I noticed that in gurugram wine and beer shops are decorated with lights as if they are highway dhabas/restaurants or hi-fi malls. Just real malls and thekas decorated as malls. That's the only thing that exists in gurgaon for fun. During my childhood we used to have games period only once or twice a week. Even during those periods all were busy preparing for jee. Indian kids are least interested in sports. I used to make bow and arrows out of broom sticks and try to imitate ramayan Mahabharat characters by holding the arrow in front of my forehead, murmur some gibberish and then letting go of the drawn arrow on some toy placed at a distance. My father snapped and broke my bow and arrows. He was like, "not sending you to such an expensive school just so that you could become a tribal hunter. Go study". One of my father's friends had once gifted me a mouser bb gun for fifth or sixth birthday. My father was furious and angry at him for gifting his son a gun. He was like guns are banned in USA. Guns as toys are for bad kids. I used to like watching martial arts based movies and imitate their actions alone. Father gaslit me by saying that I was trying to be a future criminal. As martial arts are only for goons, thugs, killer, police, army or ultra rich people who just want to show off medals as status symbol. He wanted me to focus only on studies.
Rich shitty kids in my school had Xbox, PlayStation and PC games. They discriminated against me because of obvious status difference. So I had no friends, no siblings or any good memories while growing up. Girls in my class only wanted to hang with those boys who used to play football or basketball for school team. I was good at goalkeeping because of my natural reflexes and height and was also good at taking penalty kicks because of brute strength. But I wasn't good at tackling or dribbling. I used to do a lot of fouls. That's not the reason for which I wasn't allowed to play by the way. The real reason was that they didn't want to get embarassed by me who was a "poor loser" according to them. They used to belittle me because of my looks, skin colour and lack of money. So getting humbled by me on playground obviously used to hurt their ego. Because of that they didn't use to let me play.
Every one in my office just smokes tobacco or drinks alcohol. That is the definition of having a good time or celebration according to them. I noticed that Indians just drink(alcohol), spit(paan gutka), smoke (tobacco) and do drugs. Like isn't there anything else for recreational activities? In urban areas there's malls and I think one can go for hiking or trekking too. But even there Indian gen z and millennials just want to do gaanja and charas at Manali or any other hill station. Why are Indians so much into drugs?
Most of the MMA coaching centres are frauds as per the reviews on Google pages. They charge a leg or an arm but whatever they teach isn't that good as per the reviews.
I want to go to uttrakhand for river rafting, bunjee jumping, sky diving or para gliding. But don't feel brave enough because of the fact that it's India after all. What if the parachute doesn't open, what if the chord breaks, what if the bunjee cable breaks, what if I drown....and also the charges as per Indian economy is too high. As per Indian economy the charges should not be as high as they are. Maybe within a year or two I will finally got for it.

My abuser had a complete meltdown a month ago and I felt forced to call the police. I had been asking him to leave for months because he was refusing to get help for his declining mental state and addictions, but he refused to leave. As I'm sure you all understand, I love him and wanted him to get help so that we could be happy, despite how unrealistic that hope might have been. I only called the police because I was scared for my life and his.
He was arrested and I got a protection order. He had a gun that he had hidden from me. I've discovered so many other lies since then. I've realized he was just using me. It has been incredibly painful and I wish I could turn off my heart while I heal. I understand trauma bonds. I hate that I want him to reach out and make promises I know he won't keep. But I've been doing my best to focus on myself and my healing, through therapy and music and meditation and now medication. I cry every day. Sometimes all day. I am failing at my job. He traumatized me and he traumatized my dogs. And I still miss him so much. I haven't reached out and I won't. But if he reached out to me I don't think I would have the strength to not respond. He told the court he is in therapy now and "looking into" AA and NA. The court ordered a mental health evaluation but he only has to do it if he doesn't want me to be able to renew the protection order in 5 years. I know he will do none of these things.
I heard recently that he lost his shit at work. In a way this was helpful to me because it felt validating, for other people to see the mask slip. His job is his whole identity right now. I also was told that he bought a brand new car, a sports car of every teenage boy's dreams. I felt disgusted by this because he has no money, is living with his mom, and the only message he asked her to pass along to me after his arrest was to ask if I would pay for him to get his own place. I didn't respond. She's an enabler and knew he had a gun for 3 years and never told me. She's planning to buy him an rv. He can't afford that car. And now with his outburst at work he will probably be fired.
Today an acquaintance apparently got him as a suggested friend on Facebook and she sent me screenshots of his page, including one of him showing off the car. He has a new profile photo, he's smiling and handsome. His profile used to be him and my dog. I know it is a facade. He had 24 likes and 24 comments on the post of his car. I want to know who commented and I also really don't. He had told me he wasn't using social media anymore. Another lie.
I'm sure he's talking to girls about his car. I'm sure people think he's a good person because of where he works. And I'm just sitting here crying and needing to throw up. I did not want to see his social media. I was doing well and now I'm back to square one, I can't stop seeing the photos in my mind.
I hate everything about this and that abusive people just go on with life like this didn't fucking happen while we're left with so much trauma and confusion and pain and love and stupid hope.

