onset of a vicious headache. Her limbs were heavy, weighted anchors dragging down her swimming skull and pinning her to the seafloor of the bed.
This is… wait, what happened?
She remembered the smell of the barbecue, and arriving at the door to the journalist’s suite, and then… a sharper throb of pain rippled up the front of her skull from her temples and she winced.
Movement. She turned her head slowly so as not to provoke another stab of pain.
A kespan in a white outfit sat some ten feet away to her right. She was perched on a strange metal seat, and when she noticed Ana’s stare she directed it over, gliding across the floor towards the bed with a low humming sound. There was a symbol on her breast pocket, one that Ana recognized from her medical exams. A doctor, then.
The pieces of the puzzle started to click, and Ana propped herself up, the sheets below her crinkling softly. How is it that even with all their advanced technology, hospital beds still feel the same as on Earth?
“Specialist Cardoso?” The kespan peered down at her and Ana squinted back. “I’m Doctor Scytha. You gave us all quite the scare you know.”
“I really don’t…”
“I’ll go over everything that happened with you in just a moment, but first I need to know, are you in any pain? I understand you hit your head on the way down.”
“Just a headache,” Ana flinched as another jab of pain radiated across her skull.
“I can get you something for that if you’d like,” the doctor offered. “We’ve ruled out a concussion, but I daresay you’ll be feeling somewhat delicate anyway.”
She was about to agree but paused before the words could leave her lips. Through the lingering haze of whatever they’d had her on while she was unconscious, a tiny niggling feeling in the back of her mind was making itself known.
“No, I… I’m okay for now,” she rasped instead, her throat like dusty sandpaper. “What happened? How long have I been out? Where am I?” She held up a hand, feeling at the side of her head, where the worst of the ache was coming from. A strange smoothness greeted her probing touches.
“You have a minor contusion,” Doctor Scytha explained. “The dressing should stay on for at least a day, but we’ve treated the injury with…” she trailed off, a conflicted expression flickering across her face. “Well, we’ve treated it with something that should help it close much faster. It will be fully healed before you know it.”
“Come on doc,” Ana raised an eyebrow on the side of her face that wasn’t obscured by the strange bandage. “I’m curious. What did you treat me with?”
The doctor’s lips pursed beneath her muzzle, and her eyes flicked away. “Artificial cells. We can program them to—”
“Nanobots,” Ana deadpanned, and the doctor grimaced. “You treated me with nanobots.”
“While they do share some characteristics, the applications…”
“Whatever,” Ana cut her off. “I’m not in the mood to discuss semantics, and I‘ve got enough of a headache already to unpack that. Just tell me where I am please.”
“You’re still aboard the She-Serves-With-Honor,” the doctor supplied, relaxing visibly at the change of topic. “It’s been roughly eight hours since you were found. I’m told that you were carried here by that cute reporter boy who’s been stealing the hearts of every serving woman aboard. Lucky you.” She pulled a tab in the side of her chair and a small screen sprang out on a moveable arm. “I’m sure you’re also interested in learning what happened, yes?”
“That was going to be my next question,” Ana grunted, pulling herself upright and noticing for the first time as she did the opaque tube that ran from her forearm down under the bed. Sitting up turned out to be a mistake though, as when she did manage to raise her head the room spun and her stomach turned. She begrudgingly lowered herself again.
“Well, we’re not quite sure ourselves,” the doctor said, her eyes glancing between the screen on her chair and a space on the other side of the room. Ana shifted, ignoring the discomfort until she could peer over towards the door to where the doctor’s eyes had gone, taking stock of her surroundings as she did.
Two uniformed guards were standing there, one on either side of the door. They stood stock still, gazing back at her— no, at the doctor, with measured stares. Three blazes of red shone from each of their outfits at the cuffs and collars, sparkling brightly even in the dim overhead lights.
The room itself was on the smaller side, with her cot the middle of three in the room. The other two beds were empty. They were here for her then.
“Pretty tight security for a ship hospital,” she remarked. “I know I’m new to this whole ‘alien army’ thing, but somehow I don’t think the Garrison stands watch over all of your patients.”
“They are here because I am here, Specialist,” a smooth voice sounded out, and Ana turned her head further, towards the back corner of the room. A severe-looking woman sat there, medals softly shining in the dim light, a crisply ironed, angular hat resting on her knees. She stood as Ana gaped at her.
“Vice Admiral Kel’rek, ma’am.” She tried to raise a hand into the chest-high salute of the kespan military, but her head throbbed again, and the niggling feeling in the back of her brain only grew in magnitude, so the result was a sloppy flapping motion. Ana frowned, staring down at her uncooperative limbs.
“At ease, Specialist,” the Admiral waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve had a rough night. What do you remember?”
It might have been the drugs, but something about the way she asked the question made the hairs on the back of Ana’s neck stand on end. By the doorway, the soldier’s attention had shifted. Now they were staring at her.
“Not much ma’am,” she answered, ignoring the insistent tug of her hindbrain. “Just walking down the corridor, arriving at the door to the suite, and then nothing. Did something happen?”
“We were hoping you could tell us,” the doctor chimed in, with a respectful nod to the Admiral, who had sat back to rub at her chin. “Your scans came back clear, your bloodwork was unremarkable and your toxicology report shows you’re clean, no known contaminants. Although,” she hesitated, and the Admiral shot her a sharp look. “It’s possible that we missed something. We don’t know everything there is to know about Ervamir yet. It could be that something specific to humans eluded our scans.”
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, Ana thought bitterly, something red and hot churning in her gut and threatening to spill over. She quashed it, but barely. Strange, I haven’t been this quick to anger since before… she cut that thought short too. It must be the drugs.
“Failing that though, what is your prognosis doctor?” the Admiral asked— no, seriously, why is she in the room? Has she been here the whole time? “Nothing too dire, I hope? It wouldn’t do to lose our first human soldier to an unknown illness.”
First human soldier. Her. How long had it been since that idea made her blood boil like it did now? She felt it return, the same dark crawling feeling that had curled up to nest inside her when she accepted the alien’s offer some six months prior. Back then it had been hunger that forced her hand. A choice between flinging herself on the mercy of the cartels or working with the invaders. I thought I’d left this feeling behind.
The doctor hummed, head still buried in the tablet. “New species often exhibit psychological distress in response to their first exposure to space,” she said hesitantly. “The media presence and press conference, followed by an interview on the same day may simply have been too much. If there are no further physiological symptoms, then the episode may have been stress-induced.”
Ana’s eyebrow twitched. “Respectfully doc,” she managed a forced smile. “Like most humans, I think I’ve been through things a lot more psychologically challenging than staring out a window and answering some questions. I’ve never seen any of the women back home experience anything like what just happened to me.”
The doctor avoided her eyes. “Compounding trauma could make this kind of event more likely, but again, we don’t know enough about human psychology to make a proper assessment. All I know is the scans are clean.” She looked up, but it was the Admiral whose gaze she met rather than Ana’s. “I’m prescribing plenty of rest. She should be off active duty for at least a week, preferably planetside.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Admiral Kel’rek stood, and her guards moved to flank her. “You heard the doc, Specialist, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. In the meantime, I believe your squadmates are anxious to hear from you.” She raised an eyebrow at the doctor, who nodded. “I’ll have word sent that you’re awake.” She took a step towards the door.
“And the journalist, ma’am?” Ana asked.
The Admiral turned back to her and tilted her head slightly. “What about him, Specialist? I hope you’re not considering giving an interview from your hospital bed. I’m afraid that might give off the wrong impression.” She spoke with a light tone, but the look she directed Ana’s way was firm.
“I just wanted to apologize for not making our appointment,” Ana insisted. “And maybe arrange a new time, once I’m given the all-clear.”
The Admiral hesitated, just for a microsecond, but it was enough to be noticeable. “I’ll have word sent. You should be aware that he’ll be on the next shuttle with the rest of the media. It’s unlikely that you’ll get a chance to see him in person.”
“You could send me with them,” Ana suggested, and the Admiral shot her an incredulous look, her hand poised to open the door. “Ma’am,” she amended, lowering her eyes to the floor in what she hoped passed for submission. “If I’m going to be recovering planetside anyway, it would be an opportunity for us. To show the galaxy how humans and the Imperium can co-exist, I mean. I’m sure that any good reporter would accept.”
She peered up to watch the wheels turn in the Admiral’s head. Finally, the cat woman stepped away from the door to regard her properly.
“You wouldn’t prefer to recuperate in your home country?” she asked, probing. “The media is bound for the largest island in the South, the one we are currently in orbit over. It’s a green zone, but I would have thought you’d be more comfortable in a familiar setting.”
“Australia?” Ana’s eyes widened slightly, and some genuine excitement leaked into her voice. “I’ve always wanted to visit. I hear it’s a great place to relax. And actually,” she let her tone grow rueful, “I have a slightly… checkered history with my home country now. A lot of baggage. It might be better if I didn’t return for a while, especially if I need to stay low-stress.”
The Admiral raised an eyebrow at the doctor, who nodded. When she turned back to Ana though, she still didn’t appear convinced. “That would put me in a difficult position Specialist,” she said. “If I crammed you into a shuttle with two dozen members of the press less than a day after a serious medical emergency I’d be strung up, even more than I already am just for being here.” She shook her head. “I can’t put you on that ship.”
Ana lowered her eyes again. “I understand ma’am. That’s unfortunate. I was hoping that the interview might make a difference. Show people that cooperation is possible.”
The woman hesitated, and her eyes bore holes into Ana’s own. Then she cocked her head. “However…”
“Yes ma’am?”
“I can arrange transport for tomorrow. We’ll be slightly out of shuttle range by then, but a larger ship could make the journey. Specialist,” she maintained the same intense eye contact, and Ana held it. “I don’t think I need to impress on you the importance of your role here. We all want what’s best for humanity, and the sooner we can get your people on board, the sooner Ervamir… the sooner Earth can be made whole again. I’m expecting a good interview, even if it means a prolonged leave period. Are we clear?”
“Clear ma’am,” Ana managed the salute this time. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Very good. As you were then, get some rest.”
Ana breathed a sigh of relief as the woman exited, the garrison members following her out. To her slight surprise, she noticed the doctor breathe a similar sigh, and filed the information away for later. Maybe she was the sort of commander who rode her troops hard. It was strange; she’d never been given that impression.
An hour went by, and Ana drifted in and out of sleep several times, each time waking up slightly sharper than before, though her headache kept growing. She was offered the painkillers again but declined. Years of soldiering in the South American jungle had taught her to trust her instincts, and hers had been screaming through the fog ever since she’d first awoken that morning. Something didn’t feel right, and she needed to be clear-headed to figure out what. She was feeling less collected now than she had been for months, and somehow, at the same time, more herself.
Maybe the doc is right and I’m just a bit fucked in the head, she thought.
Just as the headache had reached the point where she was beginning to question that decision, a polite rap came from the door. The doctor’s chair hummed across the floor to answer, and a moment later, a fuzzy face peered in overtop two smaller figures.
“You’re awake!” Banta’s voice boomed across the room, and the doctor made a frantic shushing noise. “Oops, sorry.”
The small group piled into the room, and Ana smiled through the throbbing pain as Vrina and Sergeant Rea’ar’s faces also came into view.
“Specialist,” her NCO greeted her. “I trust you’re on the improve?”
“Ma’am,” Ana inclined her head slightly.
“A little bird told me that you’re to be stationed planetside for a time,” she frowned.
“Yes ma’am,” Ana replied. “Sorry for the inconvenience ma’am.”
“It’s no matter,” the sergeant’s expression was unreadable. “The rest of the fire team sends their well wishes.”
“What she means by that is that the duradians don’t think you’ll die,” Banta grinned. “They’ve got some… quirks… regarding illness. Very pragmatic.”
“You can tell them that I appreciate their confidence then,” Ana replied, and what might have been the ghost of a smile graced the sergeant's face before disappearing abruptly.
“You’ve put me in a slightly difficult position here, specialist,” Rea’ar said. “I’ve been asked to leave one of my troops to watch over you in case your condition deteriorates. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but assigning one of the duradians to your care would be a bad fit. I thought to send Singer alone, but…”
Banta stiffened. “Ma’am—” she started before Rea’ar held up a hand.
“Yes, yes, I know Corporal, save it. You’re both going. I’ve arranged for you to be assigned to a posting on the surface, at one of our new consulates. Might as well make use of you while you’re down there.”
Banta relaxed visibly, and Ana looked between the three women in confusion.
“You two aren’t like, married or anything, are you?” she couldn’t help but ask, pointing between Banta and Vrina, and the pair balked. Vrina’s crest puffed out, and she spluttered, a strangled choking sound coming from her beak. Banta sniggered, and the sergeant’s eyebrows rose.
“I— wh— no!” clucked the Ulu, her chest feathers fluffing out like pins from a cushion. “What makes you think that?”
“Well apparently you’re attached at the hip,” Ana defended. “I’m not judging, just curious.
Sergeant Rea’ar held up both hands, absolving herself of the conversation. “I’m glad to hear you’re improving Specialist,” she said, heading for the door, and Ana watched in amazement as the woman who’d kept her cold demeanor throughout months of training and onboarding fled the scene. “I expect regular updates on your condition,” she opened the door and turned to the other two. “Don’t keep her up too long, she needs rest.” Then the door was closing behind her, and she was gone.
“What the fuck was that?” Ana breathed, looking back at Vrina, who was still prickling, and Banta, who was held under the stern glare of the doctor and trying to keep her giggling from devolving into full laughter. “Okay, come on, what is this?”
Banta pulled herself together and glanced over at Vrina, who was still doing her best impression of a taxidermized rooster. “Maybe we should—”
“Shut up,” Vrina tucked her head beneath her feathers, rubbing at her forehead with the ridge of a wing.
“I’m just saying, it’s not like she’ll think any differently of—"
“No.” The ulu held firm. “It’s embarrassing.”
“Hi, invalid here, not exactly in a position to judge,” Ana raised an arm. “I don’t mind if the two of you are—”
“It’s not that,” Vrina hissed, and Banta guffawed again, catching another warning tut from the doctor. “We’re old friends, nothing more.”
Banta stopped laughing, and looked at her askance, her mirth disappearing. “No lies, Vrin,” she said, disapprovingly. “It’s one thing to keep something to yourself, but it’s dishonorable to lie to a comrade. I’m telling her.”
Ana cocked her head. “Wait, so you are—”
“No,” both of them replied together, the ulu still hissing. “Banta, I swear to—"
“She’s more like… my employer?” the ursinian ventured, and Vrina’s eyes bugged out, a sound like a death rattle building in her throat.
“Corporal Banta, you will not say another word,” she spluttered and then recoiled in horror as the bear woman bowed her head low to the ground, saluting her.
“Of course, your majesty,” she replied with a grin, and Ana’s brain short-circuited.
​
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The results are in for Match 21. The winner is…
Mahimit was dragged across the battlefield by ｢Young Lives｣, the Stand filling him with a vigor to fight, to please his father who was watching from above—and that vigor filled him with each slash of its claws, keeping the son awake as he was marched down towards the trailer.
The two Stand Users had made their way down there last—secluded within a small container, cornered. The Stand’s puppet had been worn down for certain, but this was the time to finally finish things. As they approached, they saw through the window the older woman pull out her phone, and immediately Mahimit’s arm was raised to aim his gun right for it. As they made him pull the trigger, he couldn’t fire before she had spoken to her allies on the other end:
“Yeah, we figured out who the perp is, it’s Thomas Kent. Singh didn’t even show up, sent a lackey instead. He should be…”
The rest of her sentence faded out as Mahimit stalled…stopped.
The Stand roared in panicked fury as its user lowered his gun, unable to control them with the ease it once had. Mahi barely noticed—neither did they react to Windy’s warm, draining embrace of as ｢Young Lives｣ attempted to claw her off of him. As his eyes began to close, the longcoat of his Stand’s prior form disappeared and revealed the real one beneath, he managed one thought before falling into a deep sleep.
Of course he didn’t. Why did I think otherwise…

Sonika Singha and Windy, with a score of 72 to Mahimit “Hira” Rākin’s 56!

Category	Winner	Point Totals	Comments
Popularity	Sonika Singha and Windy	27 (14+2) - 3 (0+2)	A shutout victory for the players!
Quality	Mahimit “Hira” Rākin	17 (6 5 6) - 20 (7 7 6)	Reasoning
JoJolity	Mahimit “Hira” Rākin	18 (6 6 6) - 23 (8 7 8)	Reasoning
Conduct	Tie	10-10	Nothing to report!

