29th December 1969;

Sault Ste Marie, SCS;

“So… how should we go about these things? How are we… ending it? Because I know what’s happened to the Monde Suffit, they’re a spent force, they’ve been set on fire, they’re simply ashes. You’re the LM, you have first pick.”
Dreary, sodden, damp, dank was that morning, a Monday of all days. There was no hail, there was no lightning, simply the morning drizzle of a warm December. What the day was not was lively, and even still, a lot was being done within the interlude between Christmas and New Year’s Day. In fact, as the offices and companies emptied out, Jarno spied an opportunity, and wanted to finally finish what he had originally ignored.
“It makes sense to go for the Maple Leaf Society. They’re only going to drag you and me down, and the entire party with it. I doubt you’ll be on speaking terms with Nixon anytime soon. My, we need to get this all done with, and soon. I’ve got the police on the line, you have the place where the Maple Leafers have their headquarters, all you need to do is specify the level of destruction.” Jean-Guy was glad to rid himself of the extremists, and find himself some more level footing. Besides, getting the MLS out of the way whilst the MS themselves self-combusted allowed for a significant decrease in violence. In other words, he could claim to be the perfect new LM.
“Should we go to meet them ourselves? It’s not too far away, and it’ll give them the shock of a lifetime? Want me to ring Mati and ask if he wants to come too? He’d love to, I bet you.”
“Me? Soon? Have you seen how I’m dressed at this minute? I’ve got a crimson suit on, I’m wearing beige shoes, they’re in a delightful fabric that I don’t want to get wet, my hat’s… somewhere where I don’t know, and you? You have nothing to indicate that you’re important, you’ve got a shirt from North Star Enterprises, not any of the black market stuff, your hat is a porkpie, and those are slippers!” The LM was slightly exasperated, just ever so slightly.
“Calm, calm, you have a point. I’ll just get someone to note it all down, and we can chat afterwards. We meet at 3?”
“Can do, will do, see you then. Bye?”
“Farewell for the moment.”
It was an event. As the half-dozen police officers, inquired politely at the reception, the remaining three-dozen waltzed through the door, and the lead officer in the blue beret said all that he needed. “This is a legally-allowed raid, all materials must be handed over. The Monde Suffit fire, we suspect their rival organisation. You must comply, we are to be let in.” The one at the door-lock allowed it, and from there, the entire squadron of 42 were inside.
Whilst the office building was itself quite large, being five floors, only the second- and third-floor spaces were actually part of the Maple Leaf Society, with ample space for the few desks present in the headquarters. Each one had a wealth of space around, with there clearly being a very small workforce inside the facility towards the north of Sault Ste Marie. Windows were covered by Venetian blinds, but otherwise offered so-so views. However, all of the papers on the desks were neatly stacked into desk tidies, and covered the more boring parts of the organisation. It was almost the New Year, so only finances mattered.
Everything that was more grandiose and impressive was locked away in a side-room on the third-floor. Wall to wall were high filing cabinets, chock-full of paper, so brilliantly organised and perfectly preserved, just ready for the police to inspect and withdraw from so easily. Because they had so little time though - no doubt were the few employees inside frantically calling their bosses - it was the entire cabinet structure that was taken away, in sections, to keep the entire inventory intact.
They were not there to search. The police were there to destroy.
In fact, they were able to continue to destroy. Within that kitchen, there was a selection of fine tobacco - imported tobacco, not from either of the two chains, so of course showed some level of guilt. Further searching found greater finds, as the desks were imported from the new USA in the south-east North America, the cabinets were manufactured within Ontario, the pencils were from Minnesota, whilst the telephones installed inside of the offices were made of Bakelite as courtesy of the old Maritimes organisation, back from when it was called the MRA. That was a death sentence in a single appliance.
Every item found, every item suspected, was taken to the lobby, to be loaded into police vans for ‘analysis’, but it was clearly for confiscation. The MLS already were going to be charged for one thing, but it was clear that more would follow. Registries of names of those involved were enough, but their positions in promoting federationalism being revealed were even more perfect, if that could have been achieved. In no time, they would know who would have the most impact if they were taken for questioning. It even detailed their Battle of Labour Day, and firearms preparations; that last one really took the police’s vengeance levels towards 11, as they wished now to avenge their old, late friend.
It was 5, not 2 as expected, when the police were done with the facility. Looking around the place afterwards, it was gutted, with only a few wall-mounted furnishings still in their original place. When one finally looked in their secret hole within their ceiling-hole, and exclaimed his relief, an officer peered round the corner, and found them with their hands resting on a final safe. That was the last of all that was holy.
What happened to the papers? Well, they were used, categorised, and then never returned.
Why would they have returned?
The Maple Leaf Society had to be gone. Organised violence had to go.
Only this time, Jarno didn’t need to wait for such self-destruction as happened thirteen days earlier.
{ Unrest Drops 20 Points, As MS and MLS become majorly unable to organise violence, Unhappiness increases 15 Points for obvious reasons }

I (26F) slept with my ex's best friend in my ex's house. I did not think this was going to affect my ex the way it did and I have to fill you all in for why I felt like this was okay to do.
First of all, my ex and I got together back in October and were together for 3 months. He broke up with me out of the blue and ghosted me. For a week I wasn't sure what was going on and then finally he said he didn't have time for a relationship. I felt blind sighted by this and was a wreck for a month. I really did love him and was so confused how sudden this came about.
Months pass and we still followed each other on Instagram but I'd try and ignore so I blocked him. Eventually I was like you know what I don't think I want to block him any more and I kid you not the day I unblock him he responds to one of my stories which surprises me. We start talking and he updates me about his life and I'm a bit more reserved with what I'd like to tell him about mine due to him dumping me and ghosting me.
He would text me throughout the week and call me which I answered. He updated me about the girls he was talking to, the new job he has, the house he bought etc etc. I didn't feel jealous, I have my own life and am very content with it, but I was confused as to why he wanted to talk to me all of a sudden. Truthfully I felt like he was almost boasting about his life now that I'm out of it. I told him this and it caught him off guard and he said he wanted to foster a friendship with me. I was open for this because I did miss him and would love to have him around in my life in some way. He also wanted to reiterate that he broke up with me because he couldn't focus on a relationship. I told him I understood. He also shared with me his anxieties and fears and I felt like a kind of friend-therapist which I was okay with. I like how people feel like they can come to me and vent and feel safe opening up.
He would text me throughout the week randomly, call me on the weekends at night (I was typically asleep and would see the calls after), and just give me a lot of attention. Again, I know he was trying to foster a friendship but also couldn't comprehend the need to talk to me regularly. I told my friends this and they were equally confused and couldn't understand his angle either. I also want to point out that he also spoke to me about the girls on his roster and how he really likes this one girl and I'd give him advice about this. Just trying to help him out! Really at this point I felt like I was being a friend. And I was very okay with it and excited to be a part of him sharing his love life with me. I love a good tea!
Anyways, Friday night comes around and I'm celebrating my friends birthday downtown. He texts me at like 10pm and we start talking and he says his best friend is in town and they want to hangout. I invite him over and he and his friend mob with me and my friends from bar to warehouse party. My ex and I walked over to get drinks and he said he sees me almost like a little sister and that it feels good to be friends with me. In that moment he verbalized how he felt towards me and that made me finally feel satisfied that yes we have reached the point of friendship where were just homies.
We get back to his place and his friend is staying in his roommates room (who left for the weekend). My ex falls asleep and me and his friend are on the couch talking and having really deep discussions about life. I definitely grew fond of him and there was more mental chemistry than I had expected. He started feeling my leg and I pulled away. I told him thats probably not a good idea and that I wouldn't want to get in the way of his and my ex's friendship. His friend said that it wouldn't and that he knows it wouldn't bother my ex. Mind you, they're best friends and I thought well if they're best friends he would know how my ex would feel better than me. He came up with reasons for why my ex was allowing for this to happen and I followed that and we ended up smashing in his roommates bed. 10 minutes in my ex goes to the door and yells "both of you need to get the fuck out of my house now." I was shocked and got my shit together and my ex said "you're not a good friend" to his best friend and his best friend replied that my ex had done way worse things to him. They mentioned some girls names and I immediately thought that the sex with me some sort of retaliation.
I leave the house and my ex calls me begging me for a reason as to why I did it. I have to preface that I didn't think this was going to upset him. I thought we had reached a level of friendship where he wouldn't care who I had sex with, especially after being told he sees me as a little sister. He kept saying "you don't fuck your ex's best friend" and that got through to me. He said I have no common sense and I just started crying because I guess I don't. I didn't mean to hurt him to this degree. I didn't mean to hurt him at all. I feel like his best friend lied to me and I was dumb to follow through with it/ ignore how I felt that maybe it wasn't a good idea. But his friend built up a case for me and I ignored my own gut feeling. I told my friend this and she said in a way he coerced me with fake justifications that he knew of bc he's his "best friend". I do take accountability though for my actions.
He told me he's going to beat up his best friend so that this doesn't happen again. His friend is understanding of this and I guess this is what that friend group does to show respect or whatever. My ex told me that he hopes this sends a message. He then said that he genuinely hates me and despises me. I've been feeling like shit the whole weekend and beating myself up. Our relationship is for sure ruined and I'm assuming its ruined between him and his best friend too. But also....his best friend kinda sucks.
I'm really here just venting. But if anyone wants to share how they felt about this or give me advice for the future that would be great. I now know not to fuck my ex's best friend. I'm just trying to be a better person everyday and I really hate it when I make people upset without meaning to.

• Current cards: (list cards, limits, opening date)
  • USAA Platinum Visa $700 limit, Sept. 2021
  • PayPal Credit $6900 limit, Nov. 2023 (not really a card but putting it here)
• FICO Score: 749
• Oldest account age: 2 years 9 months
• Income: $15,000
• Average monthly spend and categories:
  • dining $100
  • groceries: $282.50
  • gas/auto (gas or car parts purchased on credit card): $196.45
• travel: n/a
• eBay sourcing: ($2k/mo for parts), ($400/mo for shipping labels)
• Open to Business Cards: (probably not)
• What's the purpose of your next card? Cashback, payment protection
• Do you have any cards you've been looking at? Amex blue card has 3% cashback on US online shopping but I'm not sure that will work with Aliexpress/Alibaba purchases. Those are mostly overseas. There's also Wells Fargo Active Cash which has 2% cashback on everything.
• Are you OK with category spending or do you want a general spending card? Mostly wanted for online purchases on Aliexpress/Alibaba/eBay shipping labels.

I'm 24 years old and a computer engineering student at San Jose State University nearing graduation (~3 semesters away). My folks pay my rent and a ~$500/mo allowance for food and other stuff. Rent for a bedroom in a house is $950+$100(utilities). I typically work a job over summer. I sell on eBay year-round. I frequently source parts for eBay activities from places like alibaba/aliexpress. I've been just putting those on a debit card but I would prefer to put these on a credit card for better purchase protection and cashback. These bulk orders are often over $1k so that adds up making multiple orders per year. Last year, I made $12,500 worth of purchases for eBay stuff and another ~$5k in shipping labels.
My bank's credit card has a really low limit. I try to apply for a limit increase once a year but they've only increased it twice ($100 each time) since I got the card. I don't like that my credit card limit pretty closely matches my allowance because this makes my utilization high. During the semester, I have automatic RocketMoney savings transfers so then I have more money available during finals because I cook less during finals week. There's usually enough money leftover so that I can drive back home for the wintesummer without asking for gas money.
I got a car in 2021 and the last couple years have involved buying a lot of expensive parts to fix it up. I decided to use PayPal credit for that to increase the total amount of credit for FICO and so I can buy many parts at once and not pay interest for 6 months. I always pay these off before the 6 month deadline and pay no interest. The downside here is no cashback. That 6 month window has given me a lot of flexibility to combine projects on the car and lowered my credit utilization.
For tax purposes, it might be easier if I use 2 credit cards for eBay things. I can have one where shipping labels are billed to and the other one for business expenses. Because eBay keeps track of shipping labels, having those billed to a separate credit card would allow them to be separated from my other business expenses and then I don't need to go through the credit card statements and separate things at tax time.

