So the Olight Oknife Rubato 2 is essentially a rebranded Kizer. The Rubato 2 scales look very similar to Kizer’s Drop Bear, and (from comparing photos) the clips seem to look alike. Has anyone tried replacing a Rubato 2 pocket clip with a Kizer Titanium pocket clip? Did it work?
Kizer customer support told me they didn’t have any Olight knives there, so they couldn’t verify if their clip would fit or not. But they’re happy to let me buy the clip and return it if I’d doesn’t work out - for $5 shipping each way. Geez, a couple of stamps should be sufficient for a clip.
Anyway, thought I’d ask here before I give them my money. Appreciate the help.

It feels like we're all drowning at my store. One part-timer got another job and went down to one or two days a month at Aldi. Another moved and transferred stores. One of the full-timers is going down to part time, if she's staying at all, at the end of the month when her new job starts. One of the assistant managers has been off work for a while after breaking his foot, and he's on light duty now that he's back. The store manager fucked up her knee and is on crutches. We had a hiring event scheduled but the new DM cancelled it, despite the fact that we're having to pull people from other stores just to cover all of the shifts in a week. The old DM would have strapped on some steel toes and been in the store with us. She NEVER would have cancelled the hiring event. We're too desperate to do that. We're run ragged and it's killing us. I'm a part-timer we have so I'm not even seeing the brunt of it, but since I'm now the only part-timer, I'm getting nearly full time hours when my other job is also full time. I feel like I'm dying. I need the money but I'm sore constantly and stressed to the max. We need more people but how do we get them when the DM cancels our hiring events? It's ridiculous. I love this job and my store but it's wearing on me. Just needed to rant.

My account has been blocked for years and I can’t get any information from coinbase on how to unlock it. What a scam company. They just steel peoples money and then act as if they didn’t do anything wrong. How can you unlock an account that doesn’t have two step verification. I’m very frustrated and in despair. I can’t believe I trusted this company. Can anyone please help me.

I am playing the dlc’s for the first time and got through dead money with relative ease, with big mt supposedly being scaled for level 15 or so I expected it to be easier but I keep being swarmed with enemies randomly and I used every single stim pack I got from dead money within the first hour and I haven’t even gotten through the first set of quests for the scientists. Is there any way to make this easier? I have 100 energy and guns and am using lucky, matter mod, Christine’s rifle, Maria, and a couple other guns. And even with the robot damage perks I still take nearly a clip and a half of the matter mod against most of the robots. Am I doing something wrong?

https://imgur.com/a/U298Qar
All prices are obo, I know the market us a little funny right now. Feel free to ask for any additional pictures/action videos - I just didnt have time to get them before night shift tonight.

• Cheburkov Strizh Large CF washers - $200 Sold Carried, used, sharpened. Smooth washer action that can be front flippered. Edge bevel is pretty wide; previous. owner when at a steep angle.
  
• VC Edge Interface - sold before listing
  
• A2D Mercantile Mk3 Medium Barlock - $600 Lightly carried, sharpened. Magnacut blade steel, Bakelite handle scales. Only mark I can find is a light scratch on the pocket clip.
  
• Spyderco Shaman, 2nds - $200 Sold Titanium rockscale handle is cerakoted OD green. Adds nice heft to this beater. Minor edge damage, which I can sharpen out if the buyer wishes. Includes OG handle and hardware.
  
• Precision Knife Works Wharnetac $175 Has been carried and lightly used but I can't find any wear. Edge could use a touch up but has no damage. I can sharpen it if the buyer wishes.
  
• Spyderco Lil Native - $125 Did the edge and choil mod myself and think it came out pretty enough. Took a real keen edge. Otherwise like new.
  
• Spyderco Microjimbo - $125 Like new, has been carried but not extensively used. OG edge
  
• DSK Tactical VX-P, modified blade - $250 Maybe a third of the spine of this knife has been cut off. Orginally a cleaver, this is now a well shaped wharnie. Spine and handle was cleaned up on a belt grinder, and handle parts were re-blasted. Still a few stray marks near the cut area but nothing major. Edge has been sharpened.
  
• Jarosz K2, reground - sold before listing
  
• Hog House Veli - $850 Sold
  
• brand new, only been fondled. Excellent action and finish.
  
• MBK Maiar - $100 Sold AFAIK this is new in pouch. I havent carried or used it and cannot find any markings. Snappy action, with a half stop.
  
• Shirogorov Russian Overkill - $1200 Has been carried and sharpened a couple of times. Misc light scratches on blade and handle. Still a solid knife with amazing action. This one never suffered from detent scratching.
  

Not interested in trades at this time. Paypal FF preferred, but I could accept other payment methods as well.

Timestamp

 

Civivi Synergy 3 $45

Blade: Nitro-V Cut: No Carried: No Disassembled: No Sharpened: No Centering: Centered Owner: 1st Blemishes: None Notes: LNIB. Maybe flipped 10 times

Kizer Z-82 $30

First owner. N690 steel. I have another one and this was a backup, before I acquired even more knives. No cut, no carry. LNIB
SOLDCivivi Imperium $35 Second owner on this one. Light cut and carry, with some small snails on the pocket clip. still sharp Nitro-V steel. Great action on it, and it works well with all deployment methods.
SOLD Null Raiden $250 Second owner on this I believe. Was modded by a member on the swap. The scales were sandblasted and stonewashed. The Backspacer, hardware, and thumbstuds have been polished and anodized a super cool electric green, underlying pink that gives off a watermelon vibe. Looks fantastic. The knife has been sharpened as well and has a nice, sticky edge. Great detent, that still works great when front flipping (I forgot to record the front flipping though). Riding on Skiff bearings. Also has, I believe, a full extra set of hardware. There are some light scratches on the blade from use, but they seem quite light and could probably be polished out pretty easy.

The Millfield Grocery was a small family business located right on the main street of the town, with a flickering green awning above. Sarah pulled off the street into the small parking lot, the "Closed" sign hanging in the window. It was after the funeral that the store shutdown for a few days out of respect for Daniel Cobb's passing.
She got out and regarded the old-time shop with its hand-painted signs, boasting of weekly specials. She couldn't imagine the young man from the crime scene photos working here, bagging groceries, making small talk with customers. What secrets had he been hiding behind his shy, unremarkable exterior?
The bell on the door jingled as Sarah entered. The store smelled of fresh produce and spices, though the smell mixed with the faint undercurrent of industrial cleaner. A great array of colorful boxes and cans lined the narrow aisles that stretched out before her.
"Hello?" she called. Her voice was much too loud for this silent place. "Anyone here?"
After some time, there was a shuffle from the back of the shop, but still nothing. Until finally, a man in his forties stepped from behind the shelves. A potbellied, balding man with a face full of grief lines.
"What can I do for you?" he asked, voice full of a rough whirl of emotion.
Sarah flashed her badge. "Detective Reeves. I'm here about Daniel Cobb. Are you the owner?"
The man nodded, shoulders sagging. "Yeah, that's me. Bill Thompson. Daniel was. he was a good kid. Worked here for a few years. I just can't believe he's gone." "I'm y very sorry for your loss," came Sarah's voice, barely going over a murmur. "I know this is a difficult time, but I need to ask you a few questions. Did Daniel have any enemies that you know of? Anyone who might have wanted to hurt him?"
Bill shook his head, his brow furrowed. "No, nothing like that. Daniel was quiet, kept to himself mostly. But he was always polite, and reliable. Customers liked him." Sarah pulled out a small notepad. "Personal? Did he have family in the area, a girlfriend maybe?"
"Never had a family that I knew of. He would never talk about the old days. Now, as for a girlfriend." Bill hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "There was a girl that sometimes would come in, seemed sweet to him. But Daniel didn't seem to return the sentiment." "You know her name?"
"Ashley, I believe. Ashley...Sutton? Sutton, yes that's right. She's a librarian in town."
Sarah jotted down the name. "Oh, that's good. Another thing did you observe any suspicious behavior by Daniel a few days before his death? I mean, was he nervous or did anything seem to frighten him?"
Bill hesitated a moment, considering, and then slowly shook his head. "No, nothing comes to mind. He was just Daniel. Kept to himself, quiet."
Sarah put the notebook away. "Okay, thank you for your time, Mr. Thompson. I'll be in touch if I need to." On her way back to the car, Sarah felt her mind churning. A secret girlfriend that Daniel had turned down: could that be a motive for murder? It seemed thin, but it was a lead worth following up on. She'd drop by the library and see if she could track down this Ashley Sutton.
The library was a stately brick building set just off the town square, its steps worn smooth by generations of patrons. Before going in, Sarah checked her reflection in the glass doors and smoothed a few flyaway strands of hair.
Inside, it was cool and hushed—the air smelled faintly of aged paper and lemon scented polish. The girl sitting at the circulation desk, her blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, looked up.
"Can I help you?" she murmured respectfully at the tone.
Sarah stepped up to the desk, pulling out her badge once more. "Detective Reeves. I'm looking for Ashley Sutton."
The woman's blue eyes widened. "That's me. What's this about?"
"I am working on the murder of Daniel Cobb. I believe you knew each other?"
Ashley's face crumpled, tears springing to her eyes. "Oh god, Danny. Yes, I...I had feelings for him. But he didn't...I mean, we were just friends."
Sarah softened her tone. "I'm sorry for your loss. Can you tell me a bit about your relationship with Daniel? When was the last time you saw him?"
Ashley drew a shaky breath. "We met here at the library a few months ago. He came in a lot, always checking out these really obscure books on local history and unsolved crimes. We got to talking and. I don't know, I just really liked him. But he was so shy, so withdrawn. I asked him out for coffee a few times but he always said no." She wrung her hands together. "I saw him last maybe a week ago? He came in, and spent hours in the back corner pouring over these old newspaper clippings. He seemed. anxious. Nervous, you know? But he wouldn't tell me what was wrong."
"Do you remember what he was reading?" Sarah asked, her heart beating faster.
"Well, it was, um, sort of about a load of deaths that were unsolved in Millfield in the '60s. Missing people, strange accidents, that kind of thing. He had a stack of articles going back years."
Sarah jotted that down; it was interesting. One more cold case that intrigued Daniel. Could it be related to his murder in some way?
"Thanks, Ashley," she said. "You were great with your help. If you think of something else, just give me a call." She handed over her card, and then headed for the part of the library that Ashley had mentioned. The shelves there were jam-packed with dusty archives, newspaper binders, and local history books. Sarah rifled through them, looking for the cases Daniel had been studying. She then came across a series of reports filed that year, showing a chain of disappearances in 1963, all within the town limits of Millfield: a teenage couple that disappeared after an evening at the drive-in; a drifter who just disappeared while traveling through town; a reclusive widow who just simply vanished from her cabin in the woods.
The police at the time had been at a loss. The signs of foul play were absent, not a body was turned up in the search. It was almost like these people just blinked out of existence. The case went cold almost in no time, lost in the pages of time and memory.
But why had Daniel Cobb been so interested in them? What secrets did he believe they contained in those dusty archives? And, most importantly, had that interest cost him his life? Sarah gathered copies of relevant articles, the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach growing stronger. A crime of passion seemed to be morphing into the silencing of a man who knew too much—a man who was her father. But much too much about what? What secret so dark did someone at Millfield lie sleepless, trying to keep hidden? As Sarah left the library, the afternoon sun seemed to have lost some of its warmth. Shadows pooled deeper in the alleys and beneath the trees. She couldn't shake the primal flutter of unease between her shoulder blades, the ancestral tingle that whispered of unseen eyes watching from the dark. She shook it off, irritated with herself over letting the small-town atmosphere get to her. She was a detective—a rational woman. Whatever had happened to Daniel Cobb, whatever he had discovered, it would have a rational explanation. After all, killers were only human. They bled and died like any other. The only monsters were the ones people created for themselves. She steeled herself; with resolve, Sarah walked to her car. There were leads to follow, a mystery to unravel, and justice to be served for Daniel Cobb and these long-ago victims of Millfield. She would pull the truth out of any shadow, no matter how deep, and no matter what waited within it. All she could hope was that she was ready for the truth that would be.

Recently I upgraded to a 4080 super and it was my first high end nvidia card. Starting out I went from a 2060 to a AMD 6900xt(at the time amd was all that was available) and then a 4080 super. If you look on my recent posts you can see that when only browsing the web like reddit or youtube shorts the screen would have this weird glitchy behavior. I tried to ddu the drivers and install different drivers and nothing seemed to help. when posting that to nvidia page someone posted a article clip(not sure of the source) implying it was a known issue. I was just aggravated ya know. You spend all the money for a product that is highly praised, other than their ethical practices of course, just to be disappointed. I don't know why amd gets all the hate that they do but I haven't had any issues from that card at all. The reason for the upgrade was to maybe get a better stream quality as i was thinking of streaming but all in all the bit rate limit on twitch for non partners makes it still look like garbage. I was hoping that the better efficiency with Nvenc encoder would help to produce a decent 1080 60 session but fast moving higher graphic games just dont look good. (blocky when moving camera around). So yeah, just wanted to rant about how in my personal experience I actually have my 4080 super in the closet back in the box and my 6900xt in my system. Just switch back today and not one instance of that weird glitchy behavior. Also if there are any " well you probably didn't have the right setting for obs or streamlabs and thats why your stream looked like garbage nube" lol I looked up many videos online and I tried everything. update to post.... didnt realize my post on nvidia was deleted.

Name: Daniel Rodriguez Aka Panache. A (Male 22Age) From Spain/ Pamplona .
Quirk: Iron Hair (Transformation) The user can convert his ordinary hair into solid steel that can withstand enough pressure.
Q.Disadvantage: If the hero ever lost his hair either by it got cut or burned then the user becomes valuable until his hair grows back (1.27cm a month).
Equipments: •Hair Gel: Panache always carries with him several bottles of hair gel to aid him with his quirk.
Super Moves: •Hairstyle-Afro Mace: Panache shape his hair into a big spiky sphere to bash his foes. •Hairstyle-Mohawk Scythe: Panache shape his hair into a curved blade to slice his foes. •Hairstyle-Flattop Shield: Panache Shape his hair into a flat wall to protect from his foes. •Mix Styler: Panache uses 2 hairstyles at the same time.
Background: With enough money and desires, Panache has traveled to New York to work for an agency as he became a foreign and applied his duties there rather then his original nation.
Status: Intelligence: 3 out 7 (Average). Strength: 3 out 7 (Average). Agility: 3 out 7 (Average). Endurance: 3 out 7 (Average). Stamina: 3 out 7 (Average). Fighting: 4 out 7 (Able). Q.Handling: 6 out 7 (Skilled). Collateral Damage: 1 out 1 (None). Rival Handling: 1 out 2 (Mostly). Citizen Threat: 2 out 2 (None). Total: 25 out 49 Points (Slightly Above Average) / 4 out 5 Stars (Great).
Facts: Panache has a beanie hat to cover his long hair when not fighting .