The results are in for Match 22. The winner is…
Club Naraka, the site of a hellish pile of bodies and accidents, was practically on fire that night. Thankfully, Sulka, along with a group of armed guards, had brought a fire extinguisher with them. They stormed the ground floor, taking a moment to spread themselves out. “Alright, we’ve-” A hail of gunfire cut the man off. “—THEY’RE HERE!”
A few of the nameless guards rushed in towards Sulka, to catch any strays that might come his way. Sulka himself pulled the nozzle end up, and heard another single shot fire from another nearby pillar. “There’s an accomplice, circle—” Something crawled up his thumb, and bit into the extinguisher, just as a stray bullet drove a dent into the metal casing. “—AUGH!”
The fire extinguisher burst in his hands, filling the room with a heavy white smog. The hip-firing moved, and it came long, low, and in mobile spurts. “Fire back—” As if on cue, fire jettisoned into the cloud of smoke, “—SPREAD OUT, QUICK!” Through blurred vision, Sulka watched one of their own leave through the front door. “Not that far, damnit!”
With the guards spread out along the floor around him, some wearing gouts of fire, some drenched in the liquid refuse of their extinguisher, and others still riddled with bullets, Sulka turned to one of their dead men, and ripped a pistol from their side. They watched the last moving object head for the door, and pulled the trigger, twice. An employee badge caught the edge of his blurred vision.
The cool night air filled the ground floor, and fed the flames atop the burning men. Sulka’s arm fell to his side, letting the gun clatter against the floor.
A spiral of thoughts took him. First, he’d need to make a casualty report, followed by a loss statement. The sheer number of clients who may not come back after an incident like this would likely drive the place out of business. Between that, the viscera, the dead workers, the dead clients, and all the ammunition costs—let alone the licenses he’d have to put in for—his head shrieked at him. For once, he shrieked back.
It was a low, horrid thing, much like a growl or snarl, but loud enough to make itself known against the billowing call of night. A cool hand slicked his hair back, and the night air stopped pouring in through the shutting door. He turned to one of the guards, who’d taken to putting out another with a blanket. “Take everyone alive and go look for everyone else alive.” Sulka sauntered away. “I’ll be in my office.”

Reese McGuffin, with a score of 72 to Markov's 69!

Category	Winner	Point Totals	Comments
Popularity	Reese McGuffin	13 (3+2+2) - 17 (5+2+2)	An even voting period right up until the very end!
Quality	Markov	23 (7 8 8) - 22 (7 8 7)	Reasoning
JoJolity	Tie	23 (8 8 7) - 23 (7 8 8)	Reasoning
Conduct	Tie	10-10	Nothing to report!

Somewhere in the night, a Club Naraka coat and hat, usually only worn by guards, lay in a trash can. A woman, caked in blood and all manner of horrors, pressed herself against the wall beside it, and fished through her pocket for a coin. She’d found it there, in the elevator, on her way to her shift. Moonlight danced across its surface, letting the coin shimmer madly in the low light. ”Hah… you… y-you saved me…” Emile was shuddering, clutching the golden coin tight, for fear of dropping it. “I-I don’t know why, but… w-whatever you want of me, I’ll gladly give it in return… p-please, tell me…who…who are you?”
“…aha!” the voice chuckled. “How…terrible of me! In all the commotion, our…introductions com-pletely slipped my…mind.”
The air in front of Emile began to shift and shimmer. As she pulled her gaze away from the coin, she saw something phase into existence—a feminine form, long purple wires for hair, and a peering red eye gazing back at her beneath them.
It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
“My name is Markov. And your ad-mir-a-tion is payment…enough.”
Emile stared, gazing in wonderment at the hovering figure. Whether from exhaustion or reverence, she dropped to her knees, tears beginning to streak down her face. She thought of the ordeals she’d just faced. The people she’d passed. The people she’d fled. The people she’d killed. There was something else, though—the figure’s eyes seemed to- “That…hole in your shoulder.” Emile’s own head turned to match the figure’s gaze. “Do not fret. I can…teach you how to…take care of that.”
From the roof above the pair’s heads, one couldn’t hear the quiet murmurs and shivers of a woman ripping apart her own viscera-caked clothes to seal her wounds. Other things were certainly on the mind of its occupant, one Reese McGuffin.
Before him were two rats. Before them was a whole litany of ghostly creatures. His hand pointed towards the rat to his right, “Alright everyone, this is Splinter—” before it moved to point at the rat on his left, “—and this is Remy!”
Remy waddled up to a Utahraptor first, and started sniffing at it. “Oh, lemme introduce you to pieces, Remy!” Reese put a hand between the ghost animals, and casually shuffled it back and forth as he spoke. “Remy, Pieces! Pieces, Remy!” He turned on his heel to see Splinter eyeing up Finn, the shark. “Hey! He’s a friend, not food!”
A comforting quiet filled the night air as the ghostly animals circled one another, introducing themselves in their own little ways. The only thing left on Reese’s mind was a single odd question, one that had been eating at him since he left. “Where did I put that coral?”
Slowly, Mahimit awoke to the morning sun’s light. They could have sworn that they had a nightmare that night, but they felt refreshed as if waking from a peaceful slumber…
That wasn’t a nightmare, was it? He thought he could manage it all but in the end he just…broke as soon as he saw Ajay lying there with a bullet through his shoulder—wait, is he okay? Was he brought to safety? Did the Suite now think he was involved?
“Hey, don’t worry—you're safe here.”
Mahimit blinked, finally taking note of their surroundings. They were lying in a plain white bed, first aid boxes and equipment scattered about—the architect remembered the claws raking at their back throughout the night. Their torso had been bandaged up thoroughly: their long coat was laid out across a table, while their shirt was currently in Windy’s hands, who must have paused in stitching back up one of the tears when she noticed them awake.
“W-where am I?” Mahi asked. “Is Ajay safe? Where is he?”
“Jon got him to a hospital as soon as he could,” a voice called out from the door. Mahi looked over to see who looked like a detective walking in, followed by the two he recognised having gone after Zafar back then—no, not Zafar. “Had to be more careful with you given how well known you are, Mahimit—or do you prefer Hira?”
The architect sighed with some relief at that, not finding any deceit in the answer. “Either’s fine…not sure which one’s more ‘me’ anyways.” He looked around at the group settling into the room. “…Where’s the other person who was with you? Is she okay?”
A silence filled the room as the four recalled what Windy recounted once they regrouped—Sonika had lost hope, and ended up attempting to kill an unconscious Mahimit before she was stopped by Windy which caused the PI to run off.
Steric didn’t look it, but he was probably one of the most affected within PINDROP. While diving into his work wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, he had been increasingly concerned for Sonika’s health and disposition—so to hear that she not only ran off, but wanted to dispand PINDROP was crushing. “She…she ended up leaving.” He refocused onto Mahimit. “You said you’re unsure about yourself—would you be willing to answer why?”
Hira chuckled. “I guess I do owe you some answers. Well, I first went out as ‘Hira’ right around when I manifested my Stand—but then I ended up going out as them more often. Started to look into stuff about myself without the pressure of being the perfect son on my back…haven’t felt I’ve had the chance to really do so since I came back to Rakin.”
“Because of Zafar?” Inago asked, taking a nearby seat. “You don’t have to answer more than you’re comfortable with, but…you only went berserk after you thought he had just shot your friend.”
“Yup,” Windy nodded, setting aside the shirt and needle. “And I couldn’t help but notice ya stopped letting that Stand control ya once Sonika said out loud that it wasn’t your pa.”
Mahi winced. “…Yeah, I thought it was Zafar. He was a great parent and I never wanted to let him down, but things got so out of hand that when that last piece dropped I just…shattered, I guess. Though even if he was told it probably wouldn’t matter…”
“And why’s that?” Steric asked, jotting down some notes.
“He’s stubborn, sticks to how he thinks things are. If anything challenges his view on a friend or ally of his, he’ll just ignore it and carry on. He’s going to learn that I was Tamas and he’ll shrug it off and forget about it, as usual. Probably the sole reason he’s still in the Metro is because he truly believes that they’re doing what’s best for the city—something I found quickly wasn’t the case.”
Drippy stepped forward. “About that: why were you in there in the first place, and for how long? And what do you know about the Middleman?”
“…I can’t tell you anything about them.” Hira spoke, eyes glancing away from her.
“W-why!?” Drippy almost yelled out. “What reason do you all possibly have to not want them stopped?!”
“Well, you plan on killing them once you know, aren’t you?”
“Yes! Perhaps if you actually told us then maybe we could see why we shouldn’t put down this person taking utmost glee in murder. I don’t get why you and Rasna are willing to protect this guy.”
“…Trust me, if I could have stopped them I would have years ago. But if Rasna’s refused to tell you, you should be able to figure out why, right?”
“…they’ve suffered a lot, haven’t they?” Inago asked somberly. “That must be why they’re how they are today.”
“Oh, so they can get off free after everything they did?” Drippy retorted.
Steric put his hands between the two lest things escalated. “We can discuss this later—at the very least that is a lead.” He turned to the guest. “As for the other questions?”
Mahi nodded. “It was a month or two after I began working towards getting into the City Planning Board. Things weren’t looking as good as I hoped, when my father decided to bring me down to see these friends of his. I was offered a deal: they would pull some strings to help get me onto the board as long as I was willing to put forward some things they wanted…even then I figured something was off, but if it meant I could help this city I thought it was worth it. Oh how wrong I was…”
Steric sighed, finishing up with his notepad before putting away his pen. “I think that will be all then…thank you for your time. We’ll leave you to rest now.”
Inago followed the PINDROP members out, looking over his shoulder one last time: “Before I forget, anything you want for breakfast?”
Mahi thought for a moment. “Pancakes?”
Windy hopped off her chair and walked closer to Hira. “You’re a kind soul deep down, aren’t ya? Even as violent as you were, ya never tried to kill anyone…”
“But I just tried to kill you! It wasn’t me but it was born from me…messed with my thoughts as well as my body. So glad my therapist is a Stand user, thank fu—dge.”
She chuckled at the self-censorship. “But you fought back in the end, didn’t ya? I think I understand the feeling of getting puppeted though, and I know Luna and Alex should be able to help with the memory stuff. If you ever want to talk about it, feel free—we’d be happy to.”
“Sure,” Mahi nodded, lying back down into the bed as they allowed themself to smile. “…Thank you.”
Scenario: Verve Residence, Sapatibhatt — 10:23AM
Clink.
The teacup rattled against the table, empty. Idly, Gioia Arancini glanced over the lid, curious to see the shape of her future reflected in the tea leaves. She didn’t believe in that stuff, but Fate had taken stranger forms. Besides, Evergreen had done a lot these past few weeks. She couldn’t help but wonder…
“You were right, Gioia!” Soichi piped up from beside her, sipping on his own cup, “this is really good!”
In front of them, Vasant Verve sheepishly wrung his hands, giving them both a little smile. “I’m glad I haven’t lost my touch, haha…! It really is the least I can do, while you’re here.”
They could not meet at Urban Hymns, as the estate had been closed since Gioia and Charvet fought the man a few weeks prior. Though she had expected the two of them would get arrested, Verve himself had told the authorities that he would not press charges. In return, Gioia had been checking in with him, making sure he was back on his feet, and that ｢Cage The Elephant｣ was well and truly gone.
“Mm,” Gioia nodded, “give Vasudha my thanks as well,”
“No problem, dear!” a woman shouted from another room. Verve had little desire to return to his cabin, so in the meantime he was staying in his younger sister’s house.
For a moment, there was silence. Verve was perfectly still, as if one wrong move would shatter this tenuous peace. Soichi was content to drink in the cozy atmosphere. Gioia was staring at the tea leaves. What shape did they form?

The peace on Mount Parapollah was just as tenuous. Muuru had returned to the mountain now that the sand worms slumbered and the shifting had stopped. There was once a being who was to the Mountain as Muuru was to the City. The being was gone, now, and the Suite was filling in the gaps with trucks and bulldozers. As Muuru watched, a woman with a flute sat down beside him and smiled. Whatever happened next, the Mountain and the City moved together.

Gioia was drawn back to reality as Soichi spoke. “So, what have you been doing during your time off?”
“Oh?” Verve blinked. “Not much, I suppose! Just some odd jobs, here and there, mostly in the South. Just trying to help the rebuilding efforts, you know? Fix what I broke.” He grimaced a moment, before deflecting back to Soichi.
“What about you? It’s usually just Gioia checking in, I haven’t seen you since, you know…”
“The whole New York thing?” Soichi chuckled. “I’ve been alright, yeah. As rough as it was, we ended up making friends with those Riders! Sometimes you need an unlikely situation to help you come together, you know?”
Evergreen had certainly faced unlikely situations before. Gioia mused on this as she looked at the leaves.

The flute was not the only instrument that echoed through Rakin. As Deacon Blues wandered through the Sapatibhatt, the song of his trumpet followed behind. The land, once torn apart, was being rebuilt. The scars from his battle with the weaponsmith were fading, but the man still taught him a valuable lesson. The hand that wields a weapon can also wield a tool. Maybe this was the nature of potential. Whatever it was, Deacon figured it was worth a song.

Gioia glanced up from the cup, giving Verve a smirk. “Tough times help you realize who your real friends are. You’ve realized that too, I’m sure. Thanks to our efforts, the Metropolis Suite is having a tough time of their own. I wonder how quickly they’ll turn on each other?”
“Xen was already convinced they were out to get him. He kept going on about this Stand, ｢Diamond Life｣. No matter what he did for the Suite, it never told him who its user was. It drove him crazy–I think he was trying to solve that one himself.”
“Did he succeed?”
“I don’t think so. It’s not like he could strike a deal with The Gossip, he didn’t have anything ｢She｣ wanted. I’m sure that drove him crazy too.” There was still a sorrow in his voice.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Soichi smiled quietly, patting the man on the arm. Gioia nodded in turn, before she continued.
“Have you had any contact with him?”
“Not really. His assistant texted me, apparently the folks at Hymnal are on indefinite paid leave, until I figure out what to do. I guess that’s on me.” Verve paused a moment, grimacing. “Apparently he might still be at the cottage? I don’t know—I’m not going to—I’m not ready to talk to him, yet.”
“You don’t ever have to talk to him again,” Gioia responded. “I’m sure he’s cowering in the dark now that we’ve exposed his true nature. The other members of Metropolis should realize they’re soon to follow.”
Indeed, the members of Evergreen might not have the same methods…but they were united in this cause. Would this define their future? Gioia glanced over at the tea leaves.

The immortal had lived through countless riots, but the Bedtown Takeover was one of his favorites. He had returned to the area, replaying his grand speech, looking at the bloodstains that marked this territory. Sure, now that Aco’s child had appeared, VULTURE was considering new leadership. But that didn’t matter to Ouroboros, content to remain the (Self-Appointed) Secret Lord of Bedtown. Behind him, Honeydew was simply content to dismantle car batteries.

Gioia glanced back at Verve to see his brow furrowed.
“I can’t believe I ever got involved with those bastards,” he scowled. “Deep down, I knew they were trouble—I talked to Xen about Sing Now!, he just said…sometimes the only way to reach a common goal is to work with people you don’t agree with. He almost made it make sense.”
“He was a smooth-talking control freak. I’m sure you’ve realized how empty those words were.”
Verve rested his chin in his hand, staring into his own empty cup. In the end, all he saw were scattered leaves. No one was guiding him now. No one but himself. “…That’s not all he was. I think he really believed it, you know? That he was doing good. I wanted to believe it too, more than anything. But I think he was just trying to justify it to himself. Even when he had his doubts.”
Gioia curled her fingers around the teacup. “What about you, Verve? What do you think ‘good’ is?”
At this, the man laughed bittersweetly. “You think I can answer that? I thought Xen had the answer, and look where that got us. If you think you’re the only guy who can change the world, you’ll just make it worse.”
He looked up at Soichi. “We saw what his world looks like,” then to Gioia, “he would have trapped us both inside, if not for you.”
It seemed the Suite had a lot of cities within cities, living symbols of their control. Gioia took one last look at the symbol in her cup.