[Part 2]
The twenty men, Lady Maege, and Ser Rolph continued up the paths in the lightless caves of Casterly Rock, huffing and puffing, but still silent as much as they could hold. One loud word at the wrong place at the wrong time may be their doom. In single file, the group followed Ser Spicer’s point with one lit torch. The stench was terrible and the dampness made it worse. Guarding the rear, Olyvar’s eyes were clouded in darkness at times where the torchlight was too far ahead to shine back. He relied on Ser Goose in front of him to lead the way, as Goose relied on Leo for the same.
Suddenly a whisper could be heard from the darkness at the front of the line. “Duck.” Then another slightly louder, “Duck” … and then another, and then another … each “Duck” a little louder than before. Is there a duck here in the sewers? Olyvar thought.
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
“Duck.”
Finally Leo turned around and told Goose, “Hello … Duck.”
Goose replied with pride, “I am no Duck!” Instantly as the tall knight crept forward, he thumped his head on an unlit rusty beam that was lowered onto their path. He fell backwards into a puddle of wet cold stool, ass first, toes off the ground, and staining his breeches. “Awww shit!”
Ser Olyvar helped the soiled knight up as his squire, Leo, told everyone in front what happened. They all forgot their stealth, and began to laugh.
“Come on Goose, you are slowing us down!” someone said.
“Ducks can move faster than you, Goose! You have to catch up and chase after us now!” a voice that sounded like Scrooge, said.
“You have to be more nimble and more quick Goose!” another one japed.
“All over my life, I have travelled land and sea. From my experiences, I learned that I would rather be more lucky!” the unclean bandit knight replied with the truth. “Or get lucky! Heh!” the daffy Goose added cheerfully.
“But you are no duck, right Goose?” Ser Raynard’s voice called.
They continued to laugh and began moving forward again. Ser Barnabus the stinking Goose with his honor stained, stood up and pointed his chin high. “Aye my lords, this bird you cannot change!” He shook his tailfeather, took himself low, and was ready to go.
As the thunderstorm clouds outside shifted, a pale grey blade of light emerged from a crack in the walls and shone the brown spot where Goose had fallen. It illuminated a tiny golden speck. Looking back and curious, Goose placed both hands through the muck, underneath the lumpy object and pulled. He lifted up a slimy brown sphere, the size of an orange, and rubbed off the slush. Goose held the carved rock to the thin line of the dying light and widened his large eyes.
Gold, unmistakable. “Goose, did you just lay a golden egg?” Olyvar japing quietly.
“I guess I did!” Goose whispered in glee. Ser Barnabus began singing to it softly. “I know that you don’t know it, but you’re a find so fine! And I’m going to show you that now you’re a mined of mine! My treasure, that is what you are! My precious, you’re my golden star! Hehehe!” He hugged it. Goose looked back to Olyvar. “Don’t tell the Black Sparrow!” He continued to giggle, despite scarring his face at the forehead. “Leo, come over here! Say hello to my little friend!”
His young squire came back, ducked under and asked. “Say hello to who? The Black Sparrow? He isn’t very little in person.”
“No you stupid sweet boy, definitely avoid the Black Sparrow! That captain is not my friend, my friend. We have to fool that fool.” He showed an astonished Leo the little golden egg before he hid it again from sight. They continued up the path towards their objective with Ser Goose the tall hedge knight finally ducking under, his pants stained in brown.
Olyvar had lost count of how far they ascended as they reached one of Ser Rolph Spicer’s checkpoints. They rested there for a few moments where the paths forked into several other directions. He then instructed Ser Olyvar Frey, Lady Mormont and Leo to wait here until the rest returned. In the meanwhile, they were to familiarize themselves with the area in case they needed a detour.
Not long after the group left them, Olyvar heard another man speaking through the rocky walls. Maege followed the voice through one of the forks, and found a hole that appeared to spy into a cell of the castle’s dungeons. She peeked through and spoke in disgust “Gods! What the hell! No!” She left the area and began looking for an entrance into the dungeons from the hidden hallways. Olyvar peeped through the hole and saw what seems to be an old maester in robes, with many rings around his neck. Inside, he harbored a boy and a girl who appeared to be twins, no older than ten. The boy had his shirt off, while the maester sniffed the girl’s hair and had a hand cupped at her clothed chest.
What in Seven Hells? Olyvar thought.
The elderly maester spoke to them, as they trembled like leaves. “Thank you children for helping me. I am Maester Valarik, this is very very important research for, um, the Citadel. Now let’s begin.”
Suddenly out of nowhere, Lady Maege Mormont burst open the dungeon door. “Let’s not!”
The shocked maester jolted to his feet, confused. “Are you their mother?”
“A MOTHER!” the She-Bear claimed in her crony crackling voice as she walked up to Valarik. Here she stood as Lady Mormont kicked the maester in between the legs, his screams alive with pain. His eyes began to tear as he fell backwards to the ground. Lady Mormont dropped down to him and drew her dagger. “Shut your mouth or I’ll make an eunuch out of you!” The maester still in agony replied with a silent nod. She lied to the twins, saying she was a washerwoman employed to the castle. “What the maester did was wrong and I will have the castellan punish him.” She urged the siblings to go home, but not tell anyone what had happened until they were outside of Casterly Rock. After they left, Maege in her barbaric tone told the maester, “You dusty fuck! Get in there!” as she led him into the hidden hallways behind the dungeon.
Ser Olyvar greeted the hostage, “Not another word Maester Valarik. She may geld you but I will shove my dagger up your arse.”
They continued to wait at the checkpoint, anxious for the Blackfish’s return with Queen Jeyne and Lord Edmure. Leo brushed back a lock of his ash-blond hair that fell down across one eye. Lady Mormont continued to stare at Valarik’s crotch while holding her naked dagger, twirling it at the pointy end for boredom. The silent maester was well aware, and would not return his eyes to meet hers.
Suddenly they heard a woman’s moan echoing in the distance. Torchlight illuminated the foot of the pathway and brightening the walls with each passing moment. Escorted by Goose, a thin girl with a mop of chestnut hair emerged. She was pretty like the daisy sewn on her gown that was covering a flat chest. “Eleyna!” Olyvar was animated. They hugged as he asked, “So what happened to your breasts?”
“I ate them.” She said in her high cheery voice. She stuck her small chest out, chin in the air, fists at the end of her narrow hips and twerked it for two beats. “How you like them apples?”
Olyvar smiled at the inside joke.
The Useless Goose then grabbed Leo and tapped Eleyna’s shoulders from behind. “Hi, have you met Leo?” Barnabus vanished in an instant.
She turned around and introduced herself. “Hello Leo, I’m Eleyna, the Queen’s sister.”
Leo was star-struck. “Are you a princess?”
“I guess I am a princess,” she said sarcastically. “Are you here to rescue me?”
Leo nodded up and down, trying to contain his excitement.
“Leo O’ Leo … my hero!” She kissed him on the cheeks, and Leo’s face began to blush, red as apples.
His brothers Raff, Donal, and Mikkal had emerged from the rocky opening just in time to watch. They wrapped their arms around one another, and nodded proudly at their youngest brother.
The others soon followed, pouring out of the tunnel entrance. Olyvar greeted his brother-in-law Lord Edmure Tully. “My sister is waiting for you back at the ship, with my future nephew or niece. Be a good father to your child.”
“And you be a good uncle. It is a honor to have you at our side, Ser Olyvar,” Lord Edmure replied respectfully.
Lady Sybell Spicer came down with her brother Ser Rolph, clutching a moaning Queen Jeyne Stark on both sides. She was garbed in simple loose fitted robes, pretending to serve as Eleyna’s plumped handmaiden. Olyvar was ecstatic. Jeyne’s mother then announced, “She is in labor!”
“What?!” As Olyvar and Maege said in unison. “Now!?”
Olyvar ran to Jeyne, straight to his sister’s arms and she kissed him on the forehead. “I kept my promise,” Olyvar told her.
Jeyne was feverish, sweating and mumbling words. “You did, I knew you were somewhere beyond the sea. I was here waiting for all of you, to sneak onto golden sand and rock. I was watching all the ships sailing by, not knowing which one will be my daring escape.” She looked towards her other brother Raynald. “I just knew my Ray lied somewhere over the ocean, and my Olly lied somewhere over the sea … both my brothers fighting to come back to me. Up in this castle mountain where it meets the heavens above, out where lightning splits the sea, I could still feel you two watching me. Through the wind, the chilly sea, and the rain … and now the storm and the flood. I felt your approach like the fires in your blood! I need … I need …”
“We need to go!” Ser Olyvar finished for her.
As the others began going into the next tunnel, the Queen in the North shook all the right-hands of the strangers that came to rescue her, while each man placed a left-palm on her round belly for a soft instant. With Jory, Jess, Ser Spicer, Ser Brynden and her brother Ser Raynard, she gave a hug each. She then trailed all of them with Olyvar and Raynard holding her weight. They descended down the path they came from, back to the LionsJape, WinterStorm and BattleWolf. Queen Jeyne Stark continued to scream. Oh, bloody shit. This will be the death of us. The descent will be much faster, but it was still a long way to go. With the Queen moaning in labor, they decided to light two more torch lights. Being heard here is just as unfortunate as being seen. But the darkness in front of him still faded in and out, confusing Olyvar’s eyes in blur. For a moment, the knight fantasized about golden dragons down here in the empty gold mines and sewers of Casterly Rock, to illuminate the rest of the route with flames … expediting the rescue.
Where in the hell is Lord Gawen Westerling? His trumpets and drums? It would at least muffle out Jeyne’s cry. At any moment, they could be heard … and then they could be trapped.
Then the Blackfish noticed Maester Valarik was in their party. “Who in the Seven Hells are you?”
Lady Maege told Ser Brynden and allowed the quivering maester to speak. “I am the maester of Casterly Rock. I don’t know what is going on here. Pl- … please let me go, I won’t say a word. I … I am innocent, I was just treating the children for an illness.”
“You said it was for research,” Maege interrupted.
“Um … bb … both,” the maester lied.
“In a dungeon? No tools nor vials?” Maege questioned rhetorically.
The maester had no answer for that. He looked back to the Blackfish. “Ser, you must understand-“
The Blackfish cuts him off. “Must I? I heard enough of your sorcery, Maester. Shut your mouth or I’ll throw you out of a window.”
The group was nearing the sea’s level, until they encountered the original path that dipped up and down. It was filled with flooded water from the storm surges. Ser Brynden Tully cursed at the sea trap. Olyvar knows the Blackfish could swim under it like he did at the moat of Riverrun, but not the others. They began to retreat and regroup.
Ser Rolph approached Ser Brynden, not shaken nor stirred, and offered a detour. “Follow me, this way leads to the kitchen of that courtyard at the base of the cliffs. At that courtyard, there is a large sewer drain that would lead us back to the paths of the rowboats. It is risky, we may be spotted.”
“We may be sitting ducks,” Goose added to the complaint.
“We have no choice,” said the Blackfish.
They followed Ser Rolph, with his niece still moaning.
They reached the hidden entrance to the kitchen and began to secure the area with weapons & shields drawn. It was empty. No gatherings or weddings were to be held outdoor this evenfall, especially with the thunderstorm. Olyvar peeked outside. Overcast clouds threw down rain-water onto dirt and stone, as the setting sun was half bathe into the ocean’s clear golden horizon. The courtyard by the sea was no bigger than the feast hall at the Twins. Stone pathways met at the middle, leading into a circular floor-drain that was exposed at the center of the yard. Twenty feet high granite pillars the size of tree trunks supported the open rectangular balcony above the ground level, overlooking the ocean. The kitchen doors were connected to the bottom level, but Olyvar was unsure what would lurk above them on the second floor balconies, with its four feet high parapet and six feet of platform width. Lightning flashed the columns bright white as the wet grass turned into mud.
Ser Brynden paced around the kitchen for a moment, trying to hide his shaking hands. He assessed the situation and regrouped the band of brothers. “Bows and arrows,” he commanded … and they obeyed. “Each men take cover behind a pillar. Sprint to it and establish a defensive stance with an arrow nocked to the string of your bow. Keep your eyes open. Rico will run to the middle alone, pull out the drain cover and retreat back. Alesander! Ray! Run to the opened drain and descend down the ladder. Once it is clear, let us know. We’ll bring Jeyne down first, followed by her sister and mother, and then Edmure.”
“Brothers!” as they assemble behind the closed double doors in single line. “Nock!”
From a window, Maester Valarik spied over to the drain, and then tried to block the traffic at the kitchen exit. “This is absurd! I have friends in court and I can vouch for you! Give yourselves up! This is madness, this is ludicrous!”
The She-Bear grabbed him. “Move maester, get out of the way!” She threw him to the corner by the pantry. Lady Mormont drew her dagger, gleaming silvery-blue for an instant as a crack of thunder boomed through the window. She pressed the flat of her blade onto his crotch and the terrified maester began to piss himself. Lady Maege disgusted, leaned back and threatened, “We have not killed anyone yet. You stay here like a good quiet dog and oblige, or this bear lady will rock your head away with a club when she comes back!”
Ser Brynden opened the double doors as Ben and Benjen held it. The Blackfish ran out first, around the perimeter to the furthest side of the terrace, forty yards away with bow & arrow in hand. The other men followed and fell into their positions, squishing their footsteps on the mud and stone.
Rico, Phyl, and Sam the Shredder followed the Blackfish to the southern side and took cover behind a column each. Scrooge, Donal, Raff, Mikkal and Leo sprinted for the eastern pillars as June, Jory, Jess, Fess and Lord Galbart Glover took the west. Ben and Benjen left their kitchen doors to joined Ser Goose and Ser Rolph Spicer at the closest posts of the north.
Queen Jeyne, Lady Maege, Lady Eleyna, Lady Sybell, and Lord Edmure stayed inside the kitchen with Ser Olyvar … as Ser Raynard and Alesander were ready to their task.
Rico unarmed, darted from his column towards the center of the courtyard and tore open the drain cover with ease. He flung it over the mountainous wall and into the sea as he headed back to his pillar, re-arming himself with the bow.
Alesander Frey and Ser Raynald Westerling, dashed towards the open drain and attempted to descend. Their shields, quivers and bows were caught at the circular entrance, so they discarded them at the base before going below. After Ser Raynald gave the clearance, Olyvar and Maege discarded their weapons and escorted Jeyne slowly and gently towards their escape, their clothes soaking in the rain. Olyvar kept Honor slung center at his back. Raynald offered himself as Jeyne sat on her older brother’s shoulders as they descended down the twenty foot ladder. Olyvar was doing everything he could to keep Jeyne stable from above as rain-water trickled down the drain.
When they reached the bottom, Olyvar noticed a weirwood tree staring right at him. A godswood? Here? The cavern was surrounded by roots and several rocky openings as well. He paid it no more mind and walked Jeyne towards a sewer entrance where Alesander was waiting for them. “The rowboats are not far! I see them, just a few more paces from here. I’ll keep a lookout on that exit.” He scouted ahead again.
Jeyne could not advance any further and fell lightly to the ground. “I can’t move anymore.”
Lady Maege came down the ladder and positioned herself between Jeyne’s legs. “Push your Grace! Push! Push!”
The rumbling of the thunderstorm was getting much louder.
Leo surprisingly came down with Eleyna and told Olyvar, “I think I hear a few soldiers moving on the second floor balcony. The parapets won’t allow us to see what’s hidden behind it.”
No not now. “It could be just the thunderstorm,” Olyvar hoped.
Lady Sybell and Lord Edmure Tully soon followed down the ladder. “I believe there are Lannister soldiers getting into positions above us. They must be waiting for more of their reinforcement to arrive,” Edmure sounded sure.
Olyvar cursed.
The Blackfish came down next. “We need to leave now. The storm surges will steal our rowboats as well.”
Jeyne was still moaning. Maege was still instructing, “Push! Push! Push!”
Olyvar began panicking in this awful shit-storm of a mess. “We need to go now! The soldiers are coming! The thunderstorm is coming!”
“WINTER IS COMING BETWEEN HER GRACES LEGS!” Maege screamed back.
Olyvar could not help but to chuckled for a beat before being serious again. “Bloody shit. Winter needs to be going!”
“Look son, I’m not your mother. You go figure it out yourself,” Lady Maege protested.
Olyvar felt like a fool below the Rock, looking back at all the wrong paths that got him lost here. If I just lied to my father of my intentions, and informed his Grace not to come to the Twins, we would not be here now at some shit sewer in the Westerlands. Jeyne would be crying in childbirth at Winterfell after Robb had retaken it from the Ironborn. King, Queen and babe Stark would be safe and sound. And me … I would be their Kingsguard knight … Ser Olyvar Frey … the Kingsavior.
“Ray, go find Alesander and summon him to return here to help. He is not far.”
Olyvar looked toward his Queen as Maege Mormont continued working in between Jeyne’s thighs, awaiting for the wolf-pup that their world was here for. Let us pray it is only one babe. A pair of twins would surely mean the doom of them. There was nothing Olyvar realistically wanted more now than Lord Gawen’s trumpets, and his young son Rollam’s drum rolls. Where is our diversion to get the Lannister soldiers to march away from us?
Goose tried to come down the ladder next, but the big man was stuck on top even with his weapons and shield forfeited. His golden egg had bulged out from his pocket, stopping him from entering the small circular drain. He was trying to work it out of his clothes.
Olyvar kneeled down next to his Queen, trying to facilitate this shit storm anyway he could. He went to feel for the letter he wrote to his father, but instead found the colorful bright feather that Captain Samullu gave to him earlier. He offered it to Queen Stark for some comfort.
“A gift? It is so beautiful Olyvar,” she said in discomfort. “I have a gift for you as well.” She summoned her mother and removed a thin cloak from her purse. Queen Jeyne Stark took it and unveiled it to Olyvar. It was the castle of the Twins, colored in grey, seated on a field red hot as a chilled blue stream flowed under the bridge. Olyvar motioned to give her his back, and she attached the cloak onto him. “I knitted it myself.”
“It is gorgeous my Queen. What does it mean? The water under the bridge?”
“It means forgiveness here, so you can move on. Now promise me Olyvar, don’t leave us again. Protect us. Protect your King’s child. We must never separate again.”
Ser Olyvar Frey gave the Queen his word.
Goose had finally removed the golden rock from his hidden pocket, and held it with his hand. At the moment useless, the knight threw down the golden egg to Leo, as it flashed bright from the lightning above. The knight started down and down the ladder.
Suddenly a voice roared from above. “This is Ser Forley Prester! Drop your weapons! Drop them!”
Ser Barnabus started to curse as he stood on the ladder halfway. He took a deep breath in disappointment. “Come on Leo, we have work to do.” He ascended.
Leo gave the golden egg to a shocked Lady Mormont and took a step towards the ladder, but he then turned around to Eleyna. He kissed her on the lips. The princess fought back and held Leo’s blond head with both her hands, forcing more of herself onto him. Their tongues danced a secret hidden inside their mouths, taking each other’s breath away over and over again. Olyvar did not think they would ever let go, until Eleyna did, shedding a tear. Leo turned back to the ladder. Ice in his veins and without another word, he began to climb.
Ser Brynden shared a look with Ser Olyvar. “I’m not kissing you!” He began walking towards the ladder as well, with Lord Edmure Tully trailing. He shoved his nephew aside. “Your lady wife is waiting for you on that ship with your child! Protect them! Keep the Tully name alive! Fly away now! That is an order! Take Queen Jeyne Stark to the ship and protect her family too!” The Blackfish conjured a duty that Edmure could not decline. He gave his uncle a sad agreeing nod. While climbing up, the Blackfish then looked at Olyvar. “Ser Frey, guard this ladder!”
Though not giving any direct orders to the Seashell Knight, Ser Raynald Westerling kissed his sisters and mother. They begged him not to go, but Ray flew to the top as well.
Ser Olyvar got up and began to follow, but the crying Queen tugged his cloak. “Olyvar, you promised me.”
“Goodbye Jeyne. I have to do my duty.”
“Just hang on a minute. Listen and promise me Ser Frey. Don’t be a fool. If you are in trouble, don’t try to be brave, just fly, fly away. Find me.”
Olyvar Frey got to his knees again and kissed her forehead. “Okay. Jeyne, my Queen … I’ll be back. I promise.”
“We need to move her to the rowboats,” Alesander Frey suggested. Olyvar hugged his brother, and ordered him to carry Jeyne’s weight to the exit with Lord Edmure’s help. Sybell and Eleyna Westerling held up Jeyne’s thighs as Lady Mormont spearheaded the path with her torchlight in one hand and the golden egg curled on the other.
“You better be right behind us,” Maege commanded.
“I will,” Olyvar hoped.
The new knight approached the base of the wet ladder and began to climb. He reached halfway and stopped to listen above. The thunderstorm roared its fury, and the Blackfish was already speaking.
[Part 4]