She was used to disturbing dreams. For a while after the… incident, they’d been full of clowns. Clowns with sickly green eyes, in bad boaters and garish Hawaiian shirts. This one was different, disturbing in a less placeable way.
The room is pristine white and clean. It should be full of light, but something about it is dim and dingy. Large windows line the walls, but outside there is thick smog or mist; only a few slender fingers of light can make it through. There is a seat at one of the windows. A boy sits on the seat, dressed all in white. Somehow she knows to call this boy ‘brother.’
The brother stares out at nothing in particular, unless it is merely the world beyond the walls. She decides to take a few steps closer to him, then stops dead, blood running cold. The brother turns in his seat to look dead at her. He seems almost entirely like an ordinary boy until you see his eyes. They were full of something like hate. Actually hate seems too mild a word for what is in those eyes. Hate is human. These eyes are full of a murderous intent, guided almost it seems by a higher-lower power. It transcends anything human.
In her mind’s eye she sees fat specks of blood spatter on a pitch black surface like drops of rain.
Barbara Gordon jerked half-awake in her hospital bed. Whoa. Damn sedative. She was embarrassingly aware of a puddle of drool next to her mouth and was grateful to see Dick was not around. So where was everyone? Pitch black out. What time was it? Eight? Nine?
Easy, Barb. You nodded off. Dick decided to go do something besides watch you sleep. Nothing to panic about. She was aware of her legs again. Or still, rather. Before the ‘incident’ she would have guessed that paraplegics lost all feeling in their legs. Even after making a hundred new adjustments, relearning how to pull on her pants, coming to terms with how screwed she’d be as a wheelchair-user with a second-floor apartment, even after all that, she still felt phantom pains going up and down her legs some nights.
Well. If everything went alright tonight, that might change. A doctor flown in from South Africa, a quick surgical technique that was younger than she was, and Barbara Gordon could walk again.
Damn, she was tired. Her eyes were stinging from the effort of keeping the lids open. She let them close. Not to sleep. Just a little rest… what was she dreaming about before she woke, anyway? Something about a brother wanting to kill his sister. The details were already slipping out of her mind.
She sighed comfortably. Not sleeping. Just a little rest.
***
Dick Grayson sipped from a cup of truly awful coffee (he had been warned) and grinned. Inconvenient delays aside, he’d managed to kill an enjoyable couple hours in the commissary with a pair of nurses named Pieter and Asa while Kadaver’s Mystery Theater played Thing From Another World. Dick was fairly certain, despite his best efforts, he was hitting it off with at least one of them.
“So you really grew up in a circus?”
“Yep.”
“Sorry, you just don’t seem the type.”
“To bite heads off chickens or balance a ball on my nose?”
“I mean. For example.”
“I was an acrobat. In an act with my parents and my Aunt Harry. We were the Flying Graysons.”
“No way.”
“Yeah. It was pretty normal, really. I had a teacher who traveled with us, I had chores, friends. And when we were on the road we had coffee even worse than this. Tastes like nostalgia.”
Easygoing chatter was interrupted by a noise from a nearby table, the only other one occupied. An orderly was seated there, one whose demeanor rather aptly conveyed ‘sleazeball’ without requiring too much consultation with his appearance. He was, to put it mildly, engaging a coworker standing slightly behind him, with a good deal more physicality than was strictly indicated professional ethics. The object of his affections, evidently accustomed to it, stalked off acidly while the seated orderly smirked.
Turning to his two new acquaintances, Dick raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“That’s Morty Drake,” Pieter murmured, distaste evident. “Not really the most popular guy.”
“Wouldn’t be here if we’d had even one more person apply for the job,” Asa added.
Morty Drake, still unabashed, was now singing softly to himself. “Ohhh, my love, my darling, I hunger for your pie. Oh, IIII’ll be theeere-” Abruptly, Dick made up his mind.
“Hey,” he called across the room. He was aware of Pieter and Asa looking alarmed but pressed on. “That was a bit much, don’t you think? Might want to think about apologizing.”
Drake shot him a murderous glance. “Might wanna mind your own business, dicklick.” To punctuate the suggestion, he pulled a switchblade that certainly wasn’t part of the standard uniform.
Wonder if he came up with that before or after hearing my name. Dick idly noticed a rather skillfully-done tattoo of a skeletal Musketeer on the man’s neck. He found it somehow uplifting to look for redeeming features in unpleasant people. He realized with a start that he still had ‘Maid of Honor’ tucked away in a pocket.
Dick heaved a deep, theatrical sigh. “Oh, I’d really rather not do this. But since you’re testing me. You want to take this outside?”
Drake sneered. “You’re on.”
As Pieter and Asa watched in horror, both men stood, and both sauntered languidly and insolently towards the exit door to the back alley. Dick popped the door open, then was shoved aside haughtily by Drake, who walked out first.
Dick gently shut the door behind him, let the lock click, and walked back to the table, where Pieter and Asa were staring, stupefied. He tossed Drake’s artfully-swiped security pass onto the table.
“Told him I didn’t want to do it.”
***
It took Mortimer Drake a few seconds to realize he’d been locked out, after which he immediately began seething with rage. His keycard wasn’t in its usual pocket, either, leaving him stuck with a few king-size dumpsters. A few moments’ pounding on the door met with no response, though it made him feel marginally better. That goddam skinny pretty boy fruit. Gonna kick his ass.
Mortimer Drake gritted his teeth and stomped in a random direction, trying to orient himself. Nothing looked familiar in the dark. And damn, it was cold. He fantasized about pounding the fruit’s face inside-out in the vain hope that sufficient anger could make him feel warm.
He had walked along perhaps thirty minutes when he suddenly felt a strange feeling that he was being watched. Instinctively his hand went for the switchblade in his pocket, and he stopped to look behind him. Nothing there. But the hairs on the back of his neck were still pricking. He shrugged and moved on, muttering.
It occurred to Mortimer that he wouldn’t be able to get in through the usual entrance without getting a chewing-out for losing his ID. They’d blame him for something like that, never mind the punk in the cafeteria stole it from him. But… there was a window in the hydrotherapy room that was sometimes left unlocked. He might make a discreet entrance through there.
He picked up his pace a bit, cramming down the sensation that the thing watching him was now following him.
***
Harvey Bullock drove rather faster than was advisable through the Old Gotham. Even flooded with light, the city seemed dark tonight, and the darkness seemed to be staring at him, dark like a pair of empty eyeholes. Out in the darkness was the Shape.
Gordon had been right. Bullock had been something very close to a good cop, once. Maybe he’d taken money, when it was offered. In this town, who hadn’t? But he’d known where to draw the line. He’d never roughed up anyone who didn’t have it coming and he’d never turned a blind eye to anything that would keep him up at night.
The first night Michael Myers had run amok in Gotham City, Bullock had been on duty. In point of fact, he had run the bastard over in a car. And then Myers’ insane psychiatrist had given him an unneeded tracheotomy via pen-knife. Hits had kept coming through weeks of recovery. All of a sudden he didn’t have a job anymore, and neither did Montoya. Took a shot, turned out to be the wrong target, and out on her ass. Accusations like that stuck with a cop all their lives, even ones who kept their jobs. Shoot the wrong person, and ‘extenuating circumstances’ were just two words in a dictionary.
Bullock had been lucky enough to land on his feet. But somehow he’d never left that night behind. The nightmares had started not long after he left the hospital. Even though it hadn’t been Myers that slashed his throat, in the dreams it was always that pale mask-face. Some kind of darkness had gotten into him that night, through the wound in his neck, and it had spent the last few years festering.
“I got you now, you bastard,” Bullock muttered to himself. “Evil dies tonight.”
Tonight. By his hand. No need for Gordon, no need for the Bat. This was between him and Myers. Harvey Bullock drove faster than was strictly necessary, into the darkness.
***
The hospital really was quiet for a Halloween night. Even in small towns, you could normally expect a few minor disasters on a Halloween. Evidently the lengthening string of local disasters was persuading Gothamites in the East End to stay indoors after dark. That should have been a relief to Dr. Kinsolving; with staff begging off early to go to parties, they were short-staffed by now. Instead the emptiness felt oddly disquieting. Her footsteps seemed to fill entire hallways.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when she rounded a hallway and came face to face with Dick Grayson.
“Sorry!” the young man said, almost a whisper.
Kinsolving realized with a little embarrassment that she’d yelped, and grasped for her composure. “No. I- it’s Grayson, isn’t it? You were with Barbara Gordon. Are you still here?”
Grayson looked apologetic. “Sorry,” he said, voice still low. Kinsolving guessed that the Gordon girl must have been asleep. “We were waiting on some test results and never got them. I kind of lost track of time, I was-” and there he abruptly cut himself off, blushing slightly. “Actually I’ve been trying to get ahold of someone.”
He said it perfectly patiently, but to the doctor it sounded like the kind of patience that was just impatience trying to be polite. With another touch of embarrassment she realized how long they’d been kept waiting. On a slow night, too. Old Thompkins would have been furious.
“I’m terribly sorry, I don’t know what could be taking so long. Normally I would get some kind of notice from a technician-”
“Would his name be Morty Drake, by any chance?”
“Well… yes. How did you-”
“Never mind.”
“In any case, I’ll go along to the lab and see if the results are ready.”
“I’ll come with you,” Grayson said, innocently enough but clearly brooking no argument. Something about him seemed slightly on edge.
Kinsolving didn’t feel much like arguing, in any case. She was on edge herself. A little company would not be amiss. She walked briskly and Grayson kept pace with almost insolent ease. He had an undeniable charisma about him; Kinsolving was fairly certain he’d spent the last hour or so flirting with nursing staff.
Come to think of it. Where could Drake have gotten to? The doctor pursed her lips. Some day she was going to have to file a report on that one.
“Here we are,” she said at last. “If you could just hold on out here for a moment.” Grayson nodded obligingly.
Kinsolving poked her head into the lab, entering quietly, not quite tiptoeing. It was surprisingly dark. Too dark for anyone to be working. But she could make out someone sitting in the shadows. Judging from the hairstyle:
“Drake,” she said, relieved but annoyed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
It did not occur to her, in that moment, that Drake was unusually quiet for almost anyone and especially for Drake. It was only as she got closer to him that she began to realize something was wrong. Shondra Kinsolving had been a doctor in Gotham City a long time. She, it must be said, had seen some terrible things- things done by patients, to patients, to doctors, on occasion even by doctors (she still had nightmares about what had happened with Giggling Rendell in Surgery). Nothing had quite prepared her for what had happened to Drake.
It was the smell that reached her first, but she didn’t fully process it until she felt Drake’s shoulder. It squelched. He was soaking wet. And his skin, she could see by the little remaining light, was angry, blistering red, outermost layers peeled and torn away from musculature. Drake had been boiled alive, or drowned; either way his head had been held under scalding hot water- the hydrotherapy tanks, she realized- until he died.
Kinsolving’s hand started to go over her mouth, either to stifle a scream or hold back vomit. She wasn’t sure which. But before her hand could reach her mouth, another one was there. A wet, warm hand with strength like an iron bar. She tried to scream, couldn’t. Thrashed desperately, to no avail. Out of the corner of her eye, through panic, she saw the face of the man behind her, covered in a leathery clown mask of human skin. And she saw, clamped in the other hand, a syringe inching towards her eye, thumb slowly depressing the plunger. It was close now. Closer.
And suddenly the iron grip relaxed, and she could kick free. As she did, she could hear a grunt of surprise and the flapping of pages as a book hit the Shape in the side of its head. Less than a second later the Shape’s legs came out from beneath it, and it plummeted to the floor. She felt something grip her hand, and heard Dick Grayson’s voice. “Come on. Hurry.”
By some miracle her legs began working.
They were nearly out of the room, away from Drake’s mangled body and the nightmare in the clown-skin mask. A short distance that felt like an infinity. She heard a gasp of pain from Grayson, turned around- the Shape, lunging across the floor like an animal, had pulled a scalpel from somewhere, gashed the young man’s leg. A balletic kick to the masked face sent it sprawling once more.
They made it. Out of the room. Safe. No. Not safe.
Sheer survivor instinct was numbing her senses. She could barely comprehend what Grayson was doing as he pulled something- a short metal rod?- from a pocket, and jammed it through the door’s handles.
“What was that thing?” Kinsolving said. Shrieked, really. Her voice was not under her own control.
“Mask’s different. But I’m pretty sure we just met Michael Myers. Serial killer with very messed-up ideas about Halloween pranks.” Grayson said, grimly. He was leaning slightly, sparing a leg; the scalpel must have caught him. Kinsolving half-noticed a second layer of clothing under his jeans as he groped in his pocket.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“I… When he stabbed me, I think he somehow got my knife.”
She barely paid attention to that. “Is that going to hold him?!”
Suddenly the door dented outwards. Once. Twice. Again and again. The brace in the handles bent from the strain.
“Smart money says no. Run.Not ideal conditions to be facing an unstoppable serial killer, he reflected, drawing the other one. Not that facing unstoppable serial killers is ideal itself.
Nothing for it. His thumb squeezed a button on a hidden button in the stick’s base, feeling it extend and hum. Not just a stick anymore. Now it was a stun baton. That ought to at least give Myers a headache. There wasn’t much use in getting into costume now. The opportune moment for a dramatic Nightwing entrance was officially past. So, time for another tried-and-true tactic. As the Master said, ‘if your opponent is of bad temper, seek to irritate him. Pretend to be weak, so that he may grow arrogant.’
“Heeeeey, Mikey Mikey Mikey,” Dick called out, as he moved through the halls. “Didn’t hurt your face too bad, did I? The clown look suits you, by the way.”
He rounded another corner, carefully. Focus. Like Bruce taught you. What can you sense? At the moment, it was the lingering smell of Drake’s boiled flesh. Smelled like guilt. Sorry, Drake. All things considered, you didn’t deserve that. Along with the smell, there was sound-
Dick Grayson whirled out of the way just as a knife, pink-handled and engraved with MAID OF HONOR, stabbed through the air. A nanosecond from piercing his neck, the wicked curved blade gouged straight through the wall next to him. Dick felt his neck muscles tense as he imagined what that blade would have done to him.
He got his first good look at Michael Myers.
The Boogeyman did not look like a knife-wielding lunatic in a pair of coveralls. He looked like a shadow that had come to life, undying hatred in its black, black eyes. The preserved clown-skin mask, wrapped around his head on leather straps, gave his face a nightmare grin, and those black eyes peeked out now through the holes, alive with naked hate. Looking at him.
“Hi, Mike,” Dick breathed.
The Shape, of course, said nothing. But suddenly the knife was moving again, whistling through the air. Dick leapt. As the knife swung wildly he vaulted the monster’s shoulder, running across the wall and landing behind. Pain! lancing through his wounded leg as he hit ground. Ignore.
The stun baton struck Myers once, twice, before Dick flipped backwards out of reach. Just in time; another wild swipe came less than inches from slicing open his belly.
The Shape staggered slightly, only slightly. A hit from the baton should have left even a strong man curled up on the ground in agony. The Shape seemed barely annoyed. Oh, that’s a bad sign. Dick saw the muscles tense. The Shape did his trick well, but it was his only trick- lunge and slash. The day a Flying Grayson couldn’t dodge a knife was the day to hang up the tights.
Again. Alley-oop. Toro! Ole!
This time, ducking down and around, under the knife blow. Another few strong blows with the baton, and something like a grunt of pain this time. Oh, dear. Am I wearing you down?
Again. Again. Avoid the knife, hit him where he was weak. Zap. AGAIN!
The baton had struck Myers no fewer than a dozen times when he/it finally collapsed to one knee, heavy breathing agonized behind the clownface mask. The head dipped, and finally the Shape collapsed to the ground hard enough to shake the hallway. He was beaten.
Dick Grayson sighed. Huh. Okay. Not so tough after all, then. Though for a moment there…
The clown-mask still looked disturbing plastered across Myers’ expressionless face. Dick realized with a start that his hand was reaching out to remove it, almost entirely unbidden by his conscious mind. Time for that later. Get his knife and get some cuffs on him. He undid a spare pair from his belt and reached out, slowly.
Slowly…
He wasn’t sure what alerted him first. Something must have. When Myers stopped playing possum, when he sat upright with mechanical stiffness, he did so fast enough to finally get a good slash in. If Dick hadn’t suddenly sensed it coming it could have been his throat instead of his hand.
He heard himself swear. Felt himself stumble on his wounded leg.
And suddenly the Shape was on its feet and was grabbing him by his jacket, charging forward to pound him into a wall. Dick kept one hand on each of the Shape’s, the one near his throat and the one bringing the knife down at him. The strength was amazing, muscles like steel. Myers slammed him again, twice, vengefully.
Gotta flip him around. Or trip him. Get a foot around his leg-
Somehow Myers sensed his intention. They wriggled, struggled. And before Dick knew what was happening he heard broken glass and felt something sharp brushing his face. He plummeted backwards out the window into the cold night. Falling. Like Mom. Like Dad. Need my grapple.
Only a floor or two up. A short fall. Thought never got the chance to become action. The sickening smack into the ground. The thud against the back of his head, and his vision giving way to blackness.
From the broken window, Myers looked at the ground below, and at Dick Grayson’s quiet, still body sprawled out upon it. He tilted his face, either quizzically or admiringly. This one had surprised him. Come close to defeating him. No worries now. On to the main course. He turned on his heel and stalked for Barbara Gordon’s room.
***
The room was as quiet as a grave. There was not even the sound of footsteps on tile hallway outside, nor was there any creaking as the door opened. It still breezed open, silently, and a horribly patient shadow filled the doorframe. It moved across the floor, still silent, savoring. The low light of the room was simply swallowed up by the shadow, but a small gleam of it glinted off the knife’s blade.
The shadow reached the bedside. The blade rose over the shadow’s head with a terrible slowness, and it struck, plunging deep into the bedclothes. The shadow kept stabbing, almost frantically. And suddenly it stopped. The shadow ripped the bedclothes free and found, not Barbara Gordon’s mutilated body, but a neat line of pillows tucked into the bed. If the Shape felt anything like human emotions, it was probably feeling rage, now...
And down the dark hallway, struggling to crank the handrims both quickly and quietly and keep her breathing steady at the same time, Barbara Gordon was making for the elevator.
Come on come on come on come on.
Maybe the bad dreams had awakened her to the sounds of fighting. Or maybe the fighting itself had awakened her. Either way, the second she was awake, Barbara had been aware that something was wrong. Every instinct in her being screamed at her to run. After a quick push of the nurse call button had failed to raise anyone, she felt inclined to listen to instinct.
Come on come on come on come on. Why the FUCK didn’t I grab my phone? It was still in the pocket of her jeans, back in the room. It had seemed like too much wasted time to retrieve it as she fled. Now she was cursing herself. Phones on the wall. Stop to make a quick call?
Barbara turned her head over her shoulder. Someone was behind her. Something. Some Shape. Different from what she remembered, but horrifyingly unmistakeable.
Nope. No stopping. Barbara’s arms, raked with muscle, began working the handrims even faster. And Michael Myers, with his terrible patient determination, followed.
The elevator was at the end of the hall. Myers was moving slowly, toying with her like a cat with a mouse. Somehow the space of that single hallway seemed to stretch on for an eternity. She dared another glance over her shoulder.
In the half-light she saw Myers was no longer wearing the mask she remembered from those years ago. The pale emotionless face with the ratty hair and black hole eyes was now a tattered, lined clown face, ugly red lips drawn taut in a hideous grin. She had seen a face like that before, leering at her before a hammer pulled back and a trigger was pulled-
Her breath was in her throat again. Just go. Fast as you can. Just go. Just go. Come on come on come ON.
It seemed miraculous that she reached the elevator, almost unreal. Primed for flight, Barbara’s mind barely processed the corpse of the nurse stuffed in, limbs twisted and back bent backwards. The name tag read “Asa.” Don’t think about it. For now, survive.
She leaned overthe arm of the chair, hand slamming against a button almost at random. Ground floor. Most space to run. She hit it again. Again. Again again again. The clown-faced Shape was still striding towards her. The empty eyes, the malicious grin. Close close close come on come on COME ON. He was nearly on her.
The doors slid shut with barely a second to spare, and Barbara heard a hand slam against it furiously. About an eternity later, Barbara felt the elevator descend, and her heart begin to beat normally. The immediate fight-or-flight fear ebbed away, replaced with a sick, horrified feeling for the dead nurse she was sharing an elevator with. Dick, she thought, suddenly. Have to find him. He could be- no. He’s still alive. Find him. No. Prioritize. First get help. This fight isn’t on your terms. So first get help. Easy-peasy. Nearly there, in fact. You’re on the home stretch.
***
Michael Myers, normally silent, grunted with effort behind his new mask. His fingers jammed between the sliding doors of the elevator like crowbars. His muscles strained. The interlock groaned from the effort, then deformed, and, finally, with strength that was beyond freakish, Michael Myers pulled the doors apart. There was a heavy, sick breathing as the black eyes watched the cables of the elevator. Then, with swift and terrible movement, Michael Myers raised his knife and sliced through the cables.