Please search any of the following mods on Nexus Mods - Fallout: New Vegas:
Working on the Chain Gang ESM-74958-2-1-1667158496"
WRP - Hotfix-38285-2-2-5-1590168045"
YUP - Base Game and All DLC-51664-12-9-1701436279"
0_80 Hot Fixes-37376-1"
01 T6M Natural Curvy Body (Nude) BB BNB-81346-1-5-3-1-1705542430"
45 Auto Submachine Gun Retexture - Honest Hearts-73064-1-1-1626897328"
360 Movement BNB Animations-75535-1-0-1652574707"
1911_v_1_dot_2-50184-1-2"
A Koch and Bohr Story v1-1-45886-v1-1"
a Smoke before the Storm-82578-2-0-1692819504"
A Thorny Situation v1-0-46048-"
A Wilder Wasteland v1-0-46158-v1-0"
A World Of Pain 6.94-38719-6-94-1685580176"
Afterglow -- LightBright Strip Overhaul Tweaks-83736-1-01-1700333095"
Afterglow -- Neon Illumination-83736-1-0-1699663621"
AK47_v1_1-48392-1-1"
AKS74U_upd1-47648-1-1"
All Explosion Sounds Overhaul BSA and YUP Patch-66946-2-0-1581616735.1"
All-in-one-66955-1-1557788582"
Alternative Start 1-5-45739-1-5"
Ammo box-42551-1-1599021340"
AN94_v_1_0-49600-1-0"
Animated Ingestibles (english)-70139-4-1-1684674884"
ASBTS Scripted Cigarettes-83077-1-1-1705445898"
Asset Pack-71569-13-1644876932"
Asurah Reanimation Pack 0.2.3.2-64339-0-2-3-2-1610371277"
Asurah Reanimation Pack main-64339-0-2-1"
Autumn Leaves-50146-1-030"
AWOP - A World of Pain - Underpass fix-78038-1--1660962454"
AWOP Compatibility Patches-38719-6-01-1556669314"
AWOP Dead Money 2.0-38719-2-0"
AWOP Weapon Mod Patches-38719-6-01-1590590935"
AWOP WRP Patch-38719-6-94-2-1669589734"
AWOP-MoMod-41361-10a"
B42 Inertia V1.2-64335-1-2-1615691254"
B42 Inject-80437-0-15b-1692435172"
B42 Interact-83119-0-14b-1695964659"
B42 Loot-82369-0-15b-1695243927"
BB Cigs-42551-"
Beige Pack-42551-"
Beretta92fs_v1_0-50837-1-0"
Better Brotherhood - YUP Patch-75031-2-4a-1701456413"
Better Brotherhood-75031-2-4a-1701449472"
BetterBetting1mCapDeadMoney-64920-1-1"
BetterStandUp-76443-2-1703547706"
Blood by the Dollar Patch-74958-2-0-1667064117"
BMF 1.01-56742-1-01"
BNB_Armor-35047-1-0"
BNB_BiggerBreasts-35047-1-0"
BNB_Body-35047-1-0"
BNB_Update1-35047-1-0"
BoSUnforgotten-60624-v1-1"
Breeze New Vegas Males - AIO-48222-1-8"
Brotherhood and Legion Truce-74086-5-3-1690769947"
Brotherhood of Steel Paladin Quests-69713-V1-1597789294"
Brotherhood Reforged - Fixed and Cleaned-83339-1-0-1696455793"
BrotherhoodReforged"
Bulk's Sound Pack - Footsteps-77766-1-2a-1700949655"
BulletSnap - Redux - espless 1.2-78967-1-2-1689600460"
Bushmaster_M4A1-48451-1-0"
Camp McCarran Map Markers-42860-1-0"
Camp McCarran monorail animation stand alone version-70213-2-00-1609887871"
Caravan Guard Remastered-83590-1-0-1698523589"
Caravan Guard-58721-1-2"
Caravan Pack Weapons Ironsight Fix-64339-0-1"
Casino Crowds-71037-1-2-1614893989"
Casino Crowds-71037-1-2-1614893989.1"
Casino Heists New Vegas 1.6-59896-1-6-1660648020"
Casino Posters and Signs HD-84302-1-0-1703875632"
Character Kit Remake - Hair-82147-1-0-1690857031"
Character Kit Remake - Hands-82148-1-1-1691365351"
Character Kit Remake - Teeth-82146-1-0-1689501066"
Classic Fallout Weapons Remastered V1.2-73805-1-9-2-1692128971"
Classic Goris-83439-1-0-1697179223"
Classic Pack Weapons Ironsight Fix-64339-0-1"
Coito Ergo Sum 4.20 FULL VERSION-56156-4-20-1677188838"
Common globe-42551-1"
CompanionsCommander_11-36523-1-1"
CompanionsInfiniteAmmo-37602-1-1"
CompanionsTeleporter-36523-1-05"
Compass Height Indicator-67068-2-0-1693172382"
Compatibility Patch for VGO 1.3 and Roberts Male Body FNV 3.4-68500-1-0-1584792648"
Compatibility Patch for VGO 1.4 and Fallout Character Overhaul 3.0-68500-1-2-1584907027"
Compatibility Patch for VGO 1.4 and Van Graff Hostility Fix-68500-1-1-1585586406"
Config INI-71569-13-01-1698109570"
Daniel - Unique Textures 1-1-83624-1-1-1698892210"
Dead Money DLC weapons ironsight fix-64339-0-1"
Decaying Ferals-83726-0-01-1699482598"
Deimos V1_05-43411-1-05"
Desert Eagle v1.0-56745-1-0"
Dimonized Type 3 AIO Installer-54438-3-5-1561863093"
Dismemberment Tweaks-80369-1-1678531588"
DLC Followers - All-In-One-74426-1-1-1-1637325547"
Download-55283-"
Dragunov SVU v 1.0-57297-1-0"
Dramatic Inertia - 3rd Person Movement Overhaul-82035-1-3-1702856996"
Dramatic Staggering-84262-1-1703548049"
DSI-48094-1-1a"
Duct Tape-42551-"
Earthblighted Tunnelers-84319-0-01-1703987665"
ELECTRO-CITY v12A-37908-V12A"
Energy Visuals Plus 2.0 -- EVE Patch-83105-1-0-1695161808"
Enhanced Blood Textures-34917-2-22c"
Enhanced Bullet Impacts-61804-1-0"
Enhanced Camera 1.4c-55334-1-4c-1544995335"
EVE Patch-64339-1-18-1610475958"
EVE v1.19-42666-1-19-1623957051"
Expanded Mojave - Mojave Outpost-82713-1-0-1692710596"
Eyes of Torment - Ghost People Retexture-83768-0-01-1699826217"
Factions Reloaded Followers V1.5.2-53041-1-5-2-1611961598"
Factions Reloaded Legion V2.3-51983-2-3-1690336838"
Factions Reloaded Raiders V2.2-52309-2-2-1689369283"
Fallout 4 Power Armor Features-65417-1-8-4-1657830228"
Fallout Character Overhaul 3.0-54460-3-0"
Fallout Character Overhaul purple mouth fix-75842-1-0-1648161122"
Fallout New Vegas ArchiveInvalidation Invalidated-35935-beta"
FAMAS F1 1.1-58824-1-1"
FCO - A World Of Pain-76179-3-4-2-1655389404"
FCO - Caravan Guard-77070-1-1655374739"
FCO - DLC Followers All-In-One Complete-75897-1-6-1-1655313894"
FCO - Russel Addon Expansion-70303-1-0-1604611326"
FCO - Russell Expanded-76048-2-4-1649309173"
FCO - The Last Few Edits-63465-1-2-1611445902"
Fire hydrant-42551-"
FNV NPCs Travel-54107-1-0-0"
FNV Quantum Sling v1.0-70770-1-0-1609894292"
FNV Realistic Wasteland Lighting All DLC-52037-v5-542-1542790908"
FNV Sexual Innuendo Animation plugin v003-36659-003"
FNV Sexual Innuendo NPCs plugin version 007-36659-007"
FO4 PA Features The Frontier-65417-1-8-3-1627853330"
FO4 Power Armors - FNV Compatibility Edition"
For The Enclave 4-0-39531-4-0"
FPS Lowering Weapons-80995-1-6-1701642566"
FPSWeaponWheel113-39997-1-13"
Freeside Overhaul - Episode I-81389-V1-1-1686100362"
FrontierAddons Combined All-in-One-71201-v2-1-1658540525"
Frozen Hit Rockomotion-79828-2-0-2-1678764575"
Functional Post Game Ending-66726-6-6-1703283263"
G36K_v_1-0-56125-1-0"
GRA WRP Unofficial Patch Ironsight Fix-64339-2-1"
Great Khan Graffiti Redone-83348-1-2-1696615291"
Greater Khans - Fixed and Cleaned-83352-1-0-1696538553"
GreatKhanGreatOverhaul"
Gun Runners Actually Run Guns 1 dot 8-42503-1-8"
Gun Runners Arsenal weapons ironsight fix-64339-0-1"
Height Randomizer Config-78278-1-0-1662456628"
Height Randomizer-70159-1-1-1604323492"
HH 45 Retexture-83233-V1-01-1695902562"
HI-RES Chems and Health ReTexture Pak-40302"
HiRes Skill Books Retexture V1.0-61273-1-0"
Hit - B42 Inject - Meat Anims-83906-1-1701225186"
Hit - B42 Inject - Sunset Sarsaparilla Animations-83993-1-1701797503"
Hit - B42 Inject Anim Pack - Season 1-80531-1-0-1679595175"
Hit - B42 Interact - New Vegas Bounties I LE-83096-1-1695504537"
Hit - B42 Interact Animation Pack-83096-1-01-1695579668"
Hit - B42 Interact Animation Pack-83096-1-01-1695579668.1"
Hit - B42 Interact Skinning-83161-1-1695497868"
Hit B42 Inject - Random 1-84439-1-1704730621"
Hit Marker Sounds - ESP-77268-release-1656730677"
HK_CAWS_v1_1-48433-1-1"
Honest Hearts DLC weapons ironsight fix-64339-0-2"
Honest Hearts Signs HD-82969-1-1-1697133032"
Hoss Mods - Sanctuary HH Home-70186-1-1-1646726106"
Hotfix Version 0.6.5-68009-0-6-5-1619083228"
Humping the Mojave v003-43773-v003"
If it wasn't for Betsy 2.5-59265-2-5"
If It Wasnt For Betsy-46574-v0-1"
Iguazu Shopping Center v2-62317-2-0"
IMI Galil 1.0-59635-1-0"
IMI_UZI_v_1_0-48523-1-0"
Immersive Hit Reactions
Immersive Recoil 2.0
Improved Console-70801-3-1702935922"
Improved Lighting Shaders-69833-1-5beta4a-1668774269"
Interior Lighting Overhaul 6-9-35794-6-9"
Iron Sight Recoil Animations kNVSE-75581-2-0-1673050083"
ISControl-75417-2-3-1688602677"
ISInertia v1.1-83648-1-1-1705167646"
Jacobstown Expanded-36421"
Jacobstown Lodge Suite-79949-1-1675869578"
Jacobstown Pond Fix-64103-1-0"
JacobsTown-51927-"
Jet Pack Effect for Aerial Assault Armor-50829-"
JIP LN NVSE Plugin-58277-57-21-1694289677"
JohnnyGuitarNVSE-66927-4-98-1701208963"
Joshua Graham Companion MAIN-56791-1-3"
Joshua Graham Outfit 2K Retexture-74202-1-0-1635320209"
JSRS Sound Mod 2.1 - Main File-81585-2-11-1689512817"
KatieNPC ENGLISH version 2_6 FULL-45150-2-6"
KEYWORDS-83088-1-01-1695964898"
Khan Assets (more pronounced signs)-72798-V1-1624577442"
Khans Forever-82521-v1-0-1691702006"
kNVSE-71336-20-1632181674"
KOTR Version 1 dot 04-56353-1-04"
L96A1_v_1_1-50805-1-1"
Lazarus - SMI Gun Runners V2 (Collision Fix)-75562-V2-1-1647360702"
LegionTerritoriesExpanded-68527-1-0-0-1584907535"
Level 100 and Perk Per Level-43055-1-3-1550210717"
LightBright Strip Overhaul-77093-3-1-1694229498"
Lime's Fort Overhaul-73749-1-20-1632706091"
Live Dismemberment
Lucky 38 Suite Reloaded Version 4.8 ESM-55540-4-8"
M14_v1-48477-1-0"
M37 Ithaca v1_1-47457-1-1"
MAC Beta Sexual Innuendo-36759"
Main File - All you need-45557-1"
Main File - Total Package Update 10-23-2021-50751-018-5-8-1635004434"
Main file-62682-0-2"
MainFile-74132-1-3v-1645220297"
Marcus Companion 0_80 Full-37376-0-80"
markers1b-36689"
Master Build-68009-0-5-5-1614054783"
MatebaModel6_v1_2-48499-1-2"
MauserC96_1dot1-48317-1-1"
McCarran South Gate Restored-71708-1-7-3-1625866293"
Melee Sounds-77766-0-5-1678726237"
Mikeburnfire's NPCs and Quests-70988-1-1-1676463261"
Millenia AK74 Patch-64339-0-1"
Millenia AKS74U Patch-64339-0-1"
Millenia Colt M4A1 Patch-64339-0-1"
Millenia Desert Eagle Patch-64339-0-2"
Millenia HK CAWS Fix-64339-0-1"
Millenia L96 Fix-64339-0-1"
Millenia M-14 Patch-64339-0-1"
Millenia M37 Ithaca Patch-64339-0-1"
Millenia PPSH-41 patch-64339-0-1"
Millenia Remington 870 Sawn-Off Patch-64339-0-2-3-1610376337"
Millenia STEN MK2 Patch-64339-0-1"
Millenia TOZ66 Patch-64339-0-1"
MLF-68714-3-1-1691312308"
MMRE ESPs-44139-1-0"
MMRE Music Pack 1-44139-1-0"
MMRE Music Pack 2-44139-1-0"
MMRE Music Pack 3-44139-1-0"
MMRE Music Pack 4-44139"
MM's Hit Marker SFX-84498-1-0-1705158422"
MNTLs Energy Weapons Sound Pack 1_3-52684-1-3"
Mojave Delight For Type3 V1dot1-44312-1-1-1666593552"
Mojave Express Courier Delivery Work - Primm-77176-2-5-1689168964"
Mojave NPCs-72615-2-2-1703969750"
Monster Mod Re-Release-41361-10b"
Mop bucket_flat mop-42551-"
More Perks Reimagined-76584-3-0-1-1652840544"
NAWEMO-65499-1-3-3-1626792344"
NCR Rearmament Lore-Friendly 1_5-40139"
Nefarious Nipton-80578-0-2-1684856493"
Nevada Skies 2281 Rework-35998-Final-Rework-1622851359"
Nevada Skies 2281 Rework-35998-Final-Rework-1622851359.1"
New Vegas Script Extender (xNVSE)-67883-6-3-4-1696621396"
New Vegas Stories New and Alproved-66505-1-2-1552144100"
NivSpiceofLife-V 1_2-44476-1-2"
NMC_NVInteriors Compatibility Patch Small v2.0-43534-v2-0-1551560025"
NMCs Textures NV LARGE Pack Part 1 of 3 FOR NMM -43135-1-0"
NMCs Textures NV LARGE Pack Part 2 of 3 FOR NMM -43135-1-0"
NMCs Textures NV LARGE Pack Part 3 of 3 FOR NMM-43135-1-0"
NMCs Textures NV MEDIUM Pack Part 1 of 2 FOR NMM-43135-1-0"
NMCs Textures NV MEDIUM Pack Part 2 of 2 FOR NMM -43135-1-0"
NMCs Textures NV SMALL Pack SINGLE FILE FOR NMM-43135-1-0"
Novac Gun Runners-74981--8-1684355606"
Novac Overhaul And Gun Runners Emporium NV Novac Apartments Compatible patch-74981-V-08-1662917931"
NPCs Sprint In Combat-68179-2-13-1623455074"
NPCs use Aid Items-68742-2-3-1605058088"
NV - Energy Visuals Plus 2-80000-2-3-1685437455"
NV Novac Apartment - Main-55531-1-48-1586720487"
NVAC - New Vegas Anti Crash-53635-7-5-1-0"
NVBI Version 1 dot 55-37310-1-55"
NVBII Version 1 dot 47-41184-1-47"
NVBIII Version .954 FULL-55744--954"
NVCS Installer-68776-13-1675087064"
NVCS Installer-68776-13-1675087064+2"
NVInteriors Core v2.1.1-43534-v2-1-1--1551573205"
NVK Version 1.0-56408-1-0"
NVR V10-35100"
NVR VMinimum-35100"
NVTF-66537-10-2-2-3-1685050240"
NVWillow v1.10-41779-1-10"
Ojo Bueno Texture Pack for FNV - HIGH-39755-Quiznak"
Old World Radio part 5-47577-3-5"
Old World Radio part 6-47577-4-0"
Old World Radio part 7-47577-4-5"
Old World Radio Update X Minus ONE Radio added-47577-2-0"
Old World Radio Update Rangers Radio added-47577-3-0"
Old World Radio Update The French Connection Radio added-47577-2-5"
Old World Radio-47577-1-5"
Outside Bets V 1-4-46648-V1-4"
Pacers Gambit V1-0-46584-V1-0"
Pancor_Jackhammer-47528-1-0"
Pin-up Loading Screens 1920x1080-63663-1-0"
PipBoy 3000 HD Retexture - PC and Xbox-54609-3-52"
PKM 1.0-57253-1-0"
PM's Med-Textures v1.0-62946-1-0"
PN-For the Enclave visor patch-72932-1-0-1625393614"
Pointlight Flashlight-77787-3-1-0-1676259796"
Populated Camp Golf and McCarran-81283-1-1685088310"
Populated Casinos Medium-35369-V0-96"
Populated Casinos V0_96-35369-V0-96"
Populated Strip Freeside and Casinos Light Version-81408-2-1688967130"
PPSH41_1_dot_0-49910-1-0"
Prodlimen Creature Pack-71569-13-01-1698109543"
Project Nevada - DLC Support 1_3-42363-1-3"
Project Nevada - EVE Support 1_2-42363-1-2"
Project Nevada - WME Support 1_1-42363-1-1"
Project Nevada - WMX Support 1_3-42363-1-3"
Project Nevada 2_5-40040-2-5"
Ragdolls-59147-5-3-9--1606565785"
random stimpak-80705-1-1680953623"
Real Time Reflections-82343-1-3-4-1695802057"
Remington870SawedOff-47255-1-4"
Robbable Caravans-69863-1-3-1599748714"
RobCo Certified-43331-1-26-1629323936"
Roberts AIO - NMM Compatible-48535-1-3"
Roberts Boner Addon 3_3-54731-3-3"
Roberts New Vegas Main - Nude 3_4-54731-3-4"
Rotface to Riches v1-2-45799-V1-2"
Ruger SR-556-55872-1-2"
Run the Lucky 38 V3-0-40531-3-0"
Russell Version 1.17-50107-1-17"
Saxxons Quest Collection 0_85-52197-0-85"
SD_Capture-82597-0-1-4-1692771648"
SD_Fatigue-78111-0-2-2-1692772121"
Securitrons New and Shiny-71123-1-4-1616002669"
Securitrons On Alert-69245-4-5-2-1705169732"
Shadow of the Behemoth - Legion Monster Overhaul-62339-1-2"
ShiFixedWithUpdate-60333-1-1"
Shogo Heavy Industries Grammar and Misc Fixes v2.0-66390-2-0-1575837609"
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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the desolate prison yard. The air was thick with tension as Rick Grimes gathered the group around the fire. The Governor's first attack had left them battered but not broken. The Woodbury militia had retreated, but in their haste, they'd left behind something of great value – an M2 Browning .50 caliber machine gun mounted on an abandoned HMMWV.
Rick's gaze shifted to the distant wreckage. "We need that gun operational," he said, his voice steady. "It could be the edge we need."
Daryl Dixon, ever the practical one, nodded. "I'll take a look at it, see what we can salvage."
The group dispersed, each member falling into their roles. Daryl and Glenn Rhee headed towards the HMMWV, while Maggie Greene, Michonne, and Tyreese scouted the perimeter for any signs of danger. Hershel Greene and Carol Peletier tended to the wounded and kept an eye on the children.
The HMMWV stood like a silent sentinel amidst the ruins of the recent battle. The M2 was still mounted, but it had taken some damage. Daryl inspected the gun, his keen eyes assessing the repairs needed.
"Glenn, we’re gonna need parts to fix this," Daryl muttered. "Think we can find what we need at that National Guard post nearby?"
Glenn nodded, determination in his eyes. "It's worth a shot. We should head out at first light."
The next morning, a small team set out: Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Michonne, and Maggie. They moved swiftly and silently through the overgrown back roads, avoiding main routes where walkers and human threats were more likely to linger. The National Guard post loomed in the distance, a grim reminder of the world that once was.
The post was eerily quiet. Vehicles were abandoned, and the gates hung open, swaying gently in the breeze. The group approached cautiously, weapons ready. Inside, they found the remnants of a fierce battle – shell casings, spent ammunition, and the decaying remains of soldiers and walkers alike.
"Stay sharp," Rick whispered. "We don’t know what’s waiting for us in there."
The team split up, each member searching for anything useful. Glenn and Maggie located a storage room with several boxes of .50 caliber ammunition belts. They loaded them into their packs, their hearts racing with every creak and groan of the building.
In another section, Michonne found spare parts that might be useful for repairing the M2. She carefully examined each piece, selecting only what they needed. As they worked, the tension in the air grew thicker.
Suddenly, the moans of walkers filled the air. The noise had drawn a small horde, and they were closing in fast.
"Time to go!" Daryl shouted, firing his crossbow at the nearest walker.
The team regrouped, their path to the exit blocked by the undead. They fought their way through, each member displaying the skill and determination that had kept them alive this long. Rick's revolver roared, Michonne's katana sliced through the air, and Daryl's crossbow thudded with deadly accuracy.
They broke through the horde, making a mad dash for the exit. As they neared the gate, a new threat emerged – a group of armed survivors, eyes glinting with desperation.
"Drop your weapons and hand over the supplies," the leader demanded, his gun trained on Rick.
Rick’s eyes narrowed. "We’re not looking for trouble, but we’re not giving up what we found."
The standoff was tense, both sides ready to fight. But before it could escalate, the sound of an approaching walker horde distracted their adversaries. Rick seized the opportunity, signaling his team to move. They fought their way past the human threats, using the chaos to their advantage.
The journey back to the prison was fraught with tension, but they made it, battered and exhausted but triumphant. They quickly set to work, repairing the M2 with the parts Michonne had found. Hershel supervised as Glenn and Daryl loaded the belts of .50 caliber ammunition.
As night fell, the M2 stood ready, a powerful symbol of their resilience and determination. Rick looked at his weary but resolute group, pride swelling in his chest.
"We’ve got a fighting chance now," he said quietly. "We’ll keep fighting, for each other, for tomorrow."
The group nodded, united by the hardships they had faced and the hope that flickered in the darkness. They had salvaged more than just a weapon; they had salvaged their spirit and their will to survive.