The Winds of Winter
Prologue
A storm was coming, but that was not part of the plan.
To the east, dark grey clouds and flashes of lightning were seen afar while thunder could be heard mumbling its rage in the distance. Here where they stood, fierce sea-chilled winds blew from the clear skies of the west. Two weather fronts were on course for a collision, and caught in between was a giant rock that mountains above the shoreline, a hard place. The old natural stonewalls of Casterly Rock were half bathed in gold from the even-falling sun, while the other hid in the shadow of the approaching storm. And soon enough, everything will be clouded in black.
The sound of the strong waves smacking into the face of the stony cliffs can be felt from a mile away, as it was no different from the ones crashing into the wooden hull of their galley. Above their rocking swanship, three tall wooden masts sported simple dark black sails, filled with winds from the west, speeding their eastern course towards the home of House Lannister, ready to hug the coastline tight, fast and dangerous.
The Summer Isle captain at the helm shouted his accented announcement, “Awww shittt! Everyone get yo shields and weapons ready. It’s about to go down! Adventurers and avengers, assemble up to the deck of Motherfunker. Be sharp and stay on yo toes! We’re running this so let’s go!”
“With me to the boats!” the legendary stern knight Ser Brynden Tully called out as his fighting men rallied at the starboard rear of their ship, emerging from the cabins below.
“We all chose to be here. If any man wants to back down now, then do so quickly. I would not die in that man’s company. We elected to do this task for honor and for justice. Some of us are here for vengeance and we may even chance to kill some of them. If so, you may enjoy your short moment of pleasure. But what I offer here is the IMMORTALITY of the songs and tales. And when it is all said & done as we return safely home, the singers will sing of this glorious day, our honorable deed, and their shame of a jape. And they will sing it from this day to the ending of the world, and we in it shall be remembered! We few, we brave few, we band of brothers. For he who shed blood with me today shall be my brother forever in song!”
A roar of cheer exploded in the air, loud and thunderous. As the ruckus died down, Lady Mormont proclaimed, “And a sister too!”
“Aye Maege,” said the Blackfish. “But we have always considered you as one of our brothers. Between your legs, your sacs are larger than most men, especially all the Lannister soldiers.”
“Well that is easy to say, all those Lannisters are a bunch of golden eunuchs!” Lady Mormont declared unlady like.
Laughter swept the deck.
The Summer Isle captain above shouted again and prayed, “Today is The Day, and the moment is upon us my friends. Thirty seconds until the drop zone lads! May the gods be with yo!”
On the starboard stern, three small rowboats hung out from the hull, hovering above the rough waves. Attached over the swanship’s parapet was a roped ladder, allowing the fighters to lower themselves down onto their watercrafts. Each one was designed to hold four pairs of oarsmen abreast, and a single coxswain to steer at the rear.
They were twenty good men and Maege. Each one scaled in black boiled leather armor, with a quiver of arrows slung on one back shoulder, and a Summer Isle goldenheart bow on the other. Most fighters had their own selection of close quarter combat weapons that sat on their belts while a round black-painted wooden shield rested at the center of their backs. They wore no sigils and smeared mud spots on their faces to mimic dark ghostly shadows for this stealthy task. They were lightly armored and had fewer weapons, as their goal required speed. If all goes to plan, they would not need any of them. They could accomplish this mission without a soul lost on either side. But this approaching storm was not part of the plan.
The Blackfish made one last heroic call on the deck of the Motherfunker, before he lowered himself on the ladder, “Come with me and take this song!”
Rico added to the cry, “Come on brothers! Do you want to live forever!?!”
They roared proudly again and began their descent as the Summer Isle crewmen assisted the Westerosi to the ropes, sharing firm ebony and ivory handshakes as they told them they will be back.
Ser Brynden Tully reached the rear rowboat LionsJape along with June, Jory, Jess, Fess, Ben and Benjen. Though it was the end boat, it will be the first to fly.
Aboard the middle boat WinterStorm was Lady Maege Mormont, and the other six oarsmen Phyl, Rico, Sam the Shredder, Ser Barnabus the Goose, Scrooge, and Queen Jeyne’s brother Ser Raynald Westerling.
Lord Galbart Glover commandeered the third boat BattleWolf, which hung closer to the center of the swanship. On it were the younger men Donal, Mikkal, Raff, Leo, and Alesander, all merely teenagers.
As he watched from above, Ser Olyvar Frey thought they were little dark turtles crawling down the ladders with their black shields slung on their backs. As the last turtle, Olyvar hugged & kissed his sister Roslin, and then their brother Perwyn. Ser Perwyn Frey was Lady Tully’s sworn shield, charged with her life’s protection, and her unborn child’s too. Though they were all Frey as family, Rosby blood thorns in their veins as well. We were all just sweet Roses By another name, a horrible name.
Olyvar descended. Alesander Frey was waiting for him adjacent to an empty seat on the boat. He was Olyvar’s nephew, but because they were of a similar age, Alesander felt more like a cousin to him, a cousin that felt more like a brother. He wondered what their mothers would have thought if they saw them there now. As Olyvar sat, he stretched his arms wide at the starboard-bow of BattleWolf and the brothers both grabbed an oar each. Alesander sang and japed, “Are you ready to fly this boat to the moon somehow?”
“Nothing is impossible!” Olyvar smiled.
Ser Olyvar Frey never thought he would be on this boat, absorbing the wrath of the big blue watery roads, rocking BattleWolf as it clung to Motherfunker. But his new knightly confidence was so high he could roar at the Drowned God to look at him and tell him to piss off. But he knew better and kept his silence. With his Frey luck, he believed his corpse would be bedding with mermaids down under the sea if he ever cursed the Drowned God aloud.
The owner of the swanship Motherfunker was an exiled prince of the Summer Isles, a big man with a short black beard, shiny bald head and a dark patch over his left eye that he can’t see through. He was Captain Samullu Jaqenssen, but notoriously called the Black Sparrow … though Olyvar had never heard of him until recently. He and his crew were the only sailors that would assist them in their cause, hypnotized to be a part of their upcoming famous Westerosi song. He was to help navigate his galley at high speeds hugging the rocky coast of the Westerlands. With the three rowboats hung to the side of Motherfunker, it would be hard for the sentries on top of the Rock to spot from above. The Motherfunker stayed far away from the coastline to only emerge near their objective at the time of attack. With a single swanship with plain black sails, the Black Sparrow hoped that the Lannister watchmen would pay them no mind as a regular trading galley on its way to Lannisport or wherever, instead of a vessel for an amphibious assault on their castle. And the stronger the winds and the faster the ship, the window of time to be exposed was much shorter. “They had the need for speed, and the speed needed the wind,” Goose had said the night before. The gods have blessed them with strong winds now. They were to come with the sun setting at their backs in the west, blinding any coastal lookout. Because they were cursed with this approaching storm, the plan changed and they had to depart earlier. Olyvar prayed that this would not compromise the mission. Only time will tell.
Racing onto the storm and nearing the rising cliffs, the Captain spun his ship quickly to a southern course and gave the crewmen the signal to dismount. “Ahhhhhhhhh-ah Ahhhhhhhh-ah!”
“Get ready to push!” the Blackfish commanded.
Each oarsman pressed the tip of their long wooden stick onto the hull of the galley, ready to push off. The Summer Isle crewmen began severing the connections of the mothership and its three rowboats. Single-handed axes swung as LionsJape pushed itself off, the first of three. The rowboat plummeted and the waters swallowed it before spitting it back out just as quick. After allowing itself to lose in Motherfunker’s wake, the oarsmen redirected the bow towards the rocks at the Blackfish’s orders.
The WinterStorm followed right after with Lady Maege’s commands, “Push lads! Push! Push!” as it dropped.
Now it was BattleWolf’s turn. “Gods damn it, I’m too old for this shit,” Lord Glover said as he raised a gloved hand and swung it down, giving the signal to cut. At the main deck, the crewmen swung their axes, gleaming gold in the western sunlight as the oarsmen pushed off. For a heartbeat, the fall had taken Olyvar’s breath away as Lord Glover’s BattleWolf floated in the air. Are we flying? Are we on a dragon? His rowboat slammed into the water, splashing chilled wet droplets inside the boat and out. His hair of short black curls flew and fell, dampening at the plunge. The collision almost knocked Olyvar and the men overboard, but they hung on. The Motherfunker left them with a white salty wake as it headed south. Lord Glover then commanded the starboard men to pull their oars, aiming towards WinterStorm. Olyvar pulled. Once aligned, both sides of BattleWolf began to rev hard. The men were howling and roaring with each tension, trying to evade this dangerous zone of being spotted.
Since the Red Wedding and the death of his beloved King, Robb Stark, Olyvar could not sleep. Grief, anger, vengeance, insomnia and drowsiness took him over the days and nights that felt like half-dreams. But the crashing kiss of the water dive had re-woken Olyvar in shock, as he realized what they were about to do was no fantasy he had ever known. Nothing can stop us now, this is really happening. His heart was pounding to the rhythm of the oars and he wanted to scream his battle cry. He could still hear Jaqenssen the Black Sparrow sounding his siren “Ahhhhhhhh-ah Ahhhhhhh-ah!”
We are brothers loyal to the King in the North, the land of ice and snow. We serve Riverrun and Winterfell, where the hot springs flow. And now the divine winds of the gods had driven our mothership to the Westerlands. To fight for honor, the North will sing and the West will cry. Casterly Rock … Winter is Coming! On we sweep with threshing oars, our only goal will be the western shore!
As Olyvar’s oar rose and fell, he looked up to the windows of Casterly Rock’s tall stony towers, searching for the signaling candle light. But it could not be seen this early. Only when the sun was fully set as planned, this candle would replace it as the guiding light. They rowed by rocks and rocks and more rocks. Seagulls flew in spheres above them, chasing one another. The sun still hung in the air, slowly falling to splash onto the western horizon of the Sunset Sea. They then rowed by a courtyard that just floated on the earth forty feet above the sea’s surface. Suddenly on the other side of their boat, they eyed a whale skimming off the glimmering golden ocean. The boys of the vulnerable BattleWolf did not say a word as the monstrous water-beast swam the opposite direction just twenty yards away from them, paying them no mind. It was a good thing I did not curse the Drowned God as I was going to earlier.
Olyvar, Alesander, Leo, Mikkal, Raff and Donal were seated on Galbart Glover’s rowboat, rowing to Galbart Glover’s commands, “Row! Row! Row your boats you son o’ whores!” and taking in Galbart Glover’s cold stare as he eyed the two Freys specifically when he said it. Olyvar’s arms began to tire, but this was not the place to show weakness to his brothers. So he pulled on while keeping their rowboat as close to the stony walls as possible to avoid detection from above.
They trailed the Lady Bear while following the Blackfish. Soon after, Ser Brynden Tully had found his mark and grounded LionsJape onto a small beach. His men exited, flipped the rowboat above them and dashed forty yards straight toward the rocky edge, where a small barred cave was fitted at the base. Underneath the rusted iron, a thin valley of brown watery slush stank & trickled into the sand & sea. Everyone knew what that was when they agreed to participate in the assault. The Blackfish was told back at Riverrun about a sewer path inside Casterly Rock that allowed all the shit and piss to drain out to the ocean. This tiny hole by the foot of the mountain was all and everything for the mission.
When the sprinting men reached the end with their boat, they dropped it at the skirt and pressed themselves against the wall. The façade was conveniently arched outwards as it ascended, making it difficult to be sighted from above. With the waves muffling the noise of speech, any of them can speak freely outside at sea level. From the cliffs above, their human conversations below would only sound like ghostly whispers. No casual listener should be alerted to such. But hearing and seeing are different things, and they must not be seen.
WinterStorm and BattleWolf soon followed. As Olyvar departed BattleWolf, he cringed at the soreness of his arms that the work had left him. His arms will have to ache again as his squad lifted the rowboat above their heads. They stormed towards the barred entrance, with bow and quiver slung on each shoulder, a turtle shell shield at the center of his back. While the others carried shorter lighter personal weapons, Olyvar was equipped with a longsword that once belonged to his King, Robb Stark.
They dropped off BattleWolf when they reached the wall, waiting for a way in. Ten brothers on one side of the cave, and eleven on the other. The closest ones to the door had their small axes and weapons drawn along with their shields, while the further ones notched an arrow onto their bow. Olyvar had his Summer Isle goldenheart bow ready. The entrance was small, the same size as their black shields, guarding the realm of Casterly Rock, and they continued to wait.
This thunderstorm was coming, and it was not part of the plan. It was the Blackfish’s decision to leave Motherfunker earlier before the storm surges would flood the sewers of Casterly Rock. Their forty yard dash from the beach to the gate may be twenty yards if they arrived an hour later … and there may be no more exit by the time they escape back. But Stark loyalists hidden in the woods outside of the castle were told of executing this assault at the exact evenfall of Queen Jeyne Stark’s arrival to Casterly Rock. The Lannister soldier escorts would be exhausted from their march and acquired a false sense of security when they reached the safe comforts of the castle. The Stark land forces led by Lord Gawen Westerling would create a mummer’s farce with trumpets and drums, sending the weary Lannisters to one side, as the Blackfish himself attacked the other from the sea. Evenfall of this day was the golden time to do this, but they arrived an hour too early. With the storm, Olyvar prayed that everyone else would adjust to the plan. He wondered if Lord Westerling would account for the storm surges. But it makes no difference now. They were here, and they cannot turn back.
Suddenly the rusted iron of the barred cave unlocked and swung open, creaking like a loud squealing rat. Emerged was a crouching older man with a short gray beard and a jaw squared like a mason spice jar. “Welcome to the Rock!” Ser Rolph Spicer declared.
Ser Brynden greeted him with a hug, “I’m so glad you came early, we would be sleeping with the fishes if you were late.”
“It was Edmure’s idea to leave early, he said the storm would flood the sewers, and we prayed you would come sooner too.”
“Like that damn Mill again, Edmure acting prematurely? That boy will never learn! Thank the Gods!”
They both chuckled and began entering through the gate. The others soon followed, ducking into the small hole and into the darkness.
Once inside the caves of Casterly Rock, Ser Rolph grabbed his torchlight and lifted it to the air, showing the brothers the vastness. The lobby was an open abyss where the ceiling was fifty feet high. The walls had multiple rocky openings naturally carved in, small and large. Some were wide enough to walk through. Inside were all shadows, saved the areas illuminated by golden sunlight spying in through each seldom hole or fissure. Where the flames can brighten, hard brown rocks glowed and flickered, as well as old metal tracks, mining carts, abandoned tools, ladders, rusty chains and the occasional plant roots that brewed in the darkness of the caves. The smell reeked. Olyvar was sure there would be no real gold here as it was probably mined out over the centuries. Only shit shits down here in the sewers and caves of Lord Tywin Lannister’s home, not gold, Olyvar thought. This was where Lann the Clever started his legend, swindling the Casterly residents out of the castle, cheating them. It was their turn now to write history, these archers from the sea facing off with their own modern Casterly ploy … accomplishing it without being seen, doing it as faceless warriors.
They followed Ser Rolph and his torchlight in single file, going deeper up into the caves, fitting in burrowed hallways that barely fit them, pursuing his decisions at each fork in the paths, squishing their feet on sluggish wet slopes and steps. The very first entrance they encountered required them to descend a few yards before climbing up the rest of the way. It was hundreds of feet in elevation that they must ascend to. At times, the way was lit well enough. But at other instants, the darkness blinds them, only facing the brother in front of them for their flight. I have promises to keep. And steps to go before I sleep. And steps to go before I sleep.
“By now the guards at the top of the Rock should be asleep after I spiced up their ale,” Ser Rolph Spicer said with a cheeky smile. “Before my sister Sybell married into House Westerling, I explored these parts of Casterly Rock in my youth as a smuggler, going up and down many times. Your legs will tire, no doubt about that. But you lads are years younger than I, and I better hear no complaints unless I am the first one to make it.”
“I’ll do my best,” young Leo announced for himself.
“Your best?” Ser Spicer questioned. “Losers whine about their best. Winners rescue crowned queens.”
“Lady Jeyne Westerling-Stark is THE crowned Queen,” Leo replied.
“Is that so?” Ser Rolph gave Leo a sarcastic look with a raised eyebrow, before continuing up the steps inside the Rock.
“I’ll decide the turns and I’ll establish the security checkpoints. There, we can rest for a moment. A few of you will be left there to guard the area as the others will continue to ascend. Those few will wait until we fall back. But remember, the journey down is far less exhausting. For now, let’s go up and up. Ser Olyvar Frey, would you take the honor of watching our rear?”
Ser Olyvar Frey. The name was still queer to him. As much as he liked the ‘Ser’ in his name, he would like to rid the “Frey” in the surname. He had been the most loyal squire a king could have asked for. He would have stayed with King Robb Stark to the end of the world, but his own blood tore that away from him. Olyvar was not blind though. His young king had made grave mistakes, more than Olyvar wanted to count. As much as he would have favored his sister Roslin to marry him, Olyvar knew you cannot choose the people you love. And Robb genuinely loved another, he hoped. Jeyne Westerling was just as sweet as Roslin. Olyvar would have stayed at Robb’s side as his brother-in-law, or some uncle-in-law by Lord Edmure Tully. Though by choosing Jeyne, it slighted Olyvar’s father Lord Walder Frey. But Seven Hells father, did you have to murder him? At my sister’s wedding feast? Under your own roof? Under my roof? Robb Stark was my king. He was brave and good, and Olyvar Frey loved him. And his soul was tortured in sleepless days and nights, knowing he shared the same blood as the murderers … knowing he could have stopped it if it was not for impulse. You are an honorable fool Olyvar. His father had told him of the treacherous plan the day before, but Olyvar cursed it aloud, defending Robb as it was still his duty. You should’ve been smart and played stupid with father. You could have informed Robb while you were still free, breaking this bad dream. Olyvar shouldn’t have tried to bargain with his father. He should have known he made up his mind a long while ago. Olyvar was imprisoned in the dungeons of the Twins during the Red Wedding. The gaolers were japing at him, “Go ahead, do your duty. Save your king!”
My king. The sad memories faded into blurred flashbacks.
[Part 2]