Disco D Lune had been keeping up with her contacts at the military base, catching up with the most recent happenings. Apparently, there had been a falling-out between the general and his child: an opportunity to sew doubt and dissent amongst the ranks. Disco had already designed new buildings to replace this one, and they were beautiful.

“You’re a free man, Verve,” Gioia concluded, staring him down. “So what will you do with that freedom?”
Verve looked between the two, but found no answers. Now, his choices were his own. In the end, the answer was simple.
“…I want to make things right. The Suite they… they ruined my home, they ruined him, they ruined me. I’m tired of seeing kids get pulled into this. Rasna, Ichi, and now poor Mahamit…” Behind him, warm air sang with the soft trumpet of ｢Bitter Sweet Symphony｣. “It needs to end. Those kids, my nieces, all of them, all of us. We all need a city that we can call home.”
Gioia smiled, closing her eyes contentedly as she felt the heat roll over her. Beside her, she could feel Soichi resting a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t even need to see his smile to feel its warmth. She didn’t need to see the leaves to know the shape of her future. She had known many homes, many stories, many tragedies and triumphs. But right now, home was a tree, Evergreen. Seasons changed, and yet its leaves would always flourish.
Soichi glanced at the cup in her stead. To him, the leaves just seemed like a weird square. But soon that shape was washed away, as he poured them all another cup of warm and fragrant tea.
“Well said! This calls for a toast. To new friends!”
Clink!

Scenario: Hymnal Bazaar, Reshmerasta — 8:58 PM
The market was closed for the evening. This curfew was in place ever since the Middleman attacked. The Bazaar was already struggling—if people were too scared to walk around at night, then why bother staying open? Even when the Bazaar was open, the stall for Urban Hymns stood empty. But for a broom, only a lone figure stood there. Verve used to sweep while his employees handled everything else.
His boyfriend once asked him why he did that.
’It makes me feel like I’m doing something–” he had laughed, “I’m leaving this place better than I found it!’
Verve had a lovely laugh, the figure recalled, staring at the broom.
Slowly, he knelt down to pick it up.
Then, Xenagoras took a deep breath,
and swept the streets that he used to own.

Scenario: ???, ??? — 9:07 PM
“It’s simple, gentlemen…”
The sound of chatter and slow music. The smell of pristine tobacco and the clinking of glasses. This outlined the leadership of the Metropolis Suite, holed up in a skyscraper that overlooked the whole of Rakin. To their right, a window—one that replaced the whole wall, showing the nighttime lights. It almost looked like an alien world, the way the dark purples and reds of the late sunset stretched across the blinking gleams of windows and signs. A single man spoke, an esteemed guest trying his best to rise in their ranks: Luiviton.
“With a little bit of push, we could completely criminalize a number of traffic violations. Of course, they’re already illegal—but I’m talking perfect driving. Instead of community service, we give fines that cut chunks out of bank accounts. Instead of towing cars, we give jail time. I have contacts in the private prison industry who would be willing to pay us good money to multiply the conviction rates~! All it takes is a little bit of sacrifice from Rakin’s people.”
The table was silent. A voice piped up- that of Sing Now!, media conglomerate CEO and one of the Suite’s primary figures of authority. “That’s an awful idea, Luiviton.”
He blanched. “E-Excuse me?” He asked, flabbergasted. “We could stand to gain-”
Sing Now! interrupted him swiftly and curtly. “It doesn’t matter how much we ‘stand to gain’ from selling our city’s soul to prison moguls. You’re a good friend, but everytime you come up here with a suggestion it’s always some kind of short-sighted scheme to make money. That’s not what this thing of ours is about.”
That earned a couple of nods and a “Damn straight.” from Zafar at his left.
He continued. “If we overcriminalize poor driving, what we’re doing is sacrificing Rakin’s workforce in exchange for…nothing. We would completely freeze important institution who are suddenly bleeding key figures and employees who’ve made simple mistakes. We’re not parasites or petty tyrants. We’re leaders. We do these backdoor deals not to increase our wealth, but our resources which we must use for everyone’s benefit. We must direct the people, not root through their pockets.”
Conversation erupted, primarily economic in nature. Some offered to take care of the market in Xenagoras’s stead. Others offered grants to the arts. Others pointed to the need for construction and repairs. Some tried to give statistics on rising rates of crime and discontent within Rakin’s citizens.
One key figure of the Suite, however, was absent. She stood a few meters away, staring out the window at the city below. Her stance was relaxed, yet firm. As if she was on guard against some invisible threat. She held a small glass of scotch in one hand, occasionally sipping from it. She seemed tired. Very, very tired. This was Zhengqi Dianyou, the CEO of the Rakin Rail Corporation. Occasionally, she’d let out a yawn.
Sitting on a loveseat nearby was Ichi Ni San Go—the charge of Sing Now! who was currently too distracted to really remember she existed. Without a babysitter, she was content to simply exist next to Zhengqi, looking out the window with her at the beauty of the city and occasionally asking simple, childish questions.
They were approached by a figure, glowing in the light. Someone followed close behind.
｢Diamond Life｣, the Stand of the every-mysterious head of the Metropolis Suite. Said user hung close behind. Zhengqi always found her boss’s habit of speaking through their Stand peculiar; she understood it as a security tactic, but it often came up even in casual scenarios. “Enjoying the event, you two?” It asked. Its tone was genuine—the Stand could be a tool of intimidation whenever its user willed it so, and this wasn’t that.
Zhengqi just grunted, turning around and finishing off the scotch. She set the glass down on a nearby table, looking at ｢Diamond Life｣. “I’ve never understood how it’s so easy for you to talk through that thing—”
｢Diamond Life｣ shot forward with incredible speed, shushing the name with a single finger gently placed on her lips. “Careful, Ms. Dianyou. The end of the table. Do you see him?”
Her eyes crept towards the table, landing on a man nodding idly to the talk. Iron Butterfly was a member of the Suite who often remained in the background; to her understanding, he helped keep the Suite in control over a good deal of the crop farming in the more rural parts of Rakin. She looked back at the Stand, and it elaborated: “He’s wearing a wire. Loose lips aren’t ideal tonight.”
Zhengqi just sighed, running her hand through her hair as her other put ｢Diamond Life｣’s hand back down. “I’ll take care of him after the meeting.” She offered. ｢Diamond Life｣ chuckled, willingly pulling their hand back.
“I’d appreciate it- I had originally planned on handling the issue myself. You’re always putting your best foot forward with us—it’s something I value.”
She gave a weak smile. “It’s nothing, really. Just me giving back for everything the Suite’s done for me.”
Ichi piped up, eagerly watching the conversation. “I think Ms. Dianyou works too much…she’s always so tired and never has any time to play games or watch cartoons or do anything!”
Zhengqi did her best to put on a friendly smile. “Ichi…when you get older, sometimes you just don’t have the time for-”
｢Diamond Life｣ interrupted her. “She’s right, you know. You overwork yourself. I was being polite about it before, talking about your best foot forward- but I do worry.”
She looked at ｢Diamond Life｣ sternly. “We don’t exactly have the time to rest. I’m certain you’ve seen the news. People are starting to figure out we exist. People are hiring private detectives and holding protests. Things are starting to unravel. We need to act before things break so hard they can’t be put back together.”
｢Diamond Life｣ stood up straight, looking her in the eyes. “Trust me. I have plans, and they involve you. Both of you.”
Ichi immediately raised a little in her seat, glowing a little. “Me~? Really~?”
A friendly chuckle escaped from ｢Diamond Life｣’s nonexistent lips. “Yes, you.” A dour look plastered across its face as it looked back at Zhengqi. “I’m going to need you to handle…key targets. I want certain people out of the way and key infrastructure mapped and maintained for your “ability”—it’ll be valuable to us should the ire of the populace come to a head. Past that, rest. Allow your subordinates at Zuantou Rail to handle things. Take a long holiday. We don’t need an exhausted zombie, we need you.”
Zhengqi could only reply with silence. She knew better than to argue with ｢Diamond Life｣, but to stop working? It felt alien to her. She was tempted to clutch at her sternum from the thought.
“As for you, Ichi…” The Stand continued. “I want you to gather info for me on some of the Stand users around the city.”
Ichi innocently kicked her feet. “How am I ‘sposed to do that? I dunno any cool spy stuff, and Daddy said-”
“I’ll handle your father, don’t worry.” ｢Diamond Life｣ said, walking forward and cupping Ichi’s cheek in their clawed hand. “I just want you to make friends, okay? Go out. Explore. Meet people, as many as you can. Participate in their lives and conflicts. Tell me everything you see and hear, okay?”
Ichi just nodded, smiling widely.
“Perfect,” replied the Stand. They drew their arm back, clasping their hands together. “But enough about work. Have you two tried the finger food that’s been provided? It’s truly divine.”
Scenario: Mili's Diner, Mist City — 7:37PM
The bell above the entrance rang late into the dusk, announcing the arrival of a certain happy customer. He hummed cheerily to himself, taking a seat behind the counter and giving her regards to the woman behind the counter. His order was the same as it was every time he came here, and yet he always flipped through the menu anyway. He was a cheerful, easygoing man, despite everything.
His name was Steric Lou Farin, recently self-appointed head of PINDROP. He hadn’t been planning on it, but with the sudden departure of Sonika, the team needed someone to step up fast. He was the most experienced in the field of investigation and had the sort of charisma the role required. He didn’t mind taking the lead, either. If anything, it made his work a little easier.
Speaking of work, that was the reason for this visit—good as the food was. He glanced over to the other two customers, talking quietly amongst themselves, and smiled. Both were of particular interest.
The first was one Brighid Rhodes. He’d sparred with her a few months back, and an exchange of business cards had proved extremely wise when he needed assistance in dealing with one Texas Aco. She was the one to finally calm her down in the end—albeit forcefully, but all’s well that ends well.
Speaking of which, Texas Aco sat at the counter now, talking in hushed mumbles to Brighid. The notable thing there being that she was talking now. She had been silent in the immediate aftermath of her rampage, but after spending some time at Brighid’s, Steric had gotten the call today that she’d been ready to speak.
“I hope you all had a safe drive here,” he chuckled to himself. “It’s awfully rainy out, isn’t it?”
“Nothing too bad.” Brighid exhaled, and Texas nodded with her, sipping on a chocolate milkshake. Her misshapen insect arm was hidden under a worn old coat draped over her shoulder. Brighid gave the detective a particular glance, and Steric took that as a sign to get to questioning.
“So, Texas…” He cleared his throat, making sure he had the girl’s attention. “I’m sorry for calling you out so soon. You ever want to stop talking about all this, let me know. I don’t want to do you any harm.”
“Mmm.” Texas nodded again.
“Now, I understand you’ve had, er, a difficult last few months.” That was no understatement: she’d been directly responsible for an attempted VULTURE mutiny. It failed, and drove her off into hiding god-knows-where. “In particular, I’d like to ask you about your relationship to VULTURE. It’s a piece of the puzzle here I haven’t entirely been able to ascertai-”
“I’m taking over VULTURE.” Texas deadpanned. Brighid sighed.
“I told you that isn’t the best idea.” The lawyer attempted to flick her on the forehead. “That’s too dangerous. No way you can get it done on your own.”
“No, I mean, like-” Texas grumbled. “She literally told me I could have it. The old boss.”
Brighid blinked a few times. She hadn’t heard about that. Steric nodded.
“Ms. Kaliya told me she’d been in contact with you. She said you’d been pretty against taking the leadership role, though.” Steric raised an eyebrow. “What changed?”
“…It sucks here, man.” Texas smirked. “Even with all the bullshit charities, shit’s gone bad after Rasna left. I’m sure you caught wind of that. Guys turning up dead left and right—there was a fight at a funeral, right? Whole place got blown to smithereens. What the fuck, man.”
“Ahah, yes.” Steric winced. “Quite the festivity, wasn’t it.”
“The place needs someone to step up. And with that little rampage I went on…” She looks embarrassed, for a moment. “I think I’ve got the rep to fill her shoes. Er. Maybe. I’m not really that scary, but, uh…”
“Ms. Kaliya told me you weren’t of that sort of opinion before.” Steric raised his eyebrow again, tapping his pen against his notepad. “What changed?”
“…Nothing, really. I just.” Texas chuckled, reclining on her stool. “I don’t really think anything I’ll do will have any difference. But I can’t stop myself from trying, either. I don’t think she’d want me to, either.”
Brighid placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, glancing down at her. “Long as you come back to my place when you’re done. I trust you, but you should have a bed to sleep on.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Steric grinned. This was a good development! A bit risky, sure, but it gave him in an in. “Say!” He stopped absentmindedly chewing on his pen’s tip. “Y’think you’d be willing to help us out? VULTURE’s assistance would be a great help…and something tells me we’ve got a common goal.”
“I’ll think on it.” Was Texas’s only response. Brighid flicked her on the forehead again. “Ow! Okay, fine, yeah, I’ll help. You guys don’t seem that bad.”
Steric clasped his hands together. One step closer. “Ah, and you too, Miss Rhodes.”
“Hah?” Brighid scoffed. “I don’t think anyone with me is gonna be much help-”
“I think that’s, er, preposterous.” He tapped his notepad a few times. “I did some looking into the work your people’ve done recently. For museum staff, you folks sure are prolific. A boat raid is quite the accomplishment. Hmm, hmm~.”
“Well, er…” Brighid sighed. Her group had had a history of engaging in combat. Entities like Paranoia and Markov were practically built for it, but her group had had similar exploits recently: Ruby’s left her fight with the swordsman at the art college relatively unharmed, and Roxanne had managed to charm an ex-member of Metropolis. Despite how weird all of them were, they were useful in a variety of ways; it made sense Steric wanted their assistance.
“Alright. I’ll get them to help out.” Much as she didn’t trust some of them with heroism, Brighid found herself more involved than she’d anticipated—and getting into the action herself meant she could help keep Texas as safe as possible, despite everything. “But you gotta help out with the museum. We’re, uh, still working on reconstruction.”
“No worries. I think I’ve got a few artifacts here and there. They’d be fit for your collection.” Steric’s phone buzzed—he rose and nodded at the two. “It’s been a pleasure, folks, but the life of a detective is ever so busy. Be seeing you.” With that, he grabbed his coat and strode away, leaving a good third of his burger.
Several oversized flies crawled out from beneath Texas’s coat, nibbling on the leftovers. “You really okay with me, uh, y’know…” Texas made a few vague gestures with her hands. “It’s a big thing to, uh, undertake. I figured you’d try to stop me.”
“I doubt I’d be able to.” Brighid chuckled. “‘Sides, you’re a pretty tough kid. I was pretty rough and tumble when I was your age, and look how I turned out. I’m a lawyer and everything.”
Texas nodded, returning to her milkshake. She was an ant under an elephant’s foot—she’d become well aware of that. But even so; even an ant had its resolve, and a swarm could pick apart a carcass. Even if it was only delusion, she’d do what she could. Mom would’ve liked that.
“Mmm.” She grinned. “Here goes.”