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

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

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

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

EDIT** I saw the list wasn't well formatted and have reformatted it with numbers so if you want to discuss a point, you can refer to the number if you wish.
Kyler posted these questions on her Facebook page. https://www.facebook.com/kylerashtyn
There were 778 responses! I haven't read them, but I think this is a great list for us who want to turn every stone over for #JusticeForMica:
Things we still don’t know the answer to. Unfortunately, the list is still pretty long and I’m sure I’m forgetting some, so feel free to post yours in the comments as well. I will do my best to add them to this list.
1. How did JP get her necklace? He could have taken it after he saw her body, but he also could have taken it before that.
2. Why did he have to replace his dog tag chain at the mall after her death?
3. What did Mica do on the side of the gas station building? The PI went there in person and confirmed they had a bathroom inside.
4. Was she being stalked and/or followed by the people in the pawn shop and/or the truck at the gas station? It appears that could have been happening.
5. Why didn’t Robeson County report on the fact that Mica had bruises and scratches on her hands and arms, or discuss the shell casings on the ground at the scene?
6. Why would someone drive that far and go into such a secluded area of the park if they wanted their family to be able to find them, and walk through high water in the process? That part of the unmarked trail is connected to a creek, so it’s likely that there is always water on it. We encountered no water on trails anywhere else.
7. Why did it take her 25 minutes to drive to the pawn shop when it only should have taken 10 or 15, and why did she remove her work shirt? It wasn’t busy season in Myrtle Beach yet, so it shouldn’t have taken that long. We drove the route ourselves this week and it didn’t take that long. She could have easily made it to work for her shift at noon if she left her house at 11:38.
8. We all know by now that JP has several cars in the church’s name. If we don’t have photos of him in Charleston, how do we know he was actually there? Just because his truck was seen doesn’t mean he was driving it.
9. Why won’t the gas station owner or the state park people release the videos from their cameras if they want to seem cooperative or innocent? The PI and I were promised videos of the inside of the gas station that we have still not received, and he had cameras everywhere inside. We have no video or photo proof that Mica drove to the state park by herself after leaving the gas station. Just because her car was there also doesn’t mean she drove it there.

1. Why didn’t they do a gunshot residue test, an autopsy, or a toxicology report?
   
2. Why did JP want to rush the cremation so badly? Why hasn’t he been visibly grieving?
   
3. Where was Wayne Miller during the time this happened? Where was Suzie Skinner? Where was anyone connected with JP? Who are the “other people” he was with, as Robeson County stated?
   
4. Why won’t the people in the kayak come forward to share witness statements like Johnnie Jacobs has? He has been very cooperative with the PI.
   
5. Did they check her car for a tracker or do any kind of DNA swabs to see if someone else was in the car with her?
   
6. Where is her Apple watch?
   
7. Where are the 2 or 3 kayakers who also heard the singular shot?
   
8. Why did JP want to secure her journals so badly?
   
9. Who currently has her car?
   
10. Who had Mica been communicating with the night before or day of the incident?
    
11. Why was JP trying to access her apartment?
    
12. Why would you purchase such an expensive gun to kill yourself when there are tons of cheaper options and you had been struggling with money?
    
13. Why did JP go into her workplace the evening of the 28th to talk to her coworkers about how crazy she was?
    
14. How did JP know she was heading to Lumberton before she died unless he had another tracker on her car or she was being followed?
    
15. Why did she have so much cash on her?
    
16. In the video at the pawn shop, she folds the receipt on camera. Why isn’t the photo of the receipt in the Robeson County report folded? It’s perfectly flat.
    
17. Who has her phone, and did anyone have her location? If she was so scared of JP, I would think someone had it.
    
18. What did the 911 operator see on her screen that caused her to say, “I don’t think you’re in Robeson County?” The parking lot where she parked is Columbus County and the point where her body was found is Robeson County, so this COULD indicate she called from her car.
    
19. Why was no name given or asked for during the 911 call?
    
20. How was her call so clear when that area is known for spotty cellular service, and the kayaker who found her body had terrible service? The state park website even states that they need to add a radio tower because the service is so poor.
    
21. Why didn’t Robeson release the body camera footage?
    

Did I break girl code?
So this happened a few years ago(pretty sure everything is settled and in the past and I can post this now safely) and we don't really talk anymore, friendship pretty much died after this, but i wanted the great people of the potato Queen community to weigh in and tell me if I'm a shitty friend.
So many years ago, a friend was dating a guy we will call trash. We didn't really know anything about him, only met him the once, with the exception that he had a dog that she ABSOLUTELY adored. There was some drama with stories of exes and finding dating profiles but nothing that screamed RUN AWAY and these stories seemed to be in the beginning weeks of their relationship and, to our knowledge, they were working things out as they went and all was well.
Fast forward a couple months and I get a call in the evening where my friend sounded obviously intoxicated and like she was driving. I couldn't really understand alot of what she was saying but it sounded like they had had a fight over something and she had taken his dog when she left. (She did admit later she had been drinking but swears she was parked somewhere and just had the car running to listen to music, I don't believe her but there it is).
Now something to know about me is apparently I "mom" my friends. When we go out drinking I'm the one who tries to herd everyone together, if a dude is being CREEPY I shoo him away, if someone is trying to start a fight I cool the situation or back up my friends. I thought this was just being a good friend but I digress. I'm also ashamed to admit I had a dui years before this and it was a horrible mistake that thankfully didn't injure anyone, so I was well aware of how something like this absolutely ruins your life for YEARS after even if you never make it out of the parking lot let alone onto highway, he lived rurally.
So my initial response is probably wrong but I'm focused on the fact that she's drinking and driving. While she's incoherently talking about whatever happened I'm trying to get her to pull over and tell me where she is so someone can come get her(she has a business and it definitely heavily relies on her having a vehicle and a liscense, but moot point, I'm more concerned about the fact it sounds like she SHOULD NOT BE BEHIND A WHEEL and i dont want her to get hurt) and this infuriates her because I'm not being supportive and listening and she hangs up. I try calling back repeatedly for at LEAST 30 minutes but she won't answer. It's then that the boyfriend is contacting her friends on Facebook telling everyone that she stole his dog and he's calling the cops.
Here's where I might have broke friend/girl code. I contacted him on Facebook and pleaded with him not to call the cops, that he knows she loves that dog she's just drunk and this can all be resolved in the morning when everyone has clear heads.
Now the next day shit literally hits the fan. When i try to talk to her she is IRRATE with me because I not only contacted him but told him that she was drinking and driving and DID in fact have the dog when she had said otherwise to him and his parents.
Turns out(and I want to reiterate no one had ANY idea about any of this) that the fight was actually he had hit her and is actually the lowest piece of shit known to man of a sub species of human. Cops were involved because he HAD in fact called them on her that night and she also pressed charges(he beat her up again when she went to go get her belongings) and when it went to court he used my message as evidence.(she had driven back and let the dog loose by a field somewhere or something i guess so wasnt caught with the fluffy fam, the court stuff came later which made her even angrier at me). So my potato peeps, did I break girl code by messaging her abuser even though I was unaware of the situation? Was there a better way to handle this? Thanks potato fam!
Edit: As far as I know she got a restraining order against him to use anytime he tried to contact her. I think he did some jail time because he had guns he wasn't supposed to have but I'm not 100% on too many of the details.

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

My fellow countrymen, let us turn our minds back to the hallowed grounds where the indomitable spirit of liberty was forged and preserved, often under the shadow of peril and the clarion call to arms. Among the instruments of our struggle for freedom, none has left a more indelible mark upon our history than the rifle. This steadfast companion of the American soldier, the hunter, and the patriot has played a pivotal role in securing the blessings of liberty we hold dear today.
Consider, if you will, the frigid morning of April 19, seventeen seventy-five, when the first light of dawn revealed the brave minutemen gathered on the Lexington Green. Armed with little more than their rifles, these ordinary farmers stood against the might of the British Empire, their hearts ablaze with the desire for self-determination. As the smoke cleared, it was the resolute crack of those rifles that echoed the birth of a nation, a nation conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
Throughout the ensuing years, the rifle remained a steadfast guardian of American freedom. In the dense forests of the Revolution, through the smoke-filled fields of the Civil War, and across the expansive frontiers of the West, it was the rifle that empowered our people to defend their homes, their principles, and their sacred honor. The names of battles and the tales of heroism are many, but they all resound with the same refrain: the rifle, wielded by those who sought not conquest, but the preservation of their cherished way of life.
Let us not forget the tales of individual valor, such as that of Sergeant Alvin York in the Argonne Forest during the Great War. With a rifle in hand, he single-handedly silenced enemy machine guns and captured scores of the foe, his actions echoing the steadfast resolve of our forefathers. It was his rifle that made his bravery possible, his rifle that turned the tide of battle, and his rifle that became a symbol of American tenacity and virtue.
In the annals of our nation's story, the rifle stands as a testament to the enduring power of the individual in the face of tyranny. It is more than a mere tool of war; it is a symbol of our right to defend our homes and our freedoms, a right enshrined in the very fabric of our Constitution. As we reflect upon the sacrifices made by those who have gone before us, let us remember the rifle not only as a weapon, but as a beacon of the unyielding spirit of liberty that defines us as a people.
In the rifle, we find a reminder that freedom is not granted, but earned and defended. It is a powerful symbol of the resolve and courage that has defined our nation's journey. May we continue to honor its legacy, and may it ever remind us of the price of liberty and the valor required to secure it.

This happened about two weeks ago.
For context, the houses in my (15F) neighborhood are placed in straight lines, so all of our yards are connected like one long strip of grass. The dog I shot lived 3 houses down from me and the one who was attacked lives right next to me. The further down neighbor got an XL bully type dog about 2 months ago, and the other dog was a puppy my neighbors had adopted a few weeks earlier. They also have two young kids and one other dog that’s also very small, both of them are about the size of an average cat. The puppy is very yappy because it hasn’t been trained yet. The owner of the big dog has an electric fence and lets it hang out off leash in the front/back yards, and whenever I walk by it starts barking like crazy and acting aggressive. I’ve seen dogs jump their electric fences so I keep an eye on their yard when I’m outside, especially when the neighbor’s kids or dogs are out. Also note my parents keep a shotgun propped against the wall next to the door that opens out into my back porch.
The day this happened I was sitting on my porch reading while the neighbor kids were playing with both their dogs outside. The XL owner let it out the back door and I didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but after it did its business, it started like jogging/quickly trotting in our direction. It walked straight through where the fence was supposed to be. It wasn’t acting crazy but this freaked me out so I opened the door to my parents’ room and sat back down with the shotgun in my lap. The kids were excited about the doggy and went to go pet it as it got closer but it walked right past them and went up to the new puppy, who was yapping quite a bit. It didn’t growl, stiffen, or show any sign of aggression, just lunged right for it and caught in its mouth. The puppy was so small that basically like 2/3 of its body was in this dog’s mouth. The kids screamed and ran inside and the dog just clenched its jaw onto the little one while it started making horrible loud whining. I was sitting still atp l but when I saw blood in the little dog’s fur I just got up and shot the XL through the head. It was only like five feet away from me and I think it died on the spot. It kind of collapsed with its jaw still around the puppy.
The kids’ parents, my older brother, and a few other concerned dads rushed out when they heard the gunshot. There was a lot of yelling and I tried to explain what happened while the kids’ mom grabbed the little dog and rushed off with it. The couple that owns the XL stepped outside and everyone started yelling at them to get over here, and when they did they looked more pissed than concerned. They demanded to know what happened and I explained properly. Both dog owners were mad as hell. The XL owners started cussing me out and asking why I would intervene in a “dog fight”. I didn’t reply and the kids’ dad told me to go inside and that he’d deal with it, so I did. I was pretty shaken up so I just went up to my room and put my headphones on. It was the first time I had fired a gun at a living thing. I don’t know what they were talking about but I could hear muffled yelling for like 10 minutes afterward.
Since then, the XL owner’s have found my facebook and been commenting on some of my posts calling me a dog killer and an animal abuser as well as some slurs for Mexican people (I’m brown but not Mexican). They are also sometimes on their front porch when I walk home from school and yell stuff like “Hi, cunt!” in a passive aggressive voice. I just ignore them completely. My neighbors are working on a police report and want to wait until they’ve got all of the medical bills they want to sue for so they and my parents can sue them at the same time (my parents want to sue for my emotional distress). My family and most of my neighbors have been telling me that I did the right thing since the puppy looks like it’ll make a full recovery, but I still feel like I should’ve done something else or avoided hurting the other dog at all.
AITA?