I've been obsessed with Teddy Swims lately and I was listening to Last Communion for like the 20th time before I looked at the lyrics and realized it's literally Eddie's song (about his wife) and it's really cathartic to listen to given how they ended S7. I just wanna talk about it extensively because my heart hurts for Eddie, so I'm gonna analyze this in Eddie's POV because I am unwell 😭
So this song is part of an album called "I've Tried Everything But Therapy" which is very appropriate as a general Eddie Mood™ ngl. Anyway it's a song that deals with loss of faith, the end of a relationship, and lack of closure that results from it. It literally hits pretty much everything Eddie is trying to work through with his relationship with Shannon right now.
The song opens with:

Used to believe Heaven was bulletproof Only God can turn a red light blue Been cuttin' me deep, dyin' to talk to you Only love can push the blade right through

Right away, it's establishing faith. Even though Eddie's not as religious as his family or Bobby, I think he still believes in the broad strokes of Christianity like a higher power and maybe a heaven and how religion serves to let people deal with the problems that they might need a little bit more spiritual help to overcome. "Only God can turn a red light blue" can be interpreted as the belief that only divine intervention can help change a negative situation (in this case, his wife's death) into a positive one. The stop/go imagery adds the nuance that the situation is something that's holding Eddie back and God/a higher power is the only one that will "permit" him to move on as if "moving on" is completely out of his hands. It also lines up with Eddie's tendency to "search for signs" to move forward, like Shannon's "pregnancy" to propose, or Carla telling him to ask Ana out, or Christopher pushing him to call Marisol. Eddie is hurting himself to talk to or find closure with Shannon. The act of "pushing a blade right through" can mean his love for Shannon put the blade in him in the first place/she's the reason why he's hurting, and only love (someone else's/Buck's) can push it through so the hole can finally heal even if it hurts to do so.

This love's an orphan callin' on deaf ears There's no afterlife, but if there is It's late in the night time, so it's the right time For sleep talkin', sleep talkin'

The orphan imagery in the chorus is definitely supposed to signify that Eddie feels left behind, his love for Shannon is falling on "deaf ears" because she abandoned him while she was alive (he waits for her but she never responds) and literally after she died (he can't talk to a dead person). "Night time, right time for sleep talking" can be interpreted as Eddie hiding his feelings, keeping them to himself in the dark/in private where he can break down his defenses when he's alone, and the only time he processes his feelings is through his "dreams" or his fantasies. This is the bridge so it gets repeated along with the chorus to emphasize abandonment and the hope that he can "talk" to his wife through his imagined fantasy/afterlife/Heaven where she's still "alive".

And now the heart's shot dead Buried under each and every word unsaid 24 hours since 'Goodbye, God Bless' 'Fore we let the ghost get away One last communion babe

This whole chorus is basically painting the abrupt (and emotionally devastating) end of Eddie's relationship with his wife and desire for closure. The second line is self explanatory, there were a lot of things unsaid when Eddie had to let his wife go in the ambulance, I really think he couldn't unload on a dying woman and ask her why she wanted to divorce, why she would think there was a possibility she would never come back to him and Chris, why wasn't Eddie enough for her to stay, etc. This all happened very quickly in the show, I think it was like within one episode of each other, Eddie was asking Shannon to marry him, her refusing, and Eddie choosing to console her as she dies despite how much he obviously still had things to say (as shown when he talked with Bobby).
Before they let the "ghost" of their relationship get away, he wants one last "communion" with her, which can mean "to commune"/share thoughts and feelings, to "break bread" with each other, remember each other's sacrifices, put aside their differences and either part on good terms or try to fix their relationship.
With Shannon's death, it paints Eddie's desire for them both to have one last chance to say the things that haven't been said for the sake of peace. This is the chorus so it keeps repeating and just highlights this desire to resolve their issues and have a proper goodbye. The bridge and the "One last communion" part of the chorus is kinda circular, in the bridge he feels abandoned but still has hope, but when he "thinks" about his relationship, all roads just lead him to the longing of wanting one last "communion" with her in order to fix or to let go. When the bridge-chorus repeats in the song, it just paints how much Eddie is stuck in this loop of hope, devastation and desire for closure.