<=TO BE CONTINUED==

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Taboritsky: Past Midnight
This tale of great tragedy takes place in a world of destruction, genocide, and madmen. In a world where the axis powers had won WW2, and plunged the world into terrible disaster.
In Russia a faction of particularly gruesome violence and motivation, emerges with Sergey Taboritsky as its leader. Of jewish Russian origin, after surviving the Nazi occupation, he was left tortured, insecure, and… inspired by their works. In his crazed delusion he became a powerful madman, the ruler of Russia, aiming to see his dark deeds through.
Here, in this world, It is the last days of Europe, and the night has come for Russia.
You can see his efforts through. You can see, what drives a madman to such ends? And what if Taboritsky succeeded?
What if the clock passed midnight?
I am Artyom Spielgman, and I am an orphan of Russia.
Years ago, in the landscape where memory keeps us all, this land and people that had birthed me had been wounded. By the bullets and bombs of the Third Reich fired in World War Two, they have still found their targets decades after. Have you ever smelt the burning of a nation?
An old world, that old world where all Russians fought fiercely against Nazism, not one step back. You can not turn back the clock, but it can be rewound.
Have you ever seen the Swastika on the Russian flag before? I have.
This flag was not that of a puppet state, not the slave of he germans. Rather, the cruel machine of that particular madman. The treacherous one. The one that makes the efforts that would make Hitler weep, weep to stop.
Sergey Taborisky, the master of Russia.
Sad to admit, I was close to this man. Not in the manner of physical reach, though I was. Nor in the lens of friendships, for no kindness existed in him.
Only venom, only brutality, only determination existed in him.
The imperial palace of which I met him weekly was haphazardly remodeled based on his increasingly deranged orders. Columns based on classical architecture, esoteric symbols of german origin, violent colors like an exploding corpse.
This didn’t look like Russia, not the land that people fought and died for. A joke, a parody, some unfunny cruelty dealt onto the land. Like a plague given a mind.
For the past years, I was a close worker to him. Not in the manner of an advisor, for they would disappear. Be into Siberia or the Ural Purification zone, they would not last.
No, I was a silent workhorse, the one that organized his deranged ramblings and visions into understandable orders. I kept silent for most of the time, only asking silently for clarification and if he needed something. My skill at detecting his needs was what brought me my longevity.
Long drags on a cigar or cigarette meant he was in a good mood, or if he hadn’t drank any wine by 2pm meant he would go on a rant for the next hour.
However, one evening of supernatural dark, I would sustain a terrible dialogue with him. One that left me… changed.
“I… dreamed. This… Let me tell you of this dream.” Sergey spoke, sitting on his chair like he were to fade into it. I was there in his office, where old regalia of significant documents and art were pinned on the walls with simple nails and tacks. I stopped my typing, feeling a weakness in my stomach.
“What is… it?” I looked down, reflexively finishing up the paper before handing it to him. He didn’t reach out for it.
I had been typing up the numbers from yesterday’s gassing. Regions had names, victims had numbers.
Two eighty six, ninety thousand and twelve, four eighty nine.
Briefly, my mind returned to the office, to the room. He was staring at me, like a wolf to prey.
A bead of sweat formed on my head. What’s wrong?
Sergey hadn’t smoked yet.
It’s eleven fifty and he hadn’t had his cigarette.
I reached out of my pocket, dropping the paper, rushing, hoping I had enough time.
“No need.” He waves my hand down. “Would you like to hear it? Hear the dream?”
I did not know months ago, since I was the only one desperate enough to even apply for the position, a typist career for this… traitor.
Some fabricated documents had allowed me a glimpse, a view into Taborisky, one that could not be captured by cameras and speeches. Only the image that human eyes could see.
“Yes Commis…uh… Regent Taboritsky. I would be happy to hear of this.” I feverishly shifted in my chair. The windows bring in moonlight of a ghostly kind. I am hidden behind the room’s curtains while Sergey is illuminated in strangled blue.
“Before me, No… before all of Russia, I dreamt our flag. The Savior’s face, The Eagles, all of us were embraced by it.” Sergey smiled that cruel smile of his. Whenever I finished he finished reading the reports, he’d give me this smile. A faint rise of the lips and those terrible teeth showed.
Fascinating, that we both came from those same twelve tribes…
“Was it good?” I asked.
“It was good. For some time.” He breathed out heavily, as if reminiscing some great pain of his. Or rather, the pain he inflicted.
I didn’t even know what the numbers I had typed up meant until a year ago. I devised a game, counting not the numbers but what particular lines that happened to emerge, like counting the color of cars passing by. For ‘ten thousand’ I counted up to twenty seven times. I don’t play this game anymore.
Twenty two thousand. Eight hundred eighteen.
“That is good.” I gulped, fearing what may come next. Sometimes I daydreamed there, hoping that this madman would kill me suddenly. I wouldn’t be allowed that pleasure.
“But, everyone disappeared. There was a lack of that… symbol.” He tapped a silver medal on his breast, that of a shining swastika. “Instead of our nation’s flag, remain the Savior. And there was a… sound.”
I winced, this was uncanny, different than he normally was. Taborisky never spoke of sounds in his dreams, or images.
Only numbers, not faces.
Distant, inhuman calculus, not the earthy creatures he hated. Or rather, the parts of himself that he hated, that he was disgusted by.
Still, this conversation had reached unknown territory, like stepping into a street completely dark.
“What sound, was it a song? Of our triumph?” I choked on my words momentarily, I wished not to hear of this, traitor. I wished only to survive him.
“There was… this ticking. A clock. A clock.” He leaned forward, hunching over and shot out his pointing fist to the bare wall in front of him.
“A clock? A clock, Lord Regent?”
“Ticking. That’s what it was doing. Ticking. I was frozen, while this clock ticked away. And Our Lord, Our Savior blinked. He blinked as it ticked. Not remaining open, but he closed his eyes!” He swallowed firmly and leaned back into his chair.
Ten thousand five. Five hundred fifty four. Minsk is clean. Forty seven.
“I… don’t understand.” I wiped my brow and put both of my hands on my lap. He was right here. I have time to do it. Tick tock. Click click. Time doesn’t wait.
“That was not all. For eternity, the clock moved and ticked. Ticked. And… and…” He sighs and bows his head to his chest. “Nothing. Absence. No light. No Russia. No future.”
Siberia is burning. Thirty three. Nine thousand. Four.
I can… end him… end this. All of this, could be ended! So quickly, like strangling a bird. But he wasn’t a simple animal, I wouldn’t survive leaving this room.
“Lord Regent, you aren’t well. You are tired, I am tired.” I said through gritted teeth. “Perhaps a smoke. Perhap some water-”
“I understood.” Sergey rose up from his chair. Dry, lean, pointed, wizened, slightly weazened type. A jew… like me. Not the killer of people.
He was not flowering, but fading.
He cried, in the way a man that loathed all his parts could. Like he was some revolting creature. The hands on the clock snapped as he rose, the next minute arrived.
“In that nothing… I knew. Discovering that awful truth. Some looked on our symbol, our flag, and on everything we sacrificed and cleansed, and did it to rid us of the degenerate and the vile.” He still looked towards the wall, but his eyes slowly dragged on the floor. The swastika on his chest glinted, like an ax in light.
“Regent. Please. Stop.” Whimpering weak. Doomed, I knew this place would be.
What is the son of fire? Ash.
“To remove. Do you know what I did? In this dream? You must know.” He finally laid his steel eyes on me. I couldn’t move. Time could not exist here. Time only exists on earth. I was in hell.
What conquers all? Time.
“I… screamed. I screamed… for Him.” Tears like dripping blood fell from his eyes. “To hear him. To see him. I was trapped in a place. A place that wasn’t a place. A wasteland could not compare. I screamed and screamed and He would not answer! All that we did, and yet he would not answer. I knew, despite that choking dark, that somewhere, in that place where all things end! He was watching, and the clock signaled. He is numberless and yet he would not speak to me!”
Right there, right there I felt it. That sort of nervous system of emotion that ties all people together. Even for this… loathsome virus, this plague man, I felt… a degree of pity.
I wondered for Taborisky. In this job, I had to think for him, and had to manage his bizarre operations. I wondered how he’d considered the numbers I typed up. How many families did he purge? How many children?
What were their names? Their histories? I imagined that he could see it quite clearly. That it’ll be a painful thing.
It’d be like contemplating the grains of sand in a desert.
Would it be enough? Maybe one more, one more and then Russia will be saved! Perhaps that was what he had been thinking most of his life. A little more pushing, a couple more steps. Why care for who you trample on, who necks you crush and suffocate, why bother? It will all be worth it, in the end…
I wondered how he had felt about himself. I had discovered the rumor of his heritage, a misplaced letter written in Yiddish, one before the war. And it was my duty to contain it, to hide it. To conceal it.

The moonlight closed, as we both remained in the shadows of the palace. How did I come to such a fate? For what reason was all of this done? 

Sergey was right. Even if I killed that traitor now, the clock has already been set.
Russia is ticking.

“It… was just a dream. It is midnight, Lord Regent. Some rest. Rest would be good for us all.” “...rest?” He turned away, and took the tone of a sick old man. “No. There will be no rest. We must push now, more than ever before. The Tsar will return only when everything is cleaned. Purified. Verified.” “...yes Lord Regent. Be it as it may.” I stood still, holding my heart in my hands. He walked on his heels, clicking on the floor with his boots. Tick. Sergey went for the door. “Tomorrow, we will change the clocks. Decree that more hours will be added. All clocks must be verified, those who fail will be severely penalized.” The madman, the traitor, and this killer left the room. Below the clock, our hell’s motto was inscribed. 

Remain calm.
The Regent endures.
Alexei lives.
The Holy Russian Empire shall endure.
There is much to be done.
The clock ticked. Midnight. The hands on the clock… stopped… moving.
INSPIRATION: Apoc Genesis on the Verify your Clock video.

Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
First ¦ Previous ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
After a little polite small talk, she let him hang for a while, occasionally offering eye contact and a warm smile. Rayker prowled frequently through the room, casting brief glances at Kolar, and Christie reminded herself not to overdo it.
As she watched the dark figure stalk away again, she escalated her apparent state of inebriation. Muttering something about the restroom, she stepped forward and jostled the unhappy looking Kolar, spilling his drink all over his badly fitted tuxedo.
“God I’m SOOO sorry,” wailed Christie, smothering the appalled man’s crotch with a napkin. “Come out into the air to let it dry.”
She dragged him, protesting furiously, out of the main room towards a quiet balcony. A pair of guards looked in on them, then moved away in embarrassment.
“We can’t go back in until it’s dried,” she declared. “What will people think? They’ll say we were—oh well you know.” She cackled.
Kolar stood helpless. “I wouldn’t dream of—totally unthinkable.” He stammered.
“Oh my deeeaaaar!” Christie cooed. “Are you saying I’m ugly?”
“Absolutely not, you are… very beautiful.”
Christie stared into his eyes with the most seductive expression of gratitude she could muster. Then she turned back to the dark mountains beyond.
“This is such a lovely spot, isn’t it?” she sighed, and took out her lipstick.
A furious looking Rayker strode out from the balcony’s doors.
“Doctor Kolar,” she snapped. “Please return with me to the main room immediately. Your behavior is entirely inappropriate. Leave this… this girl to make a fool of herself somewhere else.”
Kolar’s frightened eyes jumped from Christie’s sly grin to Rayker’s terrifying expression.
Out of options, Christie decided to go for broke. “God you’re such a bore, aren’t you, Ranky? Frigid old woman. Why don’t you let the fellow enjoy himself?” She reached a hand up to his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Rayker’s lips turned into a sneer. “You pathetic, drunken—”
She froze, suddenly alert as her eyes snapped around the balcony.
Christie almost wanted to grab Kolar and haul him backwards into the void. Below them, the waterfall fell away down a thousand-foot cliff. Her nanite enhanced body would survive the fall, and if she positioned herself to cushion Kolar, maybe he would too. She would be hospitalized for months, but anything was better than letting Rayker take her alive.
But the woman lunged forward with impossible speed and seized Christie’s neck. “Luring me outside, is that it?” she spat.
Christie was thrown bodily back into the hallway inside. She fought to regain her senses, but the cold fingers wrapped around her throat again, and she screamed as loudly as she could. On the balcony, a pale Kolar sank to the floor in shock.
“I don’t know what you are yet, you little whore,” Rayker hissed into Christie’s ear.
Her hand came up, and the flesh of her wrist ripped open to reveal a bloody cavity, and a needle sharp spike of bone, aimed at Christie’s forehead.
“But I think you’ll soon tell me everything I want to know.”
Christie screamed again, and tried to kick her captor. She probably ought to pretend to faint, but there was no way she could fool Rayker. What the hell had she seen to tip her off? How much longer before it would all be over?
A breathless guard raced into the hallway and stopped, going pale as he caught sight of Rayker.
“What is it?” she snapped impatiently.
The guard blinked, pulled his gaze away from the woman’s mutated arm and began to speak. “There’s—”
The lights went out, and they were plunged into darkness. Christie heard the distant whir of something sliding fast down a rope.
The pressure on her throat vanished and she collapsed to the ground, just as the windows exploded. Black shapes poured into the hallway. There was a whir, a wet thunk, and a cut off scream, followed by a clatter of silenced gunshots. Christie curled into a ball to protect herself, and out of the corner of her eye she saw something like a giant spider climb onto the ceiling before reaching out an arm.
A black weapon spat another burst of fire. There was a rasping gurgle and Rayker’s body fell to the ground.
Boots stomped back and forth in a chaos of movement. As her spinning mind’s revolutions began to slow, Christie felt a firm hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her upright.
Nearby, a black-suited soldier strode away. “Target secured,” it said, in the harsh rasp of a machine voice.
Christie found herself sat upright, staring into a bug-eyed metal vizor.
“Clear! Move to the main room!” someone else announced.
The vizor slid upwards to reveal the grim face of a woman she didn’t recognize, staring at her in concern. “Are you hurt soldier?” she asked.
Christie shook her head. “I’m okay. Did someone…?”
“We have one casualty. Kolar’s secured, and Rayker is down for the count.”
Christie looked over and saw a blood-stained body in a heap in the center of the hallway. Two armed, masked figures stood over it, weapons aimed firmly. Nearby, the security guards had been bound and blindfolded.
By the balcony entrance, one of the Valkyrie had collapsed against a wall with a spike buried in her chest. As Christie stared at her, the facemask slid up to reveal the pale, gasping face of Urtiga, the Raider team’s senior NCO. Urtiga caught her eye, and winked through her grimace of pain.
Down the hall she could hear the steel-faced soldiers flooding the rooms, demanding, in robotic tones, compliance from the guests. There had been a terrorist attack in the area, they explained, but security had intervened, and the situation was under control.
Still confused by the adrenaline haze, Christie turned back to the woman checking her over. Had she spoken?
“I’m sorry?” she asked.
“I said, you did a great job,” the Raider said with a warm smile.
“Thank you,” Christie said, and felt like she wanted to throw up.
***
“All call-signs—Hera! I say again, Hera,” the radio in Kayla’s headset blared.
She punched the air as a rush of adrenaline and rage flooded her system. The operation was a success, and it felt great, but she still wanted to scream questions into her mic. Had anyone been hurt? What had happened to Christie? Was Rayker dead?
“Get some,” Ray said out loud, as others nodded.
“Stay frosty,” Kes snapped. “Watch your sectors. This isn’t over yet.”
Kayla silenced her mind and focused her eyes on the grounds of the nearby chateau. The perimeter formed by the squad of Rangers was intended to keep Rayker from escaping. But there was still the possibility that rogue security or guests could have slipped through the control of the chateau’s assaulters. If anyone made it through the mountains and back to civilization, they would begin to spread word about an attack by an unknown force and rumors would quickly circulate in Helvetic society.
Kayla didn’t think this would be such an awful development. The Helvetic League was an imperial power, intent on subjugating every human world to their control. Her home-world of Caldera was already in their tightening grip. Though she had sworn her allegiance to an organization that protected all of humanity, she couldn’t help but question her choice. Did Valkyrie have to be so aloof? Weren’t there evils threatening to engulf the human race from within?
But she kept her doubts to herself, and only shared her agonizing with the eternally patient Thandi.
Something made her glance upward, and she saw a star moving across the night sky, visible through her infra-red vizor. At first, she thought it was a nice symbol to end the mission under, but it began to change direction. With a start, Kayla saw that it was much closer than she had guessed, moving incredibly fast, and heading straight for the chateau. She tried to key her mic, but, before she could speak, the object impacted the south wall, where the Raiders and Christie had taken down Rayker.
Kayla slammed her faceplate up, and watched in horror as bright orange fire blossomed into the night. The whole squad was transfixed in silence, before they were hit by a sonic boom from the object’s flight, followed by the boom of the explosion.
“What the—” Thandi began.
“Viper two,” Kes said into her headset. “Viper two-one. We just saw what looked like a missile strike against the objective. What’s going on?”
Kayla’s heart raced. Her vision darkened around the edges and she felt herself flushing with heat. Smoke belched into the sky, while flames were already reaching the chateau’s upper floors. Christie had been near the impact point, and Urtiga, her mentor, and the woman who had recruited her into Valkyrie. In her mind she saw them laying on the ground, unconscious, as fire crept towards their bodies.
She became vaguely aware that Kes had said something to her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Thandi repeated the question, but Kayla shook her head, without knowing why.
“No,” she said. “No.”
And then the squad was behind her, fading into the distance. She was sprinting, legs pumping as hard and fast as her nanite enhanced muscles could manage. She raced for the chateau wall, ignoring the outburst of yelling in her headset that had become as meaningless as static.
Kayla ran until her lungs ached and her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. She covered the half-mile to the building in less than two minutes, and when she reached its walls she jumped for a first floor window frame. Outstretched fingers grasped at the smooth metal lining, but didn’t slip. She had been a strong climber since she had learned to walk, and the chateau’s structure, with its ornate façade and prominent stone slabs, wasn’t much of a challenge.
Smoke was billowing out from a hole in the fourth floor, and she moved as close as she could. She managed to haul herself over a balcony, and smashed through a locked door into a noisy haze. Guests were screaming in terror, while robotic voices yelled commands as the Raiders tried to get control of the situation.
Thick fumes made Kayla’s eyes smart, and she dropped her vizor, selecting infra-red. Further down the corridor, an intense heat source glowed through the hellish obscurity. Kayla headed straight for it. Wherever the other Valkyrie had been, she knew she had to go to the point of impact first. That would be where she would find the most severe casualties.
A sharp scream made her skin crawl, and she rounded a corner, only for her display to blind her with white light. She flipped her vizor to see a ghastly scene. The missile had destroyed the balcony and hallway, leaving a dark void visible through the ragged hole. Fire crawled up the walls, while black suited bodies carpeted the floor. Rayker was crouching among them, blackened with soot and covered in blood. She held one of her spikes like a dagger, ready to strike. With her other hand, she had seized hold of another, buried in a fallen body. She tugged at the needle and pulled it free, then stood to see Kayla staring directly at her.
Kayla shivered in her glare of manic rage.
In the split seconds that followed, years of training came to her aid. Before she could even think her hands were moving, ignoring the stun rifle that hung from her back, and seizing hold of the pistol in her leg holster.
She sidestepped as Rayker flung a spike towards her that buried itself several inches into the wall. Kayla’s gun, almost of its own volition, rose up to her chest and began to orient towards her enemy. Even before she was aware of the sights in her vision, Kayla was pulling the trigger, sending rounds down the hallway in a gradually tightening circle.
The flash and kick of the weapon appeared to pass in slow motion, but Rayker was already moving, darting away from the bullets. Kayla tried to adjust, but she was too slow, and watched helplessly as the most dangerous woman in the galaxy flung herself out into the night. She hung for a brief instant, like a high-diver, and then fell, straight down through the waterfall into the valley below.
Kayla felt a click, and shifted her eyes from the empty sky to see her pistol’s slide locked back. Then she refocused onto the pile of bodies before her.
“Hey?” she called. “Is anyone alive?”
She started to drag bodies as fast as she could away from the flames, hoping that someone had remained conscious.
“Kayla?” a soft voice called from somewhere out of sight.
Kayla wiped away tears and raced forward. She dug beneath an unconscious pair of Raiders until she found a pale, unprotected arm. Then she hauled, until a cursing, soot blackened and shaking Christie emerged.
“Jesus, are you okay? What the hell happened?” Kayla asked.
Christie coughed and spluttered but waved away the concerned and probing hands that were checking her for injuries.
“Call the medics in,” she said.
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Prequel (Chapters 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie
First ¦ Previous ¦ Royal Road ¦ Patreon
After a little polite small talk, she let him hang for a while, occasionally offering eye contact and a warm smile. Rayker prowled frequently through the room, casting brief glances at Kolar, and Christie reminded herself not to overdo it.
As she watched the dark figure stalk away again, she escalated her apparent state of inebriation. Muttering something about the restroom, she stepped forward and jostled the unhappy looking Kolar, spilling his drink all over his badly fitted tuxedo.
“God I’m SOOO sorry,” wailed Christie, smothering the appalled man’s crotch with a napkin. “Come out into the air to let it dry.”
She dragged him, protesting furiously, out of the main room towards a quiet balcony. A pair of guards looked in on them, then moved away in embarrassment.
“We can’t go back in until it’s dried,” she declared. “What will people think? They’ll say we were—oh well you know.” She cackled.
Kolar stood helpless. “I wouldn’t dream of—totally unthinkable.” He stammered.
“Oh my deeeaaaar!” Christie cooed. “Are you saying I’m ugly?”
“Absolutely not, you are… very beautiful.”
Christie stared into his eyes with the most seductive expression of gratitude she could muster. Then she turned back to the dark mountains beyond.
“This is such a lovely spot, isn’t it?” she sighed, and took out her lipstick.
A furious looking Rayker strode out from the balcony’s doors.
“Doctor Kolar,” she snapped. “Please return with me to the main room immediately. Your behavior is entirely inappropriate. Leave this… this girl to make a fool of herself somewhere else.”
Kolar’s frightened eyes jumped from Christie’s sly grin to Rayker’s terrifying expression.
Out of options, Christie decided to go for broke. “God you’re such a bore, aren’t you, Ranky? Frigid old woman. Why don’t you let the fellow enjoy himself?” She reached a hand up to his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Rayker’s lips turned into a sneer. “You pathetic, drunken—”
She froze, suddenly alert as her eyes snapped around the balcony.
Christie almost wanted to grab Kolar and haul him backwards into the void. Below them, the waterfall fell away down a thousand-foot cliff. Her nanite enhanced body would survive the fall, and if she positioned herself to cushion Kolar, maybe he would too. She would be hospitalized for months, but anything was better than letting Rayker take her alive.
But the woman lunged forward with impossible speed and seized Christie’s neck. “Luring me outside, is that it?” she spat.
Christie was thrown bodily back into the hallway inside. She fought to regain her senses, but the cold fingers wrapped around her throat again, and she screamed as loudly as she could. On the balcony, a pale Kolar sank to the floor in shock.
“I don’t know what you are yet, you little whore,” Rayker hissed into Christie’s ear.
Her hand came up, and the flesh of her wrist ripped open to reveal a bloody cavity, and a needle sharp spike of bone, aimed at Christie’s forehead.
“But I think you’ll soon tell me everything I want to know.”
Christie screamed again, and tried to kick her captor. She probably ought to pretend to faint, but there was no way she could fool Rayker. What the hell had she seen to tip her off? How much longer before it would all be over?
A breathless guard raced into the hallway and stopped, going pale as he caught sight of Rayker.
“What is it?” she snapped impatiently.
The guard blinked, pulled his gaze away from the woman’s mutated arm and began to speak. “There’s—”
The lights went out, and they were plunged into darkness. Christie heard the distant whir of something sliding fast down a rope.
The pressure on her throat vanished and she collapsed to the ground, just as the windows exploded. Black shapes poured into the hallway. There was a whir, a wet thunk, and a cut off scream, followed by a clatter of silenced gunshots. Christie curled into a ball to protect herself, and out of the corner of her eye she saw something like a giant spider climb onto the ceiling before reaching out an arm.
A black weapon spat another burst of fire. There was a rasping gurgle and Rayker’s body fell to the ground.
Boots stomped back and forth in a chaos of movement. As her spinning mind’s revolutions began to slow, Christie felt a firm hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her upright.
Nearby, a black-suited soldier strode away. “Target secured,” it said, in the harsh rasp of a machine voice.
Christie found herself sat upright, staring into a bug-eyed metal vizor.
“Clear! Move to the main room!” someone else announced.
The vizor slid upwards to reveal the grim face of a woman she didn’t recognize, staring at her in concern. “Are you hurt soldier?” she asked.
Christie shook her head. “I’m okay. Did someone…?”
“We have one casualty. Kolar’s secured, and Rayker is down for the count.”
Christie looked over and saw a blood-stained body in a heap in the center of the hallway. Two armed, masked figures stood over it, weapons aimed firmly. Nearby, the security guards had been bound and blindfolded.
By the balcony entrance, one of the Valkyrie had collapsed against a wall with a spike buried in her chest. As Christie stared at her, the facemask slid up to reveal the pale, gasping face of Urtiga, the Raider team’s senior NCO. Urtiga caught her eye, and winked through her grimace of pain.
Down the hall she could hear the steel-faced soldiers flooding the rooms, demanding, in robotic tones, compliance from the guests. There had been a terrorist attack in the area, they explained, but security had intervened, and the situation was under control.
Still confused by the adrenaline haze, Christie turned back to the woman checking her over. Had she spoken?
“I’m sorry?” she asked.
“I said, you did a great job,” the Raider said with a warm smile.
“Thank you,” Christie said, and felt like she wanted to throw up.
***
“All call-signs—Hera! I say again, Hera,” the radio in Kayla’s headset blared.
She punched the air as a rush of adrenaline and rage flooded her system. The operation was a success, and it felt great, but she still wanted to scream questions into her mic. Had anyone been hurt? What had happened to Christie? Was Rayker dead?
“Get some,” Ray said out loud, as others nodded.
“Stay frosty,” Kes snapped. “Watch your sectors. This isn’t over yet.”
Kayla silenced her mind and focused her eyes on the grounds of the nearby chateau. The perimeter formed by the squad of Rangers was intended to keep Rayker from escaping. But there was still the possibility that rogue security or guests could have slipped through the control of the chateau’s assaulters. If anyone made it through the mountains and back to civilization, they would begin to spread word about an attack by an unknown force and rumors would quickly circulate in Helvetic society.
Kayla didn’t think this would be such an awful development. The Helvetic League was an imperial power, intent on subjugating every human world to their control. Her home-world of Caldera was already in their tightening grip. Though she had sworn her allegiance to an organization that protected all of humanity, she couldn’t help but question her choice. Did Valkyrie have to be so aloof? Weren’t there evils threatening to engulf the human race from within?
But she kept her doubts to herself, and only shared her agonizing with the eternally patient Thandi.
Something made her glance upward, and she saw a star moving across the night sky, visible through her infra-red vizor. At first, she thought it was a nice symbol to end the mission under, but it began to change direction. With a start, Kayla saw that it was much closer than she had guessed, moving incredibly fast, and heading straight for the chateau. She tried to key her mic, but, before she could speak, the object impacted the south wall, where the Raiders and Christie had taken down Rayker.
Kayla slammed her faceplate up, and watched in horror as bright orange fire blossomed into the night. The whole squad was transfixed in silence, before they were hit by a sonic boom from the object’s flight, followed by the boom of the explosion.
“What the—” Thandi began.
“Viper two,” Kes said into her headset. “Viper two-one. We just saw what looked like a missile strike against the objective. What’s going on?”
Kayla’s heart raced. Her vision darkened around the edges and she felt herself flushing with heat. Smoke belched into the sky, while flames were already reaching the chateau’s upper floors. Christie had been near the impact point, and Urtiga, her mentor, and the woman who had recruited her into Valkyrie. In her mind she saw them laying on the ground, unconscious, as fire crept towards their bodies.
She became vaguely aware that Kes had said something to her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Thandi repeated the question, but Kayla shook her head, without knowing why.
“No,” she said. “No.”
And then the squad was behind her, fading into the distance. She was sprinting, legs pumping as hard and fast as her nanite enhanced muscles could manage. She raced for the chateau wall, ignoring the outburst of yelling in her headset that had become as meaningless as static.
Kayla ran until her lungs ached and her heart threatened to burst out of her chest. She covered the half-mile to the building in less than two minutes, and when she reached its walls she jumped for a first floor window frame. Outstretched fingers grasped at the smooth metal lining, but didn’t slip. She had been a strong climber since she had learned to walk, and the chateau’s structure, with its ornate façade and prominent stone slabs, wasn’t much of a challenge.
Smoke was billowing out from a hole in the fourth floor, and she moved as close as she could. She managed to haul herself over a balcony, and smashed through a locked door into a noisy haze. Guests were screaming in terror, while robotic voices yelled commands as the Raiders tried to get control of the situation.
Thick fumes made Kayla’s eyes smart, and she dropped her vizor, selecting infra-red. Further down the corridor, an intense heat source glowed through the hellish obscurity. Kayla headed straight for it. Wherever the other Valkyrie had been, she knew she had to go to the point of impact first. That would be where she would find the most severe casualties.
A sharp scream made her skin crawl, and she rounded a corner, only for her display to blind her with white light. She flipped her vizor to see a ghastly scene. The missile had destroyed the balcony and hallway, leaving a dark void visible through the ragged hole. Fire crawled up the walls, while black suited bodies carpeted the floor. Rayker was crouching among them, blackened with soot and covered in blood. She held one of her spikes like a dagger, ready to strike. With her other hand, she had seized hold of another, buried in a fallen body. She tugged at the needle and pulled it free, then stood to see Kayla staring directly at her.
Kayla shivered in her glare of manic rage.
In the split seconds that followed, years of training came to her aid. Before she could even think her hands were moving, ignoring the stun rifle that hung from her back, and seizing hold of the pistol in her leg holster.
She sidestepped as Rayker flung a spike towards her that buried itself several inches into the wall. Kayla’s gun, almost of its own volition, rose up to her chest and began to orient towards her enemy. Even before she was aware of the sights in her vision, Kayla was pulling the trigger, sending rounds down the hallway in a gradually tightening circle.
The flash and kick of the weapon appeared to pass in slow motion, but Rayker was already moving, darting away from the bullets. Kayla tried to adjust, but she was too slow, and watched helplessly as the most dangerous woman in the galaxy flung herself out into the night. She hung for a brief instant, like a high-diver, and then fell, straight down through the waterfall into the valley below.
Kayla felt a click, and shifted her eyes from the empty sky to see her pistol’s slide locked back. Then she refocused onto the pile of bodies before her.
“Hey?” she called. “Is anyone alive?”
She started to drag bodies as fast as she could away from the flames, hoping that someone had remained conscious.
“Kayla?” a soft voice called from somewhere out of sight.
Kayla wiped away tears and raced forward. She dug beneath an unconscious pair of Raiders until she found a pale, unprotected arm. Then she hauled, until a cursing, soot blackened and shaking Christie emerged.
“Jesus, are you okay? What the hell happened?” Kayla asked.
Christie coughed and spluttered but waved away the concerned and probing hands that were checking her for injuries.
“Call the medics in,” she said.
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Prequel (Parts 1 to 16)
1. Rise of a Valkyrie

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For a moment I am shocked. If I had expected anyone to be here, aside from the Librarian herself, it would be Ricardo! But I guess the world is trying to surprise me today? Then again, considering the rumors, miss Pelafina wasn’t that much of an outrage either.

Then it hits me. What does she mean ‘took you long enough’, huh!?

“She was waiting for y—”

Yes I get that part! Was this whole deal a game for her?

I take my first steps towards her, a little indignant and I feel it is justified, but then I notice something in the corner of my eye. Movement. I immediately turn on my heels to face it: there’s shades of black in the darkness, at least in one spot. Soon, a figure steps up from the corner of the room, dressed in a long black cloak, dressing pants and elegant shoes. The hood covers their head and some magical darkness obscurs their eyes, but I can see a few locks of green hair slip from underneath the shadow.

The figure lifts a hand, they are even wearing black gloves! That’s some commitment to the bit.

“Yo. The name is Lucía. Sorry for skulking around but it is kind of my job; I assume you already know Overseer Pelafina?” She smirks. “She gets around! She said she was waiting for a Bastard to arrive but, Hell, we thought it was just an excuse of hers to skip work!”

“I am very responsible, excuse you.” Pelafina frowns, shaking her head softly. “Ignore Lucy, dear. She’s just my assigned guard, here to keep me safe!”

Her assigned guard? So she IS with the Cloaks after all! I mean, if the cloak she’s wearing wasn’t indication enough. I don’t like her, not one bit. She’s smiling too much, just balancing on her heels and toes while I stand there. I don’t wanna say I hate her, we’ve barely exchanged words… but I don’t like her. Not one bit.

I decide to take Pelafina’s words to heart and ignore her, when another thing hits me.

“Overseer Pelafina!? But you’re just the lady from the bookstore!” I think my eyes are going to jump right out of my skull like in one of those old cartoons.

“A girl has to move up in this world if she wants to survive.” The old lady chuckled, just a little bit. “You know my name, but I never truly caught yours though. How do we call you, dear?”

Fuck, here we go with names again… but hey, maybe this is a great chance to build a new identity for myself!

“People call me Tav.” I say, trying to puff up my chest a bit.

“That was not what she asked though!” Lucía intervenes with a singsongy voice.

“Oh let her have her own nom de guerre, Lucy. It’s adorable!” Having these two messing with me is really going to be bad for my health. I’ll have to endure it though. “Alright then, Tav. If you’re here, I assume you managed to read through the book at least a bit?”

I flinch. Just how much does this woman know? Did she know the contents of the book from the start? Is this a weird ‘Hero’s journey’ situation? A mysterious adventure she has sent me into so I grow as a person?

Or is she just fucking with me.