Line Score - Game Over

	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	R	H	E	LOB
SD	0	0	0	0	0	6	0	0	0	6	11	0	5
CHC	0	0	0	0	0	2	1	0	0	3	7	0	10

Box Score

CHC		AB	R	H	RBI	BB	SO	BA
2B	Hoerner	5	0	1	0	0	0	.279
RF	Tauchman	4	1	2	0	1	1	.278
LF	Happ	4	0	0	0	1	3	.228
DH	Morel, C	4	1	1	2	1	0	.220
1B	Busch	3	0	0	0	0	2	.254
1B	Wisdom	0	0	0	0	1	0	.261
SS	Swanson	2	0	0	0	2	1	.216
3B	Madrigal	4	0	2	0	0	1	.222
CF	Crow-Armstrong	4	0	0	0	0	1	.216
C	Gomes	4	1	1	1	0	2	.192

CHC	IP	H	R	ER	BB	SO	P-S	ERA
Steele	4.2	3	0	0	1	2	68-43	0.96
Lovelady	0.1	3	3	3	0	0	14-8	7.36
Palencia	1.0	3	3	3	1	1	23-14	6.55
Brewer	2.0	1	0	0	0	2	24-15	3.38
Alzolay	1.0	1	0	0	1	0	14-8	5.14

SD		AB	R	H	RBI	BB	SO	BA
DH	Arraez	4	0	0	0	1	0	.303
RF	Tatis Jr.	5	1	1	0	0	1	.248
1B	Cronenworth	4	1	2	0	0	1	.285
LF	Profar, J	4	1	1	2	0	0	.341
LF	Azocar	0	0	0	0	0	0	.300
2B	Bogaerts	4	1	2	0	0	0	.224
3B	Solano	3	1	2	1	1	0	.667
3B	Wade	0	0	0	0	0	0	.258
SS	Kim, H	3	1	0	0	1	0	.209
C	Campusano	4	0	2	3	0	2	.274
CF	Merrill	4	0	1	0	0	1	.283

SD	IP	H	R	ER	BB	SO	P-S	ERA
Darvish	5.0	3	0	0	1	5	83-62	2.94
Matsui	0.2	1	2	2	1	1	16-8	3.38
De Los Santos, E	1.0	1	1	1	1	1	24-17	2.45
Peralta, Wa	0.1	1	0	0	2	0	12-4	4.02
Estrada	0.1	1	0	0	1	1	16-9	0.00
Suarez, R	1.2	0	0	0	0	3	20-14	0.59

Scoring Plays

Inning	Event	Score
T6	Jurickson Profar singles on a ground ball to center fielder Pete Crow-Armstrong. Fernando Tatis Jr. scores. Jake Cronenworth scores.	0-2
T6	Donovan Solano singles on a line drive to center fielder Pete Crow-Armstrong. Jurickson Profar scores. Xander Bogaerts to 3rd.	0-3
T6	Luis Campusano doubles (9) on a line drive to right fielder Mike Tauchman. Xander Bogaerts scores. Donovan Solano scores. Ha-Seong Kim scores.	0-6
B6	Christopher Morel homers (8) on a fly ball to left center field. Mike Tauchman scores.	2-6
B7	Yan Gomes homers (2) on a fly ball to left center field.	3-6

Highlights

Description	Length
Yu Darvish against the Cubs	0:07
Bullpen availability for Chicago, May 6 vs Padres	0:07
Bullpen availability for San Diego, May 6 vs Cubs	0:07
Bench availability for Chicago, May 6 vs Padres	0:07
Fielding alignment for Chicago, May 6 vs Padres	0:11
Bench availability for San Diego, May 6 vs Cubs	0:07
Fielding alignment for San Diego, May 6 vs Cubs	0:11
Starting lineups for Padres at Cubs - May 6, 2024	0:09
Breaking down Justin Steele's pitches	0:04
Breaking down Yu Darvish's pitches	0:04
Yu Darvish's outing against the Cubs	0:25
The distance behind Christopher Morel's home run	0:13
Measuring the stats on Yan Gomes' home run	0:12
Jake Cronenworth extends his hit streak to 10 games	0:12
Justin Steele strikes out Fernando Tatis Jr.	0:06
Yu Darvish strikes out Ian Happ	0:06
Michael Busch makes a nice sliding stop	0:09
Justin Steele's scoreless outing in return from IL	0:20
Jurickson Profar's two-run single	0:29
Donovan Solano's RBI single	0:27
Luis Campusano's bases-clearing double	0:29
Christopher Morel's two-run homer (8)	0:30
Yan Gomes' solo home run (2)	0:29
Padres bring home six runs in the 6th inning	1:26
Padres strand the Cubs with the bases loaded	0:12

Decisions

Winning Pitcher	Losing Pitcher	Save
Darvish (2-1, 2.94 ERA)	Lovelady (0-1, 7.36 ERA)	Suarez, R (11 SV, 0.59 ERA)

Game ended at 9:42 PM.