So I let it go, nobody else around Couldn't watch forever fall face down So I turned my head the second it hit the ground And I felt it, but it made no sound

Again, I'm thinking about the ambulance with Eddie consoling Shannon while she talks about "leaving again" and how Eddie probably wanted to ask why she wanted to divorce him, why they couldn't stay together for Chris if she really loves him etc. He lets go of his problems with her in the moment for the sake of comforting her. I'm also thinking about how Eddie told Bobby that he "forgave her for everything and it wasn't enough", this was something he decided to do likely with no input or advice from anyone else. The second line, I think Eddie really thought he and Shannon would stay together forever despite how shitty their marriage was and how shitty they were to each other. He turned a blind eye to the destruction of their relationship, deep down he probably "felt it"--their relationship was dead--but he refused to hear it because he couldn't watch his "fantasy" of being married to her forever crumble even after her death.
Bridge and chorus play again, Eddie stuck in a loop of hope and devastation every time he ruminates about his relationship with Shannon and lands with wanting closure with "one last communion".

It was a grand old age Oh and yes I know that nothing gold can stay But I couldn't bring myself to turn that page Before I drop a kiss on the grave One last communion babe

God this song is fucking perfect. Eddie built up a fantasy of having a perfect relationship with his wife, and maybe "The Grand Old Age" might have been true during high school and when they were first married to each other. Everything was perfect and golden, in Eddie's words "I loved being married to her" and he might have been blissfully in love with her then and maybe he knew it was never going to last especially when he started running away. But now with her gone, he can't bring himself to "turn that page / before [he] drops a kiss on the grave", in other words, he can't let go of that golden age ideal, to turn to the next chapter of his life, to move on, not before he let's go of his wife--which he can't do because he has an all consuming desire for "one last communion" with her, to make peace and get answers.

It was a childish game Who can light a candle in the cryin' rain No one could know about the mess we've made I'm scrubbing, praying that the blood don't stain I only whisper your name For one last communion babe

This song is literally made for Eddie 😭 "It was a childish game, who can light a candle in the crying rain" in the context of their marriage means they were immature and naive trying to make it work, trying to keep their "passion" or "candle" alive while they were both hurting. It was like an exercise in futility to participate in this back and forth "game" of Shannon lighting the candle under the torrent of Eddie's tears/hurt, and then Eddie trying to light the candle in turn under Shannon's.
They tried to hide their problems from others, they made a "mess" of each other, and the devastation Eddie is left with (his "heart shot dead" from the earlier lyrics) has covered him in blood (grief/trauma/left him broken) and he hopes that the "blood doesn't stain", he hopes almost desperately (scrubbing/praying) the aftermath of his relationship with her doesn't permanently mark him or break him. Now Eddie can only "whisper her name" longingly, it might also be a sign of secrecy, his need to keep his feelings about his wife--which persist even if he might not want it to--hidden from others maybe a little bit because of shame, he wasn't able to fix it. And again, he wants to so badly but he'll never get his "one last communion".
Ugh 😩 It's so beautiful honestly. Like word for word, it sums up Eddie's turmoil so well. This is now Eddie's anthem in my head, I can't separate him from this song.
The next 2 (honestly 3) songs are also part of the album, they're right after one another towards the end. The whole album kinda tells a story of anger, toxic relationships, heartbreak and finally moving on, realizing you're deserving of love and then finally finding it if listened to in order, so obviously I wasn't not going to think of Buck after that Eddie-as-fuck song. I'm not gonna go as heavy on the analysis because they're pretty self explanatory.
First one is Suitcase, and surprise surprise, it's about ✨baggage✨ lmao. It's slow and kinda sad, kinda hopeful, trying to move on even with all the hurt and exhaustion you gotta carry from previous relationships, always afraid you're moving back instead of moving forward but still loving who you can't help loving despite the setbacks and just asking them for a little more time and space to heal. 😭😭😭 From the artist himself: "This is a song about my journey to learn that I am deserving of love and worthy of someone who will love me despite my baggage and insecurities!" So it can read as for Eddie or Buck or both.
This part is my fave:

Every time I stumble for you Two steps back and one step forward And now I'm fallin' down more than I'm fallin' for you But I adore you, I adore you

Next one is Flame!!!! The feel good song!!!!!! Finally moving on!!!!!!! Happy and upbeat, kinda silly:

We should put on our favorite records Pour a little whiskey too early in the day We could blame it all on the weather Swear the connection was better in LA

We could use our imaginations to make up a confrontation For the sake of something goin' on We should put on our favorite records If we're lucky, turn tonight into a love song
It's alright Gonna stay right here 'til it hits us Even if it takes all night Gonna find the flame we've been missing, baby
It's actually "a song about having a hard time writing a song" but true to the lyrics, it literally turns into a love song out of context lmao. It actually feels kinda friends to lovers tbh, two people fucking around in a hotel room trying to have fun with each other, using their "imaginations to make up a confrontation" stirring up fake drama just to get a little "friction" going (this feels very "wanna go for the title?" to me) until they find the "flame they've been missing".
And then Evergreen, an actual love song. After Flame, it just feels like they've "found the spark" and now Eddie at least is falling for Buck, who is obviously the "sun knocking at [Eddie's] door" and the fuel to Eddie's fire and the "evergreen" crashing through Eddie's walls 😭 Just Eddie vibes fully leaning into his new love, finally realizing that he could have a life with Buck:

Took a while to make this bed Tired of livin' in my head The ritual, things I ain't know Never felt like this before
Sorry that my heart's a mess But you keep me from spirallin' And I guess when it rains it pours 'Til the sun knocks at your door
Oh, I think that I could love you Through the darkness, through the cold
'Cause I'm feelin' somethin' when you're next to me You fuel my fire like some kerosene We're intertwined with nothin' in between Cross your heart, promise you'll never leave
I'm feelin' somethin' when you're next to me I have walls up that nobody sees But you crash through me like an evergreen Cross your heart, promise you'll never leave

Thanks for reading this wall of text 😭 Last Communion is a masterpiece honestly, it's been a while since I've heard such heavy lyrics, it was literally begging to be analyzed and it just happened to be perfectly in line with my obsession with Eddie's current arc and now I love the song even more. I really hope they get together in S8.

SEASON OVERVIEW

Ominous Howl initial teaser image. Original artwork by Gaetan Perrot for BF2042 on ArtStation. Edited by me to include the indigo-colored smoke effect.
Hello Siege players, this is a concept for a season I've been working on for a little while, it includes a brand new Attacker from Siberia, a brand new map set in a fortified manor in a private island, as well as a few other quaility-of-life and gameplay changes. Keep in mind my foccus in more so on the new additions, those being the brand new Operator and Map, so the other topics may not sound as detailed or refined as them.

NEW MAP: ESTATE

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Estate is the brand new map featured in Operation Ominous Howl, it takes place in the fortified manor of the Romanov Estate, a family of Russian Oligarchs with political, military and industrial ties, as well as the home of KOHHN PMC's CEO herself, Natalya Romanova. The map is located on a private island in the Mediterranean Sea, which has a somewhat tropical look, taking place at sunset, with a very refined aesthetic to the manor itself.
Of course, to differentiate the ambiances for each floor and section of the map, different themes are presented, similar to Lair in Y8S4.
(please note that the reference images used above are used directly from MW3's Oligarch campaign mission and are meant to be EXCLUSIVELY illustrative, they are not my work, they are not 100% true to what I pictured for the map itself)

• The top/2nd Floor has a more "personal" theme, as it is the living quarters of Ms. Romanova herself, featuring a wealthy bedroom with a massive high-tech screen. Other rooms include a fortified saferoom with security camera access and a personal gym room.
  • It features 1 objective: 2F Master Bedroom / 2F Security Room
• The first floor is a more open-concept part of the the Estate, with a large living/dining room, kitchen, art-exposion room, and an aesthetic very reminiscent to that of Chalet.
  • It features 2 objectives: 1F Kitchen / 1F Winery and 1F Art-Expo Room / 1F Trophy Room
• The basement floor is a heavily fortified bunker used as a command center for Romanova's PMC guards, having a more military/high-tech look, featuring rooms such as an armory, control center, server room and planning room.
  • It features 1 objective: B Server Room / B Control Center

OPERATOR MASTERY SYSTEM

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Following in the footsteps of Rainbow Six: Extraction, the introduction of the Operator Mastery System allows players to level up and unlock unique cosmetic rewards for their favorite operators by simply playing the game.
Each operator will have their own individual progress of up to 10 different levels, unlocking unique cosmetic rewards such as mastery uniforms and headgears, weapon skins, card backgrounds and portraits. These masteries also include seasonal rewards as a way to encourage players to also play a wider variety of Operators for the duration of the season.

RANKED 2.0 REWARDS UPDATE

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As a soft update to the recent addition of ranked-exclusive Headgears, Ominous Howl will add full fledged Uniforms, Universal Weapon Skins for each rank, Operator Portraits and more. It should be noted that only Platinum and above ranks feature Operator Portraits, while the lower ranks will feature a Bravo Pack instead.
The rewards for each rank division will be:
[Rank] V - Weapon Charm, [Rank] IV - Uniform, [Rank] III - Card Backrgound (universal), [Rank] II - Operator Portrait, [Rank] I - Headgear.

NEW OPERATOR: GARM

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The new Attacking Operator coming with Operation Ominous Howl is Garm, a mysterious strategist and black ops specialist affiliated with Deimos' sinister Keres Legion.
Lore-wise, Fyodor "Garm" Volkov is a former member of the elusive Bodark unit from the Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon franchise and the acting Commander of the KOHHN PMC Group, founded and owned by Russian Oligarch Natalya Romanova (as you may have noticed, the owner of the Estate map). Here's a better look as his lore and in-game bio:
https://preview.redd.it/5ftbmziv2m5d1.png?width=499&format=png&auto=webp&s=011c90011319732452b11ee3ba40c1fefea3d964
Garm's Background
Garm's Specialist Profile
Garm's Training and Relevant Experience
Garm's Gadget Evaluation
Gameplay-wise, Garm is a 2 Speed, 2 Health support-style Attacker who specializes in creating aggressive openings for his team to push key positions of the map by suppressing Defenders who would otherwise take advantage in such positions.
Original art by Jean-Christophe Alessandri for Ghost Recon Breakpoint. Edited by me via adding the blue LEDs and smoke effect.
M-RAK Charge gadget icon.
Garm's gadget is the M-RAK CHARGE, a special flying drone that travels forward in a set path, releasing a powerful toxic gas that severy hinders Defenders' senses once affected by it. Do keep in mind that the dark blue smoke cloud itself is not meant to directly obstruct vision in the same way a regular Smoke Grenade would. Instead, it works more like FENRIR's F-NATT Mines, only affecting those who come in direct contact with the gas itself.
The gadget works like this: Garm deploys his M-RAK Drone, which stays hovering in place until further notice, he can then choose (via the alternate button) to make the drone travel forward or to the left or right and then remotely trigger it (much like RAM's BU-GI). The drone will then move in the chosen direction, leaving behind a cloud of blue smoke that, once in contact with it's prey, will obscure vision (like Fenrir, but not as much), slow down movement (like Melusi or Barbed Wire) and make it's victims cough relatively loud. It should also be noted that Garm himself (exclusively) is immune to the effects of the gas.
Of course, the gadget isn't without it's own set of counters. Mute's Jammers or Tubarão's Zoto Canisters will prevent the drone from being triggered once it's already been deployed, and they will stop it's movement if already triggered. The drone itself is bulletproof but it has a blue canister on it's bottom which can be shot to destroy it. Explosives are another alternative.
Garm starts with only 1 M-RAK Charge, and can gain up to a max of 3 over the course of the round. His loadout was created with the help of Rainbow Six Siege developer Justin Loranger-Ahluwalia via Twitter DMs, who gave me some incredible insights on what would work best for this operator and his gadget, so MASSIVE thanks to Justin for the help.
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Primary Weapons

• C-X50 Stalker (Marksman Rifle; new weapon)
• POF-9 (Assault Rifle; reused from Sens)

Secondary Weapons:

• SPSMG9 (Machine Pistol; reused from Clash/Kali)
• Keratos .357 (Revolver; reused from Alibi/Mastro/Wamai)

Gadgets:

• Impact EMP Grenade
• Claymore

Garm's entire loadout sets around 2 different playstyles one can have while deploying the M-RAK, those being either a Support or Aggressive playstyle.
The C-X50 Stalker is a brand new DMR exclusive to Garm. It's design is inspired by a wide variety of different precision and anti-material rifles, customized to have a modernized "heavy duty" look. The weapon itself is chambered in 12.7x55mm and is semi-auto. It also comes with a custom 2.5x Scope that can't be removed, similar to Deimos' .44 Vendetta.
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Stats are as follows:
70 Damage / ~420 RPM Fire Rate / 10+1 Capacity / Moderate-Low Recoil
The C-X50 is good for a medium-long range support to pick off desperate victims of the M-RAK drone, and is especially nice when paired up with Garm's SPSMG9 secondary SMG.
The POF-9 assault rifle is meant for more aggressive pushes on key positions or suppressive fire with it's large magazine capacity. When I first presented Justin with the idea, he suggested the V308 for a suppressive/aggressive role, however, due to it's high damage profile, it would've been too strong and make Garm a heavy frag operator, so I kept the suppressive idea and went with the POF-9 as a somewhat weaker option for balancing purposes. As one may guess, his Keratos .357 is meant to synergize with the POF.
The original idea had Impact EMP Grenades and Smoke Grenades as secondary gadget options, however, with Justin's help, the Smokes were swapped for Claymores. The EMPs synergize with the support role of the operator himself, and can help him clear the path of Mute Jammers or other gadgets that can disturb the usage of the M-RAK. Alternatively, Claymores provide flank-watch help while Garm and his team can have their foccus on the push itself.
And that's a wrap I guess..? I'd appreciate some feedback down bellow so I can improve on this and other future concepts and please be gentle when doing so, this is was made by a single person who also has a full time job and family to take care of so it's obviously not the best out there. If you've read it all the way down here, I hope you enjoyed your time, have a wonderful day and take care!