“Well? Don’t keep me waiting! It’s been days!” Pelafina insists with a twinkle shining in her eyes.

“... I have a few words translated.” I managed to say.

“Oh great! So Humiko left you hints. That’s great.”

“Miss Pelafina–”

“Please, just call me P.”

“Uhm. Miss P.” I gulp. “Just how much do you know of the book, exactly?”

“Well, Humiko asked me personally to keep it safe, so that’s one thing.” The overseer counts with her fingers. “I know it is written in Magic Runes, which… shouldn’t be possible, and yet, there it is! I trust Humiko enough to know it has to be real.”

“Wait.” I blink. “What do you mean ‘shouldn’t be possible’?”

“Magic is not a language, or at least it hasn’t been understood as one until… well, right now.” The old lady smiles a bit wider. “If you manage to make more sense of it than a few phrases, you’d be making history, boy!”

Again with the damn gendering… I frown a little bit but, try not to make it too visible. I gotta focus.

“Yeah, get it together. This is not the time for your ridiculous whining.”

Sigh.

“So you know what the book is, but you don’t know what it says.”

“To be honest, I am not really sure what it is either.” Pelafina admits with an embarrassed grin. “All I know is that it is a project Humiko had for a long time already, and according to her express instructions, the hints could only be read by a sleeper.”

I haven’t really checked if I can no longer check Humiko’s note in the book, so there’s homework for when I return.

“I am sorry we put this on you with deceit and all, but would you have really believed me if I said ‘You have to study magic’ just like that?” The old lady shrugs. “It was necessary, and if Ricardo could see the potential in you, then this was surely the correct choice.”

“Is Ricardo an Overseer too?” I feel like that is a sensible question.

“Oh heavens no, he’s a Sleeper. Not a word of this to him, you hear me?” P’s gesture grows severe for a moment. “I don’t want him involved in such things at his age. He had enough adventures already.”

I guess the rumors of Ricardo being a world-trotting adventurer are also true. Huh.

“So. Tell me, what did you learn?”

She’s very eager… I can notice Lucía’s gaze on me, too. They are both very, very eager.

“This doesn’t make sense.”

Right? It’s all wrong.

The book’s first warning was to avoid the cloaks, and yet here’s P! Just hanging out with this one, talking about the book like it’s nothing!

Well, if it’s true that she doesn’t know the contents, I can lie through my teeth!

“Well… I’ve learned a few characters. Do you have somewhere to write?” My body suddenly relaxes, my demeanor tightens. I may be bad at many things, but lying? I was born lying in this world and I can keep it up no matter what.

“Ah, sure. Lucy!”

The guard walks up to me casually, offering me a fancy black leather notebook decorated with a golden apple and a silver arrow piercing it. She even opens the yellow pages for me, and provides a cheap plastic pen.

I nod, and quickly begin scribbling.

I scribble ‘Tlo’i’, ‘Golthoi’ and ‘Thako’ with their respective symbols.

“There. These are the ones I’ve learned.”

Lucía looks at me dead in the eye for a moment. I can feel the sharpness of her wit, she’s trying to read me… but it will be useless. I am in a dissertation now, bitch. I’ve been doing these for years, it’s my one skill.

“Interesting.” Lucía nods.

“So, what do these mean?” Pelafina approaches us to check on the symbols. “Terrible calligraphy, by the way.”

“Yeah, I know.” The confidence abandons me for a moment, before I puff up my chest again and begin talking. “The first one is the word for ‘Butterfly’. The second one is a word for the action of turning something on, the third one… I am not sure yet.”

“When used on a spell, it makes the effect happen upon touching the glyph.” Lucía knows. “It’s a very common one.”

“Glyph?” I tilt my head.

“She means a combination of Runes, dear.” P smiles warmly. “Alright, so ‘Butterfly’, ‘Ignite’ and ‘Touch’, then?”

I never said ‘Ignite’ for Golthoi, but I guess that is a interpretation of it?

… Interesting. That these things have different meanings in different contexts, would that affect casting?

“Ah, I also found this.” I draw ‘Jo’ in the book. “Does this mean anything?”

“That one is used to counteract spells. If you draw this in a Glyph, it cancels its effect.” Lucía seems happy to provide the knowledge I lack.

I actually appreciate it, for it immediately made something click in my brain.

“It means ‘No’.” A voice whispers in my head, my own voice.

Yes. It’s a negative. That’s why it isn’t so common on its own. When added to another symbol, it negates it. ‘No-Light’ must be a way to say ‘Darkness’ or such… or… backwards, ‘No-Darkness’ equals ‘Light’.

Would this be dependent on the culture?

I smile a little bit to myself. This knowledge I will keep up my sleeve for now.

“What’s that smile for? Did you see something new?” Lucía is way too sharp to keep that smile from. I have to make something up quick.

“I realized I now know how to counter spells. That’s so cool…” I whisper to myself, channeling some of that wonder into my lie.

She seems to buy it, for she immediately focuses on correcting me.

“Knowing the Counterspell Rune is not enough, there are other factors to consider, so don’t go around trying to counter every spell so quickly.” She give me a smile I really dislike.

“Hmmm… well, that’s plenty for now,if that is all.” Pelafina shrugs softly. “It is quite late already… go back home for now, Tav.”

“B-But. I have so many questions!” I immediately pout. Saints damn it, so close to learn actually useful stuff!

“Yes, but sadly I cannot teach you. As the Overseer, I am bound by oath to remain neutral and not show favoritism for anyone.” The woman shrugged. “So, I can’t really teach you much. But, if you identify more words, I can definitely give you a few more pointers!”

“Fine…” A defeated sigh escapes my lips. So I’ll have to buy knowledge with knowledge, hmm? I look at Lucía for a second.

“Nope. I am too young to teach.” She immediately denies me.

“Tsk.” I look down… but then, an idea comes to me. Just a confirmation I need to get. “Can I check more stuff online? Maybe there’s resources out there…”

Pelafina frowns, looking at Lucía and waiting for her to explain. She eventually does, with a sigh.

“The process of getting on the internet as a mage is hard. You need a special router and everything, it’s honestly not worth it.” The guard shakes her head. “If you want, we can provide you one next time. But really, there aren’t many resources online for this… mages are isolationists, usually.”

Ah hah! So they don’t know of the forum! Alright then, that’s another point to my advantage.

“I don’t think I’ll need that, I have enough with mundane internet thank you very much.” I chuckle a little bit.

“I never got the so called ‘interwebs’ to be honest.” P grins. “Now, off to bed you go. Shoo, shoo. Remember coming back here at night, alright? That’s when it is nice and empty.”

Honestly, a nice and empty place to try and translate sounds fine to me. But I can just do that at home…

Besides. These people are dripfeeding me the information I need, so they are probably not trustworthy in the slightest.

I feel a little bad for not trusting Pelafina immediately, but…

“She threw you into this mess without consent.”

“Yeah, fuck her.”

Right.

“Alright then, I am going. Thank you again for everything, miss P!” I fail to hold back a yawn as I turn around and stand on the stairs. They… are still going up. “Uh.”

“The other stairs dear, there’s a magic escalator down.” Lucía tries not to laugh at my face, and fails.

“A-Ah, thank you.”

With a heavy sigh, I take the right escalator this time and disappear down the stairs. Looking at my clock, it’s already three in the morning…time to sleep for sure.

With some luck, the pillow will make this all make much more sense.


As Tav finally disappeared from the Elysium, and the sound of a closing door echoed through the room, Pelafina let out a little sigh, shaking her head.

“This isn’t going to work.” She commented, crossing her arms. “This girl is no good.”

“She seems smart enough. The type to keep notes….” Lucía suggested, her smile growing slowly.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Well. If we give her a few months and turns out she doesn’t make any breakthroughs, we can always… you know.”

“I don’t.”

“We can take her stuff.” Lucía finally said. “Just erase her memory and take the book and the notes back! With some luck, she probably took notes of the hints.”

“...Lucy, you’re diabolical.” The old crone chuckled loudly. “Ohhh, I guess we will get our chips back no matter how this gamble goes, then!”

“Of course! But I still don’t know why we can’t just go to a family of Mages and put this on their sleeper child!”

“That bitch Humiko probably thought of something like that.” A grumble escaped from the old lady. “This is our safest bet.”

“Well, I am just saying. If this experiment of yours doesn’t pay up, I may have to talk about this with the rest of the Coven…~” Lucía’s eyes were, for a moment, fully visible under that hood, brightly green. “And you know the captain wouldn’t like you skulking around with unapproved knowledge.~”

“Oh shush, you won’t.” Pelafina seemed quite confident of this. “Not after coming this close to finally finding that bitch…”

The overseer sighed, looking up to the fake stars for a moment while rubbing her hands together. What was this she felt? Anxiety?

“... It has to work, Lucía.” She finally said. “It has to.”

“What if it doesn’t though?” The guard tilted her head.

“It has to… it is our only way to free our King from his cell.”

“Welp, let’s hope this girl works fast!”

“I know. After all, King Hamil isn’t a patient man.”