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

Freshly back and awake after a twelve day stint for my first time there. I knew that I wanted to go in general, and while I didn't have a firm itinerary planned out, there was one main goal that I had in terms of sites within the country. The main video game that I play is Beatmania IIDX, and it has internal trophies which are represented as badges. Your profile allows you to assign up to five of them as visible when you start a new round, and there are badges to earn for playing at least one round in every prefecture in Japan, as well as every subregion. Getting the Kanto badge meant that I needed to play at least one round in Tokyo, Kanagawa, Saitama, Gunma, Tochigi, Ibaraki, and Chiba. After five days, I had that complete, and now I have a permanent record of this trip within the game itself. There was also a time-limited event to earn points in IIDX in order to exchange them for goods, such as a hat, or a towel, or a new account card and a poster, and I managed to get that taken care of in somewhat dramatic fashion. I did some other things too.
Primary general points
· Getting Suica set on the phone and using it was generally painless. There were only two times where I needed to summon the help of a resident JR employee to clear up an issue with the gate not reading the card for some reason.
· Most vocal interaction which I had was the opposite of painless, because I continuously kept trying to speak Japanese and failing, and most people would realize that I was completely failing at it and responded with English (some with full on sentences, others with just a few words). There were a few rare times that I was able to express my intent in Japanese, receive a response, understand the response, and reply as necessary, but that was rare. Once English was invoked, I would stay with it, because that's what they were expecting. I've been self-studying the language for more than twenty years in varying degrees of intensity, and while my reading comprehesion seemed sufficient enough for this trip, and while I didn't expect my speaking to be as good because I don't have any opportunity to practice speaking, I came away bitterly disappointed in my vocal and speaking comprehension in terms of my interaction with people there. Even within the trip I could at least overhear common chitchat better, but any time I needed to converse with someone for some reason, I usually needed to have things repeated several times and broken down before I finally realized what was being said.
· You are going to be asked about separately buying a bag with every non-food purchase. Accept or immediately present one that you are carrying to indicate how your purchase shall be bagged.
· I never once had my passport requested for presentation.
· Only once did a person volutnarily reach out to address me, and it was just to ask me where I was from in English. Otherwise, everyone left me alone the entire time.
· Weather through the period was ideal. Mid to upper 70F/25C range and only a few days where it was rainy, and even then it wasn't a downpour. A while ago I personally resolved to only wear suits in public and I purchased a new pair of Mephisto shoes after hearing reports of the extensive walking causing problems for traveller's feet and shoes. My attire help up well; there were only a few times that I needed to avoid sunlight to not get too hot, and I have no issues to report from the shoes.
· I only got X'd out of a restaurant one time, and I think it's only because I wandered into it before it was ready for service. Otherwise, I never once waited in line for food, I never once went to restaurant more than once, and all food was acceptably priced for the portion and excellent for the quality.
For these per-day recounts, I wrote them contemporaneously at the end of each day, so you'll need to forgive me for some writing being in present tense and other writing being in past tense.
Day 1 - Travel, Sugamo, Ikebukuro
Non stop flight from Chicago OHare to Haneda. 12 hours. Good thing I usually don't watch movies, because that just means that all I needed to do was binge a few to make the trip go by.
Pre-trip research led me to choose APA Sugamo as my home base for the visit, and I think that it was a very fortuitious choice. I'll have more to say about it later.
Some awkward encounters happened right away upon checking in here. I was at the nearby Family Mart to buy some things and I didn’t catch that he was making sure I wanted a bag until he repeated it five times. Yes, I’ll take it. Before getting there I was coming down to ground level after checking into my room, and when that person saw that I would have been the only other person going down to the ground, they ducked right back out. I was warned on both of these kinds of things happening, so I guess it’s good to have that immediately out of the way. It would turn out that people deliberately avoiding me was rare throughout the trip.
Despite not sleeping on the trip, I had freshly arrived and had no sense of being tired, so once I had my stuff down, I went off to Ikebukuro right away. No picture or video truly conveys how crowded these areas can get. It can only be experienced in person to be understood.
I soon found Round One Ikebukruo and went right in. So dense and loud. It’s entirely alien to me to see no less than ten IIDX machines in operation and all of them in use. I dumped the money into random tickets, as I foresaw doing, but now I have to wonder if that was the right thing to do, or if it’s tied to that location. I guess I’ll find out.
The forecast is for rain so I need to be in a hurry to figure out where I’m going to go. There might be only one day left for me to get my time limited toys.
Day 2 - Kawasaki, Kanagawa - Utsunomiya, Tochigi - Oomiya, Saitama
My body decided that it only needed four hours of sleep this morning. Without doing more research, I somehow decided to assume that more of the Round One locations were close to 24 hours of operation much like Ikebukuro. Answer: no. I hopped on the train early and went to Shibuya first, but it was very quiet, so I decided to get some of the travels out of the way today and headed south to Kawasaki. I still needed to dawdle for a while until Silk Hat opened at 900AM, and when I finally was able to get inside, I was only able to verify that their store had several allotments of the campaign goods and all allotments were out. Played one round on a monitor that was surprisingly blurry, and I don’t know why that would be the case with a lightning model, but it was, so that was enough.
After doing all of that, I resolved to try to go to Chiba and Ibaraki afterwards. I figured that with Kanagawa and Tokyo likely all out, going to the outskirts would make more sense. However, there was an injury on one of the rails that threw everything off normal, and the train I found myself riding was bound for Utsunomiya instead. Seeing as how I was going to go there eventually, I rolled with it.
It doesn’t take too long to move away from Tokyo metropolitan area before you encounter more forest like areas and rice paddy fields. Halfway through the trip I noticed that two older women suddenly hopped off while the train was waiting to go to the next stop, and I followed them when I realized they found the express line. Utsunomiya has a substantial size to its area and buildings but it was very quiet on the streets there in midday. Walked a mile to Sega GIGO, found that they didn’t even have the goods tracker up. All out. Interesting buliding for it having several neon signs, all vintage and authentic at that. Getting to there from the south meant cutting through Saitama, so I knew I had enough time to make one last attempt there. Research shown two stores being near Oomiya station, so that’s where I ended up. Taito Station was immediately visible upon exit, and they have two IIDX machines specifically with 20 gram springs, which is closer to my home setup and that much lighter than standard 50 gram springs. The final hour drew near and I made one last visit to that city’s Round One. Unlike nearly every other place I went to so far, it only had one IIDX machine. However, and maybe because of that, their goods listing didn’t show everything as out. One painful language exchange later, I was able to discern that what I wanted was available. When you spend more than 3000 yen in a single credit, the game wants to verify if you really want to proceed. It does it again at 6000 and 9000. Yes, I really do. But, having made that money dump I was able to get my hands on the e-amuse card and poster with fifteen minutes left before the deadline. Mission complete. By this point in the day it was exceedingly difficult to even look at the screen so I was ready to come home, but not before getting some goods at the Oomiya Book Off and redeeming what I could for points at Round One Ikebukuro. By the end of the day the only thing that I could tolerate doing was to buy some chicken and nigiri from the nearby train station. Good enough. At that point in the day my body felt like it wants to rock back and forth after all the train riding done today. But, it ended up being worthwhile after all.
One nostalgic feeling I had the most strongly in the day was at the Utsunomiya location where the smell of it triggered past buried memories of yesteryear. I think I want to attribute it to the stronger second hand cigarette smell but I’m not sure - all the same I felt its presence strongly there. Also, I don’t see Oomiya (or really Saitama itself) mentioned as a fun place to go, but it might serve as an acceptable alternative to Ikebukuro, only not as massive in scale of human quantity. Depending on how the trip goes in total I may end up back there for IIDX playing, at least if I don’t find any other place that has 20G springs.
Day 3 - Akihabara
With the travels out of the way, it was time to keep things more regionalized and stick to one area, and there is shopping that needs to be done, so it was off to Akihabara and to see how much of other posted tales hold true. The answer is that it is a lot of it. Kotobukiya can stand to open sooner than noon. Super Potato is indeed priced for a market which wants to snap up anything cheap - I at least found Xi for under 500 and felt that it would have been a bit silly to buy only that, but it didn’t make spending 2000 on one single issue of Arcadia any better. I had no idea that Hey Arcade was right next to both of them; while it was assuredly nice to be there and see the row of Cave shooters among everything else, something got messed up with my registration of my new eamuse card with everything else, so that quickly added to my stress. Having to carry around a few hundred dollars worth of crap with every step didn’t help matters. At least I was able to help a person recover their lost phone by applying a bit of logic to the situation and deducing it to belong to the only person there who looked French, as it was on the Lock Screen. They were relieved, yes. Then, rain came, and it was more than I was anticipating, and I left the umbrella at the room, particularly since I knew I’d be shopping this day. It also turns out to have not mattered much, because I went to visit Bic Camera so that I could get myself a hair trimmer while here, and that turned into me finding a bunch of Kit Kats available, so that meant a second bag. The wind kicked out the rain and my umbrella. In trying to get as many gifts secured as possible, I found some gachapon, but it needed 100Y coins, and I didn’t need paper money in the trip yet. After fighting with maps, I found an ATM to get cash, and got the gachapon. I came home late with feeling rather crushed about the day in that I couldn’t take pictures very well with having to juggle weather and bagging considerations. There were some nice parts of the experience to be sure but between that and more gawking at Super Potato pricing ($135 for PS3 Caladrius? $6000 for Pulstar?) and seeing similar markups on other goods, I don’t think it’s unfair to say that there is a reputation that this area carries and the pricing is there to go with it.
Day 4 - Laundry Day. Shibuya, Harajuku, Shinjuku
I was so drained at the end of Day 3 that I fell asleep on the bed immediately after ending the night call, which meant that I woke up at 0200AM to a room that was fully lit. This meant that I needed to look up how to resolve my eamuse problem or else I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. I did both. Awake at 0800AM meant that I had time to do laundry while I figured out what to do with the rest of the day. This meant that I was able to get more of Sugamo in pictures, and it was nice to be able to walk among the actual residences, and do other things like come across a school as it was actually in session. With them being close by and all in succession, I figured to get Shibuya, Harajuku, and Shinjuku visited. It turns out to have been a good day for it, as the temperature was perfectly cool and no rain came, and the sun came out only for a little bit. Shibuya somehow doesn’t seem quite as large in scope in person but the crowds were definitely there, and it is much more hilly than I anticipated as well. After wandering around and not seeing any arcade for a bit, I came across a series of coffee and cookie shops and remained strong to not indulge. It was there while looking at a Disney store (which gets tourists to take pictures of it for some reason) that the song Alone Again came on through the nearby public speakers. What timing. It drove me to finally get a treat for myself, and the frozen latte (black sesame and houji) and croissant (dark chocolate filing) were certainly good, it ended up costing more than the dinner I’d have later this day. I found a seclusion with a garbage can to eat the food and not carry the trash around, then an arcade soon after, and it was time to determine if I could fix the problem. Just like an easy click, it was. New to trash. Old to new. Done. Why did it have to be this way. Harajuku came next, and the environment there was distinct. This one in particular felt like it was an extended carnival atmosphere with the single tight knit market street and emphasis on fashion. A conversation with a freelance artist in the subway actually went well enough that I didn’t feel dumb. The same sensation carried to Shinjuku as well, only it was more spread out. Kabuki street was interesting to see in person, and I didn’t get any unseemly vibes from the place. Maybe it’s different later at night. A return home at a reasonable time allowed me to go down Sugamo’s market street a bit; most of it was closed, but it was interesting to come across the few remaining stores that were open by 0800PM, and more so the one that wasn’t. Coming back to the hotel I found a 24 hour ramen shop with nobody inside. The chef didn’t want to speak and only pointed to the ordering kiosk when I addressed her. The food came through a slot in the obscured window. At least her thank you as I left was a bit more warm, and the food was certainly delicious. To match with the matcha dessert that I bought from Sugamo station, I swung by a 7Eleven to get a drink, and found a milk tea for cheaper than a vending machine. The overhead music in the store was an instrumental version of Alone Again.
Day 5. Ibaraki - Mount Tsukuba, Miraidaira. Kashiwa, Chiba. Akihabara 2.
Awake at 0500AM on my own and knowing the current forecast meant that my envisioned plan for the day was quickly realized. Reaching the Tsukuba Express starting point from Akihabara needs you to get very far down into the ground before getting out into sunlight. I was on the ride early enough to see schoolchildren going about their commute, some of them being no older than ten and going about it unaccompanied. The people of Tsukuba seemed to be particularly helpful and cheerful that day, even despite my Suica issues at the gate. I didn’t ask his name at the counter but the man at the service desk was eager to speak with me about my career and what I was doing there. One asked where I was from on the way up to the summit and another caught my cable car ticket on the way down. There had to have been a few of them who saw my doing this climb in my business attire and thinking me to be a complete idiot if not outright mocking them for doing it that way while they employed the use of dual walking sticks and the like. I know I read some reports of the home stretch being difficult, but it did get pretty close to being an actual rock climb instead of a trail hike for that part of it. A quick stop to Miraidaira on the way back to get the Ibaraki play. The way the town center greets you upon leaving the rail gate struck me as incredible, as well as for how quiet it was. It was like walking onto a movie set. I did find the sweet shop after the play, and that was another painful interaction yet again. Oh well. Two quick stops down Tsukuba Express and one across from Tobu Urban Park line was enough to have a toe in Chiba, and I didn’t even need to leave the physical building of the train station to get to the basement level to find a machine for a play. Thank you, Kashiwa, you were great. Gunma is all that’s left. The descent from Tsukuba did take some earnest exertion, and after doing that the two stops, that put me back in Akihabara about when I anticipated; what I failed to anticipate is how much that place seems to drain on me. I think I just need to eat at an actual dinner time. Once I got back to Sugamo and had food it was a bit better, but while in Akihabara and being around that environment, and not finding things on a shopping list, I found myself just standing still and watching life pass me by. I hemmed and hawed a while for a maid girl’s hour of service for chitchat, but eventually I talked myself out of it because I just didn’t want potential trouble, just like her name. Komaru. I thought about doing this once just to say that I did, but I ultimately decided against it. You cannot go to this place with the expectation that you will find anything unless it is advertised and new. If you are looking for anything used, don’t count on it being there. You also cannot go there without having a strong resolve to not engage with the touts, because it becomes disheartening to see them do their job and blankly stare at the world when they're forced to stand out there and do nothing. Back to Sugamo to find a place that advertised Wagyu but the price they wanted was more than I wanted to spend. The ramen and seaweed & rice servings were fine, but they advertised endless drink and I didn’t receive that. All for $20? No, son. I did better than that elsewhere, I’ll know better now. Long day.
Day 6 - Tokyo Flea Market, Nakano Broadway, Ueno.
The weather couldn’t have been better for this weekend. I’ve read reports that the flea market held near the horse race track will be arbitrarily cancelled regardless of what is reported on the website, but my gut instinct told me that it would occur today, and it did. Turns out that a flea market is a flea market which is a flea market, no matter where it happens. Same allotment of clothes and stuff that few people really want to buy, although I was able to find myself some neckties at least. I probably overpaid based on what I saw later in the route, but that’s fine. They look nice. I settled on some shot glasses for a gift as well, but I’m surprised that I can’t ind something ornate that isn’t part of a sake set. Seated in the shade with a chocolate churro while rap music played in the background - it’s like I never left home. A woman came to sit across from me for the sake of sitting down; she was from Holland and today’s her last day in the country. Her husband came with food eventually. She had three weeks here and went to several places (allegedly, she didn’t list them out) and I asked her about Nakano Broadway. She didn’t make it there. It’s a good thing that I did - this is probably the kind of environment and market that people expect of Akihabara now, and maybe that’s how Aki was years ago, but it’s different from this. What’s more interesting is that Mandarake has a larger presence here than in Akihabara (so it seems to me), and their stores had floor after floor of any and every kind of pop culture product that’s been made in the past sixty years at least. Buttress that with extensive watch and jewelry stores and a slender arcade in the basement, and it’s a very well centralized microcosm of the country’s economy on the whole. I actually made a point to have dinner earlier than usual this time and found a place to serve some deep fried pork cuts served with rice and soup on the side. It was enough, and very well made. The day had not ended and my bag was heavy with several books purchased there, so I reported back to base briefly and decided to try visiting somewhere else, and settled on Ueno. Just as I arrived, a festival was underway where local teams of people made an elaborate show of carrying a home made shrine to a temple. Streets were officially blocked by police to allow the procession. In following the line I came up against makeshift food and amusement stands with the traditional toy gun shooting and goldfish catching. It appears that this is an official “start of summer” festival and I was able to watch it all happen in front of me. That was the good part of the day.
Day 7 - Tachikawa / Kunitachi. Shinjuku 2.
One of the games that I've never played is Beatmania III The Final. I've played some BM3 7th Mix years ago, but not The Final. I found a location that has one - World Game Circus in Tachikawa. In looking around that area before the trip, I saw that there was a nearby shinkansen museum, and not much else, so I figured that going to both places would make that walk worthwhile. Turns out that it wasn’t a museum in the proper sense of a dedicated building. Rather, it was a bullet train engine car on the side of a building that was unrelated, and that was it. A cute interaction happened here - when I approached the car, I heard some children running around inside, so I approached cautiously without knowing if I was encroaching upon someone else's alloted time or something. Once the children saw me, they gave a hearty irrashaimase as I entered, and the boy stamped a paper and presented it to me. Perfect. Despite it not being a typical musem, the card did have some interesting content, and it's good to see some kind of commemoration for their achievements and progression in that industry regardless. They have a lot to be proud about there. Off to WGC. Maps wasn’t lying about the walk taking twenty minutes. It's a good thing that I looked it up on streetview beforehand, because I otherwise would have walked right past it without knowing it was there. Then there it was, and there I confronted a past that I couldn’t visit again. Sure, I got to play BM3 The Final at last, but my timing was off, my hands were off, there wasn’t much I could do. Along with that I can say that I’ve played on a Beatmania II cabinet, and that was better than 5th Style at least. But that was it, that was all I could stand to do. It was right there and I couldn’t bear to put up with it more than a few rounds at best. Dream big, because only disappointment follows if your smaller dreams ever are fulfilled. I don’t know why finding IKEA back in Shinjuku was so difficult, but it took a while. I bought a bag, and then I bought a bag because the other bag was at the end of the register, which makes sense. I did feed myself before getting back to the Taito station to play some songs, but it still wasn’t good enough. All thumbs. Ended the day with laundry since the timing worked. Speaking of making dreams big, it’s time to cross another one off the list tomorrow. I can’t wait.
Day 8 - Takasaki, Gunma. Oomiya, Saitama 2.
It’s a good thing that I only needed to get to Ikebukuro to transfer over to the next stop, because that’s where that particular run ended for some reason. I wonder what was up. Speaking of things getting messed up on trains, I managed to find my way on a train that needed a separate ticket, which I didn't have. The conductor found me right away and had me disembark at Uraja for me to wait for the proper transfer. The weather forecast said there’d be rain, and the travel forecast said it would take two hours to get there, and neither lied. I feel like I had more people staring at me in Gunma than other places. I will say that I found the Takasaki station area to be rather charming, with the stores that it had inside and the emphasis on the music culture there. It’s one thing to offer a piano to the public to play, but it’s another to have a public willing to use it. This location had both. Having what was essentially a Bic Camera built into the facility was a nice touch too. The Leisure Land arcade was sandwiched between other floors that had its own offering of gaming stuff, so that was an unexpected bit of a fun thing to look through. The area was clean and sparsely populated, and it wasn’t picked clean of all matter of things that would normally get snapped up, so that was interesting. Finally, I made it over to the machine. They had separate fans for each location. I got the songs and then the medals came, and that’s that. Kantou Seiou. I would have stayed a bit longer but I wanted to have the medals show up right away, and my internet wasn’t cooperating, so that’s all I could do. I think there was an Internet cafe that I could have used in the facility, but I didn’t want to deal with an awkward conversation. I did get some Lawson on the way out, as well as some trinkets from the local Gunma-chan store as well as some mini croissants and some macademia cookie things. More vocal awkwardness. Omiya was one of the stops on the way back, and I found a place to serve omrice, so that’s another one off the list. No shoes allowed inside. The value wasn’t there but the service was good enough, as was the flavor. The machines with the 20G springs are indeed legit. Back home in time for some McDonalds, and that’s another food-checklist item marked off. Takoyaki mayo dipping sauce - somehow it’s both salty and sweet. While returning to the hotel, I did happen to encounter an argument amongst two teenaged locals where the guy ended up half-heartedly kicking the girl and getting her to cry. I wonder what their argument was about. I didn’t play hero, but someone else did so enough to prevent an escalation and called the police over.
Day 9 - Sugamo, Tokyo Sky Tree, Akihabara 3, Kanda
Up early enough to decide that I should at least visit the Sky Tree while I'm there just to say that I did, and that I should visit the Sugamo street market upon its open since it was right there in front of me. I'm glad to have done so. With everything open, this felt more like what one would think to expect from a flea market environment that's operated and supported by the local populace. Small stores were open both sides of the street that go on for many blocks, and some tents and tables were set up to sell second hand goods as well. I was able to find someone selling a US Morgan dollar and he wanted only 2000Y for it, so that was an easy buy. If I would have known better to anticipate this area, I wouldn't have felt compelled to buy kitchy tourist crap that is expected as gifts elsewhere. If you are looking for a place to idly shop around that doesn't get extremely crowded and has an authentic local feel to it, consider making a point to come here. Off to Sky Tree. Getting the combo ticket for the second deck was worth it just for the lack of crowds on the upper area. If you're going to come here, consider getting a phone selfie stick or something of the kind so that you can take pictures against the windows without the structure scaffolding obstructing your view. On the subject of shopping again, this might be another area to consider visiting just for the sake of the specialty stores to be found here, such as those for chopsticks or hairpins. To close out the day, my wife reminded me to look for something from the Square Enix cafe, so that meant swinging by Akihabara yet again. Since it is within a walkway, it was a bit of a pain to find this place even with using maps, but I eventually found it and got what she wanted to find. Played some IIDX at Game Panic, which was surprisingly small and the one machine that was avaialble to play had some 2P turntable issues, so that didn't last all that long. Dinner was at a nearby place that specalized in tofu, so that was a good ramen serving with that infused. For the evening, I wandered south to Kanda to get night pictures, and found it to feel pretty similar to Ueno.
Day 10 - Ginza, Tokyo, Kanda & Akihabara 4
Launrdry in the morning. I also wanted to say that I went to Ginza in my time here, and I didn't research anywhere to go to keep it a surprise. It was a bit warmer and sunnier than usual that day, and I stuck to the main road for most of the walk, so I can't say that I found too many points of the interest along the path that I walked starting from Yurakucho station and heading out that way. High class store for high class people, and that's too rich for my peasant blood. Similarly for Tokyo proper itself, I suppose I'd have to needed to wander far away from the Yamanote vicinity to find points of interest there, as I didn't encounter anything that was remarkably distinctive here in comparison to other areas that I have previously seen. Continuing north across Nihonbashi brought me to Kanda and eventually to Akihabara yet again, as if it was a magnet that pulled me inside every time. For the sake of trying a different place I chose to play some IIDX at the Leisure Land arcade there, and I'm glad to have done that, as those machines were probably in the best coniditon that I encountered within that area. Dinner was at Tenkaippin, which I didn't realize until after I placed the order was cash only. The clerk didn't request it beforehand but I voluntarily left my passport there to show that I would return, and promptly went to the same ATM that I had found days prior in order to get the cash to pay for the bill.
Day 11 - Haneda T3, Nishi Nippori, Nippori, Uguisuidani, Otsuka, Shibuya, Shinjuku, Ikebukruo, home.
The end. I resolved to take the subway over to Haneda today to get the one luggage over there and stored, and it’s a good thing that I did - there’s no easy solution for getting over there without encountering a crowd. If anything I wonder if Yamanote is actually better. Regardless, I got that much done. With the day left to go, I ventured to Nishi Nippori and I needed to summon the map several times to make sure I found the location, as it was as obscure as it could get. Just a sign on the ground for the third floor, a stairway that led to the back, an elevator that had no decoration, a single room that housed everything. Arcade PCB kits on shelves, joystick panels in exposed boxes, nicotine odor from years past - it was like I was transported to 1995 upon entry, beyond the fact that the games weren’t as old. Most of them, they did have a lot going for SF3 3rd yet. I was able to take care of some game business in a hurry since I was the only one there. It was a very pleasant respite for play in comparison to most of the other sessions. The region itself felt much the same as this arcade - old and well worn, as in well lived. Venturing south to Nippori led me to stumble upon a shrine and cemetery just by following some stairs. Usuigudani was cleaner but mostly had hotels as points of interest. Back home to buy some mochi while mochi was for sale in midday. Then to Otsuka, thinking that I would wander to Ikebukuro, but I ended up wandering back to Sugamo instead. Whoops. Meal at Sugamo, then back out to return to Shibuya and Shinjuku at night to catch evening shots, when I hadn’t done so before at these places. Good thing I did that to get Golden Gai area shots at night. With the night winding down, I decided to have one last IIDX play at Round 1 in Ikebukuro to symbolically end where I started.
Ending arcade comments
· Although the upkeep is generally better and more consistent than the US, some machines will have hardware issues here too. I was surprised by the blurriness with some of the LM IIDX machines.
· Densha De Go on the propert large cabinet is nice but quickly becomes very expensive.
· Bombergirl is OK enough and having the dedicated detonator button that pops up for hitting the base is a cute touch.
· Chase Chase Jokers feels rather clunky and I'm not sure what the game is trying to do. Interesting side screen concept at least.
· Nostalgia is delightful and would probably find a small fanbase worldwide if it had more exposure.
· Favorite IIDX locations are Taito Station in Oomiya for the light keys and Leisure Land Akihabara for the high quality of the LMs there. Honorable mention goes to the Game Versus loctation in Nishi Nihonbashi, but that might not be worth it for a dedicated trip unless you go there first thing in the morning.
Ending overall comments
This was a life altering trip for me, as would be expected. While I'm glad to have made the journey, as to be expected, I will only want to return after making an extensive redoubled effort into speaking and hearing comprehension, because I know that I came across like a blubbering idiot so many times, and it's truly aggravating because I generally know what I want to say and most of the words that are used to say it, but it just doesn't come out of my mouth properly when it needs to be done.
I welcome any questions you may have, as that will help for me to recall the memories and have me write them down.