Questions which I hope you kind folk would answer
I am working as a GP and have some questions I thought people of different specialties would be able to answer. Please answer if you’re from that speciality or have confidence in managing the question. I know it’s a lot of questions but I thought it would be easier to do as just 1 post and thought other GPs and doctors could benefit. I hope I don’t sound too dumb.
Cardiology: 1- How would you manage an incidental finding of new RBBB in an asymptomatic patient 2- Same as question 1 but LBBB 3- Same as question 1 but t wave inversion 4- Does type 2 heart block need admission if patient is asymptomatic? Or could you just refer to cardiology as outpatient
Respiratory 1- We’re always taught asthma is reversible airway obstruction but COPD is irreversible. Hence why improvement in spirometry after SABA. But if there’s no improvement in COPD why does SABA and steroids still help
Haematolgoy 1- Does iron tablets or folate or B12 have an effect on the MCV? 2- There are so many patients with incidental findings of B12 or folate deficiency with normal Hb and normal MCV, obviously I treat these but I just think what’s the point. Is there much benefit to this? 3- If a patient has low ferritin but normal Hb does this count as iron deficiency and is it still best to treat?
Orthopaedics: 1- Does squatting heavy weights like weightlifters help knee arthritis or would it make it worse. Because technically you’re building quadriceps but at same time so much pressure on joints. 2- Do you have any advice for treating ganglions or bursitis apart from just wait till it hopefully gets better?
Gynaecology 1- How do you manage fluid in pouch of douglas? 2- If someone has irregular periods or amenorrhoea with PCOS, what is the actual benefit of giving the COCP? Is it just to regulate periods to women who desire this or can it reduce the testosterone levels? 3- Similar to question 2 but if someone has amenorrhoea but doesn’t care is this dangerous? I know there is increased osteoporosis risk but apart from that any other dangers?
General surgery 1- If someone has pain a few months after hernia operation, to check for another hernia would it be better to order US or refer back to surgeon
Rheumatology 1- Why is colchine max course dose 6mg when I’ve seen cardiologist given way more than this
Psychiatry 1- What are the dangers of giving 2 antidepressants at once?
Random 1- In fight or flight you can instantly feel heartbeat. Why is this? Surely adrenaline can’t travel round body that quickly so what is happening which instantly gives you that flight or fright feeling? Is it just the activation of sympathetic nervous system? 2- Are there any protective benefits to ‘inflammation’ during disease or trauma

“And for the missing person reports that date back many years, police still have not found any leads to the odd disappearance of multiple people around our little town of Welks, Utah. If police find any new leads, I, Nathan White, will be the first to give you the news.” Nathan White is a small town reporter who is finishing up his final words of the day's news. Charlie Akins, Nathan’s colleague and long time friend is manning the camera. Nathan is your typical guy who never gives up and has the determination of a beaver building its dam. He will take any story he is given and will do his best to make it the best. Charlie on the other hand is about as outgoing as a sloth and so paranoid he can’t go anywhere without thinking the worst, but will never leave his friend’s side. Soon after the two wrap up, Charlie gets a call from their boss who claims to have a new story they could cover. Nathan places their gear in the news van as Charlie walks over. With the way Charlie nervously walks over, Nathan knows something is odd. “So what’s the deal? We got a story or what?” Charlie gets in the driver seat of the van without saying a word and Nathan quickly follows, getting into the passenger seat. As Charlie begins driving, he tells Nathan what their boss had spoken to him about. An old abandoned government facility sits out in the farthest outskirts of the town. It’s in the shape of a dome that’s large enough to house an entire town. There’s no records of anyone ever entering the facility since the 50’s and no one seems to know what it was for. Only thing anyone knows, or suspects, is that it may be cursed or haunted as people who have ever been near it claim to hear screams and voices coming from within. Charlie is hesitant of even the thought of covering the story but continues to drive assuming Nathan will be intrigued. Charlie was correct, of course, as Nathan quickly calls their boss to inform him that they’re checking it out. Without question, Charlie continues driving until they are so far out that Welks is completely out of sight in the rearview mirror. They eventually see a large structure in the distance that they quickly realize is the center of their new story. “Holy shit, Charlie! I’ve never seen this place before and just… Wow,” Nathan says excitedly. “Nathan, I don’t know about this one. Something seems off. Even the boss seemed hesitant to tell me about this place,” Charlie responds. “Come on, Charlie. We’ve always wanted to cover a GHOST STORY.” “No, YOU have always wanted to cover a ghost story. I’ve always wanted to get the hell away from every single person I come in contact with and sleep in my bed.” “Don’t do me like that.” “You know I’ve got your back through thick and thin, Nate. But I’ve seriously got a bad feeling about this one.” “I know but come on, serious-... ly…” Nathan is awestruck by the sight of a large sign on the outer brink of a long driveway leading to the entrance of the dome. The sign reads:
RESTRICTED AREA
ENVIRODOME “WE EXPERIMENT FOR THE SAFETY OF OUR PEOPLE”
SPECIAL ACCESS IS NEEDED BEYOND THIS POINT
Although it was obvious by the city-sized dome in the middle of the desert, this sign fully confirmed they were in the right place. They continue down the driveway until they finally reach a parking lot that lies in front of the only noticeably cube-like design of the entire facility. The parking lot was small, or at least it seemed that way based on how huge the building was. Nathan and Charlie assumed it would be glass, but instead, the decrepit building, now known to be The Envirodome, was made of a strong thick, yet rusted metal. They realized this was most likely by design considering the people who created it wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know what went on inside. Almost the entire building was covered in a thick layer of vines except for the front door. The doors at the entrance were oddly only covered in smaller vine growth that was far more fragile than the rest. Charlie parks the van as an awestruck Nathan barely waits for him to stop and exits the passenger side. Charlie hesitantly follows suit. Nathan reaches the double entrance doors and rips away the vines. He quickly finds the handle of the right door and much to his surprise, it cracks open. “Ooh spooky,” Nathan jokingly says to Charlie. “Shut up,” Charlie snaps back. As Nathan and Charlie open the large metal door and walk inside, they find far more than, yet somehow everything, they had expected. The duo walk inside only to find an entire small community within. Businesses, homes, trees and more fill the miles long dome in all directions, seemingly to no end. “There’s a whole damn town in this place?! How the hell did not a single person know this existed,” Charlie exclaims out of pure shock. “Dude… How the fuck am I suppose to know? That’s why we’re here, remember? To cover the story of this place and get it out to the people…” Nathan sarcastically snaps back. Charlie, nervous as all hell, ignores Nathan as they continue forward in the hopes to find information on this place somewhere inside. They don’t even reach but about 10-15 feet inside before the door slams shut behind them and locks itself into place. Once fully locked, the doors start to change as if there was never a door or wall there at all. It quickly changes into a hyper-realistic hologram of more trees and roads. Soon enough, it looked as if an exit never even existed. Nathan quickly realizes that there seemingly are no walls in any direction. However, realistically and logically, there must be dead ends in all directions, the dome was obviously designed in a special way. Although there was a dome surrounding the town inside, there were still plenty of places Nathan and Charlie could explore. With beautifully green trees all around, houses and even rundown businesses, the entire place looked and felt like a normal little town instead of the inside of a previously government owned facility. Despite absolutely not a single structural flaw in the dome, a small breeze glides through the air, whistling to the ears of any who would listen. Both Nathan and Charlie are confused, yet in awe, by the experience at hand, but still they carry on. Nathan suggests going to the nearest building to search for information as he takes his next steps into the oddly beautiful scenery. Charlie, however, hesitates his next step until he realizes Nathan is already further ahead of him. Trees dance and sway in the cool breeze, grass and vines grow over large rocks and multiple buildings, and even clouds sail through the beautifully blue skies that couldn’t possibly be real but at this point it’s not unbelievable. With so much to admire, Nathan quickly loses focus on the task at hand until Charlie speaks up. “Hey, Nate. Shouldn’t we hurry up and get to wherever the hell we’re going?” “Huh? Oh… Yeah, yeah. Sorry…” Nathan snaps back to his senses and continues forward. As they continue to what seems like a small neighborhood, they notice something in the distant wooded area. It’s a four-legged creature that could be a wolf or coyote. Nathan and Charlie pick up speed as they are unsure of what it could really be and prefer not to be attacked. On arrival to the neighborhood, the two men notice that multiple mannequins are oddly placed around as if they had been living a life. An eerie feeling washes over them as they both become a little more skeptical of being there. Nathan looks back to check on his friend and notices Charlie is visibly paranoid as he looks around. He feels a moment of guilt for making him come here for a story to cover, but that moment was just that. A moment. Nathan quickly nudges Charlie to get him to come with him as he walks up to an open house. As they walk in, they split up. Charlie searches the living room and kitchen. Nathan goes straight to the farthest bedroom in the back. Searching every nook and cranny, Nathan finds absolutely nothing but an old withered bible. He begins to walk into another room when suddenly, Charlie’s voice echoes through the empty hallway. “Holy fuck,” Charlie exclaims. “What’s wrong,” Nathan yells while running into the living room. Nathan finds Charlie holding an old yellowed stack of papers. Charlie hands them to Nathan without uttering a single word. On top is an old document that reads:
Aug. 17, 1953: Testing is ready to commence for Project 718/Operation “SUPER” in the environment dome. However, there are no volunteers for testing just yet.
Aug. 18, 1953: Chief scientist, Dr. Maximus Woods, has volunteered as prime subject under the name: Subject Zero. All tests are now being prepared.
Aug. 20, 1953: Day 1 of testing has started. The Super Serum has been injected into Dr. Maximus Woods A.K.A Subject Zero at approximately 12:53 A.M. It has been hours and nothing has happened thus far.
Aug. 25, 1953: Subject Zero has gained a slight form of telekinesis. Small signs of abnormally quick healing factors have also appeared, taking only a couple of hours to fully heal mid-large wounds made on the subject's body. Tests, so far, seem to be successful with no side effects.
Aug. 30, 1953: Subject Zero has had impressive changes with easy to control telekinesis, rapid healing, and even large amounts of strength.
Sep. 5, 1953: Over the past week, Subject Zero has been undergoing small changes in personality, possibly a slight side effect of the serum. This will be monitored.
Sep. 10, 1953: Subject Zero has become rapidly unstable, showing major signs of insanity. Subject does not seem to realize the environment is simulated and treats test mannequins placed around the environment dome as if they were living beings.
Sep. 17, 1953: Multiple teams have been sent in to try and allow real communication with living beings. However, all teams have been killed by Subject Zero. He also does not allow anyone to retrieve the bodies and it is unclear what he does with them.
Oct. 3, 1953: Subject has become far too unstable to continue any further testing. All research will be abandoned but a small team will remain in the overseer’s office. For full safety measures, this team has agreed that if the facility must be destroyed then they will die with it. This was the intended way in case of emergency. If the facility is self-destructed, no one inside will survive.
“What the hell…” Nathan says fearfully. “Read the newspaper article that’s attached,” says Charlie. The newspaper article reads:
October 3, 1953 Today, the government-run facility, Envirodome, had been shut down after multiple men had been slaughtered at the hands of the company’s very own test subject, Subject Zero. The few men who made it out alive today could not speak of or about the tests done but we were told that their subject is still inside the facility. Test Subject Zero was locked inside only as a safety protocol but many wonder, how long will he remain there?
Upon this discovery, Nathan stops to think and wonders if he screwed up by taking on this story to cover. Nathan, being himself, tries to lighten the mood but before uttering a single word, he is cut off by a rough and deep voice in the distance. The voice now being the only thing to focus on, Nathan and Charlie look out the front windows of the old house and spot the figure of a man playing baseball with a mannequin. Upon further inspection, the man is wearing clothes obviously not of this era. With an old 50’s jacket that is nearly torn to shreds, an old pair of blue jean slacks, a red shoe on one foot and a black one on the other and hair that clearly hasn’t been washed in years, the man is the exact look and description of pure insanity. Not just with his looks but also with his actions, he clearly is not a stable man. In the yard of the next house over, the man is talking and playing catch with a mannequin. “For the last time Jimmy, I’m tired of your shit! Catch the damn ball or at the very least attempt to instead of just standing there,” the crazed man screams as he chucks a baseball at its head resulting in its immediate decapitation. Nathan, with a humor full of bad timing, nearly bursts into laughter. “Shut the fuck up, Nathan! That’s the guy from the document and newspaper article. He’s Dr… Uh… Maximus Woods! Subject Zero! He’s been here since the 50’s,” Charlie fearfully exclaims. “There’s no way in hell, Charlie. The guy doesn’t even look like he’s past his mid-30’s.” “I told you to call me Subject Zero! That old name is dead to me!” The man, now confirmed to be Subject Zero, yells out to another mannequin. “Believe me now, asshat,” Charlie snaps at Nathan. “Shush! What was that?” Subject Zero quickly snaps his attention to Nathan and Charlie’s direction and begins to walk to them. The two men look at each other in fearful confusion and simultaneously say, “oh shit.” Instinctually, Charlie runs out of the house from fear and with a quick, “FUCK!” Nathan follows him. Running out of the house like a couple of preyed upon animals, they run up the street further into the neighborhood. Taking a quick glance, Nathan spots a strange sight. Subject Zero and many other figures are chasing after them. Upon further examination, Nathan realizes that what he’s witnessing is something straight out of a horror movie. The other figures are , in fact, not even humans. They’re mannequins! All the mannequins they had seen back at the other houses are now moving like humans and coming right for them alongside Subject Zero. Nathan is running so fast you could mistake him for a train breaking loose from its tracks, but sadly, Charlie is slowing down, unable to keep up with his friend. Nathan manages to reach a hiding spot behind a dumpster, unintentionally leaving Charlie to await his own horrors as Nathan is nothing but forced to watch. Charlie begins to stumble and trips over his own feet. Soon after, the mannequins catch up to him. Nathan wants to help, but knows he can’t so all he does is watch in horror. Lying on the ground, Charlie gasps for air as the mannequins and Subject Zero surround him. They stare at him for a moment before eventually beating him simultaneously until Charlie is soaked in his own blood, barely alive. Suddenly, they stop. Charlie, nearly lifeless, drags his gaze in Nathan’s direction. He mouths, “GO” before coughing up blood. Nathan holds back tears and vomit as he looks away in guilt. All the mannequins that were once beating the life out of Charlie turn around and scatter before ultimately becoming, once again, inanimate objects. Like a lion searching for its prey, Subject Zero scans the area. With danger nearby, Nathan looks around to find a house with any open doors to attempt to find safety. He spots a nearby house with an open window and decides it's his best option. Without hesitation, Nathan sprints to the window and leaps in like a gazelle escaping its demise. Much to his surprise, he went unnoticed. “I might be insane, but I know I wasn't just seeing double of your little friend here. Where the hell are you,” screams Subject Zero as two mannequins carry Charlie's bloodied, yet still alive, body away. Nathan, afraid, yet determined, locks himself inside the house and sits behind a kitchen counter. He looks up to see if it's safe enough to search the house. Once he realizes it is, he begins to look around. The kitchen is oddly empty. Not a single piece of silverware, plate or food. Out of the entire house, the living room is the best looking part, even though it still looks like a tornado came through it. With hopes of finding something, Nathan scrummages through everything lying on the decrepit wooden floor. After a moment of searching, Nathan notices multiple papers scattered around all dated October of 1953. All the papers say different things about Project ‘SUPER’ and Subject Zero. Although most papers essentially say the same things, one paper stands out the most. It’s a newspaper dated a few days after the imminent shutdown of the facility. October 9, 1953 The project was abandoned and only a few escaped but one former employee of Envirodome decides to speak up about the events. “The main doors may have been closed but they sadly were not locked,” the scientist tells our interviewer, “Oddly, the doors were made to allow people in but not back out unless you went to the overseer’s office and unlocked the main doors. All this means, anyone who decides to go inside without knowing this info will be trapped forever with a psycho maniac. Fortunately, Subject Zero’s insanity affected his mind so badly he doesn’t even realize he’s in a fake little world that’s specially made for him.”
A little further down the same newspaper article it reads:
The former Envirodome employee continues. “All documents will state that Dr. Maximus Woods volunteered to be Subject Zero, but that just isn’t true. We tricked him. You see, we needed someone and Dr. Woods was just this weird scientist that no one really liked. We convinced him that if he volunteered that he would be a hero. Someone who could save our world if the serum worked. He was so happy and we just laughed at him but knew we needed him for the tests. As soon as everything began, it all ended. As he became more and more deranged, he also became more determined to make the serum work. He eventually took living people he kept with him and made his own serum to try and perfect it. But it never worked. It just leads to each person to become crazier and far quicker. He ended up just killing everyone that the serum didn’t work on. God knows what he does to any poor soul that innocently walks into that building and gets trapped.”
With this new knowledge, Nathan knew he fucked up by coming into this beautiful hell. Now filled with dreaded emotions, he gets onto his feet and sets onward through the hallway. As he reaches the beginning of the hallway, the front door is unexpectedly busted down by an already all too familiar figure, Subject Zero. Reacting quickly, Nathan sprints to the farthest back room of the house. Being the master bedroom, it has plenty of space but sadly doesn’t have a lock on the door. Thinking quickly, Nathan slams the door and nervously shoves a large stand up dresser down on its side and in front of the doorway. He knows it won’t hold for long, especially considering, just a mere seconds ago, he witnessed Subject Zero burst a door off its hinges in the blink of an eye. Subject Zero is on the hunt, looking in every room all while Nathan stands in the master bedroom freaking out. Eventually, he comes to his senses and looks out the room's only window. It’s quite a drop below due to the house sitting on a slanted yard. Without hesitation, Nathan prepares himself for his only option. He opens the window and prepares to jump as the door of the room begins to be beaten upon. The door eventually breaks in half and standing on the other side is Subject Zero. Nathan slings himself out the window but it inevitably leads to pain. Nathan, with a possibly broken ankle, stands against the wall to stay as Subject Zero looks through the window wondering how he could lose his only entertainment so easily. Subject Zero eventually angrily wanders off as he cusses at himself. Nathan takes that as his cue to stumble his way into the nearby forest. Nathan manages to make it a decent distance into the forest before stumbling and falling next to a large oak tree. Expecting to be free from danger for at least a while, he relaxes against the tree and closes his eyes. Far too early for assumptions, he hears something and quickly opens his eyes to see Subject Zero’s fist unexpectedly rushing to his face, resulting in a knockout. After a while, Nathan cracks his eyes open, barely able to see. He looks around in a trance until he hears a familiar voice. “Hey, Nate! Nate! Wake the fuck up! I’m not dead!” Nathan fully comes to and looks over to see an upside down Charlie. Confused, he looks at Charlie unsure of what to say. Eventually he speaks. “What the fuck…? Why the hell are you upside down?” Charlie points to Nathan’s feet, revealing he is in fact, the one upside down hanging by his feet. “Oh, fuck… WHAT THE FUCK?!? Get me down, you asshole!” Charlie unties the rope, leading to Nathan falling on his head. Rubbing his head, Nathan gets up with ease, which leads him to wonder why there’s no pain in his ankle. He quickly shrugs it off and looks back at Charlie as he finally realizes the situation. “Wait a damn minute, how the hell are you alive? I saw you get beaten to a pulp.” “Yeahhhh… Well, first off, thanks for leaving me, but I’ll tell you everything I know, just as they did for me.” Charlie points over to a small crowd of people waiting behind the dark shadows of the room. With a short, yet detailed, briefing, he tells Nathan that these people are all the missing people they’ve been reporting about. They all have been curious people who have wandered into the facility but inevitably became a morbid science experiment by Subject Zero. Charlie continues on to tell Nathan that every single one of these people have been injected with a similar serum as Subject Zero but each one is a slightly altered version. “So, let me get this straight… These people have all been injected with the same damn insanity poison as that madman and there’s absolutely no telling who could lose it and kill us with FUCKING TELEKINISIS!” “Yeah, pretty much. But I’ve been told that Subject Zero murders every failed attempt before they hurt any of his other precious test subjects. So far, all he’s done is prolong the insanity effects.” “Charlie, we have to somehow get the fuck out of here.” “We can’t. Do you not understand what I just said?” “Look, I get that these people are innocent but they’re obviously going to be massive dangers to humanity. We can get out of here. I don’t know how but… Somehow!” “Nate! I can’t get out of here.” “What the fuck are you talking about?” Charlie raises up his arm and reveals a small pinprick of a needle in his skin. “Charlie, what is that? No… Wait, you were injected too?” “Yeah.” “FUCK!” “Look, as far as I’m concerned, you haven’t been injected. There’s no needle mark in your skin. YOU could actually get out of here.” “I’m not leaving you behind again, Charlie! It was a nightmare seeing what they did to you the first time.” “Nathan, I -” Suddenly and very unexpectedly, one of the people in the crowd begins to scream from within the shadows. Nathan, confused and afraid, looks over at the man losing his sanity. Within seconds, the man stops screaming as the entire room falls into a deafening silence. The man looks in Nathan’s direction and shines a demonic grin with a stare that could pierce the soul of any mortal man. Knowing the man is coming toward him, Nathan slowly starts backing up against the cold concrete walls. The man, with all new senses, uses his new telekinetic ability to push others from the crowd aside. Charlie, being brave for the first and possibly final time in his life, attempts to stand in the way but is quickly subdued as he’s flung against the wall. Finally reaching Nathan, the man brings his gaze into a full on stare into Nathan’s soul. For Nathan, it’s as if death has come for him. Suddenly, the man’s gaze is ripped away by a familiar face of evil. Subject Zero heard the screams and came to claim his failed experiment. This led to an all-out brawl between the two men. Anyone would describe it in the same way you would if two rabid dogs were fighting over food. One dog gets up after being ripped open and the other gets its face gashed by a hard hitting blow, yet they still fight. Only difference between the two, one is just a dog wanting its food and the other is trained to kill. Suddenly, with a vicious blow, Subject Zero wins the fight when he takes the man’s head and slams it so hard into the concrete floor that his skull cracks open causing blood, brains, and skull fragments to fly over the silent crowd. With one final glance, Subject Zero looks over the entire crowd. He ends his gaze by making sure Nathan is the last to see his devilish eyes. Soon after, he leaves the room and locks the door. Nathan stares at the corpse lying on the ground with a look of pure terror and proceeds to collapse onto the floor while holding back tears. The small concrete room soon fills with despair as everyone watches the tears of pain and fear run down Nathan’s face. Charlie tries to make his long-time friend feel a little more hopeful, although he soon gives up as well until he has a moment of realization. He remembers back to when they first were searching for information he had found an article with some intriguing details. “Okay, so, there may be some hope after all.” “Charlie, what hope is there? Huh?! You’re pretty much fucked and I don’t exactly see a way out of here.” “One of the articles back at the house we were in said something about a self-destruct button. That’s also how you open the main doors. Apparently, no one ever bothered, or I guess, never got the chance to hit the self-destruct timer and run their asses to the door. What if we- I mean, YOU could actually do that?” “Charlie, I already told you I don’t want to leave you behind.” “GOD DAMN IT, NATHAN! I know… FUCK! I know. But I want you to survive. Can’t you just listen to me for once?! I would follow you through hell and back and it kind of feels that way right now. So? Can you just listen to what I want you to do for once while I’m practically on my deathbed?!” “Okay! Okay…” Suddenly, an unexpected chance of escape arrives at their feet. Subject Zero and a few of his mannequins walk in to remove the mutilated corpse from the room. Unexpectedly, one of the people in the crowd begins to scream out in pain just like the other man did moments ago before his demise. “Oh, great…” Subject Zero says irritatedly. Soon after, multiple others begin to scream out in pain until eventually the entire crowd follows suit. Nathan, and somehow Charlie have not been affected. The room quickly becomes engulfed in a hurricane of insanity. This leads Subject Zero and the mannequins to getting distracted by the madness and accidentally leaves the door open. Subject Zero quickly gets attacked by everyone in the room but he holds his ground firmly. Nathan knows this is the perfect chance to escape and signals Charlie to come with him. Charlie hesitantly comes along but right as they reach the door Nathan turns to hear the sounds of Charlie going through the worst pain of his life. Nathan looks in confusion but quickly realizes he’s about to have to accept his friend’s fate. Nathan refuses to accept it, but he knows he needs to. Charlie suddenly lunges at Nathan and uses his last act of sanity and control to push him out the door. “Get. To the button. Please.” “Charlie, I- I’m-” “I’m sorry…” Charlie finally snaps and is engulfed in pure raging insanity. He lunges at Nathan but before he reaches him, Nathan, with teary eyes, slams the door onto his friend, turns, and begins running out into the seemingly vast wilderness. As he runs, Nathan hears the cries of a dozen men and women as they get ripped apart. Knowing that among them is his best friend, Nathan begins to cry as he continues to run away from his previous hell.
End of Part 1.