Sorry it's so late this week. I'm an ex Seoul Dynasty player as well and I was a bit too busy so I kind of just listened to all for it and then got way too busy for a few days with work. Here's the loose translations for episode 5 of Overwatch University. Rush had to leave very early on due to Internet issues and Moon who was watching at the time volunteered to help as a lot of the talk was in regards to the Seoul vs Shanghai Rivalry anyways so having both POVs was insightful
Topic 1 Intros and Seoul Dynasty Season 1
Aid: Have you seen Overwatch University given you have been invited by NineK
Tobi: Not really. I've skimmed around and seen pieces of the Crusty interview and Moon interview.
Aid: We're going to go over Tobis lengthy career as we were both pros
NineK: Isn't it kind of disrespectful to Tobi for you to group him up with you?
Aid: I had a lot of talent I just got cursed with a shit Coach like you NineK right Tobi?
Tobi: True
Aid: See two instances of your failures
NineK: What does that make the people who won under me? You two must've been the problem.
Aid: (pulled up Seoul Dynasty s1 roster and Tobi just explains who all of them were) Honestly you guys didn't do amazing right?
Tobi: No we were bad we went 7-3, 7-3, 5-5, and then 3-7. Just mid
NineK: Did you feel in preseason scrims you were in trouble?
Tobi: No I didn't we did very well even in the preseason games we won everything.
Rush: There any problems we didn't know about you can tell us?
Tobi: I can tell all the potential members we could've had though. Carpe, Fury, Gesture, Jjonak
NineK: Wow you started and ended with Seoul now that I think about it.
Aid: So we heard lots of rumors about Seoul but I heard you had unique member rotations where only allowing certain players for certain stages?
Tobi: If I'm clarifying a bit the split rosters was more of a season 2 decision with an A team and B team where eventually the roster mixed together. Biggest issue was the coaches couldn't agree. So sometimes they would just take turns like coach A gets to decide today then coach B gets to decide what to do and then coach c.
NineK: I heard you basically did that with a new coach per stage.
Rush: Who was your head coach?
Tobi: 4 coaches + extras
Aid: How did you decide who played what?
Tobi: Honestly the meta was so hard locked at the time the biggest issue was the coaches disagreed how we should play and it was very confusing how we should do it. We basically went back and forth with a coach of the day deciding what we did.
NineK: Too many games too. That's how Shanghai went 0-40 cause there was way too much. Not to mention no one wanted to scrim them cause it's not like you wanted to be their first victory either.
Tobi: We scrimmed them a bit
NineK: Wow you're nice people.
Tobi: They've invited us over at times and made food for us too.
Rush: Yeah there's pictures of it.
NineK: Cause of the Korean members?
Tobi: No this was way before that
NineK: Wow so kind. Isn't it cause your results weren't good either?
Tobi: Uhhh... Where were you in season 1?
NineK: I came in late. Stage 3. Season 1 was fun though
Aid: Honestly getting dragged back and forth by your coaches must be stressful. As a player there has got to be times when you do something one way and think to yourself why the heck does he want me to do it this way instead
NineK: Also they'd probably never had that many members to work with either since they just added players to Lunatic Hai
Tobi: True. We had 11 starting members and then acquired Gambler when I was having wrist issues. Then we lost another member and went back to 11. I truly believe having 12 members was so pointless
NineK: I agree like it's good if you can make it work but if you don't it just makes people feel awful. I don't know why people insisted so much on large rosters.
Tobi: Lots of people lots of possibilities I guess?
Rush: Also this is when OWL wanted to copy traditional sports so they got a bunch of players on their rosters
Tobi: They did invest more in OWL back then
NineK: They were really the team designed to win everything weren't they?
Rush: I remember an article saying they had an 80% chance of winning
NineK: People don't get how hard this time was cause of the random Mercy meta. Honestly probably wouldn't have been this bad for Seoul if patches came out like they do now
Tobi: Meta was unfavorable sure but we just played poorly to be honest
NineK: Wow so honest very cool
Topic 2: Ryujekong
Aid: Everyone was so confused by Ryujehong on Tank I want to hear what happened
Tobi: Honestly it's been so long I don't remember this time very well. I also wasn't even scrimming or playing at the time because of my wrist. I was basically just going to the doctor. We had kuki who for reasons was having troubles so he stopped playing and then Miro was having a lot of struggles at the time as well with how the meta was playing. It's mostly because of the comms cause obviously Miro had better mechanics Jehong sucks at primaling too but he would take space well and call out commands for the team to help
Aid: How did your scrims go?
Tobi: I don't remember
NineK: He can't help but not remember there were only scrims allowed at the practice facilities at the time and kids that were ill like him straight up just didn't even go. There were set times
Aid: So this isn't Jehongs main position and he was forced to tank must have been hard.
NineK & Rush: Must be
Tobi: It absolutely was. Imagine how sorry he felt to Miro. He was a support replacing Miro. If he fails not only does he get ridiculed for it but people slander Miro for being replaced by a tank of this caliber he felt very burdened feeling sorry that Miro might get insulted more than he did
NineK: I remember at the time a lot of people said Jehong had a bad Zenyatta as well but I thought it was good
Aid: Yeah I don't really see how he was particularly bad
NineK: Honestly the way things were he was probably just getting compared to Jjonak who was a beast at the time. The flame for Jehong was insane at the time
Aid: I remember his team would just hyper pocket Jjonak and have him just frag. NYXL were so defensive and good at pocketing.
NineK: In another way of seeing things that playstyle not being meta anymore might be why NYXL couldn't hack it in finals.
(Watching VOD of Seoul vs London)
NineK: Damn Munchkin fucking sucked at Tracer
Rush: Wait why is Fleta playing Widow?
Tobi: He was really good at Widow
NineK: He was
Rush: Then what is Munchkin good at
NineK: Just Cassidy Soldier. But Widow was so broken back then
Aid: Monkey could never catch her cause of her grapple cooldown
NineK: Nearly all the monkeys sucked at primal dribbling too. If a Mercy pocketed her she never died either. Who was good then again? Carpe...
Tobi: Linkzr Surefour Pine
Aid: Wow such names from my memories
NineK: Gesture Fury were way too good at Monkey D.va. Honestly there's so much shit about London I wanna expose
Aid: Bring Profit
NineK: I'll get Rascal easily. Wow Bdosin looks so young here what the he'll.
Topic 3: End of Season 2 VOD of Jehong Tobi Crying Post Elimination to Spark
Aid: I didn't know this happened at the time but NineK mentioned this happened can you explain?
Tobi: At the time role lock got forced and doomfist hanzo reaper were good. At the time we were kind of really good in scrims but lost to a team in tournament we never lost too in scrims. Jehong was already out there crying and I didn't want to come out and Danny kept forcing me to come out even though I said I didn't want too. But I was afraid the broadcast would get delayed or ruined cause of me so I was forced to.
Ninek: At the time we were preparing for our game up right after them but our GM was so fuxking angry at the time like how could you force them to do this right after they lost he complained a lot to Blizzard. Cause just imagine, thank God you brought out two veterans and media trained players. Imagine if you brought out complete noobies if it was this hard for these 2 veterans imagine what they might let slip on a broadcast when emotions are this high. This is also right after their season ended and they were officially eliminated.
Rush: From Blizzards POV these 2 were icons of the game and they probably felt like they could really show the importance and feelings toward this game to the audience watching
NineK: But like RIGHT after they lost is insane to me. Like let them process instead of fucking ambushing them as they're coming down from the stage.
Rush: But it's important cause this is when they're at the peak of the emotions being felt so I get it.
NineK: There's actually so many players who went down that stage to the hallways down crying
Aid: Of course they work hard and it didn't work.
Tobi: When we scrimmed we only lost to 1 team ever. Shock. We beat Vancouver NYXL Spark everyone else.
NineK: Wow so strong
Tobi: But in the end we just lost to Spark
NineK: I can say this now but we scrimmed Hangzhou a lot at this time. They didn't have a coach we were their coaches. Literally they would scrim us and copy us the next day in games. Since GOATs they basically decided they couldn't beat us so they copied our opening strats positioning skill usage everything. That's why they did decent
Aid: So Seoul lost cause of you
Tobi: We regretted a lot because of some of our microplays. There was a thing when double shield was first happening where Moria sprays her heals on the tanks right? The enemy Sigmas could shoot their shield out behind the Orisa to block the heals. And we thought this was possible but went and said it wasn't going to be a difference maker and ignored it
NineK: Wait we were doing that since day 1 lol
Tobi: We lost to Spark because of that. We felt awful cause this is something we thought could happen but ignored. At the time Marvel was our Sigma and Michelle who was a traditional offtank was forced on Orisa. We had Fissure who was good at Orisa who retired so we had no Orisas.
Aid: Timings always been off for Seoul I guess
NineK: No wonder you felt so many emotions. I was so sad seeing this. Seoul was honestly so good in season 2 but always somehow was just one step short. It hurt my heart to see them.
Aid: Players don't like to cry like that so they have to have been feeling so much to cry like this
Topic 4: Seoul vs Shanghai
Aid: We had Moon and he said some stuff on this we were all in the West and we would just see the results but this May Melee where you were up 3-0 and got reverse swept... your stories about this?
Tobi: We didn't get ahead of ourselves Shanghai was always good at Gibraltr and we thought we would lose this map but win the rest for a 4-1. I'm not sure how we lost Busan though
Tobi: We won a lot with our double shield
Rush: Fearless wasn't supposed to play
Aid: Fearless told me at the time he didn't get to scrim even once and then came in and won everything
NineK: Wow
Aid: Yeah no scrims at all
NineK: Wait Tobi why us Bdosin on Brig and you on Baptiste?
Tobi: I played the Baptiste for Seoul at the time cause Bdosin fucking sucked at Bap. This mother fucker could never use his abilities properly. He must've gotten sick in the head watching Viol2t play or something cause whenever he had cooldowns he would be on some high ground alone shooting and scream "Aghhh" and die off on his own
NineK: I remember now it wasn't super locked who played what because no one had Briggitte experience at the time
Tobi: Also if this happened there would be cases where in double shield mirror your Brig had to swap to Zenyatta but at the time Gesture had too many complaints about coordinating his pulls with Bdosin
NineK: I have no idea how Seoul lost this right now
Tobi: There's no absolutes in Overwatch. But the only thing I remember is our loss in Junkertown
Aid: For Kings Row I remember the Felta carry with Widow this was probably in all of those OWL top 5 highlights. I still can't believe how far Shnghai got in Junkertown though
NineK: Wow even Fearless is playing Orisa here
Tobi: That's why we thought we would win here. It's such a double tank focused map. Fits was randomly flanked high on the left and I td him to get down but he died on our A defense.
NineK: Wow you guys got out ult cycled like crazy
Rush: The Torbjorn choice here leaves a lot to be desired
NineK: I agree
Aid: So then there is that little celebration Shanghai did how did you feel
Tobi: Can I curse?
NineK: Seoul is just so ugh... like back in season 2 they beat New York during GOATs who was supposed to be top 2 but Seould couldn't take those next steps to greatness here as well. There are those super important games that once you win you just go on a roll and Seoul never got to do it
Tobi: I really hated losing to Shanghai cause I could've been on the team.
NineK: Really?
Tobi: Yeah I received offers from them on 3 separate occasions but ended up choosing Seoul. I wanted to believe I made the right choice so I wanted to win
Topic 5: Tobi Happy. Season 3
Aid: There's this gif of you happy after a win
NineK: It's so funny you took your glasses off before cheering
Tobi: At the time we lost to Shanghai so often but then finally beat them
NineK: The thing is Seoul was lucky cause they actually shouldn't have been in the season 3 finals originally.
Rush: Washington was the biggest offender
NineK: Off memory it felt like a "everyone suffered because of COVID so everyone gets a chance" thing
Tobi: But the thing to note is we did well in the West before we were forced to go to Korea and beat Glads and Valiant. We won like all of our scrims at the time.
NineK: Fine I'll give you that
Rush: Seoul was honestly really good during the online era
Aid: What did you think of the Hog meta?
Tobi: I was a huge doubter. Like at the time it was Zarya Hog or Sigma Hog. It just had none of the fundamentals of Overwatch I was used to seeing. I just couldn't believe it.
NineK: Tobis a purist "where do you come from thinking Hog could ever be a main tank"
Tobi: His ability to take space was unreal at the time. But Gesture was really into it and Wizardhyeong pushed for it
Aid: Gesture was a really good Hog though
NineK: All the guys there had good Hogs. Gesture Super Smurf Fearless were all good at it
Rush: But Shanghai didn't play it
NineK: I don't know Shanghais reasoning but I know Shock played how they did cause Viol2t fucking sucked at Ana lol. The thing is he did win with it but his scrim results as Ana was terrible
Rush: Viol2t Ana is known in the community as weaker though
NineK: But he doesn't think so
Tobi: I heard it got to the point where Crusty said he would do better if he played than Viol2t
NineK: That's why Architect played it for a bit. They had Twilight but I have no idea why they didn't use him more. I don't know how much I should say when there's no Shock rep from the time here but as far as I Know Super wasn't supposed to play. Smurf was but he didn't fit with his playstyle and the team well enough at the time
Tobi: If I have to point out regrets in the Shock game it was not using Zenyatta on Busan
NineK: But shouldn't you playing something other than the Ashe?
Tobi: No this was when Ashe was super broken and Profit was really good at her
Aid: The more I see it the more I really feel regrets about Seouls performances
NineK: That's what I've been saying Seoul was almost never bad and had huge upside a lot for different points in time. Honestly they're Asia's Philly Fusion
Tobi: You know how it is NineK if one thing changed with your Hotba strategy or Rascal not waking the monkey
NineK: I had a team with Tobi and Carpe and caught the 2nd place curse
Tobi: Woah why are you blaming me I've won plenty.
NineK: I did too before meeting you guys
Tobi: Then it's Carpes fault
NineK: I guess it is lol
Aid: At this point we need to have Carpe on to defend himself
NineK: We're going to go watch his games this Saturday
Tobi: The Hollwood bug pissed me off too
(Vod review where Tobi popped Valkyrie in spawn and the D.va bomb from Choi killed Tobi in the respawn room) this and Viol2t living at 1 health
Aid: Wow you guys are just destined to not win that day
Tobi: It was everything against us honestly
NineK: Honestly in the regular Hog comps Seoul and Dhock were about even but Seoul couldn't beat Shocks Hog and Ball Comp
Tobi: I actually wanted to go Numbani here instead of Hollywood
NineK: I remember at this time Choihyobin was getting gapped by Hanbin a bit and all of us joked his time was over and Hanbin would replace him as the new offtank goat
NineK: I remember at this time Shock felt Bdosin was scarier. They took more maps with him. Even though they defended better with Creative
Tobi: I think at the time he wasn't getting too much scrim time so he just said to let Creative play
Topic 6 Coach Tobi
Aid: You came back after being a player for Fusion to being Head Coach of Seoul Dynasty how was that for you?
Tobi: I kind of just stopped feeling the desire to compete like "I definitely can still compete mechanically but guess it might just not work out from here"
Tobi: Was worried that newer players he hadn't yet played with wouldn't follow his leadership well
Aid: So who was the player who least listened to you
Tobi: Everyone below me followed very well
Aid: So did you work well with the other coaches given it was mentioned there were previously conflicting visions?
Tobi: Oh these people were later coaches and we had very good talks together and worked well together
NineK: Since we wanna wait for our other guest when we talk about the next topic let's move on and talk about our time together in Fusion
Tobi: There were a lot of regrets weren't there?
NineK: The biggest problem for me was I didn't know we would be playing in Korea when I made the roster and heard it from someone from another team.
NineK: I felt sorry to Carpe for that. He's like Seoul where certain key moments not working out it feels like de-railed everything for him.
Aid: What did you think when you joined and first got to know NineK?
Tobi: When I joined I did so because I heard so much good stuff about him. Like he just knows a lot about Overwatch so I was curious about him and learned a lot. There's Crusty NineK Moon and Rush that are the coaches that are very well talked about that I was curious about. I got to meet NineK and Wow I'd never believed someone could get so angry over this game he would slam on the desk yelling while coaching. But the thing was while doing that he would always be right about what he's saying
Topic 7: Moon Joins
(Moon joins the podcast because Rush was lagging out)
NineK: So is it true you sent offers to Tobi
Moon: I guess I should say hi first. My name is Coach Moon who tried to get Tobi every year but failed.
NineK: I tried that with Fury
Aid: Is one of the reasons you wanted to beat Seoul no matter what because you didn't get to recruit Tobi?
Moon: No actually around that time I got in a lot of trouble with my wife. She said I talked to Tobi more than her. This was before we signed LeeJaeGon
Tobi: In 2020 season Shanghai actually had a lot of players I wanted to play with. Fleta Lip and such. As well as just giving a better offer out right.
NineK: Void too.
Tobi: Yeah always keeps contact with him too. But I really wanted to run it back with Ryujehong one last time because of the regrets of our last 2 seasons together to redeem ourselves. But he ended up choosing Vancouver and as I ended up wanting to go to Shanghai instead, they ended up already getting LeeJaeGon instead
Aid: Man the timing has just never worked out for Tobi
NineK: When he was on Fusion with me he used to always joke "damn if I was on Shanghai at least I could've been winning while benched"
Moon: So at the time LeeJaeGon and Tobi were my first choices but LJG told me he didn't want to join because he wanted to go to Mayhem with other Runaway members and then Tobi was looking at Seoul so I almost ended up with no one. But eventually LeeJaeGon chose us and tobi reached out the day after that.
NineK: So you regret not getting Tobi?
Moon: I mean you can't argue this given our results...
Tobi: They did so well
NineK: Tobi would've made the team fun for you though. That season was really bad for us but we had a lot of fun
Topic 8: Seoul vs Shanghai KickOff Clash
Aid: It looked like Seoul was happier beating Shanghai in winners finals than beating Philly in finals
Moon: The thing was the situation was so terrible for us at this time. We were quarantined with nothing.
Tobi: This team was the one we wanted to beat more than anyone else. It's why Profit was crying at the end of it all.
Moon: I will say their strats against us were very good they deserved the win regardless of what circumstances we had
Tobi: This gave me PTSD cause there was a moment when we were reverse swept in May Melee where Bdosin got pulsed with Rally. I told Vindsim no matter what to hold your shield up when he has it and in this one moment in the VOD he got stuck by fleta but thankfully Profit clutched
NineK: I will say when we got to the Hawaii LAN Shock picked you guys at Shanghai and I'll just say I didn't want to pick you.
Aid: Ahh it was the eternal rivals (implying Crusty chose Shanghai for revenge)
Moon: This time was really tough for us and we had a bunch of retirements after this. I think we thought more about what we would get to eat the next day or when we would be able to go to a Koreatown for the food we missed
NineK: It was so long
Moon: Honestly it was the hardest times for us.
NineK: It was really tough for us as well lockdown was so long.
Moon: I honestly don't want to hear lockdown complaints from anyone around me. If we were offline and I told you our horror stories everyone here would cry.
NineK: I mean everyone suffered but this sounds like military stories lol. Like everyone thinks they had it the hardest. Anyways Tobi tell us how you did things that led to that win.
Tobi: So you know there are things a lot of us say behind the scenes about coaches right? Like this guy is more of just a caretaker or this guy is more just strategies but I really wanted to be the coach who wouldn't have players feel bad I was their Coach. It's why I asked for a lot of help from previous coaches I worked under. I wanted all of my least favorite aspects of coaches I've seen in the past to not be things my players go through I let them all speak casually to me so they wouldn't be uncomfortable with me
NineK: Moon has the opposite take. He said his players can never act chummy with him and will always refer to him as coach
Tobi: My feelings were that I had previously worked with a lot of these players in the past so it feels okay
(VOD shows Seoul winning Kick off Clash 4-0 over Philly Fusion
NineK: Oh Carpes expression came out (literally half covered in shadows)
Aid: I didn't want to become a useless coach. Every explayer wants to be the opposite of the coaches they hated
Tobi: When I first won I was so happy to finally get a star under the Seoul Dynasty banner for Gen G.
NineK: I thought at the time though "all that for a stage win?"
Aid: We were like Wow they really are happy for a stage win
Moon: Well it was their first win of course they're happy and they beat us to do it
NineK: As coaches we can tell whether they just got lucky or actually were prepared. Poor Carpe though
Topic 9: Q & A
Aid: If you became a coach again and had to form a team which players would you want?
Moon: Wait but isn't the answer for those year very obvious?
Tobi: Yeah just erase Moons name and put me in
NineK: Then mix and match a bit
Tobi: Smurf Stalk3r Lip Chorong seems very good and then Shu
NineK: That's basically Crazy Raccoons. I'll just say this is cause he doesn't watch it
Tobi: I watched all the big games actuall
Moon: If he was really keeping up with the scene wouldn't he have picked Donghak?
Aid: If Gen G or T1 asked you to coach or team up with Ryujehong again for OWCS?
Tobi: I already got an offer to play with them and said no
Aid: Oh really why?
Tobi: Cause I knew what would happen lol. The kids nowadays level of play is so high
NineK: Just for fun I guess
Tobi: Well yeah if I streamed it and stuff sure but the team even with me or without wouldn't have done well
Moon: Honestly the player gap between the experienced old guard and the new is high right now but you'd hope it would get closer by next year
NineK: More than player gaps I'd rather be worried about the coaching level. It's really just Moon Crusty Rush again. Tobi isn't coaching anymore either... so tobi this is to say coach again please.
Tobi: I did get an offer but the timing didn't work out.
Aid: Always the timing
Tobi: Before Falcons formed I think it could've worked but Smurf was gone and all the teams were formed and then I got the call and was a decent offer. But the timing was bad.
Moon: Where the players weren't available anymore. But just swipe them from their teams
Tobi: But I didn't wanna steal players with offers of contracts
Moon: Why not?
NineK: The difference between a dirty person and clean person
Moon: But the thing is they don't have contracts
NineK: Yeah wait they definitely would want money
Moon: That's my point he could've offered stability to more players in the scene
NineK: Then you are at fault Tobi
Tobi: There was a condition though. The org really wanted to win and asked if I could form a team to win.
Moon: Oh that would be hard (smiling in Crazy Raccoons)
NineK & Aid: (dies of laughter at the humble brag)
Moon: I did work really hard to swipe the good players.
NineK: Was it a foreign org?
Tobi: Yeah it was
Moon: I wish more teams came into the space
NineK: If tobi even at least coached Genesis they would've been better
Tobi: I did get that offer but said no
NineK: Didn't want to work for bottom feeder teams?
Tobi: Well I wasn't close with any of the players either
NineK: You shouldve just gone to orga offering up super teams and swiped like Moon did.
Moon: I just had a skeleton crew formed and did mine
NineK: Whatever it was it's just kind of sad Tobi isn't coaching actively right now is all
NineK: I like this question. If Coach Tobi could speak to player Tobi of the past what would you say to them?
Tobi: Probably to be sure of yourself and confident in your play and your decision. I used to basically fly to whoever screamed for help no matter who was in a bad position trying to help. I definitely learned afterwards and worked really hard to improve my Mercy
NineK: I remember at that time Yobi worked really hard to improve his Mercy and it was really good I agree. It's sad to hear given how things went for Seoul but it is a cool answer
Aid: ProFits from friend POV to players POV
Tobi: Profit whether as a friend or player was a great and reliable friend. Fits was the hassle
Aid: How so?
Tobi: Never listening always whining just a big baby. Cute little brother while Profit was a reliable friend
(Just chatting while looking for interesting questions)
Moon: I'm saying this now but Shanghai starting at 0-40 we worked so hard to hit that 40-40 and it took so long. We won so much and still took a while
NineK: A fun thing to ask whenever we have an ex-player is have they ever felt like watching a scrim they would do better?
Tobi: I have scrimmed actually. Vindaim was ill and in the hospital so I played. We won.
Ninek: You say yes to this question if you win the scrims if you lost you would say it didn't happen
Tobi: True
Tobi: Here's one about Seoul I like. Why did you when you had LeeSooMin and Krillin make Krillin a main support? The answer is Krillin said during Washington he got to try a bunch of heroes and LeeSooMin was pretty decent at Kirik at the time. I had worked one year with Vindaim and it was good for us so I hoped for the same to happen. The initial meta was good for us too until we hit the Sombra meta
NineK: I think the only ones happy to hit the Sombra meta was Atlanta
Moon: (struggling to find a good question when smurf comments in chat) Yo Smurf don't you need to go practice right now?
Moon: Sorry that was a joke
NineK: Oh I like that one
Tobi: So there's a question about our 2023 roster and I wanted to talk about it. Right after 2022 going into 2023 was to keep Smurf Profit then get Lip who was receiving some offers at the time keep Vindaim and get Twilight. This would've been my personal choice if I had the money to form my team but everyone ran out of money. I even had back ups for everyone but like Bernar planned but everything fell through
Moon: Do you regret picking up Void?
Tobi: No I don't
NineK: What about losing to former players of yours and stuff?
Moon: Want me to call Void and ask him what it felt like losing to the Fleta Tank?
NineK: Oh my god that sounds so good
Tobi: I think he's working right now
Moon: Oh that's right he would be working right now
NineK: Man I'm so curious. I hate losing to my former players
NineK: Wanted to know if back in OW1 you had a team fully built around you who would it be and would you win?
Tobi: Honestly looking at my history I'm kind of bad at forming teams lol. Honestly I could've been on NYXL in season 1 as well.
NineK: Wow.
Moon: I can say one thing. I've literally walked to his house before. He thought a lot about it. Like I didn't think it should be this hard a decision when I was so convincing.
Tobi: I just really wanted to run it back with Jehong one last time and Fearless wasn't in the planned roster at the time either.
Moon: True it was very early on in the team formation
Tobi: Yeah it's regrettable isn't it?
NineK: Tobi does make bad choices that's why he joined Fusion under me
Tobi: Timing worked for that time period though
NineK: Alright back to the question make your super team only caveat is you can't change them and have to run them seasons 1 through 6
Tobi: To be happily teamed with them Carpe Profit Gesture Fury...
NineK: Wait a second Ryujehong isn't being brought up
Tobi: We are excluding him from this but honestly there's way too many good flex supports so I don't know. Shu was really good but Viol2t is also nah just Shu.
NineK: Shu is fun and good.
Tobi: He's good at like everything. Even since season 2 when I'd play Mercy he would shoot me so much more than everyone else as Ana
NineK: When you went game 5 against MightyAOD any players that stood out to you?
Tobi: Did we go game 5 against MightyAOD? I genuinely can't remember the Lunatic Hai games that well outside of just like finals games anymore. I'm sorry but it's been years.
Moon: Ooh how did you feel about Prophet being on your team and then once he was dropped and went to 02Blast losing to him?
Tobi: He was good but the thing is whatever we put him on just didn't fit with how the team played and the Sombra meta was at its peak as well. We were tired and he was tired cause it just wasn't the best fit for either of us. I wanted him to keep doing well so I could be confident it was just a mismatch and that my scouting ability was still good. But then the meta swapped to like Widow Hanzo.
Moon: Oh wait so once again it's a choice Tobi made he regrets...
Tobi: Well no technically in the last game versus them we did win to be fair. Honestly though when he did win damn I felt low key a little bit upset/betrayed
NineK: Did you see him do the X on the Dynasty symbol spray?
Tobi: I didn't mind that all the players do that
NineK: Hears something funny for Moon to answer. " I heard Lip purposefully made sure not to wear the Fusion skins for Asia Finals is it true"
Moon: I specifically checked his PC to make sure he wasn't wearing it "Are you wearing a Fusion skin or not? Yes or no."
NineK: Wow you check their PCs?
Moon: Yeah I made sure none of them wore Fusion skins for Asia Finals
Tobi: Carpe might need to come on here at this point
Moon: I don't believe in jinxes like this but my players do so I did it just so they don't have to think for a second there is some Fusion curse that will make them lose
Tobi: Like you don't want unnecessary factors creeping into their minds
Moon: Exactly
NineK: Did you have any of those jinxes or lucky charms as a player?
Tobi: During Lunatic Hai I would on game days only eat noodle dishes and then we would win. I'd wear the same pair of socks for all the big games as well. But then I went to the League and kept losing and none of that stuff applied anymore
Moon: Yeah I don't believe in it as a supernatural force but whatever makes people more confident the better
(Randomly scrolling for questions)
Moon: I really did wanna try coaching Dynasty once.
Tobi: Why?
Moon: You know as a Korean it was kind of sad seeing the Korean team under perform I wanted to go there after my contract with Shanghai ended and try to get them a big win
Tobi: I see
Moon: Now that I'm thinking about it I never got an offer from Seoul ever
NineK: Really? I think I got an offer from Seoul basically every year since 2019
Moon: Oh one thing I really wanted to ask was how you beat the Infernal (Dynasty vs Infernal early 2023 when Infernal scrimbux was way better than everyone else)
Tobi: Oh that? They just played poorly.
Moon: I was so curious cause they were supposed to be so good
Tobi: Yeah they must have been nervous or something we didn't win cause we were better they were just worse that day.
NineK: When Tobi first joined Fusion he actually beat Dynasty and was so happy about it. He was such a good player to have he was on the bench for quite a while initially but kept his mental up and was a very good teammate for us.
Final Words
Tobi: I'm not actually retired from coaching. I still keep up with the League and love the game. I hope Overwatch keeps growing and I want everyone to know I'm not gone just yet. If there's a chance I'm ready whenever
NineK: Honestly I will say a lot of Overwatch kids have this issue not just Tobi where they hope opportunity will fall on their laps.
Tobi: I'll agree. It was my first time doing this stuff and I had no idea what the scene was going to be like.
Moon: I was very proactive and quick about it for sure
NineK: Do you have any team you'd like to join? Quickly before we end the podcast appeal to Moon for a job
Tobi: Well if you just give me the call I'm ready
Moon: Well one thing I will note when Tobi was talking about coaches he asked for advice on being a coach he didn't contact me at all? Even though we talked for hours?
Tobi: I only contacted the people I actually worked under. I didn't want to bother everyone with my questions. It's not like I could expect other coaches that don't know me as well would divulge their secrets
Moon: I would've. I think it would have been very cool if you asked for my help
Tobi: Well to be fair before you joined I did say Crusty NineK Moon and Rush were the coaches I really wanted to try working with
NineK: It's not too late Tobi he's here now
Aid: Anyways final thoughts from you Tobi?
Tobi: It's been a while since I got to see fans of Overwatch and sit down with fellow coaches. I hope you all keep supporting Overwatch University and myself in the future.
NineK and Aid: Thank you to Moon as well for helping us last minute.
Moon: It's no problem I saw Tobis face and wanted to join right away.