Hello artists, Sorry for the long post:
I HATE that I have to do it like this, but I've been taken advantage of several times already, so I'll be up front with the terms: I am not offering any money up front. Period. You send me your art and then I will decide if I want to buy it. I will close this post once I have found what I need (1-2 weeks, tops). Again, I'm sorry, but your community members have blown multiple deadlines, taken deposits and stopped responding to me, etc. If you're OK doing work on spec, then please read on. If not, I totally understand.
I am looking for two black and white drawings that will be used to engrave onto the left and right sides of a gun part (specifically an AK47 receiver, pictured). Therefore, lines should be crisp. Some shading is OK, but don't rely on detailed gradient, especially over small areas. It is a rectangle shape that tapers from 4cm on the high side (rear of the gun aka the part that goes against the shoulder) to 3cm on the low side. I have included pictures of both sides and two of the right side (one with safety lever up, one down). Width is 26cm. https://imgur.com/a/yyucGHU
Your design must account for the dimples and rivets (both sides) and the safety selector (which is on the right side). I'd recommend avoiding designing anything that would have to be engraved over the dimples, but try to incorporate the surface of the safety selector into your design.
I have series of pictures to share for inspiration (linked at bottom). I'm going for a Soviet Union symbolism theme, reminiscent of their propaganda posters. Must include one image of Stalin on one side. Also must feature the symbol of the hammer and sickle overlaid over the Soviet star. Other things you may include (do not try to cram all of them into your design though): image of Mikhail Kalashnikov, workers in a factory, workers in a wheat field, famous Russian buildings, military parade, and 7.62 x 39 (the caliber of the AK). I'm going for a look from a period (about 1900-1960), so please don't include more modern things like space shuttles.
Beyond that, I rely on your creativity to tie these things together into two cohesive scenes (one for left and one for right side, obviously). I don't want a few random symbols put together. I want each side to be a single, connected scene. Perhaps you could use some stars or clouds overhead to help tie it all together. Just a thought.
Final product must be a png file with a clear background, as required by the engraver.
I am paying $80 total for both sides.
Here is a link for some inspiration: https://imgur.com/a/niy7McK
I will gladly respond to requests for clarification. I will NOT respond to any requests for upfront money.
Also, no bots please. This not my first rodeo.
Finally, and for the record, no. I am not enamored with the evils of the Soviet Union, nor is this an homage to Stalin. I just thought that this might be an interesting project that connects the gun to the historical period of its creator and origin.