So I finally got time to refocus on my favorite hobby, writing. So a couple of days ago I had an idea while watching Interstella 5555. Why not as a fun little writing exercise try doing science fiction novelizations of the Daft Punk albums. Here's my rough draft for the first chapter of Homework and I'd love some feedback and what you all might think could be added or removed. I do already have a villain and a twist for the villain planned out and am going to try to go for a Arthur C Clark writing style. Also when you're reading this please listen to the song and see if what I wrote appears in your imagination.
Chapter 1: Daftendirekt
In a secret underground facility, deep within a distant asteroid belt, a series of highly advanced robotic arms moved with precise, mechanical grace. The facility itself hummed with life, a symphony of whirring gears and flashing lights filling the air with a steady thrum. Here, among the array of gleaming machinery and banks of blinking monitors, two robotic forms were slowly taking shape.
The smaller of the two was designed with sleek lines and curves, its body a shimmering metallic blue save for the red stripe running down its left side. Delicate silver wings extended from its back, and its head was crowned with a featureless, mirrored visor. Thin tubes snaked in and out of its arms and torso, connecting it to a network of translucent conduits.
Its larger counterpart was constructed from blockier, more rugged parts, its frame an armored white and black with red accents. Two massive jet engines protruded from its shoulders, and a pair of glowing, ruby-red eye panels stared blankly ahead from its featureless head. Like its companion, it too was hooked up to a web of transparent tubing.
The robots were identical in every way, save for a single, subtle difference. Whereas the blue one lacked any markings on its chest, its twin bore a stylized, lightning bolt symbol in the same fiery hue.
Finally, after what seemed like eternities of silence, a holographic display above the two figures flickered to life, projecting the image of a tall, gaunt man with short, spiky hair and narrow, piercing eyes. His suit was immaculate, black as space itself, and adorned with countless tiny lights that glittered like stars.
"Welcome," he said, his voice smooth and dispassionate, but somehow charged with an eerie, electric energy. "To your awakening."
The blue robot tilted its head slightly, its visor reflecting nothing but the hologram before it. The white and black one remained motionless, emotionlessly awaiting further instructions.
"My name," the figure continued, "is Dr. Jackal. You are Daft and you are Punk."
Both robots registered the new information without comment.
Dr. Jackal raised a slender hand, gesturing grandly toward the two gaping doors looming behind him. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it..."
As soon as the words left his lips, a brilliant explosion of light erupted from somewhere deep within the facility, casting harsh shadows against the walls and drowning everything in blinding radiance. When sight returned, the two robots found themselves no longer inside the sterile laboratory. Instead, they stood upon a small, circular platform suspended in the inky void of space.
The platform beneath their feet shifted, spinning them slowly so they could take in their new surroundings.
Space yawned in every direction, an endless expanse of pinprick stars and distant planets. The Milky Way stretched across the sky like a ribbon slicing the darkness, its hazy spiral arms and glittering star clusters beckoning them home.
But there was only one object in sight that caught the attention of both robots: a small, barren asteroid, its pockmarked surface glinting dully in the cold light of a nearby sun. Upon its lifeless surface rested a single, shiny object.
A black, round disc, the grooves etched into its surface catching the feeble starlight like veins pulsing with mysterious energy.
A vinyl record. The label read simply: "Homework."
Curious, Daft extended its right arm, its fingers flexing slightly before gently grasping the vinyl record and carefully removing it from its protective sleeve. It held it up, examining it from all angles, its visor scanning the surface for any recognizable patterns or markings.
Meanwhile, Punk leaned forward, studying the black disc intently. Its jet engines whined softly as it tilted its head from side to side, trying to determine what purpose such an object might serve.
Suddenly, without conscious thought or instruction, one of Punk's metallic fingers extended toward the spinning record. It hovered there for a moment, mere centimeters away from making contact…
With a click and a pop, the needle in the record player hidden within the platform's surface dropped into the groove, and a burst of warm, analog static filled the air. Then came the faint click of a hi hat and a plucked bass string, quickly joined by a driving kick drum beat. Daft and Punk both froze, their optics and eye panels widening in surprise and confusion. They had heard sounds before, of course; they had been programmed with the entirety of human music history, including countless examples of this strange, percussive art form known as "hip hop." But never had they experienced it like this, raw and unfiltered by any digital interface.
It was...intoxicating.
They turned to each other, their expressions mirroring each other's shock and wonder. Without speaking, without needing to, they both knew what they had to do. Together, they began to dance.