I’ll start with the job posting, I guess. I spotted it on Indeed while making my daily check for anything and everything that would hire someone with my biology degree, and it seemed on the up and up. Their website looked decent, the guy on the phone sounded nice, and I was looking for anything even slightly related to working with wildlife. Being a nightshift guard at a zoo was fine, especially when I took the incredibly generous rate of $25/hr. into account. That’s eleven bucks more than my dad makes at the local grocer, and he’s been working there for thirteen years. Then again, from the P.S. on the posting, I thought there might be good reason for the rate.
It said at the end, almost as an afterthought, ‘Zoo is haunted.’
When it comes to ghosts, they’ve never made much sense to me. Considering how badly our brains function from just getting jostled around on a football field, I’m not sure how ghosts could exist without a brain at all. I’d be excited as the next person to find proof, but YouTube videos are always fishy and the people on TV are essentially actors who only focus on the entertainment factor for their ratings. So, since I’d never seen anything that vaguely resembled a ghost, I’d say binge-watching Supernatural on Netflix last year was the extent of my experience in that department.
It seemed that the zoo hadn’t been here for long since it wasn’t even on Google Maps yet. There was a bit of a commute, it was half an hour away, but since I’d worked local jobs while I attended college online for the past four years, I’d saved up the money to buy a car. It wasn’t anything fancy, just an old Nissan sedan that I’d bought from someone in the next town over, with faded red paint and a mismatched back right door painted blue. It accomplished the job of transportation, though, which let me search the job market further away, a good thing considering how small a town I lived in. I really didn’t want to leave home yet, so moving for a job in a city or another state wasn’t an appealing option.
The website said very little. It had yet to fill in drop down menus that would excitedly describe their attractions. So far it only had some small sections about conservation and education, though that was intriguing because it mentioned that all the animals they had were endangered. I read that notation and wondered what the animals were. Mammals were always favorites of mine, which I know is a bit of a cliché, loving the furry ones. But when it comes down to it, I’ll take any animal over a person.
The employee entrance to the zoo was a door in the large steel gate that surrounded the property, a few yards down from the sliding gate that presumably opened to let visitors in. I pressed the button on a panel beside it, glancing up at the camera, and I was buzzed in. There was a short path that led to the building near the front and I knocked politely before going inside.
The interviewer, a plain metal nameplate on his desk describing him as Director of Security for the zoo, welcomed me in and sat on the other side of his desk, lounging back in his desk chair. His name was Andrew Higgs, and he had a British accent, which I thought was cool. I sat in one of the two loveseats in front of the desk.
Andrew was dressed business casual, with a blue Polo shirt, a thin black jacket, and I saw he was wearing slacks when he stood up to shake my hand. He was black, with dreadlocks that stopped just short of his shoulders, and a closely trimmed mustache. There was a tattoo, an artistic rendition of a hippo, on the right side of his neck, which bode well in my opinion. So many places hiring these days were overly uptight about their employees’ appearance, but it seemed that wouldn’t be the case here.
We went over the basics before he picked up the piece of paper off his desk, my resume, which he’d printed out. “Well, I spoke to all three of your references,” Andrew noted. “They had some good things to say. You were a great employee on the farm you worked last summer, your boss said. Punctual, hard-working, took instructions well…”
That was nice to hear. I’d spent this past summer working at a dairy farm, mostly assigned to the goats and cows they kept for milk. Aside from the staggering muscle pain that tapered from agony to merely miserable by the end of the summer, it wasn’t a bad job. I did have an old shoulder injury that I always had to work around, but it was my left shoulder and I was a righty, so it wasn’t that difficult to manage.
If anything, the muscle pain in my back and legs from being on my feet all day distracted from the typical issue I dealt with. My standard exercising day-to-day was typically either riding my bike or yoga, although yoga is mind-numbingly boring, so I need to listen to a podcast to pass the time. So, in fact, through the job, I was sort of grateful that my brain was focusing on a different area of my body that was in pain. Yeah, chronic pain is weird.
“He also said you don’t work well with others,” Andrew added, glancing up to me. “You kept submitting complaints about incompetent coworkers?”
I pursed my lips and let out a long breath through my nose, considering the most delicate way I was capable of replying to that before saying, “I dislike stupid people.”
Andrew gave me a half-smile and sighed, replying, “Well, I must confess I’m not fond of them either.” He looked back down to the paper. “This job will be a great fit for you.”
The job interview seemed like a formality, and I don’t know why. I was twenty-three and the ink had barely dried on my degree from the online college I’d attended. I’d been applying to jobs for months and had been thrilled when I’d gotten a call for an interview for this one, but also surprised. Call me a cynic, but I expected more invasive questions about any past work I’d done for a job in security, since I was a woman.
It's not like I was petite. Actually, the most common word I’d heard to describe me is ‘built’, and I fall short of being labeled overweight only because of muscle mass. One comment I recall from high school was being teased for being shaped like a rectangle. Even so, there was no good reason to look a gift horse in the mouth, but of course, me being me, that meant I examined its teeth closely.
“So, you’re hiring me? Just like that? Why?”
Andrew, chuckled. “Look, you’ve got BA in wildlife biology, and specializing in animal behavior is just the cherry on the sundae. That tells me you know animals are not people, and even if you feel like you know them, they can still be unpredictable. They can hurt you. But also, it makes me know you care.”
I suppose that did make sense, and it was true, so I’m glad he knew that. Most of my job on the night shift would be watching cameras and then walking around the place to make sure all the animals were as they should be, but it was more than that. Working at a zoo meant knowing where the line was, and sometimes it wasn’t exactly at the fence, but sometimes just putting a single finger through that fence meant losing that finger. As a whole, humans are generally idiots. Looking at you, anyone who really, honestly thinks that a bobcat would sense your boundless love enough to let you pat it.
“The website didn’t have much about the animals,” I said. “I know this place is new, so you might not have info on them up on the site yet. Do you have a map for me?”
“Oh, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Andrew said with a wave of his hand. At that point, it had seemed to be a reasonable thing for him to say, but I will tell you, the reason was not what I thought. “Just to confirm, you’re not an early bird, Miss Mason? This schedule isn’t a concern?”
I shook my head. “Nah, I’m pretty talented at sleeping in, actually. I never really got past that teenage talent of staying up until five and sleeping in until three. And you can just call me Ripley.”
That made him smile. “Good. Then I won’t worry about you falling asleep on the job, Ripley.”
“Oh, no way.”
“All right. So. You saw the note at the end of the job posting?”
He just stared at me and I was forced to answer, “That the zoo is haunted.”
“Right. What are your thoughts on that?”
There was no easy answer to that question, especially depending on how seriously he took it. “Do you know the best word the Brits gave to us?”
“What’s that?”
“Bollocks.”
Andrew slowly smiled and pointed at me with the end of the pen in his hand. “I think I’m going to like you,” he remarked. “Look…this is the part of the interview where we switch gears. If this was a regular zoo, you’d be a shoo-in for the job. But we’ve got other boxes to check. This outfit is…basically a preservation society. As you saw on the site, all the species are endangered, but what it didn’t say online is that the only people who came to visit are private parties.”
“So, that means…what?” I asked. “You bring in super-rich people who feel special when they get to see the animals you’re rehabilitating and taking care of? Then they donate oodles of money so they can brag to their rich friends about their charity contributions and having seen the animals here?”
Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Pretty much got it in one. It’s just more preservation and less rehabilitation. And a lot of our patrons really do care about the animals, or else they would just donate and not visit. You’ll see tourists a couple times a week, but we decided not to have anyone until we’re settled in here, and that means a person who’s on during the night shift that I can count on. And I don’t know if I can count on you yet.”
“Wait, I’ll see the tourists?” I asked. “They visit at night?”
“Everything we have is nocturnal,” he told me. That struck me as odd, but he continued before I could question it. “Listen up, and I’ll start with the basics. Have you ever seen anything weird? Possibly supernatural?”
“Nope,” I said with a shrug.
The fact is, I got along with my classmates, but I never did have any close friends. So, I thought maybe that’s why I missed out on all those reckless teen moments that started every horror movie. Maybe it left me without a bunch of exciting stories to tell. But hey, at least I didn’t break my leg falling through the floor of an abandoned building in eleventh grade.
Yes, that happened. It was a classmate of mine by the name of Brent. And yes, he’s just as much of a moron as you would imagine.
“If you see the ghost here,” he said, his tone emphatic, “will you freak out?”
I paused. “You’ve seen the ghost?”
“All the time,” Andrew told me. “It’s a young woman in a blue shirt and tan slacks, looks like she just walked out of a lake.”
“Do you have a picture?”
“No, and absolutely no photos or video are to be taken of her,” he said, his tone abruptly turning stern. “It’s cause for immediate dismissal. We have video cameras for security, but they all record off-site in a secure location, and Suzanne Cooper, the owner, manages it herself. Firstly, the ghost deserves privacy rather than exploitation, she’s not to be displayed like one of our animals, but secondly, people believe in ghosts. One leaked photo of her connecting it to us means we get overrun by ghost hunters, and if we trace it back to you, you’re done.”
Andrew seemed next-level serious about that, so I nodded. “Understood. That makes sense.”
The animals were the priority after all, I knew. I preferred them over people anyway, and that included dead people. Even if I could get a video of this ghost doing cartwheels back and forth through a wall, I would never post it and spread word of where I’d taken it. Andrew was right; the zoo would never get the paranormally-obsessed to stay away and would definitely have to relocate.
He continued, “If you’re curious, she’s never so much as tried to hurt anyone. But the zoo has moved before, and she moved with us.”
“She moved with you?” I asked, my eyebrows rising. “Is it like one of those stories where she’s attached to something in the zoo rather than a place?”
“More complicated than that,” he said. Then he grimaced. “She died because she was too ambitious with one of our animals. It never should have happened, but she… She was foolish, you’d say. Attempted to interact with one of the animals, got too close, and honestly, she should have known better. I thought she did.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “What killed her?”
He stared at his hands and shook his head. “It was before my time.”
It was clear Andrew was a true believer, but I still really wasn’t sure at that point. How was I supposed to react, though? Zoos have fences and tall barriers for a good reason. Not just to keep the animals away from us, but also the other way around, and ‘death by stupidity’ is not uncommon amongst humans. So, the story wasn’t outrageous, but still, I’d never so much as experienced something unexplainable. But if I saw a ghost, I suppose that’d be that.
“I just need to know, plain and simple, if you’re the kind of person who can handle things that are terrifying,” Andrew told me, splaying his hands. “Our last night shift bloke there was with us for years and years, but we spent months going through other employees. There were six we tried before we found him.”
“Six?” I exclaimed.
He snorted. “Yes, six. Let’s see…” Andrew counted off each one on his fingers. “The first two, the first night they saw the ghost, they lost it. One called me in a panic, babbling, and I had to get out of bed and drive to the zoo to send him home, and the second quit, although at least she made it to the next morning and didn’t drag me out here,” he said, his voice thoughtful. “They just thought I was blowing smoke up their bums with the whole thing.”
He shrugged. “Then, the third one was a bloke who was asleep when I got there in the morning, so I had to fire him. Then another ghost freak-out. The fifth bloke was someone who couldn’t deal with the animals, and then the sixth was so scared of the ghost that when I got here, he was already outside the zoo, pacing, waiting for my car. Apparently he’d said some stuff, rude or mean or whatnot, to try to get her to leave him alone and she had followed him back into the security room, so he fled. I need the opposite of those folks. Alright?”
At this point, I was starting to take it more seriously. Sure, this could just be Andrew’s thing, that he believed in ghosts and then made up these sightings to ensure I believed him. But if I saw her? What would I do?
Well, this would be my job, so I would have to take it seriously. Maybe that was why the pay was so good, to make employees think twice before ditching it. From Andrew’s perspective, if it really was haunted, he was the one who had to deal with applicant after applicant quitting as soon as they laid eyes on the guest who would never leave.
“So…honestly, I can’t say I won’t freak out, considering how next level this is,” I told him, feeling compelled to go with honesty, “but yeah. I think I can handle it, mostly because it’s important for someone to look after this place, look after the animals, so I’d do my best to work around anything that freaks me out. I mean, I have to say that I’ll believe it when I see it. But if ghosts really exist, as long as it isn’t some serial killer who stuck around to keep gutting people, I’ve always thought it’d be cool to find out we can exist after we die.”
The thing is, I think I did believe him. I thought there might really be a ghost there, because otherwise, why take it so seriously? It could’ve been that Andrew had only glimpsed her out of the corner of his eye a few times and could ascribe it to lack of sleep, but he was literally worried about word getting out. I thought that being halfway to believing him would give me the mental preparation I needed if I saw her. At least, I’d hoped so.
It turned out that most of my time would be spent at the security desk in the main building, near the entrance. Real-time footage played through thirty-five cameras around the zoo, all on a large screen that was five cameras across and seven cameras top to bottom. The cameras were impressive. I would mention the resolution, say something about them being 4K, but Andrew explained some stuff about how it’s actually the lens that is the biggest selling point. Looking at these cameras on the giant screen, I could see practically every corner of the place, and if I brought up one camera in particular to encompass 2/3 of the screen, I could zoom in so far that it felt like I could use it to check if one of the animals had fleas.
The zoo was well lit, not surprising considering nighttime was apparently the zoo’s business hours, and all of the tall lamps had red bulbs. For those of you who know why, A+ to you. For those who don’t, fun fact, it’s because red is closest to the dark and your eyes don’t need to strain to adjust to it. That meant I didn’t need my flashlight all that often, and even that was red, a solid name-brand one that had been on my desk when I arrived. I kept the white lights on back in the security room, though, because I didn’t want to make my brain think it was time to get tired.
When I headed out for my first sweep on that first night, I had the folded map in my pocket, but I already knew my way around. The layout of the zoo wasn’t that difficult to memorize, since there were only eleven expansive enclosures, and after the interview I walked around for half an hour to start training my memory. I’ll admit, working in a dark environment was creepier than I thought it would be.
I do want to mention the high quality of the zoo. The size of each enclosure was considerable, and the greenery was natural, hinting that they’d hired a pricey professional just to do landscaping toward the front of the enclosures after buying the land. The backs of the enclosures backed up into forestry, and from the estimate I got from Andrew, it seemed each of the animals had plenty of roaming space, including the small lake at the northwest corner and a manmade lake for one of the animals in particular. When I considered all of that, the thought passed through my head about how horrible it would be if word got out about the zoo having a ghost and needing to relocate, because it’d be devastatingly expensive.
My orders were to walk the zoo once every hour. This was my first security gig, so I’m not sure if that’s more or less than typical, but I had my comfy hiking boots on, the ones I’d saved up for and invested in a couple years earlier and were perfect for a job where I had to do laps around an area. This job was one that I didn’t have to worry about my shoulder pain worsening, since it was mostly about being on my feet. I take one or two Vicodin a day, depending on how bad my pain is. It came in handy in high school, actually. With a flexible ‘take as needed’ prescription, I occasionally sold pills for extra cash.
There wasn’t much to step in and there weren’t even any dips in the concrete sidewalks that I followed around in a route that easily led me back and forth until I made my way back to the office. The first three nights were actually boring. I would have thought Andrew had been pranking me about the ghost, but like I said, it hadn’t felt like that. And he hadn’t been specific about when she showed up for new people, or even for him.
To keep myself busy, I’d brought my e-reader with me, and I got into a cycle of looking over each of the cameras every time I hit the end of a chapter. I’m a pretty fast reader, so it was a good system. Also, every once in a while, I looked up if something moving caught my eye, like an owl flying close enough for the camera to catch it, but that’s about it.
Then, every hour on the hour, I did a walk through. The fourth night, I was passing by the small lake at the back left corner of the property when I saw her.
People say that you can tell if someone’s staring at you, that there’s some sixth sense humans have. It’s not true; they’ve done experiments. But the thing is, all those experiments were of someone human looking at them. After this last shift, I would guess that the sixth sense that sends goosebumps down your arms, the one that makes you feel an intangible pressure, that slides your body toward fight or flight mode, might be true of…other things.
Slowly coming to a stop at the disturbing feeling, I hesitantly looked around, through the trees. Then my heart skipped a beat and my breath hitched. It was startling because she wasn’t moving. Just standing among the trees, staring at me. I broke out in a cold sweat as I stared back at her, unsure what to do. I didn’t run. I didn’t try to talk to her. I just stood there. So, there’s my answer to Andrew: I didn’t freak out. I just froze.
The woman was Latina, her skin tone pallid from death, and was dressed as he’d described her, in slacks and a silky blue blouse. And she was soaked, as if she’d just walked out of the lake. Beyond that, her shirt was drenched in blood from what looked like claw marks across her abdomen. Her eyes were dark and penetrating, boring holes into me, as if she were able to get any and all knowledge that she wanted about me simply by glaring. The fabric of her shirtsleeves clung to her skin and was dripping, as was her long black hair. Speaking of her hair, it appeared to have seaweed woven into it, or maybe she also grew seaweed along with hair. Not my area of expertise.
The look on her face was indescribable. There was something deep in her eyes, behind her closed-off expression, that made my heart beat rapidly. Maybe I would’ve projected some emotion into her face if I’d had any idea of what she was capable of, whether she could move objects, or possess me, or if all she did was hang around. As things stood, I was left just projecting my fears, which gave me the impression that she was cross with me simply for being present. It felt like I was trespassing, even though I was a dozen feet back from the fence that encircled the enclosure. And also, this was my job so I was explicitly allowed to be here.
She was disturbingly close, and remained unnaturally still. If she had attacked me, I wasn’t sure what I would’ve done. Ran, probably, but considering ghosts probably don’t follow the laws of physics, maybe she could’ve chased me at Usain Bolt speed. For all I knew, she could teleport.
After an amount of time that felt awkwardly long, I finally spoke up.
“Hi,” I croaked.
The woman slowly tilted her head but didn’t otherwise move. I’d forgotten to ask Andrew for her name, I realized, but he had mentioned her death had been before his time, so maybe he didn’t know.
Swallowing hard, I tried to take a slow, deep breath, even though it felt like there was a cinder block on my chest. “So, I, uh…I work here now,” I said slowly. “I’m night shift security.” Pausing, I kept trying to gather information from her demeanor but failed. “Is that okay?”
At that, I saw a hint of curiosity flash across her face. “Why would it not be?” Her voice sounded completely normal, which was an off-putting contrast to her appearance.
Good question. Hell if I know the answer. “I don’t know. I mean…you were here first. I don’t know if you feel like I’m…intruding…or something.”
“You’re just doing your job,” she said, her tone softening a smidge.
I waited to see if she wanted to say anything else before saying, “Right.” Can I get you anything? A towel? Some bandages? “I’ll be going now.”
The woman made no movement to come after me as I gradually took one step, then another, keeping her in my sights as I walked off. I finally had to turn to face forward, unable or unwilling to be seen by her foolishly walking away backwards. Instead of continuing my sweep, I took the path that would lead me back to the security room. I kept looking behind me and felt her eyes on me all the way back, though I didn’t see her following me. At that point, even if she hadn’t moved an inch, my brain was on red alert when it came to self-preservation and figured I would continue to feel like a wet hand might grab me from behind at any moment.
Finally, I returned to the security room, swiping my card across the panel at the back door with a beep. Opening the door, darting inside, and slamming it behind me, I walked to the far side of the room and turned around, putting my back to the wall. Until I’d gotten back, I hadn’t noticed how fast I’d been walking, how quickly I’d been gasping for air. Leaning back against the wall, my legs turned to jelly and I slowly slid to the floor.
And that was it. My first sighting of the ghost. I’d thought that if I had seen her, there would be some part of me that was skeptical, that would reason my way out of it, convinced it was a prank. But I knew. She wasn’t a person. At least, not anymore.
***
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Hello, I traded on the swap for a bunch of knives. Only looking to sell.
KNIFESTAMP
Bugout 535BK-4. LNIB. Factory edge and is in 100% perfect condition. Never carried. Third owner. SV: 180
SOC J-Cape: V3 3.5 Version, 2/03/23, 20CV steel. Has been carried and used lightly. Third owner but catch and release for me. Has been stropped by the previous owner and hasn't been used since, very sharp. The coated parts of knife have very minimal visible signs of wear, and action is extremely clean on this model. SV: 370
Reate Oeser CF F22 Kickstop: carried lightly by previous owner, third owner, the blade seems primarily unused, never sharpened, and the knife has almost zero signs of visible wear anywhere. SV: 195
ZT 0562: user from previous owner, has snails on body, and has been sharpened before. Currently, it is extremely sharp and ready for a new owner. Comes with original carbon fiber scale as well as an RC Bladeworks OD burlap micarta scale currently installed. SV: 160
Microtech Socom Bravo T/E - Fourth owner. None have carried or sharpened. Combo blade of T/E and half serration. No noticeable wear, solid action on this. Comes with box and documentation. Last two owners haven’t even fidgeted with it SV: 250
Custom Spyderco Manix 2 - Third owner, unused, S30V steel and deep carry clip. Custom metal scales (unknown) SV: 110
Custom PM2 - aftermarket scales, s30v blade, used to cut some boxes and has a couple micro snails, otherwise looks great. SV: 105
Spyderco Rhino - Third owner, has been lightly carried and cut with. Can’t flick it closed. CTS-XHP steel. SV: 130
Kizer Sheepdog - Cut a few boxes and carried for about a week. Just the knife. SV: 130
Tactile Maverick - UrbanEDC Exclusive “butterscotch” micarta. Third owner. Magnacut steel. Comes w/ box and certificate. SV: 190
Benchmade Black Narrows: LNIB third owner SV: 340
Yanggee YG002: small micro snails on clip, otherwise only tested blade on paper, and looks fantastic. Never carried or cut with by previous owners. Third owner SV: 130
Tactile Rockwall w/ Magnacut and bronze ano milled scales: great overall condition, has been lightly cut with and carried a couple of times, micro snail on the clip, otherwise fantastic shape. SV: 195
Kershaw Launch 4 BLACK, has been lightly used to cut boxes and carried a couple of times. Just knife Included. SV: 85
Thanks for looking. Accept F&F/Venmo