5/15/24 co CEO Fortress announces closure of Fortress Mgt buyback from Softbank. Now Fortress is ready to roll at Novation Co NOVCQ a public company hidden by SEC Rule 15c2-11 with partners co investors Mass Mutual & sub Barings aka Babson Capital, Jefferies $JEF & White Mountain’s Capital $WTM & NOVCQ Board of Directors Barry Igdaloff’s Howard Amster & Whitney Tilson, Chuck Gillman, Jeffrey Eberwein, David Pointer, Tim Eriksen, Lee Keddie & Robert Pearse. These people are all connected and their 3 NOVCQ restructuring are all connected and advised by 3 third party professionals TPP Boulay Group, Olshan Law, Shapiro Sher. These TPP are no different then Sullivan Cromwell aiding the FTX scheme.
https://www.pionline.com/alternatives/fortress-mubadala-complete-acquisition-fortress-investment-group
World Leading Investors Fortress, EJF Capital aka FBR, MassMutual Barings, Jefferies, White Mountains Capital $WTM are about to create BILLIONS in Capital plus Hundreds of Millions in Cash Flow every year. This is how Whitney Tilson's pals Chuck Gillman, Jeff Eberwein and their co-investors siege control of Novation Companies $NOVC. Use SEC Rule 15C(2)-11 to drive share price down, while taking 16M or 10% of stock at pennies as partial board compensation. Equipped with 40M common shares of NOVCQ they are ready to make Billions plus Create $100Ms every year in cash flow in dividends/Mgt Fees. They have a world class roster of investors supporting them including; MassMutual Barings/Jefferies 40M and Fortress/EJF Capital 31.3M NOVCQ common shares (EJF formerly FBR is owned by White Mountains Capital $WTM). Fortress/EJF Capital also own $NOVCQ only Sr Debt to exit their 1st Ch 11 MD and was used in 2nd Ch 11 in DE filed 8/13/2024. Fortress/EJF invested a few thousand dollars in Off Balance Sheet entities Taberna Trups CDOs I & II/Kodiak CDO I, that hold NOVCQ only Sr Debt. After the 1st Ch 11 NOVCQ Board of Director Barry Igdaloff, Howard Amster hands Fortress/EJF Capital 31M shares allocated by Board at zero basis. This proves NOVCQ Board of Directors was not independent from Sr Debt Holders Fortress/EJF Capital. Sr Debt was a ruse including its use in DE Ch 11. DE Ch 11 was carefully crafted to provide short sellers a way to take tax free gains. The Board with little cash invested holds control of this former NYSE MREIT Novastar Financial Inc. traded under MREIT NYSE Exemption $NFI now Novation $NOVCQ.
Per WSJ Wesley Edens of Fortress is the new MREIT Subprime KING after restructuring Mr. Cooper $COOP and OMF One Main aka LEAF AIG and Citi Bank Subprime CaPersonal Lending unit, and RITM/NRZ and Dynex Capital DX. Manny Friedman Founder of EJF Capital formerly FBR Friedman, Billings Ramsey, is regarded as a leading MREIT expert. They control Novation Companies Inc. NOVCQ thanks to $NOVCQ Board of Directors who they have a past relationship. They renamed Novastar Financial Inc. former traded NSYE as $NFI to Novation Companies, which owns MREIT Novastar Financial Inc., renamed Novastar Mortgage inside 2nd Ch 11 in DE. A new 8-Member Board is waiting in the wings with new name/symbol. I have been told they have big plans for NOVCQ only operating unit http://healthcare-staffing.com HCS which owns and conceals Medmasa http://medmasa.com
I believe they will merge HCS/Medmasa with Jeff Eberwein Hudson Global $HSON to create quarter billion tax free BPO public company. Jeffrey Eberwein is the former NOVCQ COB/CEO that managed 1st Ch 11 in MD with Shapiro Sher. Eberwein is now COB/CEO of Hudson Global $HSON. This merger will monetize NOVCQ $730M NOLs just like both CH 11 the 1st in Maryland, MD & 2nd or last in Delaware, DE. Both used Sr Debt as ruse to execute both Ch 11s which have gone to great length to save NOVCQ $730M NOLs. 2022 NOVCQ triggered SEC Rule 15c(2)-11 which allows NOVCQ to remain public but conceals who is buying NOVCQ as only Expert Investors can accumulate NOVCQ like Putnam Inv. Goldman Sachs, Blackrock & David Dreman of Dreman Value Mgt. and Thomas Akin Talkot Capital fund owns 1.9M common. This SEC Rule is postured as way for small public company to remain public and not have the cost burden of SEC filings. What it really does is stops Retail bid/ask and allows Expert Investors in the know to front run a public company before rolling out true reorganization plans.
They are ready to change Novation Co $NOVCQ name and brand so as to eliminate any reference to the prior board or brand. This is how they roll. I believe they will present the new name/symbol and 8-Member Board comprised of Fortress, EJF Capital aka FBR people once Fortress Management close Softbank SALE of Fortress (DONE See Top 5/15/24 Announcement) to them and Mubadala Investment Company ex Fortress executive Rajeev Misra. Whitney Tilson close small cap co-investors Chuck Gillman, Jeff Eberwein are at the center. I’ve been told they do nothing but sure things. Former George Soros Investments Portfolio Mgr. Jeff Eberwein Wharton MBA, is ready to take $NOVC http://medmasa.com conceal behind http://healthcare-staffing.com & $730M NOLs. This 8-Member Board connected to past Board Members Jeff Eberwein, Chuck Gillman, Barry Igdaloff, Howard Amster I believe will merge Medmasa/HCS with Hudson Global $HSON (see Jefferey Eberwein Form 4s at $HSON & Form 4s filed at NOVCQ between April-Oct 2015 via his fund Lone Star Value Mgt.). Jeff Eberwein & his clan including Whitney Tilson/Chuck Gillman were introduced to the present day NOVCQ Board Barry Igdaloff, Howard Amster. Wes Edens, Founder of Fortress hide their identity behind Off Balance Sheet OBE Entities Taberna Trups CDOs I and II and former FBR Friedman, Billings, Ramsey now called http://EJFCap.com also hide their identity behind OBE Kodiak CDO I.
Fortress/EJF own at the same time both the only Sr Debt to exit 1st Ch 11 MD and months afterward 31M NOVCQ common (9M NOVCQ common shares plus 22.250M Ten Year Warrants. There are co-conspirators with NOVCQ board of directors that own 40M NOVCQ Common & MassMutual & Jefferies own 40M NOVCQ common shares. Novation Companies Inc. $NOVCQ submerged shareholder plans and value under SEC Rule 15c(2)-11 to sub penny stock that can only be traded today by Expert Investors defined by this SEC Rule. Fortress/EJF Capital paid almost nothing for OBEs yet they have spent at least $2M cash in the last Ch 11 in DE. They have every reason to do something big.
I believe that something will be splitting NOVCQ into two tax free public companies worth BILLIONS plus Hundreds of Millions in annual cash flow in MREIT Dividends & Lucrative Mgt Fees just like Fortress did a LEAF/One Main OMF, Newcastle that is New Residential $NRZ now Rithm Capital $RITM and $GCI formerly New Media NEWM and New Senior $SNR sold for over $2B. $RITM aka $NRZ in 2019 10K documented that shareholders paid Fortress over $250M in Mgt Fees annually, plus dividends. Fortress terminated the NRZ/RITM Mgt Deal for cool $400M (simultaneously changing Name/Symbol to Rithm Capital $RITM). NOVCQ Dark Horse are their plans for NOVCQ only operating unit HCS aka Medmasa http://medmasa.com concealed by CH 11 in DE. Medmasa NOVCQ only operating unit is http://healthcare-staffing.com NOVCQ former MREIT NYSE $NFI now named Novastar Mortgage is the Board, EJF Capital and Fortress ticket to monetizing rights (see Exhibit 2.1 of Q3 2007 10Q Service Rights Transfer Agreement Sec 5.04 that defines these rights as Cleanup Call Rights CCR well know to these MREIT experts) that control billions of rich, seasoned collateral assets ideal to be leveraged and securitized into MREIT dividend & like RITM aka NRZ another external management fee for Fortress and/or EJF. Fortress/EJF Capital then FBR did this with NOVCQ Board Barry Igdaloff, Howard Amster 2000-03 at Dynex Capital NYSE $DX. Ask Igdaloff helpers Thomas Akin former CEO/COB of DX he holds 1.9M of NOVCQ in his fund Talkot Capital. Thomas Bruce Akin sat on DX Board for years with NOVCQ Chairman Igdaloff. Igdaloff served 20 years on DX Board per DX 8K 9/3/2020.This is your chance to do what is right. ====================================== ALTERNATIVES
May 15, 2024 12:04 PM

Fortress, Mubadala complete acquisition of Fortress Investment Group

LYDIA TOMKIWERIN ARVEDLUND

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Drew McKnight and Joshua Pack
Fortress Investment Group, an alternatives manager, and Mubadala Investment Co., the investment arm of Abu Dhabi’s $276 billion sovereign wealth fund, completed their acquisition deal May 15, and as part of the close, Fortress management now owns a 32% equity interest.
Mubadala owns the remaining 68%. The acquisition, through Mubadala Capital, is for the 90.01% of Fortress equity that was held by SoftBank Group Corp., according to a news release. The terms of the deal were not disclosed.

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Mubadala seeks co-investors for Fortress in effort to clear U.S. security review SoftBank-Fortress deal turns attention to future arrangements with private equity firms
Fortress’s sale of majority equity was approved by the Committee on Foreign Investment in the United States after concessions were made to let Fortress keep data and technology in the U.S., the Financial Times first reported last week.
Fortress, which had $48 billion in assets under management at the end of 2023, said it expects the new joint venture to help it further establish itself in credit and real estate in both public and private markets. Fortress pointed to Mubadala Capital’s global network to help expand client relationships.
“This is a true landmark event for Fortress, for our employees and for the clients we serve,” said Fortress co-CEOs Drew McKnight and Joshua Pack, adding, “We have strengthened alignments of interest, put significant management skin in the game, and deepened our long-term partnership with Mubadala, one of the world’s most highly regarded investors.”
As part of Fortress management now owning a 32% equity interest, its management is entitled to appointment of a majority of board seats. McKnight, Pack and managing partner Jack Neumark were the largest individual investors in the buyout and were joined by about 150 members of the firm.
Mubadala Capital’s CEO and managing director, Hani Barhoush, continues to serve on the Fortress board, a position he has held since 2019 when Mubadala initially invested.
Fortress will continue to operate as an independent investment manager under its own brand and with full autonomy over its investment process and personnel.

1. ALTERNATIVES

He thought he could get away with it. He thought that the harm he caused to someone else would simply fade away into the shadows, never to be brought to light. And for three years, he was right. He went about his life as if nothing had happened, while the person he had hurt suffered in silence.
But then, on the exact same day three years later, everything changed. Suddenly, his life was falling apart at the seams. His relationships crumbled, his career went up in flames, and he found himself facing one misfortune after another. He couldn't understand why everything was going so wrong, but deep down, he knew that he had brought this upon himself.
It was as if karma had finally caught up with him, exacting its revenge in the most brutal way possible. And while he couldn't explain how or why this was happening to him, there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that someone was behind it all. Someone who knew what he had done, and had sent this karmic retribution his way.
He couldn't prove it, of course. There was no evidence, no smoking gun that could point him in the direction of his tormentor. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more going on here, something beyond his understanding.
And so he suffered, day after day, as his life continued to unravel. He tried to make amends, to right the wrongs he had committed, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and there was no going back.
In the end, he was left with nothing but the bitter taste of regret. Regret for what he had done, and for the fact that he had thought he could get away with it. But most of all, he felt regret for the fact that he had hurt someone else, and that he had caused them so much pain.
As for the person who had sent the karma his way? They remained in the shadows, content in the knowledge that justice had been served. They didn't need recognition or thanks for what they had done; they simply knew that they had done the right thing, and that wasn't enough.
Little did the man know that the karma he received was not the end of his punishment. The person who had sent the karma had bigger plans for him, plans that would take nine long years to unfold. The punishment would be slow and subtle, and it would be designed to make him question his own sanity.
Over the next few years, strange things began to happen to the man. He would hear whispers in the night, see shadows darting out of the corner of his eye, and feel an overwhelming sense of dread whenever he entered certain rooms. He tried to brush it off as paranoia, but deep down, he knew that something wasn't right.
As time went on, the incidents became more frequent and more intense. The man would wake up in the middle of the night to find his possessions moved or broken, and strange symbols etched into the walls. He tried to rationalize it away, but the fear continued to grow inside of him.
Eventually, he found himself on the brink of madness. He couldn't trust his own perceptions anymore, and he was convinced that he was being haunted by some malevolent force. But what he didn't know was that the force was not supernatural, but rather the result of someone who had carefully planned their revenge over the course of nine long years.
And as the man lay there, alone and terrified, he realized that he had been wrong. He had thought that he could get away with hurting someone, but in the end, the only thing he had achieved was to bring his own downfall upon himself - Karma
I met an old man a few months ago, he told me this story before he died. His name was John.
John spoke of a man who had caused harm to someone else and thought that he could get away with it. But after three years, karma caught up with him in the most brutal way possible, and his life fell apart at the seams. The man suffered day after day, and eventually, strange things began to happen to him, driving him to the brink of madness.
John then revealed that he was the person behind the karmic revenge. He had carefully planned his revenge over the course of nine long years, and he was satisfied with the outcome.
He explained to me that the meaning of the story was that justice always prevails, even if it takes time. He believed that it was essential to hold people accountable for their actions, and if the law couldn't do it, then you should.
John thought that revenge was worth it because it was the only way to make the man pay for the harm he had caused. He believed that sometimes, people needed to take matters into their own hands to ensure that justice was served.
His story made me reflect on the consequences of our actions and the importance of accountability. It reminded me that our actions have a ripple effect that can last for years, and it's up to us to take responsibility for them.