So Long story short I stumbled onto a Post by u/pigsonbroadway talking about their take on The Mollusk. and in that thread was a very rad post by u/alwayspolite1999 where they spun a very interesting full story to go with the album that really inspired me. I spent the last 3 hours typing up this response but i think the thread is locked because it wont let me comment. I will post my long thoughts about it here for anyone that might appreciate it. Stay cool yall.
Hey hey, I know I'm nearly 7 years late on this, but thank you for giving me a framework for a very rad hour long relaxing daydream. I changed a few things in my head from this plot but i think it's safe to say you've irrevocably altered this entire album for me. Well done mate.
I wanna share my take on it, just in case you're feeling it or someone else likes it.
I'm imagining a story a lot like yours, about a man growing up and dealing with processing trauma, finding love, and ultimately watching his child leave. I kinda cut the Narrator character and replaced him with a thematic recurring violent masculinity "character" of sorts, like no one character is to blame for the protagonist's continued trauma and misfortune. I couldn't help but also imagine it as a play, so here goes.

1. Dancing in the show tonight: A montage of sorts, with a young boy being raised by a mother and father, as the father slowly loses interest, neglects the child, and displays acts of violence, that are sometimes seen, but sometimes obfuscated from the boy by his mother. Eventually he experiences it directly at his father's hand. Blood/Violence, and subsequently the boy's traumatic thoughts, would be depicted with swirling red ribbons around him, fabric dancing about, etc, and these moments are all intrinsically tied to the ocean/beachside, where they live. By the end of the song, the boy's father gets on a boat and leaves the two on the beach, establishing a dreadful feeling for the viewer and character tied to the ocean. These events don't exactly suit the tone of DitST but that's part of the experience and ties into the ending.
   
2. The Mollusk: The boy, slightly older, finds a little mollusk, seeding some type of positive connection with the ocean that could counteract his trauma, and perhaps (foreshadowing ;) ) represent his ultimate positive reconciliation with the ocean. He is desperate for a father figure and finds himself spending time around a few these untrustworthy and unsavory seamen. Perhaps they are mocking the boy by the end, tossing the mollusk around. The boy gets the mollusk back eventually and takes it back to the beach and lets it go. I hate that the whimsical nature of The Mollusk lends itself so well to a dissonance like this. In a vacuum The Mollusk is a very peaceful lovely song.
   
3. Polka Dot Tail: The boy comes close to experiencing another traumatic situation, involving one of these drunken sailor men, but as you wrote, escapes and runs, trailed by the telltale red cloth setting in place further a lifelong discomfort/trauma response to the ocean. He returns home to his mother, who packs up everything and they move far away from the ocean, leaving their traumatic past behind, running somewhere.
   
4. Jonny on the Spot: A Montage of the boy, now older, working hard, helping his mother, exhausted, a young man but already turning to getting wasted, staying out late, and associating with the wrong people, filling a hole somewhere in his heart. Eventually he does crash his car, stumbling out onto the beach, anxious, and running into a nearby bar, looking back at his fucked up Chevy.
   
5. Mutilated Lips: A chaotic bar scene, surrounded my men, most outfits incorporating the color red somewhere. The Boy haunted by his pervasive trauma in this place. Until, while he's downing glasses, a waitress brushes his hand and sees his scratches, and meets his gaze. The drunkenness of course paints the scene as a merpeople atlantis ass underwater scene, bringing back ocean imagery to tie to the Boy's pain. The waitress has got some type of trauma as well, a cloth or ribbon or light effect (how do stage shows do mental effects like this? lol.) in her own color, let's say blue. They share a long passionate loving night together in her beachside shack, understand each other's pain and loneliness in a way the typical crowd at this seaside bar dont. They symbolize this my giving each other a piece of that fabric, trading blue for red. The blue and red cloth tangles and mingles in a new way and they're draped in purple, finding a peace.
   
6. The Blarney Stone: They return to the bar and the girl he met gets pulled into song and obnoxious drunken partying, the two young protagonists submerged in a loud, crass scene. She plays her usual role in this, though can't help but glance over at her new love. He starts to see her as part of this world, untouchable, so closely associated with this oceanic world of pain for him that he can't handle it. He panics and tries to leave, starting up his messed up car. She runs out to try to stop him but almost lashes out at her, realizing his aversion to this place and these people brings up too much agony, and associating her with that would be unfair to her, and he leaves. Realistically you dont fall in love with someone and run away in one night but it makes a good play.
   
7. It's Gonna be Alright: The Boy wanders out, into a warped undersea version of the previous beach scene with his crashed car. He kinda hits an emotional rock bottom after experiencing the first thing he could consider love or companionship and fucking it up, assumedly. He feels broken, and stares out over a deep dark chasm of fish and kelp and shit as he tries to convince himself he did the right thing, staying there all night. Meanwhile, throughout the song, the Girl goes back to her shack, looks at an old ring she keeps in a box, and by the end of the song, while Boy finds himself in the darkest place, she takes the ring and goes out to the beach, seeing a ship approach as she holds it.
   
8. The Golden Eel: A majestic Golden Eel appears to the Boy, it comes to him in... a vision? A mental realization? a spiritual awakening? He's face to face with this beautiful creature. Slowly all his red cloth is taken from him. It's wound up by the eel and wrapped around him, turning to his new outfit, the red effect that represents the trauma replaced by a strengthened gold cloth resolve that now accompanies him. The Eel swims away. He wakes up on the beach (we drop the underwater imagery here) and finds the Girl's blue scarf tucked into his jacket, and jumps up and starts running back. (mirroring the scene earlier with him as a child running away on the beach, but this time he's in control, running towards something.) He gets back to the bar and the owners point out to a boat leaving, sailing away. He's just missed her.
   
9. Cold Blows the Wind: Meanwhile, we go to the flashback to the Girl, (back to the aquatic imagery from here on out until She Wanted to Leave.) before her facial disfiguration, a montage of her being courted by some other fish sailor man. He's wearing bright cobalt blue. They're sailing together with a crew, and they're very close, eventually him proposing and giving her a ring. Immediately after, their ship gets hit by a cannonball and there's a big battle with another ship. Everything's on fire, she gets injured, and her love dies, as he hands her his bloodstained blue scarf. Later, she makes him a grave, and is wearing the ring still, eventually finding that same seaside bar. She starts working there, all the men there draped in blue fabric, reminding her of her pain. Present day, we see her on a boat, holding the Red scarf. She takes the ring and throws it into the water.
   
10. Pink Eye: The Boy, renewed with zest and energy to go find the Girl, works on his "Car", making a wild looking boat. He says goodbye to his mother then he just starts sailing.
    
11. Waving my Dick in the Wind: Fun upbeat montage. He sails around, showing people the scarf, and every time he meets some new wild sea person, they point, as if they're slowly leading him to her. He grows a beard, becomes a captain, slowly picking up a colorful crew of people helping him. By this point he's fully embraced the red, but wears that blue scarf everywhere. He sails his wild Chevy boat around. Song culminates in ol "Jimmy Wilson" doing a crazy tap dance, and at the end, informing the Boy about the woman, and showing him a picture of her and her Child (without and eye).
    
12. Buckingham Green: (This is my favorite song on the album) We go back to the girl being born, living with her mother somewhere. Lets say the child is missing one eye rather than both, half her face disfigured. Her mother tries to protect her, perhaps too much from judgmental eyes, telling her stories, raising her kindly, but one day she opens her (supposedly) missing eye and it shines gold, and they decide to hide it. Meanwhile, The Boy braves a fierce storm, following a golden glow on the horizon towards where the Girl and the Child are, even helped through the worst of the storm by the Mollusk (Hell yeah). Eventually he arrives and meets the child, and there's a big dramatic ass reunion scene with the Boy, the Girl and the mollusk and all the fish people. The Boy and the Girl wrap their scarves together and put them around the girl, and the scarves transform into a golden one, symbolizing the Boy's commitment to love his child and break a cycle of neglect, and the Girl's closure, being able to move on from her lost love and onto this new family. (or something, idk) The girl opens that other eye and it glows gold again. and The Golden Eel bursts out of the Mollusk as everyone celebrates. The Boy and Girl get their new Opalescent Mollusk outfits and everyone gets hype. Bring in Boy's mom too, fuck it. How all this is supposed to happen in 3:18 i dont know but that's for the director to figure out.
    
13. Ocean man: Exactly as you described. No fucking notes. Hype ending. Maybe this part starts with the Eel haha.
    
14. She Wanted to leave: Now the girl is older. The story of course takes a somber turn where, a tale as old as time, a sailor comes along and woos the young lady. The Boy dips back into his trauma a little bit, swearing revenge, practically begging his girl to stay, going through the throes of a parent watching his child grow up and leave him behind. She obviously refuses, following her new life and her new path, apart from him. Not as heartlessly as he'd like to imagine though. Its melodramatic.
    

14b. Dancing in the Show reprise: This time though, instead of being alone in his pain, his mother and wife can be there to hold his hand, pick him up, and wave goodbye to the sailors' ship together as it leaves for sea. She waves back happily from the deck. Its a sad departure but doesn't have to be a hopeless goodbye like the ones the characters felt in their youth. It can end with the three of them sitting on the beach together and then settling back into their home, the red and blue and gold scarves are hung up somewhere on the roof of something as the sea breeze blows through them.
I don't know who you are but I'm really glad your interpretation touched me in the way that it did. Whoever you are I hope you're having a good life, and rock on.