Fire for Everybody! Missed my weekend post so let's try out a Monday night! Please be 18 years or older and know your local knife laws 😀 PayPal F&F
Timestamp
ZT 0562CF
ZT 0562CF - One of the OGs. I've only had this for a couple of weeks and the flipper isn't quite for me. Atleast second owner, picked it up LNIB and carried it a couple of times at work. No noticeable wear outside of the clip and (shown in video). Sharp Factory edge, never disassembled. Factory box and Docs. SV160
Fradon Lock Manix
Carbon Fiber 4v Manix - Fradon Lock Exclusive Carbon Fiber Manix 2 in 4v. Rare bird here, and hate to let this go but I've spent far too much money the past few weeks. Second or Third owner on this guy. One of the previous owners carried it lightly it looks like as there's a couple of super faint scratches on the blade (shown in video) rest of the knife is immaculate. Lynch clip, Titanium Cage, Rockscale Designs Lanyard Tube. Action on this thing is superb! Sharp Factory edge, factory box and Docs. S̶V̶3̶6̶0̶ SOLD
Copper Nemley
OG Nemley Old Style - Acid Copper Wash Old Style Nemley, this thing is beautiful. Second Owner, bought this LNIB and carried it to work a couple times, couple of scratches in the Copper acidwash towards the tip (shown in the video). No noticeable wear outside of that. Superb Action, Sharp Factory edge. Never disassembled, Factory box and Docs. SV280
Shaman Dark Matters
RGT Shaman Dark Matters - Beautiful set of Purple Dark Matter Scales from RGT for the Shaman, had these installed briefly before I switched to Aramis. No Noticeable signs of wear. S̶V̶8̶0̶ SOLD
Cerberus Atlas
Cerberus Atlas Prybar - Awesome prybar from Cerberus Knives made out of 3V, Red Inlay. Second or third owner on this guy and it shows its signs of use. (Couple of scratches in the coating). Awesome little prybar here, will include the clip. No factory box or docs. S̶V̶7̶0̶ SOLD
Lynch Clips
Lynch Clips (all used)- Blacksmith PM2 Style with feather. S̶V̶2̶8̶ Grey PM2 Style. SV25 Electric Wire. S̶V̶2̶5̶ Stonewash Shaman clip with feather. S̶V̶2̶8̶
Or Take all for SV90.
Streamlight Wedge XT
Streamlight Wege XT - StreamLight Wedge XT with a Lynch Blacksmith American Flag Clip. Great little light, I'm the first Owner and have Carried it a few times. But have came to prefer my AA style lights. SV65

I heard lots of talk about thorogoods being narrower than a lot of boots but I got a pair of each moc toe to see what one felt better- and they honestly felt and look the same other than the Carolina’s being stiffer in the leather. The thorogoods were like a eighth inch longer. Both feel weird with the steel toe. I have 8 ee major frog feet, all my toes are damn near the same length.
I went with the Carolinas for no particular reason. They were just so similar I figured I couldn’t go wrong. I’ll wear them for a year and try thorogoods after I think. Then maybe compare the year old versions. I’m curious if anyone else has had similar experiences when trying to find some boots. Honestly still kinda consider spending an unreasonable amount of money on custom boots but idk, if I can get away with these I will.

Infinite Challenge (무한도전) is available on Youtube (without English subtitles) from the official MBCentertainment channel, type "무한도전" and then the year date, a bunch of playlists should show up.
Synopsis:
Infinite Challenge is recognized as the first "Real-Variety" show in Korean television history. The program is largely unscripted and follows a similar format of challenge-based reality television programs, familiar to some audiences in the West. The challenges are often silly, absurd, or impossible to achieve, so the program takes on the aspect of a satirical comedy variety show rather than a more standard reality or contest program. In earlier episodes, the show's six hosts and staff would continuously proclaim that, in order to achieve its comedic purposes, the program had to be "3-D": Dirty, Dangerous, and Difficult. It gives people fun to try things that seem impossible.

Cast

• Yoo Jae-suk
  
• Jung Hyung-don
  
• Noh Hong-chul
  
• Various guests
  

Sources

Infinite Challenge (무한도전) Season 1 Episode 1 and playlist (titled as "무한도전 2005,2006(무모한도전,무리한도전)" and by Do-Hyun Kim/https://www.youtube.com/@do-hyunkim263/playlists) from the official MBCentertainment (https://www.youtube.com/@MBCentertainment/videos) channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zgmWonRdueY&list=PLUzgWF92rfcJHXjnyiwoailv_ZVcrF214
There's also the numerous fansubs and official DramaFeveVIU/etc. subtitles here, https://www.reddit.com/koreanvariety/wiki/mudo_list, but since Zippyshare/etc. shut down last year, other people need to update it to properly rebuild the archive.
The AI-generated/machine translation English subtitles are for the version that's part of the public ~1.5TB "1080p" collection of Infinite Challenge (labeled as from Season 1 to Season 14 + Specials). These AI-generated subs are missing the OCR or embedded Korean/Japanese/Chinese/etc. subtitles for the commentary/signage of buildings/mission cards/TV announcements/specs lists/etc.

Title	Version
Infinite Challenge (무한도전) Season 1 English Softsub	1080p (~37GB: https://gofile.io/d/nals6S)

As usual, these links will automatically expire after say 10 days or so (it's that website's current default policy), so definitely get them ASAP.
Infinite Challenge (무한도전) Season 1 was initially shared today (May 6, 2024) around the afternoon Eastern Daylight Time, so it'll probably be gone by May 16, 2024 or something like that.
That link has no download limits, pop-up ads, redirects, et cetera and earns no money (I don't attain anything from this other than the feeling of giving back to the community for the past shared experiences and so on) for anyone/et cetera (IIRC that website has a few banner ads or something like that to partially sustain its hosting/etc. services, though ya if you have uBlock Origin/adblock you probably won't see any), but you might need to use a VPN to access that website since some people said it's geo-restricted/region-blocked by their Internet Service Providecountry/et cetera, like say PLDT in the Philippines and so on.
Centralized post about Korean/Chinese/Japanese/et cetera variety shows and how to access them (with AI-generated/machine translation info, language learning, and other stuff): https://www.reddit.com/useMNLYYZYEG/comments/1clzy6asian_varietyreality_shows_language_learning/
Don't hesitate to let me know (make a reply/comment on this very same thread) if the subtitles for some episodes are missing/frozen/etc. as I can redo them quickly. Sometimes there are bugs with the OpenAI Whisper generation/algorithm and so it's not as good. And due to lack of sleep/etc. I often skip the doublechecking part or the quick glance over the v2 and v3 models or .srt files, so yup, please let me know when it occurs for which files and so on.
Similar AI-generated information (wall of text again, lol) but for Wong Kar-wai's Blossoms Shanghai: https://www.reddit.com/CDrama/comments/1b33gkq/blossoms_shanghai_繁花_english_subtitles_with/
Cortana, play Girls' Capitalism (from the <ↀ>/무한/Muhan album) by tripleS LOVElution and the rest of the album as well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OvtoY0lfYJ8 and https://www.reddit.com/kpop/comments/15thtkz/triples_lovelution_ↀ_muhan_the_1st_mini_album/.
I prefer Generation by tripleS Acid Angel from Asia (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cZ7o0Wn_dc) over NewJeans' Attention, and it's wild how MODHAUS is somehow able to sustain so many idol members (how does the Objekt/etc. system even work to help with the group activities, lol). Everyone remember ARTMS' Dall album is releasing on May 31, 2024, let's all rollerblade to the future (and past) with Candy Crush for that LOONA rebirth: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xaifExp4YJg
But the real notice is Season 2 of Badge War (배지전쟁), the survival/competition/game/etc. variety show with tripleS, releasing on May 24, 2024: https://www.reddit.com/triples/comments/1cgrlxc/240430_1thek_triples_girls_never_die_badge_waand https://www.reddit.com/kpop/comments/1c62jfy/triples_1thek_reality_show_girls_never_die_badge/.
Strong Girl: Badge War (배지전쟁) Episode 1 and playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yb0GtMc9Axc&list=PL6NUNGdv0v-FSjpU6O7TpbRd5YP_IqQe7 (from the 1theK Originals - 원더케이 오리지널 channel)
Anyway yup, somebody was asking a few days ago (May 3, 2024: https://www.reddit.com/koreanvariety/comments/1cjb1pk/does_anyone_know_where_i_can_watch_or_buy/) about where to find Episode 1-200 of Infinite Challenge (and with English subtitles). And so here I am: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XzaYcIVlYe4&t=166s and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kywq5vZHg8I (KATIE (케이티) - Where Are You (Undercover (언더커버) Kdrama OST))
Hopefully somebody will also do a proper fansub for these earlier seasons of Infinite Challenge (무한도전) in the future as some people are still publicly sharing the raw files, especially since these AI-translated/machine translation subtitles are already good as a base. Like the timing is pretty good, it just needs slight adjustments. And then for the translation it definitely needs to be better as there's quite a bit of references and so on with this type of show.
Please post in the thread or comments below if you created a magnet link/etc. for this AI-generated English softsub release so that the future viewers will have something still.
Let me post the other variety shows with AI-generated subtitles as well for those that might be interested in them, for that slice of life/escapism/etc. world.
Updated I Am Solo Season 1-3 links from May 2, 2024 with language learning info, and also more info about ArmsAsuncion's website info for redditors with other dating/variety shows links and so on: https://www.reddit.com/IamSolo/comments/17o1yoy/i_am_solo나는솔로_season_13_english_subtitles/l2845iq/?context=10000

Title	Version
I Am Solo (나는 SOLO) Season 1-3 New English Softsub	720p (~14.6GB: https://gofile.io/d/5vNTHf)
I Am Solo (나는 SOLO) Season 1-3, New English subtitles only	720p (~3.4MB: https://gofile.io/d/8aEyZ9)

There's the My Sibling's Romance (연애남매), Couple Palace (커플팰리스) Special, and Go Straight for Love or Direct Love (연애는 직진) links as well. Same with Hao You Hao You Ai Season 1 (好友好有爱) and Hao You Hao You Ai Season 2 (好友好有爱 第二季) and Love Actually Season 3 (半熟恋人 第三季), alongside Once More (再次心动) and Zhen Ai Zhi Shang (真爱智上).
Also have the AI-generated English subtitles (and mostly expired links) for: University Sports Festival: Boys’ Athletes’ Village (대학체전-소년선수촌), Wish I Have, Kara (나만 없어, KARA), The Thought Verification Zone: The Community (사상검증구역: 더 커뮤니티), Steel Troops/The Iron Squad Season 2 (강철부대2), Winning Shot for Tomorrow/Tomorrow's Winning Shot (내일은 위닝샷), Man in Europe (맨인유럽), Korean Starcation (내가 뭐라고), Golden Girls (골든걸스), etc.
Newecurrent/etc. variety shows with AI-generated English subtitles: Girls High School Mystery Class Season 3 (여고추리반3), No Way Home (노웨이홈), Actors' Association (배우반상회), etc.