Thank you for the amazing universe!
l Prologue l Previous l Next l
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"Will he live?"
The Kolshian doctor ensured that the IV line was set properly in the arm, given feathers and fur tended to get in the way. But he knew what he was doing, and the needle slipped beneath the skin without protest. Confident that the connection was good, he stepped back, taking in the full form of Kalsim with bulbous orange eyes.
The captain was better off than when they found him in the cave, but that wasn't saying much. Naked, delirious, covered in blood, and on the brink of death. His guard wasn't doing much better, spare the mortal injury, but hysterical regardless. He was talking now, but Kalsim wasn't so lucky.
"Barely, maybe. I'm surprised he survived for as long as he did, given the extent of the gash." He regarded the large compress wrapped around the captains chest. Underneath, teal colored medigel worked feverishly to repair the wound. "I'm gonna say the makeshift bandage saved his life."
"Good thinking on his guards part, bad on mine." The other observer sighed. "If only we just escorted him through, all of this could've been avoided. But that's in the past now. Did you manage to preform a brain scan yet?"
The doctor shook his tail. "Unfortunately, it's better to wait until he's stable to run the scan through."
The other thought for a moment. "Do it now."
The doctor was taken slightly aback. "But sir, doing a brain scan on him, in this condition? There's a real chance that the process might kill him."
"I know the risk, but its one we have to take. If he dies, we lose our only piece on the board."
"Are you sure? How useful are his memories to us? Don't we need him alive?"
The other walked to the beside, and gently stroked a tentacles across Kalsim's chest. It carried with it small flakes of violet blood, which a single rub turned to dust.
"We don't need his body, but we need his mind. No matter what happens, we continue on as planned. Understand?"
The doctor was still hesitant, tentacles and tail rapping fidgeting nervously. "Alright, I can get it done. I'm just telling you now that I don't think this is a good idea."
"Nothing we've done so far has been a good idea." The other stepped back from the bed, and moved to exit the small medbay. "But we do what's necessary."
The doctor began the process of setting up the brain scan, while the other made for the door. He took one step out, before he raised his tentacle, and turned back to face the doctor.
"Oh, and do let me know when he wakes up. We have much to discuss."
Memory transcription subject: Kalsim, Captain, United Federation Fleet
Date [standardized human time]: December 31st, 2136
It was not the sound of Kelum's voice that awoke me, nor the agony pulling my chest apart. My first sense of awareness was entirely lacking them, replaced instead by a repeating electronic beat, and what sounded like someone rustling around inside of a cabinet. And pressing against by body was not the ungrateful chill of bare rock, but a plush mattress and soft sheets.
Am I...dead?
Opening my ideas left me staring across what appeared to be a small medbay. At least, it looked like any medbay I would find on one of my ships. Taking the place of the usual zurulian personnel, however, was a kolshain, a deep green, donned in a coat, tentacles shifting through a cabinet hanging over the basin.
"W-where am I?"
The kolshian spun around instantaneously, eyes widened at the sound of my frail voice. "Stars above, your awake." He rushed to my side and began scanning over my face. "How are you feeling? Any pain, any grogginess?"
Maybe I'm not dead? "I...feel fine, I think. The pain is gone, at least."
The kolshain nodded. "Then the medigel did its work, thank the stars above. It looks like your going to be alright."
I looked down to see a large bandage wrapped around my chest, much more professional than the rags that Kelum used as a substitute. In place of the pain, a soothing cold projected from where my wound presumably laid. That must be the medigel he's talking about. I moved my wing around as a bit of a test, and found that besides a few twinges here and there, it was almost like I hadn't been raked at all.
"It's gonna take a couple of months for the wound to heal, and there's definitely going to be a scar." The doctor placed a tentacle on my shoulder. "But you should be able to walk up and about no problem. Do you feel like walking?"
"I...I guess?"
"Alright, let me help you here." A tentacle wrapped around my wing as he gently helped me out of the bed. Placing my legs down on the panel floor felt odd at first, likely the lingering effects of whatever painkillers they pumped into me. But however awkward it was, I could move.
"I gotta say Kalsim, your quite resilient. I've never seen someone survive a wound like that."
I coughed, but it only produced a small wince. "Well, maybe I just have a reason to go on."
"Yes, yes..." The doctor looked towards the door, before concerned eyes turned back to me. "Are you sure that your alright?"
"Yes, I think so..." I paused as I remembered the first question that came to mind. "Where am I? Where's Kelum?"
"Your guard is safe, no worries. He was concerned about you, so he'll be glad to know your up and about."
"Can I see him?"
Some of the doctors compassion seemed to slip away. "Not at the moment. There's more important matters to attend to."
It was then I noticed his other tentacle slipping a holopad back into his pocket. "We're you just talking to someone?"
He looked to the door. "Someone that want's to talk to you. I can bring you to him, if you like?"
"Who?"
"It's better if you meet him in person. He can explain everything."
My mind immediately went to the most obvious possibility: Could this be the person who sent me the note? I was suddenly filled with a mix of anticipation and dread. The person who revealed that my old home still existed, but who's cryptic nature nearly led to my death. He could be friend or foe, ally or enemy. He promised me an out, but it could all still be a lie. A gift wrapped box hiding a live grenade inside, ready to blow up in my face.
But it seemed that no matter what, I would have to talk to him.
"Bring me to him."
I quickly realized that the medbay was just another part of the maze-like facility me and Kelum entered in what felt like months ago. The same confusing layout, the same matte steel panel floors and ceilings, the same sickly green light bars, the same signs leading to the same places. Quarters, Maintenance, Observation.
It was a short journey, but one that nearly sent my nerves jumping out of my skin. My mind was alight with possibilities of who the person could be and what he wanted. Why did he need my help? Why not anyone else? Was it because this facility held a past dear to me? Or was there something that I wasn't seeing here? That last option felt more the case as we neared our destination.
Finally, we stepped through a doorway leading back into the familiar room. The consoles still lay dormant, the sanctuary light still blasted through the (now damaged) viewport. And standing shadowed near the edge,
SQUAW!
The sudden screech threw me back for a second, for there wasn't just a person standing at the window. Accompanying the man was one of those birds, green and gold, the very same that plucked that lizard from right in front of me and Kelum. Its sharp beaked plucked seeds from the outstretched teal tentacle before it, beady forward facing eyes planted firmly on the kolshian's face. He let the bird feed for a moment longer before his appendage returned to his side, and he turned to face me directly.
"Ah, Kalsim. I'm glad to see you up and about."
He was well above middle age, that much was clear. His voice crackled like the pages of an ancient tome, carrying knowledge and wisdom of a lifetime and more. His face was creased and spotted, his eyes were beginning to dull, and his back was beginning to damper. But he was proud and determined, all carried in a demeanor that seemed to disdain the very concept of age itself.
And that demeanor also carried a permeating aura of authority. In the gilded bands and rings around his sleeves, in the robes tailored only for those select few, in the necklace around his neck born with the symbol of the Chiefdom. Yet he was not gaudy or audacious. The blue fabric was well maintained, but not perfect. The guild shone, but was not spotless. He was powerful, but not infallible, and that he knew well.
He was unlike any shadow caste member I had ever met.
"I will see myself out." The doctor bowed before he took his leave, shutting the door in his wake.
The shadow caste member sighed. "I tell him that he doesn't need to bow, but he never listens. My colleagues leave their impression, let me tell you."
He stepped down from the observation platform, prompting the bird to fly back out the broken window. He watched it fly away, only turning back when it finally disappeared over the canopy. His tail bent in a manner that suggested happiness.
"Beautiful creatures, are they not? I can't exactly recall the name, it's probably in the archives somewhere. But I'm sure it's more than befitting of their elegance. Your people had a talent for names, even still to this day."
He stepped up in front of me, standing just slightly below my eye level.
"I'm sure you have plenty of questions, so ask away."
I was surprised at how casual he was being with all this, given that I nearly died. Is this just an act, or is he really this laid back? It would've helped if I knew his actual name.
"Who are you?"
"Ah, that's simple. I am Maronis, and before you ask, yes, I was the one to send you the note."
Maronis. The name didn't ring familiar, despite my numerous interactions with the caste. "I don't recall you."
"I didn't expect you too." He began to walk around, sliding tentacles over the dead consoles. "Truthfully, I'm one of the less prominent members of the caste. Partly because I prefer it that way, partly because I'm not the most popular."
"Popular?"
"Yes, the caste hasn't taken a particular liking to me, and that's entirely my fault. I don't apologize, and they don't expect me too. However, it has left me, how shall I say, rather uniformed."
He stopped his wandering, and turned to face me directly. His causal disposition did turn out to be an act, for a grave expression quickly took its place.
"There are happenings, Kalsim. Happenings that threaten to bring the Federation to its knees. I need your help to stop them."
"Happenings?" I had the feeling he was being intentionally vague. Or maybe... "What do you mean, happenings?"
Maronis sighed, before closing the gap and placing a tentacle on my shoulder. "Like I said, I'm rather uniformed. In that respect we are the same. Come with me."
He guided me over to the viewport, where a warm breeze blew threw the broken window. The 'sun', now nearing the horizon, sent long shadows cascading over the hills and treetops. The town laid shadowed in the center.
"Tell me Kalsim, what do you believe the purpose of this place to be?"
The answer seemed obvious now. "Some sort of habitat for pre-contact life from Nishtal."
He nodded. "In some sense, you are correct."
"In some sense?"
His eyes glowed brightly as he stared towards the horizon. "When the Federation first began on its endeavors, our government initially insisted on the complete extermination of all predator flora and fauna. The farsul, scholars that they are, disagreed, believing there to be some value in maintaining at least some samples of predatory life. Whether for the purpose of study, or that scholarly disposition towards collection."
"Eventually, they came to a compromise, whereby the farsul could maintain their little collection, as long as it was well isolated from the rest of the galaxy. It's why their archives are located a kilometer below their oceans, and why this place is here."
"As the Federation expanded, they constructed hundreds of facilities just like this. For centuries, they served their purpose without issue. And that's where the story should have ended."
But it didn't was the statement left unsaid. And something inside told me it had to do with the discovery in the cave.
"Me and Kelum, we found a skeleton of an arxur in that cave. And the town...people used to live here, didn't they?"
The 'sun' now began to dip below the horizon, and the habitat began to grow dim. Somewhere off in the distance, the calls that became somewhat familiar died into the falling darkness.
"I believe your intuition to be correct. This place was once a facility of observation, transformed into one of experimentation. To what ends, well that remains to be seen."
He turned back to me as the light finally disappeared, rendering his already teal complexion a further decomposed green.
"And I believe that this is, or was, part of a larger plot that I've yet to be let in on. I only know it by its code name, Clear Sky. A secret so important that all besides its name is to be kept from even fellow members of the shadow caste. And you know how secrets can be dangerous little things. At once seeming so minor, yet carrying the capacity to bring down entire nations, civilizations, in one fell swoop."
Maronis brought his tentacles behind his back, and began to pace the room once again. "Now let me ask you another question, Kalsim. Why does the Federation stand today?"
I watched him circle as I processed the question. "I...don't know what you mean."
"Well think about it. The Federation is responsible for numerous crimes against sapience. The destruction of entire cultures, histories, ideals inconvenient to our rule. We wage a war that we both know continues only for its sake. We stand at the core of an empire whose foundation is built on blood and bone, and we revel in it. Any sane world would have long ago rejected us. So tell me, why does the Federation stand today?"
The way he talked so casually about the essential destruction of forty four distinct species, including my own, should have given me pause. But maybe that's the point. Maybe it's because we can talk about it at all. Maybe because...
"It's no secret."
Maronis stopped, turned to face me again, and for the first time since the conversation began, let a small smile lift the corners of his mouth.
"Its. No. Secret. For centuries upon centuries, this galaxy has come to understand us, the cured, the values that we propagate, the foundations of our empire, to be the true predator, and all because one species decided not to become its prey. And from that point forward, we have had to fight for every single tiny ounce of legitimacy, to convince others that we are the path forward when reality tells of an otherwise case. And that struggle," he raised a single appendage to the air, "that is what has granted our Federation strength. For despite it all, we have crafted the most powerful polity this galaxy has ever known, and likely will know."
He paused to take a breath.
"But, to those of a less intelligent disposition," I could almost see the urge to mention Nikonus by name ripple across the kolshian's skin, "to those whose analysis errs to the superficial, they do not see this strength. They see the agitations of the Shield and the Coalition, factions which in reality can be crushed with but a flick of a tentacle. They see the furthering acceptance of the arxur, a natural product of their ideologies inevitable decay. They only see the superficial, because they only desire the superficial."
"So imagine, for a moment, if the conquest of Skalga was an uninterrupted process. If the Federation had never been given pause to reflect. What then, Kalsim?"
I'd almost forgotten that I was a part of the conversation, given how long and, dare I say, passionate his little speech had been. But reflecting on his question, the answer only seemed obvious.
"The secret would have been maintained. The Federations true nature, lacking the intervention of the Venlil, would have in all likelihood never been revealed."
"And what would it have done," Maronis continued my train of thought, "but grant the superficial strength so many seem to desire? The Federation, supreme in its power, free to enact its will upon the entire galaxy, no obstacle standing in its way."
"But secrets are a dangerous thing. Uncontested power is no different. It breeds malaise, complacency, confidence. Combine them together, well, that's an easy way to bring down an empire."
The logic seemed sound, if not common sense. "If what the Federation did only came out now, it would be chaos. Entire species suddenly discovering they're the monsters they've been led to hate the entire time. The Federation, it would just tear itself apart."
"Exactly." Maronis stepped forward. "And it's why I need your help. Because me and you both understand that there can be no more secrets if the Federation is to survive. And more than anything else, that is what we both desire. Correct me if I'm wrong."
Maronis looked up to me as I considered what I did truly want. Because what I wanted was always a product of what the shadow caste wanted, what Nikonus wanted. They told me what to do, what to say, how to act. Constantly kept an officer at my side, making sure that I toed the line perfectly. So what did I want?
"I don't know."
But far from disappointment, or shock, Maronis looked almost like he expected that answer. "You've been on a leash so long you've forgotten how to fly. I know what Nikonus wants to do with you, to make you another pawn in his game to create a forever war with humanity. A delusional plan born from the ideological dredges that can only be described as his mind. And I know you want no part his game. So like I promised, I'm giving you an out."
But that only raised the obvious question, "How do I know I won't just become your pawn as well?"
"Because," he expected that response as well, "unlike Nikonus, I'm giving you a choice. You can walk out of here, pretend that this place and this conversation never existed. Of course," he took in the bandage, "the wound would be hard to explain. I doubt falling down a flight of stairs would do that, but that's all besides the point."
"And you wouldn't make me disappear, suffer an accident, two gunshots to the back of the head?"
"Smart of you to consider that, but no, I don't work that way. At least, with people I consider allies. And even if you walk away, I know you would side with me if it came down to it."
He looked out to the habitat, which was now bathed in dim glow of a false moon. The wails echoed through the night, met with like-minded calls across the ancient expanse. So called stars twinkled across the dome, forming the constellations that once stared down at me every night. Maronis looked upon it all with no small amount of appreciation.
"I brought you here to remind you of what the Federation took from you, and so many others like you, all in the service of predator and prey."
"But predator and prey is all but dying. The continuing acceptance of the arxur and humanity serves as prime evidence to that point. Those who cling to it have condemned themselves to die alongside it. And if they succeed, if Clear Sky becomes manifest, they'll drag the entire galaxy down with them too. Of that I am sure."
"But you don't even know what Clear Sky is, you said so yourself."
"But I know what the caste wants, and you know what they want: To have predator and prey to define this galaxy in perpetuity. Clear Sky can only serve that end. The path that the rest of the caste seems want to take, even if it succeeds, will bring ruin to the Federation."
There were still lingering doubts, but those were inconsequential in comparison to the evident truth. If Nikonus got the war he desired, it would spell the end of the Federation. Humanity, the Coalition, Jones, they had no interest in playing along like the Dominion. They would go for the throat before the shadow caste even had a chance to get out of bed.
And even if they did, what then? Whose to say the rest of the galaxy would go along too? Humanity was no arxur, that was plain for everyone to see. Fuck, even the sivkit found it in themselves to see humanity for who they truly were. At that point, waging a war against humanity on the grounds of 'fighting predators' would be tantamount to sticking a gun in our collective mouth and pulling the trigger.
Either way, if Maronis was telling the truth, the Federation was doomed, unless the shadow caste was stopped, unless Clear Sky was put down.
"What would you have me do?"
Maronis nodded his tail and he spoke in a stern report. "Nikonus believes you to be a loyal pawn. Use that against him. Find out the true nature Clear Sky, then kill it in its cradle. But most importantly, do whatever it takes to ensure that Clear Sky remains a secret. If any inkling of it reaches the public, that could spell the end of the Federation. To that end, no sacrifice is too great."
"Whatever it takes?"
He leaned in closer. "Whatever it takes."
He stepped back, and some of his casual demeanor seemed to return, if not fully.
"And if you don't think you can do that, leave. But if think you can," he raised one tentacle up, and held it out before me, "then I think we can help each other."
He wanted a handshake. That human gesture, their way of signalling agreement.
And it brought for that great dilemma once again. Whether this was an act, or an out. Whether I would once again sign my life away, or finally take a step towards freedom.
After all I've done, all I've been forced to do, what I'm meant to do...It could be an escape, or I could be doing it all over again.
But I looked out the window again, heard the calls of the wilds robbed from my people by the organization whose member was now promising to bring it all to an end. Me, my people, we could have this all. After a thousand years, we could finally fly free, or have our wings clipped once and for all.
And all it took was a handshake.
"So Kalsim, what will it be?"
I recalled what I told Kelum, standing on the brink of death: It only took a thousand years, but things are finally back to normal.
It was a lie, but it didn't have to be. Not anymore.
So I raised my wing, took his tentacle in my talon, and shook to the future of the Federation.
l Prologue l Previous l Next l