Author's Note:
One of these chapters is short, so we decided to release both in one update.
​
--
​
Chapter 38
What?
The word caught in Adam's throat. He couldn't speak, his body frozen as he stared transfixed at Eric. Are you...serious? Did you really...again? It wasn't all just in my head?
I was right?
Eric's Curse flashed in his mind. 'The subject of this meeting will be the Emperor granting amnesty for severe crimes. I will not take credit from slaying the Ghost of Water. I will acknowledge that the Ghost of Waters was killed during the journey from Penumbria to the Puppet Mines, which I was not part of.'
It was meant to be ironclad. Something that laid all worries to rest. Both Eric and his own subconscious had argued that it was more than enough proof; that any doubt on Adam's part was unfair.
But fair or not, those fears proved correct. The meeting came, and credit was given...to Tenver.
I was right.
He thought back to the many paintings he'd shown Eric. One of them, surely, should have revealed the truth of his duplicitous nature. Yet he hadn't stolen Adam's work out of jealousy, or anger, or revenge. They truly had been friends at one point, and Eric didn't need the contest's prize money. Nor was Eric desperate to make a name for himself. It wasn't that he thought he could never create a piece of art on that level. He didn't wish to drive Adam to suicide, or for Adam to never be around, and he did care about him to at least some degree.
Adam knew that most people would have considered all that...excessive. There was covering your bases, and then there was locking your bases down in a fortress of steel. At the very least, though, it meant he could finally put his paranoia behind him.
Except that paranoia was only paranoia if it ended up being wrong.
I...was right.
"My Hangman has made a bold claim indeed." The Emperor turned to face Adam, arching a regal eyebrow. "Have you any words in your defense?"
Adam didn't bother speaking up. Nothing he could say would salvage this. Instead, he looked directly at Eric. Maybe the Hangman had...misspoken, somehow. Maybe he would have a last-minute change of heart.
It wasn't too late.
"Be wary of the Pretender's lies," Eric stated. His eyes showed not an inkling of regret. "After Tenver slew the Ghost of Waters, the Pretender used his Talent – granted to him by the Dark Sorcerer – to alter the memories of everyone aboard his ship. I was the only one who did not fall prey to it."
Oh.
We're really going there, then?
No rightful anger took over Adam's body. He didn't stand in silent disbelief at what had transpired. His body did not tremble, in either sadness or anger. At no point did his vision blur, or his stomach threaten to empty itself.
There was only a quiet sadness within him.
In spite of everything, one small part of Adam had still trusted Eric – or wanted to, anyway– and it would have leapt with joy if proven right.
Now, it was quiet, never to raise its voice again.
Adam stared at Eric with a gaze of muted grief, knowing that their bond couldn't ever be repaired.
"Very well then," Ciro said, unsurprised. "I see no reason to delay my verdict." His voice and the clap of his hands may as well have been announcing the start of a brothel's show of debauchery. "For the crime of treason, you are condemned to death by execution."
The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "It will take place here and now."
Adam forced himself to speak as a great pressure started to build around him, well-aware that his time was limited. "Tell me," he muttered, addressing Eric directly. "I just – I need to know why. Why would you do that? You...you had nothing to gain. You could've gotten more by just...telling the truth."
Eric gave him nothing but silence in response.
"Do you know what the worst part is?" Adam said, barely containing his tears. God, this didn't hurt any less the second time. "I was trying to...I was trying to – until the very last possible second, I wasn't sure what I should do. I thought that if I planned for your betrayal, and if you turned out to be telling the truth, I wouldn't deserve your friendship. It made me–"
"–Ah, boredom," Ciro said, lifting his hands. "Die already."
A maelstrom of darkness appeared from nowhere. It was as if a dark sun had spawned inside the room, affecting Adam alone. The Emperor merely stood untouched before him, like he was separated by an invisible glass shield. Ciro waved at him, as if bidding farewell – and perhaps he was.
Every inch of Adam's body was twisted, contorted, then drawn into the maelstrom, swallowed by a voracious void. Time slowed to a crawl. An eternity passed, the very light around him bending sideways as his legs flew ahead of him.
Adam watched himself die over the course of an everlasting instant. He had only time to think of one word before his body ceased to be. Gravi–
The hole collapsed out of reality, leaving nothing behind.
--
Ciro stood up. "Well, this was a pleasant afternoon. Clean things up for me, will you, Eric?" He walked off. "I suppose I'll have company soon – now that my nephew has been cleared of his crimes. Most unfortunate. Anyhow, it simply wouldn't do to greet him in a damaged throne room. I'm sure one of your Talents can figure something out, yes?"
For a moment, only the Emperor's distant footsteps could be heard among the silence. At least until he stopped to turn around, casting an impassive gaze back at his subordinate. "Oh, yes. Eric? Good job."
After the Emperor exited his throne room, a full minute passed before the Hangman dared to speak. Drawing a deep breath, he glanced at what remained of Adam.
Which was nothing. No flesh, blood or bone. Not even a stain. Not even atoms.
Still...Eric found it fitting to gaze upon the spot where his best friend had died.
For several seconds, he stood in a quiet vigil. This was the only funeral that would honor the Pretender of Penumbria. And as its sole participant, it fell to Eric to deliver the eulogy.
He opened his mouth, speaking straight from the heart. "Honestly? I never wanted the world, Adam."
Eric inclined his head. "I just wanted you to have nothing."
"Is that so?" Adam replied, sadly.
"WHA–"
He didn't give Eric time to reply. As his body rewound itself into its previous state, Adam slammed his fist against the man's face. Violence overwhelms Talents. Even yours.
Eric collapsed to the floor, momentarily stunned. Adam was already running. He couldn't waste even a single moment. The Hangman would strike as soon as he regained his wits, and the Emperor wasn't far away, either. Every second that passed was one second closer to ruination.
Yet there was still one thing that Adam needed to say. Enough to risk his life for.
"The worst part was that I wanted to believe in you," Adam continued, as if he hadn't been rudely interrupted by a gruesome death. "I tried to, you know? Until the very last instant, I tried."
He sighed. "I would've been satisfied if I could – even if you betrayed me. Didn't really need anything else. But despite how much I wished for it, or what my heart desired...I think I'm just completely unable to trust you again. That's the worst part. Worse than the betrayal could ever be."
"Adam, I–you–how dare–"
"But just because I don't trust you..."
The Painter rolled up his sleeves to show an inked pattern.
"Doesn't mean I can't trust anyone."
'Solara, I'm going to use my new Talent on us,' Adam had told her last night. 'It'll give me limited use of your revival Talent, and you of my Flames. That way, when Eric betrays me, I'll fake death and escape.'
The elf smiled teasingly. 'Oh? Aren't you afraid of what I might do with access to your powers? That I might turn out like the Hangman?'
Her tone grew more serious. 'According to your ability, I'll be able to use your Talent if you trust me. But if I don't trust you, then you won't be able to use mine. Aren't you afraid I'm deceiving you? That you might die and simply not wake up?'
'I am,' he admitted. 'But even so...I want to believe in you.'
Adam dashed over to the far end wall, calling on his Stained Vines. This was his best chance of escaping. The Emperor's guards would be waiting behind doors, not solid walls, and his experiments with Aspreay's prisoners had taught him that Stained Ink could cut through even the most magical of stones.
"WAIT, ADAM!" Eric shouted. There was a remorseless pain in his voice. It was deep, perhaps even genuine, yet... "You don't – you don't get it! Tenver, that literal bastard, he tricked me, manipulated me, threatened to kill an entire city with a bomb he stole from the puppets. He was never your friend! I was going to undo your death later, when it was safe! You have to trust me, this was the only way–"
Adam didn't wait for him to finish. He cut a hole through the wall and launched himself out of the castle.
It starts now, he thought. Our rebellion.
The die was cast.
​
--
​
Chapter 39
The Night Before
"Assuming that I'm executed," Adam began, "would it be possible to delay my resurrection until after the Emperor is gone?"
Solara nodded. "You should have some amount of control over my Talent. Don't push it too hard – after dying, your body will start to repel your soul, like opposing magnets. If you wait overly long, you might not be able to come back."
That aligned with some of what the Grandmaster had alluded to about how the Dragons used to capture souls for creating Puppets. While it wasn't relevant to the plan at hand, Adam found it noteworthy, regardless.
Tenver stirred in his seat. "This scheme is far too reckless. Why meet up with the Emperor at all if you are so certain of Eric's betrayal?"
"Because I'm not," Adam plainly answered. "My brain feels like it's a certainty, but my heart can't quite accept it. Even right now, making this plan with you guys...there's a part of me that keeps saying: You're wasting time, planning for something that won't happen. Eric has always got your back." He laughed heartily and bitterly at himself. "Quite the foolish thought, don't you agree?"
Then, with deadly confidence, he spoke in a low voice. "That's why I want to do this." His hand tightened on the left side of his chest. "I want to rid myself of hesitation before we do anything drastic."
"Anything drastic, eh..." Solara aimed her gaze at the ceiling. "Such as killing the Emperor?"
"Him too," Adam said, nodding. "There's a few excuses I could make about why I'm going through with the meeting. For one, making ourselves an enemy of the Emperor publicly would raise our banner as the one his enemies should rally behind. Maybe I'll also get lucky and find out enough about him to paint his soul. If nothing else, he might have important information on things we need to know, such as how my world and the Painted World are connected."
He paused. "But if I'm being honest...more than all of that...I just want to throw away my doubts before burning everything to the ground."
Silence.
"Thanks for going along with this," Adam muttered. "It's selfish of me."
Solara laughed. "I'm glad that you are capable of selfishness. Being helped by a saint makes every temptation feel like a sin." She stretched her arms above her head. "Worry not. All of us owe the other debts we cannot repay, so let's not fuss over it."
Tenver nodded in agreement. "Aye. Knowing of your greed lessens my guilt for my own." He shook his head, as if arguing with himself. "Moreover, some of those 'excuses' are quite valid, especially the one you haven't bothered to state aloud – that your existence is still seen as treason by the Emperor. Should he not grant you amnesty, your life and that of Penumbria's will be forfeit. Considering we have no way of matching the Empire's military, making an attempt at peace is prudent."
"If you will excuse me," Solara cut in, "earlier you mentioned 'your world' and–"
"I'll explain later," Adam promised her. "We don't have much time, so let's focus on our escape plan. Remember; you shouldn't enter the throne room with me no matter what. They'll probably want to separate us anyway, but if they allow you guys in for some reason, make something up and calmly get out. My escape will distract them from yours. We left the Airship outside the city's Barrier for a reason."
Tenver fell into thought. "Right. The moment you head inside the throne room, we'll devise an excuse to leave the castle. You won't be declared a traitor for at least about five minutes, so they'll have no reason to keep us from leaving...officially, anyhow. I'm sure they'll still try to force us to stay, but the guards should be easier to get through."
"I could kill myself," Solara proposed. "Pretend there's an emergency and you need to mourn my sudden, inexplicable death. Even if they're under orders to keep us in, that might confuse them enough to let us go, even if they keep an eye on us."
She glanced at Adam. "But what about you? Won't the Emperor hunt you down immediately after you escape? We are inside his Realm, after all."
Adam had considered this point intensely for a long while. It was something he'd considered even back when imprisoned by Aspreay:
Would the lord have been able to tell if someone escaped his city? How closely could he track its inhabitants?
This was a vital detail, and Adam had treated it as such. Between books, references, his own experiences, and his tablet, he'd made sure to gather as much information as possible.
He couldn't be wrong about this.
"I doubt it," Adam said, frankly. "The Emperor has the strongest Talent of a Lord in the world, no doubt about that. But...the Capital is also the largest city in the world. To use myself as an example – while I'm roughly aware of how many people there are in Penumbria, it's not like I can keep track of them."
He tapped his thigh. "Even if the Emperor is far stronger than me, it's not like he can monitor every person in a city of hundreds of thousands. It's like watching an ant colony. Even if you can see all of them, your brain can't really process everything, much less narrow down the search to a single one. He won't be able to find me that easily."
Although that would be a different story if the Realm's size was smaller, with fewer people. Then the Emperor might even be able to tell what someone thinks inside of it.
Solara wasn't yet convinced. "I like to think that I'd notice if one of the ants suddenly employed a Talent, though. And using Resurrection is definitely going to draw his awareness towards you."
"Yeah. Probably." Adam acknowledged the point easily enough. That was within his margin of acceptable risks. "Which is why I'll only have a few moments to act. First I'll use Resurrection to come back to life, then cut open the walls with Stained Ink and jump outside. After that, I'll try to blend in with the crowd in the streets. It's a big city, and the Emperor is unlikely to come after me personally. I'm dressed well, but not so well that I'll stand out in the Capital of all places. Normal guards will struggle to pick me out of the masses."
His words were true – yet they brought forth the point that none wished to acknowledge. "The guards will struggle...but what of the Hangmen?" Tenver quietly asked. "Aside from Eric, the Emperor should have others at his disposal."
"Valeria got us some information about that," Adam said. Though the Puppet Detective had remained in the Mines for the time being, she was committed to her sworn fealty as a citizen of Penumbria, eagerly – almost scarily – investigating everything asked of her. "There are six Hangmen that usually stay in the city and rarely go out on missions. The Emperor typically has each of them patrolling the districts that lead out of the castle, and he frequently changes who goes where."
"Just our bloody luck," Tenver muttered. "All six of them..."
Solara folded her arms, seeming hesitant. "Tenver...ah...I know this is a difficult question, but you're the one who'd be most familiar with the Empire's Hangmen. Anything you can tell us?"
It was a sensitive question, as some of those Hangmen had likely aided the Emperor in killing Tenver's father. Nonetheless, the knight needed less than a second to answer.
"Fighting against any of them is out of the question," he began. "Even if we could muster up a win – which is truly unlikely – it would take so long that other Hangmen could arrive. And after a battle like that, even normal guards without any godly Talents would be enough to subdue you."
He sighed. "But considering Lord Adam's Talents, even if he stumbles upon one of them, he should be able to escape. We're not here to fight; just to survive. And I'm confident he can manage that against most of them. Except..."
There was a pause.
"Except against their Captain." Tenver lowered his gaze to the floor and clasped his hands together. Was he...trembling? "If you see a man with white hair and purple eyes, who looks like he hasn't slept in days...even just escaping will be impossible."
Adam couldn't disagree. He'd never met the Captain in person, but the stories he'd heard told all he needed to know. "That's the man who killed the Mountain Puppets, right?"
At that, Solara sat up. "The one who single-handedly carved a tunnel between Gama and Penumbria?"
"The very same," Tenver replied, with an acrid tone. "He...Adam, if you see him, don't even try running. Remember that my Father also possessed an Emperor level Talent – unfair fight or not, who do you think killed him?"
A mild shiver went down Adam's spine. He put on a brave face, trying not to think about what potentially awaited him in the capital city. "Between the Captain and the current Emperor, which one of them is stronger?"
"The Captain doesn't possess a Lord's Realm, so he can't rule over people as my dear old Uncle does," Tenver slowly replied. "But when it comes to simple, overwhelming strength...there is not a single man who could best him throughout the entire Empire."
Adam hesitated before responding. "It should be fine," he said, with forced optimism. "If each Hangman is guarding just one of six districts, then I've got over an 80% chance of avoiding the Captain."
He nodded in an attempt to persuade both his allies and himself. "All of this hinges on Eric's betrayal, anyway. He might surprise us. And there's a slim chance that even with his betrayal, I'll be able to convince the Emperor that I should be left alive. It's a gamble, but if we do nothing, the Empire will just come knocking on our door sooner rather than later."
Adam drew himself up. He could feel the reaper hang its scythe over his neck, waiting to see if it should cut down.
"I'll take these odds."
--
Present Day
Adam launched himself out of the castle. He needed to move fast – Emperor Ciro would have certainly noticed his Resurrection, and he'd already wasted too much time exchanging words with Eric.
That goes for both just now...and for my entire life.
The cold, hard streets were rushing up to meet him. Ciro's throne room was located rather high up in his castle – no normal person could have survived a fall like this. Thankfully, Adam had accounted for that in his planning.
Although he did find some irony in the fact that it was raining outside. If only the Ghost of Waters hadn't been made up of so many different souls, he mused. I could've stolen his Talent and escaped through the raindrops. Would've been way easier. While there hadn't been any realistic chance of him stealing that Talent, the regret burned regardless.
It didn't last long. None of his emotions did. Adam focused all of his attention on the task at hand, shoving aside his lingering concerns until nothing else mattered. Even his grief over having to accept Eric's final betrayal could wait.
Right now...he had a city to escape. "Stained Vines!" Adam stabbed through the side of the castle walls, using his Talent to slow his fall. Initially, he'd half-planned to start a fire and use the Haunted Flames to escape, but the sudden onset of rain had taken that option away from him.
It's not all bad, though. The heavy rain worked as a cover, obscuring him from sight as he descended. Guards and citizens down below won't see me. They don't have any reason to look up at one specific area of the Imperial Palace during a storm. I can escape – no one's coming after me!
Adam screamed the thought in his head...which didn't make it sound any more convincing. He'd earned a head start on his pursuers, but that was it. Eric would be rushing to alert the Emperor by now, and it was likely that at least a few people had witnessed the indistinct, rain-cloaked figure rappelling down the castle's walls.
Still, he had to make himself believe it. He couldn't let fear touch him, lest he become its slave.
And he would never allow himself to controlled ever aga–
"Well, well. You survived?"
His heart froze as the Emperor's voice filled inside his head. "Was that the Talent of Resurrection? What a curious little Painter you are." Casual malice dripped from every word. "Stay put. I shall send–"
Adam tuned out the voice. Despite being a bit high up, he forcibly let go of his Stained Vines, quickly plummeting to the ground below. The impact was painful, but nothing seemed broken. Good enough.
Two thoughts came to him at once. The first was, He can send thoughts into the heads of people inside his Realm? How does that– and the second, I can't have been using my Talents for longer than a minute. Was that enough for him to find me? That's absurd! If that's the case, then I'm already dead!
Uncertainty clouded his questions of the future, but the truth of the moment reigned supreme – inaction meant death. Adam could only grit his teeth and set himself running into the rainy streets, his feet clicking against the cobblestone and echoing throughout the city.
For a moment, for just a singular, solitary second, Adam stopped pretending. He quit being a superhuman above such petty concerns, and allowed himself to think everything that he'd forbidden from himself until now.
'This is hopeless.'
'I'm already dead.'
'I can't escape the Emperor.'
'I've gotten everyone killed.'
Each and every one, a valid thought.
Adam discarded them all. "Being reasonable isn't going to get me anywhere," he declared to himself. "I'm going to escape. That's a guarantee."
His vow sustained him as he fled, the encroaching shadows chasing close behind.
–
Adam's flight from the castle was a desperate blur. His breath was ragged in the chill air, and his sense of time had deserted him. It should have been midday, yet the stormclouds masked even that. Too gray for the light of day, too gray for the dark of night.
Fear clung onto him tighter than his wet, rain-soaked shroud. It was both a heavy chain of burden and the only thing that moved him forward. Every time the sharp reality of betrayal struck, invoking a feeling of hopelessness within, the threat of hostile footsteps prompted him to run ever faster.
Eric...you really couldn't help yourself, could y–
Adam quickened his pace. The Capital city's mazelike design was a blessing and a curse; easy to hide inside, yet difficult to find your own way out of. Streets twisted, turned, grew narrower, then wider. For how long? A few minutes? A few hours?
He couldn't know for sure. Adam didn't have the luxury of calm thought, for his legs now mattered more than his brain.
Can't–let–the–Hangmen–get–me!
The crowd was a wave of faceless figures, every cloak a dark whisper, every laugh a burning threat. No time to discern passersby from the people hunting me down. Have to assume everything is a danger to me. Objects no longer stood only for themselves. Shadows hid watchers, and flickers of torchlight beckoned accusatory, malevolent gazes.
Nowhere was safe. In that demented, manic haze, Adam's most primal instincts guided him towards the only direction he could go – away.
Away from them.
The storm poured down still. It was less of a rain and more of a dense, almost green mist that sprayed against his face with every passing moment. Coldness clung at his skin as Adam's uneven breath forged a mist of its own. Those vengeful clouds were his ally and his enemy; the wet cobblestone threatened to slip his boots many a time, yet the rainy mist camouflaged his desperate flight among hundreds of others seeking shelter from the elements.
Suddenly, the rain seemed to pause. Nothing felt the same as it had been one moment before. The world slowed down as Adam's heartbeat raced faster.
All to herald the arrival of the Dark Captain.
The Captain was a tall, somewhat elegantly dressed man, with eyes of purple, and hair of white. He stood beneath the rain as if unbothered by the growing storm.
No. Not as if.
"The rain...it...it isn't touching him," Adam muttered to himself, in disbelief.
It was hard to make out details from a distance, but this much, he was sure of. Despite the raging storm above, the Captain was completely dry. Each time the water neared him, it would close up, yet never touch him, sent sideways like it had been repelled by a magnetic force.
Are the raindrops scared of him to the point of fleeing?
A mere glance was enough to understand – strength was not a word befitting of this man. This was one of those rare few that was an anomaly in existence; a life akin to an army in and of itself. Another creature alike the Emperor and the Grandmaster. There was no need for Adam to glance at his tablet to know the man's name or title.
Valente Marinyo, Head of the House of Estrela Verde, and Captain of the Hangmen.
The Strongest Man in the Empire.
Their gazes met, and all color vanished.
It wasn't poetry; it was sight, it was reality. Shades of blue, red, and green turned to pitch-black before Adam's eyes. This is...the world telling me I'm about to die. He didn't know where the thought had come from, yet it felt indisputable, and ruled his mind from that moment onward. His hopes perished within that monochrome world.
He's going to kill me. Six possible Hangmen, only one to worry about...and I got the absolute worst possible outcome.
At first, the Captain seemed to be grimacing, but his expression soon relaxed into a relieved smile. "Ah, look over there! Where was this luck in the Colosseum? Dice should've favored me more, they should have."
Valente lifted a foot high up in the air as if readying himself for a theatrical, exaggerated march. His intention was clear – he was approaching Adam.
I have to do something before he gets here! What can I do? Run? No, there's no way someone like him wouldn't be able to outrun me. My best chance would be to blend in with the–
"Now, now," Valente said. He lowered his leg.
And immediately appeared in front of Adam, placing a hand on his shoulder. "What should I do with you? I don't enjoy killing. Enemies of the Empire do have to die, though. Gods, I'd much rather someone else dealt with you...but as the Colosseum taught me, luck isn't my strong suit."
Adam was stunned into silence as the Hangman rambled on. One instant he'd been across the street, and the next he was inches away. That hadn't been mere speed. It was as if–
NO TIME FOR THAT! With haste, he stepped on the man's shadow and called on his Talent of a Lord. "Kneel," Adam commanded, his eyes sparkling with intensity.
"I think not," Valente cheerfully replied. Upon seeing Adam's expression, he let out a gentle laugh. "Surprised that your Shadow Realm isn't working? Or is it that I've suddenly appeared in front of you?"
Tenver's warning rang true in Adam's mind. 'You have no chance of fighting against him. Forsake the goal of winning. Even running is impossible. Survival should be your only priority.'
No fighting, winning, or running. What else could he do right now? What options did he have?
Get him talking. Delay the execution. "Admittedly, my Lord Talent failing to work is puzzling," Adam said, with false amusement in his voice. Stay confident. Make him think you're not afraid. "Care to elaborate why?"
"For one, I'm pretty confident that I'd be strong enough to survive even inside your Realm," Valente said, his voice sounding both joyful and puzzled. "But then again...I'm not a specialist in Lordly Realms. How about you elucidate for us?"
It was here that Adam noticed Valente was speaking to someone else. "You've been watching for a while now, right?" the Captain said.
A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping closer to them.
Adam then realized, far too late, that he'd been wrong. Happening upon the Captain of the Hangmen – despite having over an 80% chance of avoiding him – was not the worst possible outcome.
"If you insist," said Aspreay.
This was.
"I suppose I can spare a few words." The former Lord wore an expression of vague distaste. "It's not a total waste. At least one of you will live to remember them."
Dealing with a Hangman was difficult enough. Dealing with their Captain was virtually impossible. Adding Aspreay of Penumbria, the only man in this world who hated Adam more than himself, made the problem so insurmountable as to make him want to laugh. It was beyond absurd.
"Your Shadow Realm is an extension of your Realm in Penumbria," Aspreay continued, his every word dripping with disgust. He placed a hand on Adam's other shoulder, standing opposite to the Hangman. "It's the same principle as to why the Emperor cannot so easily pinpoint your location. The power of your Realm is a simple calculation of its size and your overall strength. At present, it is too weak to function inside the Emperor's Realm."
With a tilt of his head, Valente muttered a soft, contemplative hum that skirted between pure innocence and a thinly-veiled aura of murder. "Isn't the Shadow Realm really small, though? It only applies if he can step on my shadow."
"Weren't you listening, white-haired imbecile?" Aspreay said, with annoyance. "It only looks small. It's still derived from the Realm he established in Penumbria. Considering the difference in Rank between him and the Emperor, building a functional Realm inside the Emperor's Realm would require much more finesse."
That seemed easier for the Hangman to understand, who nodded along happily to the explanation. "Yes, I've got it, I see! You're saying that if Adam wanted to fight me with his Lordly Realm, he'd need to first undo the one in Penumbria?"
"Yes. That's exactly it." Aspreay tightened his grip on Adam's shoulder. "If he were to undo his Realm there...he could recreate it here. Make it smaller. Instead of a gigantic Imperial city, if he focused everything onto a narrow street, then perhaps he would have a chance. Lordship is among the few Talents that the Emperor cannot detect inside his Realm."
"I see, I see!" Valente excitedly said. "So the question is whether or not the Pretender is willing to doom his city – and his treasonous followers – in order to save his own skin. Villains such as he will die regardless, but this way he could try to put up a fight."
"Correct," Aspreay stated. "That is precisely the question. So, Painter. What's it going to be? Your life...or Penumbria?"
In response to that, Adam could only bark out a low laugh. "This isn't the first time I've had to decide between those two." He adopted a dry tone, locking eyes with both men. "But considering how dire this situation is...it might actually be my last."
"You don't fear death?" Valente raised an eyebrow. "You bluff, surely."
"I've already made arrangements for my inheritance. If I die, I know who the Lord Talent will get passed down to – and it won't be someone like Aspreay."
Truthfully, he had no idea if his Talent of a Lord even could be passed down like other people's. There were many unknown oddities related to Painted abilities. Still, he had followed the protocol as learned, instituting heirs just in case: Tenver, then Solara, then Esteban, then Vasco. While he wasn't entirely happy with his selection, he'd assumed that if Tenver and Solara had also fallen...there were likely few people left to protect, anyhow.
"I won't disband Penumbria's barrier," Adam calmly told them. "If you want to kill me, go ahead." More sternly, he added, "But Aspreay – you'd better go back and make sure someone has a barrier set up there after you take my head, you hear me?"
He paused, and when he continued, it was with a low voice, almost a growl. "Listen carefully Aspreay. If you let monsters overrun our city, then I'll haunt you for the rest of eternity!"
"Do you mean that?" Aspreay asked, slowly. He didn't seem bothered by the threat, nor did he acknowledge it. "Will you truly not lift the barrier in Penumbria, even in the face of death?"
Adam drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. It's easy to say those things in the heat of the moment. But when I actually stop to think about it...it's terrifying. Dying is scary. I don't want to die. I want to help more people. I want to have fun. I want to trust people again. There's so many things I still have to do.
But...even so...
He opened his eyes and glared at Aspreay. "If I wasn't willing to do this much, I would have had no right to take Penumbria from you."
"Is that so?" Aspreay repeated, in a deadpan. "I suppose that's true." He let go of Adam's shoulder and peered at the Hangman. "Valente, I have a proposal for you."
The Hangman recoiled, as if hurt, but still didn't release his grip on Adam's shoulder. If anything, it grew tighter. "Oh? What could you possibly want? We must impose the will of His Imperial Highness upon creatures such as this man. Surely you don't intend to suggest that we merely let this villain go?"
"No," Aspreay immediately replied. "But you were muttering some inanity earlier about how murdering him or allowing his escape would both be troublesome, were you not?"
"Was I?"
"You were," Aspreay said, with a degree of anger. Then, more formally, he asked, "What do you say that I kill him?" When Valente didn't respond, he added, "The Emperor's reward will be yours. I only want the satisfaction of murdering the man who stole everything from me."
Valente's eyes became alight with a fiery malice, licking his lips as if anticipating a feast. "Oh, I can certainly deal with those terms. It's only fair that you kill the Pretender brat. And I could use the Orbs after how my last night at the Colosseum went...yes, this would be acceptable!"
This is pathetic, Adam seethed. Am I seriously just going to wait here and let them debate how to kill me?
No. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction. If they meant for Aspreay to kill him, then the Hangman would need to let go of his shoulder and step back. That would be the best time for Adam to unleash whatever mad attack he could conjure up in his last moments.
Maybe I can try pulling out my tablet to trap Aspreay's soul. It won't save my life, but I'll die happier knowing that he doesn't get to live to gloat about this. Or maybe if I can find a way to start a fire to use Haunted Flames – maybe give the Curse to one of them on purpose.
All hopeless plans, Adam knew. There wouldn't be time to do any of that. If either man saw him reaching for his tablet, they'd murder him on the spot. Using any Talent outside of Lordship would alert the Emperor of his location, and using Lordship would doom Penumbria to a swift and merciless demise by Stained Creatures.
Was this checkmate?
It certainly felt that way when the Hangman let go of Adam's shoulder and took several steps back. "Is this far enough, Aspreay? I don't want to get blood on my suit. Lost my other good one in the Colosseum, you know?"
"A few more steps," Aspreay annoyedly shouted. As Valente acquiesced to his request, the former Lord of Penumbria glanced at Adam and lowered his voice to a whisper. "If you let Vasco die, then I'll be the one haunting you for eternity, brat."
Adam blinked. "The hell are you–"
"Quiet." Aspreay took two steps away – and towards the Hangman. "Get out of my sight."
Suddenly, color returned to Adam's world. It wasn't a full palette yet. Almost every color was dark, an odd shade of blue for most of it, and some dark greens for the rest...but it wasn't monochrome anymore.
"Aspr–" Adam started, then stopped as he recoiled in pain. He instinctively tried to approach Aspreay, one hand extended toward the empty air between the two – then pulled it back as it burned intensely as if he'd just touched...fire? No. Something else. As if a sudden jolt of electricity had just shocked his hand. It was a familiar sensation. Where had he felt that before?
Remembrance came to him in a flash. Adam paled, the blood draining from his face. There's...no way. He wouldn't be able to touch Aspreay right now. No one from the outside could. If you do that, you're going to...
Across from them, the smile was gone from the Hangman's face. When he spoke, it was in a raspier, more malicious tone. "Aspreay, Aspreay Aspreay..." He shook his head. "Oi, oi, oi...are you serious?"
"If you can't understand it still, then you bear the sin of stupidity. You heard my explanation earlier, yes? You also must have heard the brat explaining why he refuses to abandon the city. But I..."
Aspreay lifted his right elbow, dangling his hand before his face as if holding a marionette. "...I am no longer Lord of Penumbria. No attachments. Nothing to hold me back. Nothing to protect."
He clenched his hand into a fist. "Nothing to fear."
"I disagree," Valente said, in that same low, raspy voice. "You should fear me."
"Mayhap so," Aspreay acknowledged.
The Hangman sighed. "Once you utter the words," he warned, "there will be no turning back."
"Aye." Aspreay cracked his neck. "A single street...even against the Emperor's Realm, I should be able to manage it if I narrow it down this much."
The two were about ten steps apart from each other. In this narrow street, the storied buildings and bustling taverns practically felt claustrophobic, as if threatening to envelop them all. A few people walked quickly, not fully cognizant of any of their identities, yet feeling the oncoming storm heavier than the deluge that was presently falling upon them.
For a moment, only the sound of rain punctuated this stage of theirs.
Then Aspreay whipped his arm to the side, as if to signal an invisible army to start its advance, and cried out:
"–REALM–RECONSTRUCTION–!"
​
--
​
Thanks for reading!

So recently I realised that my wife was strongly physically, and emotionally abusing our children when I'm at work. I sort of knew, but didn't register it for a long time and I've discovered that I'm a victim of emotional and financial abuse and I "fawn" to try and de-escalate.
So I really want to bring my 4 children, (1, 2.5, 4, 6) to safety, but don't know the steps and am very afraid. I want to heal my wife, douse the rage inside her, but am beginning to accept that that might not be possible. The situation slow gets worse and worse. I've tried my best to meet her demands, but it never seems enough.
I've started to get video evidence, but not sure what next, should I move to my parents, try and get her to move out, forward the evidence to police? Also I've no access to money except the credit card. All our savings are in her private account. I've got no private bank account, they're all linked with hers. I tried logging into her bank app to see how much we have, but discovered she doesn't use the one I thought she used (she knows all my passwords and pins)
I did confide in my mother about the abuse, she didn't take it seriously until I showed her a clip of my wife repeatedly slamming my daughter (6) head onto the table for a spelling mistake. But even then, it was "we'll support you however you want, but it's inconvenient for us, especially since we're planning a holiday" "Have you tried giving an ultimatum?" I have tried bringing up her anger before, but it causes a huge incident.
So yeah, any advice, how much evidence, what type, what to do would be appreciated.
Oh, and with my job, I fly to work, work 8 days straight, then have 6 days leave. She is stay at home. I know it's very hard on her, four kids by herself, not easy. (My parents come over a few days, but doesn't seem to help). I cook and clean and look after kids when home, cook about 3 days of meals before leaving for work to make it easier, but it doesn't seem enough. So if I leave, I may need to quit my job.