Welcome to our fifth discussion of Leviathan Wakes. Hold onto your cool detective hats or your environment suits, because we finally get some answers to our mystery! This week, we will discuss Chapters 34-40. The Marginalia post is here. You can find the Schedule here.
The discussion questions are below. One note - this is a very popular book series and TV show, but please keep in mind that not everyone has read or watched already, so be mindful not to include anything that could be a hint or a spoiler! Please mark spoilers not related to this section of the book using the format > ! Spoiler text here !< (without any spaces between the characters themselves or between the characters and the first and last words).
Now brace yourselves: here comes the juice!
Chapter Summaries:
Chapter 34 - Miller: Detective Miller and the crew of the Roci board the hidden ship (the one that captured the crew of the Scopuli before destroying it), wearing environment suits because the ship has no atmosphere - someone left the doors open. They stick together at first as they move through the ship, discovering signs of a struggle, zombie vomit, and twelve torpedo tubes big enough to destroy capital ships like the Donnager or the Canterbury. Miller uses his detective skills to determine that everyone but Julie retreated to engineering. Once there, they discover a truly grisly sight: layers of human flesh and bones are sort of fused around the reactor, which has been shut down. Naomi and Holden gasp in shock and disgust, Miller turns on his cop brain to suppress emotion and view it as a crime scene, and Amos seems… calm and able to ignore the gore. The team splits up to look for more clues.
Amos stays in engineering to start up the computers and get the reactor back online. Naomi works on the ops deck to run diagnostics. Miller and Holden head to the bridge, which wasn’t affected by the fighting onboard. Miller reviews the internal feeds and finds footage showing the captured Scopuli crew being led onto the ship, stripped, and put in restraints. Julie fights back viciously but is knocked unconscious and stuffed in a locker with a jumpsuit (which is where we met her in the prologue). The crew is left in the galley for 132 hours before they decide to make a stand, but it is quickly suppressed. One of the crew is thrown out an airlock and the others are heavily restrained as they scream and cry. Just as Miller gets to the first appearance of a vomit zombie (at hour 160 of footage), Amos yells that he’s been exposed to some radiation because the human flesh blob had damaged the reactor shielding. He decides to keep working while Alex monitors his health status from the Roci.
Then Holden calls Miller over to view one of the last feeds Julie accessed. It’s a corporate presentation video created for a man named Dresden and the board of Protogen. It features a man Miller dubs “the sociopath” because of his cold, practiced smile…and because of the content. The sociopath tells the board (and us) the history of scientific discovery on Phoebe, which was thought to just be a moon and a source of water, but became a research station when a survey found complex silicon structures in the ice. Protogen was tasked with investigating and discovered that Phoebe is not a moon but evidence of a galactic biosphere: it is an alien weapon sent towards Earth 2 ⅓ billion years ago, which never made it because of orbital mechanics. Protogen has discovered that this weapon is not alive per se; rather, it is something they’ve termed the “protomolecule” which has the ability to maintain structure while replicating other systems and manipulating them at scalable rates. Of course, they alerted the proper authorities and made sure… just kidding, they’ve secretly been doing tests. The sociopath believes that whoever controls the protomolecule will gain control of all political and economic power going forward. Chillingly, the sociopath urges them to pursue large-scale testing to understand the protomolecule and its human applications. That large-scale testing is Eros.
TL;DR - Julie found evidence that Protogen has discovered an alien weapon, branded it the “protomolecule”, and secretly tested it on the people of Eros (and probably other smaller tests). The entire war has just been a distraction.
Chapter 35 - Holden: Naomi explains that most of the messages on the comm logs have been coded, but the last one is in plain text: the captain informed Thoth Station that the ship was contaminated, everyone was about to die, and the “materials” had been secured. He also planned to send vector data so they could find the ship. The Roci crew put two and alien-symbol-for-two together: they figure out that the captain has locked protomolecule samples in his safe. They also decide that the tightbeam messages were being sent to a secret research station Protogen was using to monitor the Eros experiment. Even though the fact “Naomi is the best” is a proven concept on par with “space is cold”, she is NOT able to open the captain’s safe, so they decide to cut it out of the wall and bring it with them on the Roci. They also scuttle the ship so no one can a) recover the stealth technology and alien weapons, or b) get exposed to the protomolecule-human soup inside. (Amos would have preferred to hack the frozen dead body goo off the reactor with a chainsaw and salvage such an impressive and expensive ship, which is… another way to go.)
It’s clear that someone else with stealth tech is searching actively for this ship, but the Roci won’t see them coming so they decide to get the hell out of Dodge. Naomi jokes that their options include turning the safe over to the OPA (they’d be heroes), selling out to Mars (they’d be rich), or starting their own biotech firm (just kidding, that’s evil). When Miller checks in with Holden about a decision on where to go next, he drops a figurative bomb on him regarding actual bombs in the news. Since Holden did his best Edward Snowden impersonation and leaked the data that the mystery ships are from Earth, Mars asked a few too many questions and in response, Earth has blown up a whole bunch of Martian ships and destroyed the Deimos deep radar station. Miller ruefully gives Holden credit for sticking to his guns about his belief in “free information”. He also points out that Holden’s principles make him responsible for all those deaths and the destruction of the Earth-Mars Coalition… and possibly the universe as they know it.
Chapter 36 - Miller: The war between Mars and the Belt seems like no big deal now that Earth and Mars are fighting. Miller watches the news feeds as the conflict turns into a blockade, and he realizes he is steeling himself for an announcement of a planetary attack on Earth or Mars, but it never comes. He and Amos deal with the stress by having beer for breakfast.
Miller meets up with Holden in the med bay for their routine blood flushes and cancer treatments, and they reopen their debate about what to do with the data files and who is to blame for the war(s).

• Holden’s position: Broadcast everything to everyone! (I know, I know, so out of character, right?) People will understand that they’ve been set up and will turn their wrath on Protogen instead of each other. Also, these are ancient conflicts. The Belt has always hated Mars and the inner planets in general. Mars and Earth have always had animosities secretly brewing and they do military training for the inevitable showdown. Or as Miller puts it, “Not my powder keg; I just brought the match.”
• Miller’s position: Stop and consider what people will do if they hear an Earth company did this. Every other data leak has been used as an excuse to shoot at someone the other side doesn’t like. Also, people suck. They aren’t going to hold hands and sing Kumbaya just because Protogen is the bad guy. They’ll move on to shooting each other so they can be the ones to control the protomolecule. Or as Holden puts it, “Maybe Protogen is a little right. People are too dumb to be trusted with big information so we should keep hard, scary stuff a big secret. That’ll totally work out.”

Holden’s idealism starts to fade as he takes in Miller’s hard truths about humanity. To be fair, Miller loses a little idealism over his perceptions of the inner planets’ relationship which, to the Belt, seemed stable and friendly enough (and united against them). Miller encourages Holden to use Naomi’s judgment as a measuring stick for whether something is right (similar to how he uses illusion-Julie as his conscience and sounding board) and then he goes back to the news feeds to watch Ceres slowly collapse into chaos. Holden decides the only person and place he trusts - or at least doesn’t completely distrust - is Fred Johnson on Tycho Station, so they head there. Holden also wonders why they don’t just destroy the safe and make sure everyone stays away from Eros and Phoebe; Miller admits it’s because the protomolecule might just be the holy grail.
Chapter 37 - Holden: The crew of the Roci is taking a break from doom scrolling to cook fake space lasagna for dinner and bond over the food and conversation. As Holden watches the crew laugh at Amos’s belches and Miller’s wild story about cheese smuggling, he reflects that they represent all three prongs of the conflict: Naomi and Miller are Belters, Amos and he are from Earth, and Alex is from Mars. Yet they’re friends, and Holden knows this is what they have to fight for. The cheese smuggling makes no sense to Amos (why cheese and not drugs?), and Naomi points out that this illustrates how little people from the inner planets understand Belters. Earthers have free air and easy access to resources, while Belters know everything that sustains life is rare and their access to it is fragile. And this is why Protogen didn’t blink an eye before killing 1.5 million Belters on Eros: they’re “other”. Then Alex points out that this doesn’t make sense; it's a risky and unnecessarily complicated way to kill people just to satisfy prejudices. It becomes clear that Eros isn’t a hate crime, it’s a vacuum-sealed test tube to let the protomolecule learn how to do its job better by giving it access to a huge amount of biomass. The early transformations looked incomplete, as if it didn’t know how to work with human flesh yet, so Protogen was giving it a chance to train. Holden wants to know where they would even find enough people who would support an evil operation like this, and Miller promises to ask Dresden (the Protogen board member mentioned in the video) when they meet him. Something tells me that conversation won’t go well.
As the Roci approaches Tycho station, Holden and Miller take in the view of the Nauvoo, the partially constructed Mormon generation ship. When Miller says the Mormans may be in for a long and lonely death if they don’t find a habitable planet, Holden notes that this is the good kind of galactic exploration humans can accomplish (the protomolecule being the bad kind). Miller then asks Holden why he trusts Fred, and Holden explains that in addition to being the only person who hasn’t tried to jail them or blow them up since all this began, Fred is “real OPA”: he’s a politician and not part of the war-mongering factions who think they can survive indefinitely without the inner planets. When Miller points out that there isn’t a political solution to Protogen, Holden insists Fred has other skills, too. Later, Fred reads through all the information on the protomolecule and is incredulous that anyone could think to do this. Miller assures him that genocide is an old-school crime and it’s important that they stop it. Holden offers up the location of the observation station in exchange for enough OPA fighters to take down Protogen, and the right to retain custody of the safe and its contents. Fred agrees only after Holden points out that no one else can be trusted to do the right thing with a secret this big. Plus, he says Fred already knows what Holden will do with it.
Chapter 38 - Miller: It feels strange to Miller to explore the wide open spaces of Tycho Station, the fanciest place he has ever set foot on. He notices Naomi working on her hand terminal and letting her food get cold; she is too preoccupied with trying to figure out the location of the station to enjoy the amenities. As they talk, Miller is reminded of Havelock’s advice to just let go when he got pulled off a case, which jogs his memory that Havelock actually works for Protogen! (I’m surprised he didn’t get there faster; maybe everyone had a point that he was sort of a washed up detective.) He rushes off to make contact with his old buddy - probably his last real partner ever - in an encrypted drop site of a Ganymede server cluster. As he waits for a response, Miller is amused to realize he has started thinking like Holden: he feels like someone should warn the Mormans that they could potentially run into the alien creators of the protomolecule who may want to kill them. Havelock comes through, passing along the coordinates to a “very scary deep research and development lab” and asking Miller to be discreet never contact him again so he doesn’t get killed for betraying his employer. Miller sends him an encrypted warning to quit his job ASAP and not take postings at any black ops sites, before saying goodbye for the last time to the only person that still respected him as a cop. (I may or may not be sniffling a bit at this.)
Miller rounds up Naomi and Holden so they can bring Fred the coordinates. In Fred’s office, Miller starts lecturing him about the serious nature of the mission and the need to have a solid plan with adequate firepower, not the usual OPA shenanigans. Everyone’s a little confused until they realize that Miller doesn’t know that Fred is “the butcher of Anderson Station” and a former Colonel in the Earth Navy. Fred assures Miller he’s no amateur and will plan ahead. Miller then insists that he get to come along for the assault on Thoth Station. Eight days later, the plan is set in motion and Miller begins packing his meager belongings into a very small bag, figuring he’ll never see the Roci again. Even if he makes it off Thoth alive, he’ll have to figure out a way to make money and improvise a life plan of some sort. He tries to thank Holden and say goodbye, but the Roci’s captain interrupts Miller to ask where they’ll all meet up after the mission is complete. Miller is confused at first, then overcome with emotion when he realizes Holden considers Miller part of the crew! I’m not crying, you’re crying. Actually, it’s Miller who is weeping. But he pulls himself together so he can head to the assault ship.
Chapter 39 - Holden: The Rocinante needs to sneak up on Thoth Station, so they are pretending to be a loose cargo container that broke off the Guy Molinari (the Belter ship carrying the assault team, which is pretending to be a cargo ship). They fly with everything shut down so that it’s more convincing, hoping they can get close enough to the station to do some damage before Thoth starts firing back. As they approach and are able to reboot everything needed for battle, a stealth ship is spied hanging out near Thoth Station. Then, suddenly it becomes clear that there are two small stealth ships, which will be much harder to fight off. Everyone does their jobs efficiently on the Roci, but in the ensuing battle with the stealth ships, they start to take some damage. First, the Roci is hit by a gauss cannon that goes straight through the machine shop and galley. Holden mourns his coffee maker. Amos notices a leak in the maneuvering thrusters and heads to fix it between the inner and outer hulls, which isn’t an ideal place to be floating around during a battle. This stresses Naomi out, but Holden orders everyone to stay focused. They are able to take out one of the stealth ships, but the other gets close enough to do some impressive damage to the Roci. There is major hull damage as well as loss of four maneuvering thrusters, a PDC, their O2 storage, and the crew airlock. Alex is about to destroy the second stealth ship when the Roci’s point defense cannons (PDCs) detonate an enemy warhead up close. It knocks everyone out, punches holes throughout the Roci (narrowly missing Naomi), dislodges equipment, and fills the ship with debris. Holden marvels that they are alive at all, and Alex points out that is only because the ship’s anti-spalling webbing eliminates shrapnel. They make contact with Fred, who says he’ll find them a place to land, and the Guy Molinari prepares for the assault on Thoth Station. It’s Miller’s turn to shine!
Chapter 40 - Miller: On the Guy Molinari, Miller is talking to a Belter kid named Diogo as they wait for the assault to start. Miller realizes that while he has fancy Martian armor from the Roci and experience with gunfights in station corridors, he is surrounded by inexperienced young Belters with borrowed gear, and he will likely have to watch dozens of them die during the battle. But Diogo isn’t worried; he is confident and eager to get started. Fred announces that they are ready to start boarding since the Roci gave them the “all clear”, and Miller is happy to hear his friends have survived. The assault on the station starts off rough, with Protogen soldiers fighting them in the corridors and automatic defense lasers taking out some of the Belters in the first wave. But Fred knows how to command his OPA “troops” and keep them in line, and things start to go more smoothly as they slow down and maneuver carefully. Miller and Diogo are part of a group taking shelter at Fred’s direction and fending off Protogen counterattacks, and they start to talk during a lull. When two Protogen soldiers sneak up on them from behind, Diogo is hit and Miller chastises himself for chatting during a battle and not staying alert. He thinks Diogo is dead, but he pops up laughing and streaked with white goo from crowd suppression rounds, which Miller finds an odd choice of weapon. It’s the first sign that Thoth Station may not totally understand what’s happening. The OPA soldiers cut their way through the blast doors to get to the operations center, where they find Dresden (the dude mentioned in the sociopath’s Protogen video). Fred arrives to take command of the station, and Dresden offers to negotiate, clearly misunderstanding the reason for the assault. He offers to give the OPA whatever resources they need to go back to fighting their war (money, medical supplies, weapons, ordnance) if they’ll just leave and let the station get back to their very important work. Fred points out that they know about Eros, but Dresden insists no one knows what they did there, and there won’t be a better bargaining position for Fred when Earth sends its battleships. Fred basically calls Dresden Satan, but Dresden doesn’t understand the reference.