In Suisei stream yesterday, Suisei said along the lines of what I write as the title. It's good that Sui-chan didn't just get 2% from merch. But it's true that imo, merch/concert is better than supa as there's no cut from YouTube, and the money goes to the talent & company itself, in which, a good company will use it to pay for their managers, staff, and other things to elevate the talent. Imagine getting 100k and YouTube get 30k. 30k can be use to pay for a good PR department. 😂 😂
Clip: https://youtu.be/0V09xcb5a2c?si=pAhNk_5AnVo0gjvl

I don’t expect to be believed.
I was barely nineteen, dabbling with the idea of selling my socks on the darkest corners of the internet or perhaps slogging through the night shift at Tesco for another few years. Triple digits in my bank account were whittling down to single, and it was all starting to look a bit bleak. That was until I saw a posting on a freelance website that stuck out like a beacon among the others.
Babysitter wanted. Unique conditions. NDA required.
The red flags in the title alone were enough to scare off someone with at least a few brain cells to rub together, but not me. Skittish, desperate me who’d watched my landlord hike rent up for a third time and just knew he was poised to hit me again. I was convinced it was a kink for him at this point, scrolling through my pleading texts and shrugging a dismissive no. He knew there were no other places to rent nearby, knew I was desperate. So when I dared click the ad to read, I steeled myself to be the most open-minded I’d ever been.
- Girl aged 9 needs looking after. - Very particular set of rules to follow. - Unsociable hours working from 10pm-7am. - Must sign non-disclosure agreement. - Must read rules. Not liable for damages if rules are ignored. - Two weeks only.
But the money. Oh, the money. I’d never had a job working with kids before, but I didn’t need experience to know that five thousand pounds for a fortnight was obscene. Unreal. Probably a scam. And so the twentieth red flag was ignored as I dusted off my CV, sending it over in a money-drunk frenzy without time for contemplation or any semblance of intelligence.
And I was hired.
Never mind that I had no experience with kids, no children of my own or a single qualification to my name. I look back now and wonder, was I the youngest applicant? Did they do a background search on me, hunched over the computer scrolling through my social media? Was it because they knew I had a small family, and fewer people to miss me? I don’t know. But I was giddy, grateful, turning up that first day with a save me text ready to go to my friends if needed. Five thousand pounds was a risk worth getting murdered over, apparently.
But the atmosphere of that house was something out of the pits of hell. Christ, it was enough to turn a non-believer biblical in the way a thousand eyes seemed to turn on you the second you dared enter. I walked through the door and ice attacked me from every angle, a tepid stillness so quiet it threatened to burst my head open. The building was normal of course, a middling detached 3-bedroom on a nice street, but inside only gave way to such a stomach-churning feeling that made it feel like I’d stepped into another world entirely.
“The rules,” was the first thing the woman said to me, shaky hands shoving a crumpled piece of paper my way. The ad listed her as only a few years older than me, but the stress lines on her face aged her, bedraggled hair dancing around tired eyes. I could only nod curtly, swallowing as I cast my eyes downward. Not before a bony, malnourished hand grabbed me and the woman -Meena- shook her head in a silent no.
“Read them later,” she told me firmly, “I just- before I go, I need to know that you understand.”
I tried not to look past her into the empty coldness of upstairs. “Of course, whatever you need.”
She sighed, releasing her grip and eyeing me warily. “Two weeks. We only ever have people for two weeks. Fourteen days of following those rules. Don’t ignore them. Don’t deviate. Not on a single rule.”
I nodded, trying to appear eager. “No problem, consider them followed. Does she have any dietary-”
“No.” Her eyes were stern, focused. “No, you’re deviating. Everything you need is on that piece of paper. No matter what you think of it, it’s imperative that you follow it. No matter what she says, no matter what you think or what your morals tell you - this is different. Follow the paper and you’ll get your money. Okay?”
The question hung in the air as I suppressed a shiver, nodding. “Yep. Got it.”
And so she left. Grabbed her coat and bolted, as though the last place on earth Meenawanted to be was inside these walls. She was the girl’s sister, and from what I could gather, had been looking after Maya since their parents’ death. It was tragic, and likely the reason the woman’s entire demeanour was tinged with grief and a heavy, heavy sadness. I remember it, wasting no time uncrumpling that piece of paper and squinting to read it right there in the dimly lit hallway. I recall the way my limbs grew cold, how my fingers shook. The feeling of my stomach twisting horribly and dropping to my shoes.
1. Ignore the hooves. No matter how loud they get. 2. Ignore Maya. There is no need to reply to her. She’s fine. 3. Feed her at 3am every night. The food you need is in the red box in the fridge. Only give her one slab of meat. Do not cook it. 4. We don’t have a dog. If you see one, don’t pet it. Close the door. 5. Tell her it’s time to sleep at11pm. Do not reply to her. 6. Do not open her bedroom door under any circumstances. 7. If you hear whispering, do not look at the ceiling. Don’t look up. 8. Make sure you’re asleep between the hours of 4-5am. If you can’t sleep, lock yourself in the bathroom. Take the crucifix from the kitchen. Do not leave till you hear me come home. Ensure it is me before you open the door.
Immediately, I went to call the police. Obviously. But shamefully, my finger paused on that third number, hovering over the digit before I backtracked, deciding to call Meena instead. The exchange was short, only 32 seconds and lengthened only by the way my breathing had become quick and laboured, reading over the note four times as she spoke.
“These rules,” I barked without a greeting, “You can’t seriously-”
“She’s safe,” she murmured tiredly in response, as though she’d repeated the line a thousand times, “It looks unsafe for her, but it isn’t. Everything is for her. Everything is what she wants.”
“I’m not throwing raw meat into her room.”
Meena paused, and I know now it was the first time she lied to me. “Maya thinks chicken is grown-up food but we don’t like to eat it. She puts it in her easy-bake oven then we bin it in the morning. Just… listen, you’re just there to make sure she’s looked after while she sleeps. It’s the easiest job in the world. Don’t you want the money?”
And I did. I did want it. So I stayed.
That first night was the easiest. It scared the shit out of me at the time but when I look back, I can still practically feel the way death crept into my veins every moment I spent inside those walls, the way the house was eating me alive. It took me only a few moments to pad up to her room, noting the heavy silence as I pressed an ear to her door. What I didn’t expect, when my cheek pushed flush to the wood, was for a deep, gravelly voice to stab at me through the wall separating us.
“I hear you, fleshbag.”
I wrenched my head free, barely able to gasp for air before a girlish giggle left the room, bouncing around my head as she hurriedly spoke again.
“Made you jump! What’s your name? Can I see you? You sound prettier than the others.”
“I didn’t…“ say anything, I wanted to finish, but she got there first.
“I can hear you breathing. You sound young.”
I had no reason to feel unsafe yet, not really. But I know in that moment I felt the weight of the house forcing down upon my shoulders threateningly, causing my knees to buckle. Her words wrapped around my throat like a noose, her light tone like nails on a chalkboard. Never had I experienced something quite so wrong before, never had the air felt quite so barren and cold. But I swallowed, trying to keep my tone jovial. I needed the money.
“I’m your new babysitter, just checking in to say hi!”
She laughed then; a horrible, gravelly wheeze that could have belonged to a sixty-year-old man.
“You’re not supposed to say hi, fleshbag.”
It was something else entirely, the fear I felt. It was surely just a child pranking me but the impending doom of feeling as though I was going to die was overwhelming. I’d never been scared before, not like that. So I ran downstairs, shutting the living room door and hurriedly putting cartoons on the TV, because that was the least threatening thing I could imagine. I swore I heard her laugh from upstairs for the entire length of the show I watched.
For three days it was fine.
I didn’t throw the meat in there because a nine-year-old girl didn’t need raw chicken crammed through a horrible letterbox carved into her bedroom door. Meena didn’t mention it when she’d come home with glassy pearls of fear for eyes, and I tried not to think about it at the worst time every night - needing the bathroom. I tried not to go. God, I tried. I didn’t drink a thing while I was there, because that trip across the hallway past Maya’s room was sickening.
My stomach would twist with every step, temperature dropping every inch closer I got. I would find myself practically running to the bathroom, gasping for air the second the door slammed shut behind me, always finding tears spilling from my eyes. But I hadn’t known horror until I padded past on the third night, stopping dead in my tracks as my eyes caught the letterbox.
Fingers. Jammed through them.
I froze. I did nothing, absolutely paralysed with fear as I took in the twisted, pale hand with yellowing and cracked nails reaching for me. I don’t know why the thought popped into my head, but at the time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was inhaling deeply, smelling my fear. Perhaps I heard it over my own terrified panting.
“I’m hungry,” she whispered through the letterbox, and I could hear how close her lips were to it. To me. The air barely left my lungs but it did, words so quiet I have no idea how she heard them.
“What do you want, Maya?”
She paused. “Meat.”
“I’ll go downstairs and-”
“Yours,” she cut me off simply, voice light and girlish, “I’d like to chew it off you.”
I didn’t use the bathroom that night. Shamefully, I stumbled my way downstairs in haste and pulled a mug from the back of the cupboard, using it to relieve myself into, right there in the kitchen. As I had done every night, I fell to a slumber in front of the flickering TV, though this time I shook like a leaf as I tried to imagine the money flooding my bank account. The deposit had already gone in, and it had paid half my rent this month.
All day I’d think about going to that house. All day I’d fight the sick feeling that hit me like a train as I stepped through their front door, witnessing the light bleed out as it shut behind me and locked me in there. It was day six I heard the hooves stamping directly above my head at around 3 am, startling me from my light slumber. Up till now I’d done the bare minimum by showing up, but now the list stared at me from the coffee table mockingly.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Bile rose up my throat but I steadied my breathing, trying not to move. It was unmistakable, clattering. Like the slow, heaving thud of a horse with no direction. Pacing, hammering down deliberately and so loudly I swore the house shook. It moved back and forth across Maya’s room, growing louder and louder till the light fitting above began to shake and tremble, little white flakes raining down on my head.
“Stop!” I screamed, startled at my own voice and stilling as the house halted into silence once more. My lip trembled, eyes squeezed shut as I tried to count down from ten. I’d attempted to make logic fit the situation a thousand times, both inside and outside those walls. I’d even write lists of all the rational ways all of this could make sense, but to walk into that house was to know absolutely everything was wrong. To even be near Maya’s room was to feel the pull of death. But more days passed, and I was getting closer to my riches. Every odd thing that happened, I sat still and held my eyes closed, fingers jammed into my ears.
Until day 11.
Honestly, I’d coasted up until that point. Every day before I went home, I’d jam a piece of rotting meat into my bag in case Meena checked the box in the fridge. I’d paint a smile on my face when she stared at me warily, I’d take a bottle to urinate in, right there in the living room. I never even went upstairs. I didn’t know half of what went on because I’d become used to taking noise-cancelling headphones and blasting music, turning it down when I was ready to sleep in the fetal position on the sofa. I was doing it. I was making it work.
Until I wasn’t.
I realise now that it all happened because she was starving. Now, I see that the meat placated her, and when the hooves finally got loud enough for me to hear them over eardrum-shattering bass, I knew I’d fucked up. It was 3am and the slamming sounded over and over again, but no, it wasn’t pounding footsteps on the floor this time. To my absolute horror, I realised what the house-shaking chaos was. She was slamming into her fucking bedroom door.
I know I screamed. I’m sure of it, wailing like a child as I scrambled to get to the stairs, for whatever reason thinking getting closer was the way to stop her, as though pushing against the door would keep her inside. I hadn’t spoken to her since that day with the letterbox, but she cackled now, a thousand voices layering over one another to create one awful chorus of evil.
“My meal is coming to me!”
I sobbed, days of unbearable fear bubbling to the surface as I slammed hands on her door, shrieking at the devastating cold coming from it. It wasn’t that which caused me to recoil, but rather the sudden silence and cold, empty eyes staring unblinkingly at me through the letterbox. They gazed up at me, black holes of endless nothing and looking like portals to someplace I never wanted to go. When she spoke, it was a threatening whisper.
“I’m skinny enough to climb through the letterbox now.”
I ran. I believed her, imagined her contorting herself to jam herself through that slit in the door, and I knew it to be true. I knew nothing of what she looked like - my imagination had gone wild for 11 days - but I knew I didn’t want to witness it. I’d always believed in hell, and from the first day I padded through that hallway downstairs, I’d felt it with me in this house. The sensible thing to do in my terror was to make for the front door, which I did - but it was jammed. Stuck. I don’t know how. It was as if I could feel the gravity sucking it inwards, invisible hands holding me inside the four walls of this enormous coffin. I was going to die here.
Death nearly claimed me on the spot as a delighted shriek echoed upstairs, followed by thunderous footsteps, growing with speed every passing nanosecond. She was running. It sounded like ten people were running as the smashing loudness grew closer, following me as I screamed and hurled myself into the living room, slamming the door behind me as a chorus of deafening chaos hurled itself down the stairs to rip me to pieces.
The hallway floor was made of rotting wood, and just like that, barrelling thunder turned to careful, deliberate hooves hitting oak. One, two, three, creeping towards the room I scrambled across the floor of, clumsily reaching for my phone. It was Meena I desperately called, Meena I needed as the steps outside slowed, till I could hear chilling, noisy panting only a single door away from me. It stood there, only the thinnest of lines separating me from hell itself.
“It’s out, it’s out!” I wailed into the phone, too terrified to utter anything else as the device slipped between trembling fingers and I desperately reached for the curtains, wrenching them down into a pile on top of me. Through a slit of light, I saw the worst sight of the night so far - bars. Bars over the window, shutting me - and it - in this awful place. And so my fate was sealed as the door behind me audibly flew off its hinges and I cowered in the mass of material, wondering if a thin layer of cotton was enough to save me from being torn to shreds.
“I smell your skin,” it rasped delightedly, “I’m going to wear it tonight, I’m going to empty your bones out onto the floor and wear your skin till it snaps.”
My hand trembled so horribly that I could barely see the shaking watch sitting upon my wrist, a blazing 4:26 am shrieking at me from the device. I’d lost all ability to move, so when the world stilled and I heard wet, slow footsteps slapping towards me, I could barely even muster the strength to hold my breath. Worse still, the footsteps were very clearly not on the floor. They were on the ceiling.
“Let’s play,” she giggled, and I almost leapt upwards when I realised her voice was a rancid, rotting tickle next to my ear, “You get a headstart. If I catch you, though, I’m going to gouge your eyes out and feed them to your family!”
I couldn’t breathe. A panic attack threatened to claw its way through my body, but there was no time. There was none.
“Ten…”
“…Nine…”
“…Eight…”
It was only in my peripheral vision that I saw her. It was impossible not to, really, because she stood the entire height of the floor to the ceiling, claw-like hands so close to me dripping with thick, congealed blood. I didn’t see her face, but I could feel her stare upon me. A nightmarish gaze that singed my skin, born from eyes somewhere far, far from here. The rest is honestly a blur. I think when you feel fear so truly otherworldly, your brain does well to smear the lines of understanding till you question whether or not it actually happened at all.
I remember stumbling up those stairs, choking back bile as my legs dropped like jelly every few seconds, listening to her monotonous counting in horror. I recall running past her room, not pausing to really stare at the blood-soaked monstrosity, bones lining the floor and piling up the walls. I know I grabbed the crucifix from the wall closest to me and held it so tightly my hand began to trickle with blood, evidence it all happened because I still have the scars to this day.
“Ready or not - I’m coming to eat you!”
I didn’t get far. I’d collapsed in a sobbing heap at the end of the landing, watching with tear-filled eyes as a shadow grew around me, stretching impossibly far up the wall. It was too tall, too close. It moved so slowly and deliberately, the stench of rot and mould growing ever closer with each mocking footstep. I watched the horns protrude from that shadow, held my shaking body still as I waited for it to startle me with claws through the skull. I felt its wet breath on my cheek as it spoke, voice deeper than I’d heard anything utter words before.
“Found you, fleshbag,” it hissed, and that was that. My fate was supposed to be written in blood, but it wasn't, because of a woman taking the stairs two at a time, yelling louder than even I managed. Meena was there, my very own version of god, clutching vials of liquid and throwing them haphazardly in wild screeches, muddling my mess of memories about a night I never want to remember in full. But she was there and I was safe and I’ll never recall it properly, not really. Just that she was grabbing a bundle of something thrashing in her arms and wrenching it from me and I was free. I was free.
But the cool air had barely caressed my skin before she was grabbing my shoulders, shouting numbers at me. Numbers. Wildly rising numbers, life-changing numbers. But nothing was worth that, was it? Not ten thousand. Not twenty thousand. “Just three more days?” she’d pleaded, blood staining her streetlamp-lit face twisted in desperation. Thirty thousand. Your university tuition.
I did it. Three more days. I don’t want to recall them - I’ve never uttered the words aloud. I never will, not to probing therapists or distant family members. The only crystal-clear memories I hold of those three days was the feeling of my hanging nerves being severed, razor teeth crunching through bone as Maya yanked my arm through her letterbox, chewing my arm clean off at the elbow. It took me so long to type this with one hand, but it’s worth it. It was all worth it. The compensation was insane - a lot more than the meagre thirty thousand she offered me. Meena didn’t have a dog, but it was easier for her if we told the authorities that was how I lost an entire limb in such a terrible mess.
I still feel Maya sometimes. I don’t know what she is, or why she’s latched onto me so ferociously. I smell her often, the unmistakable stench of rot and desperation. I’ll be half-asleep and hear the clattering of hooves in my kitchen, the heavy wheezing of lungs full of blood. But it’s okay. She might haunt me till I die, which I suppose could be anytime, but she does it here in my beachside abode, only metres from soft, lapping waves. I never want for money. Sometimes I think it might have been the worst thing I ever did, but no, it was all worth it.
It was all worth it.