Everything in my inventory is up for trade. The most valuable items are listed here, the rest you can find in My Inventory

Feel free to Add Me or even better send a Trade Offer. Open for any suggestions: upgrades, downgrades / knives, gloves, skins / stickers, patterns, floats.

All Buyouts are listed in cash value.

KNIVES

★ Butterfly Knife Lore (Factory New), B/O: $7194.77

★ Butterfly Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2025.74

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★ M9 Bayonet Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $557.87

★ M9 Bayonet Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $529.41

★ M9 Bayonet Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $465.39

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★ Talon Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $1295.27

★ Bayonet Tiger Tooth (Minimal Wear), B/O: $746.28

★ Karambit Bright Water (Field-Tested), B/O: $688.15

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★ Flip Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $547.93

★ Flip Knife Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $476.69

★ Flip Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $278.18

★ Flip Knife Black Laminate (Well-Worn), B/O: $258.83

★ Flip Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $181.64

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★ Stiletto Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $686.04

★ Stiletto Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $665.41

★ Stiletto Knife, B/O: $601.39

★ Stiletto Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $418.25

★ Stiletto Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $227.80

★ Stiletto Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.96

★ Stiletto Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $192.79

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★ Nomad Knife Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $518.11

★ Nomad Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $169.78

★ Nomad Knife Forest DDPAT (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $166.88

★ StatTrak™ Nomad Knife Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $335.79

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★ Skeleton Knife Stained (Well-Worn), B/O: $442.05

★ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Minimal Wear), B/O: $426.24

★ Skeleton Knife Boreal Forest (Field-Tested), B/O: $314.03

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2361.28

★ StatTrak™ Skeleton Knife Urban Masked (Field-Tested), B/O: $376.53

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★ Ursus Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $557.12

★ Ursus Knife, B/O: $471.42

★ Ursus Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $212.37

★ Ursus Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $187.66

★ Ursus Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $178.18

★ Ursus Knife Ultraviolet (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $155.13

★ Ursus Knife Boreal Forest (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.26

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★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Minimal Wear), B/O: $204.83

★ Huntsman Knife Black Laminate (Field-Tested), B/O: $184.50

★ StatTrak™ Huntsman Knife Lore (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $224.11

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★ Bowie Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $2142.02

★ Bowie Knife, B/O: $230.44

★ Bowie Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $209.20

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.51

★ Bowie Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Falchion Knife Night (Field-Tested), B/O: $132.54

★ Falchion Knife Urban Masked (Well-Worn), B/O: $112.81

★ Falchion Knife Scorched (Field-Tested), B/O: $108.81

★ Falchion Knife Forest DDPAT (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.82

★ Falchion Knife Safari Mesh (Field-Tested), B/O: $107.46

★ StatTrak™ Falchion Knife Ultraviolet (Field-Tested), B/O: $143.08

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★ Paracord Knife Crimson Web (Minimal Wear), B/O: $486.48

★ Paracord Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $163.12

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★ Survival Knife Blue Steel (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $138.26

★ Survival Knife Night Stripe (Field-Tested), B/O: $131.03

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★ Gut Knife Sapphire (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1127.79

★ Gut Knife Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $286.17

★ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $246.55

★ Gut Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $240.77

★ Gut Knife, B/O: $210.49

★ Gut Knife Lore (Field-Tested), B/O: $194.22

★ Gut Knife Case Hardened (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $151.51

★ Gut Knife Blue Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.94

★ Gut Knife Rust Coat (Well-Worn), B/O: $118.99

★ Gut Knife Boreal Forest (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.80

★ StatTrak™ Gut Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $237.96

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★ Shadow Daggers Gamma Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $264.92

★ Shadow Daggers Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $253.03

★ Shadow Daggers Tiger Tooth (Factory New), B/O: $237.22

★ Shadow Daggers Crimson Web (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.40

★ Shadow Daggers Autotronic (Minimal Wear), B/O: $144.42

★ Shadow Daggers Blue Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $105.20

★ StatTrak™ Shadow Daggers Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $150.46

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★ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $365.99

★ Navaja Knife Doppler (Factory New), B/O: $228.93

★ Navaja Knife Marble Fade (Factory New), B/O: $227.43

★ Navaja Knife Slaughter (Factory New), B/O: $209.06

★ Navaja Knife, B/O: $203.16

★ Navaja Knife Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $132.57

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Factory New), B/O: $121.69

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Minimal Wear), B/O: $109.95

★ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $100.41

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Fade (Factory New), B/O: $369.01

★ StatTrak™ Navaja Knife Damascus Steel (Field-Tested), B/O: $109.95

GLOVES

★ Sport Gloves Amphibious (Minimal Wear), B/O: $2394.67

★ Sport Gloves Omega (Well-Worn), B/O: $572.33

★ Sport Gloves Bronze Morph (Minimal Wear), B/O: $338.88

★ Sport Gloves Big Game (Field-Tested), B/O: $323.66

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★ Specialist Gloves Marble Fade (Minimal Wear), B/O: $1652.07

★ Specialist Gloves Tiger Strike (Field-Tested), B/O: $599.14

★ Specialist Gloves Crimson Web (Well-Worn), B/O: $231.57

★ Specialist Gloves Buckshot (Minimal Wear), B/O: $126.21

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★ Moto Gloves POW! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $996.99

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Field-Tested), B/O: $383.31

★ Moto Gloves POW! (Well-Worn), B/O: $276.00

★ Moto Gloves Turtle (Field-Tested), B/O: $180.28

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★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Minimal Wear), B/O: $502.29

★ Hand Wraps Giraffe (Minimal Wear), B/O: $180.73

★ Hand Wraps CAUTION! (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $178.32

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★ Driver Gloves Queen Jaguar (Minimal Wear), B/O: $181.01

★ Driver Gloves Rezan the Red (Field-Tested), B/O: $101.66

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★ Broken Fang Gloves Jade (Field-Tested), B/O: $127.88

★ Broken Fang Gloves Needle Point (Minimal Wear), B/O: $124.55

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★ Bloodhound Gloves Guerrilla (Minimal Wear), B/O: $127.94

★ Hydra Gloves Case Hardened (Field-Tested), B/O: $102.55

WEAPONS

AK-47 X-Ray (Well-Worn), B/O: $478.95

AUG Hot Rod (Factory New), B/O: $425.83

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Hyper Beast (Factory New), B/O: $413.95

M4A4 Daybreak (Factory New), B/O: $309.51

StatTrak™ AK-47 Aquamarine Revenge (Factory New), B/O: $305.43

AK-47 Case Hardened (Well-Worn), B/O: $196.38

StatTrak™ M4A4 Temukau (Minimal Wear), B/O: $174.64

P90 Run and Hide (Field-Tested), B/O: $167.03

AWP Asiimov (Field-Tested), B/O: $153.33

Souvenir SSG 08 Death Strike (Minimal Wear), B/O: $140.00

M4A1-S Printstream (Battle-Scarred), B/O: $124.70

StatTrak™ M4A1-S Golden Coil (Field-Tested), B/O: $117.48

AWP Asiimov (Well-Worn), B/O: $115.97

StatTrak™ Desert Eagle Printstream (Minimal Wear), B/O: $112.96

StatTrak™ AK-47 Asiimov (Minimal Wear), B/O: $110.85

Souvenir M4A1-S Master Piece (Well-Worn), B/O: $102.42

AK-47 Bloodsport (Minimal Wear), B/O: $100.53

Trade Offer Link - Steam Profile Link - My Inventory

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[INDEX]
Blackheart Bill stared at us from the porch of the tiny cabin, his eyes filled with murder. A cruel smile crept across his face, causing me to break into a sweat — this was a man who enjoyed the suffering of others.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the two bounty hunters that killed half my gang,” Bill drawled, his voice dripping malice. “What do ya think we should do with them, boys?”
“Face me like a man,” I shouted at him. “I refuse to be hung like a criminal!”
Bill’s lips twisted into a grin. “Is that so?” He said. “You think I had you brought here so you can challenge me to a duel? You’re mistaken kid.”
“I don’t want to be hung,” I said, mentally instructing Horse edge closer to Silas’ mount.
“What you want and what I want are different things, boy,” Bill said, his face relaxing into an unreadable mask. “And what I want is for you to suffer for killing my men. Jim, get a rope.”
Gap-tooth laughed like a drunken donkey and swung down from his horse.
I brushed against Silas, pulling his gun from my Inventory. Silas was fast, insanely fast. The gun appeared in my hand for a split-second before Silas had it pointed at the outlaw and was firing sizzling black bolts of energy.
Blackheart Bill was faster.
The outlaw dodged to the side in a blur, firing off three wild Kinetic bolts, one passing on each side of Silas before the final one tagged the man in the chest with the sound of shattering glass.
I pulled my gun from inventory a moment later, regretting my decision to load it with Lightning rounds as I pulled the trigger. Thunder roared as I shot the bandit behind me, then I squeezed the trigger again, clipping the other with a finger-thick bolt of electricity. Stone bullets whizzed around me as Horse hightailed it around the corner of the shack. Triggering [Aimed Shot] I fired a third round and a clap of thunder fried the man guarding the wood door set into the canyon wall.
Silas rounded the building a second later, his gun firing wildly at the remaining bandits. Quick as a flash, he ejected the spent brass and reloaded from his gun belt, picking off two more as they rounded the corner.
A Metal bullet burst from the wood next to my face, grazing my temple. I shoved my Mongoose into a gap between the weathered boards and fired off the remainder of my Lightning rounds, setting the front of the shack on fire. My fingers flickered as I reloaded unprimed rounds into the gun, slamming the cylinder closed.
Silas took one edge of the cabin and I took the other, shooting at anyone who moved, trapped in a standoff with the remaining five bandits and Bill, who continued shooting through the walls at us while screaming obscenities.
“Told you I didn’t want to hang, you scar-faced freak,” I taunted the man, firing a shot at one of the bandits scurrying to find better cover behind a broken wagon missing its rear axle. The Kinetic Bolt spread as it covered the distance, growing from a finger-sized bolt of blue energy into a basketball sized cloud that dispersed with a crackle and pop. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew the range was only about twenty yards and chastised myself for wasting the bullet.
I had less than 550BP remaining, which was a lot for unprimed shots, but only 54 [Aimed Shots] or about 100 primed shots. If I needed to use any of my other Utilities, it would drop fast. The bandit I had missed popped off a shot from his new vantage point, punching a hole in the wall above my head. I sent a Stone bullet in reply, causing him to duck from sight.
\Ding**
A popup blocked the lower half of my vision.
-=-=-
📱 [New Power-Up Available!] 📱
🔫 Pinned down behind an old shack? Bullets not packing enough punch? Try [Overcharge]! 🔫
💥 Just 500 credits, Limited time only! 💥
🌟 Features Include: - [Overcharge] Utility**: Infuse your bullets with extra battery points and surprise everyone! - Costs 500 credits - Requires 82 Memory
⚠️ Important Notes: - Cannot be stacked with active Utilities - Overcharge can severely damage firearms
[Get Overcharge Now ✅] [Maybe Later ❌]
-=-=-
The 60 second timer counted down 2 seconds before I punched accept.
[Downloading…20%…32%…68%…87%…Done!] [Installing…8%…12%…49%…52%…91%…Done!]
“You get shot?” Silas asked, sparing me a glance while I was stuck waiting for my upgrade to finish.
I shook my head. “Psychic thing,” I said once the System was done shoving data in my head. The knowledge of how to use [Overcharge], was simple enough — just push extra BP through the runestone and increase the destructive power of the bullet.
I triggered [Overcharge] and pushed an extra 5 Battery Points into the runestone, bringing the total cost of the Stone bullet to 6BP, then squeezed the trigger. The projectile impacted the broken wagon like a grenade, sending fragments of wood flying everywhere.
The screaming started a second later, followed by the bandit whose face was covered in blood and splinters. Selecting [Aimed Shot] I put a Stone bullet into his head, shocked by the spray of gore that filled the air. Hot bile burned the back of my throat, forcing me to swallow hard and refocus on the immediate situation.
The sound of hooves reached my ears, followed by Silas swearing. “They’re escaping,” He said, turning to mount his horse and swearing again. The animal was trembling in shock, bloody froth covering its mouth as it struggled to breathe. I noticed the blood covering its side then, where it had been shot when we had retreated behind the shack.
The shack was now burning quite impressively. The flames had grown to the point that it was uncomfortable to remain close, so I moved to a cooler spot and took a seat on the sandy ground. Pulling the Marlin from inventory, I popped off the leather caps that protected the scope lenses and took aim at the fleeing bandits. The scope pulled them in close enough that I felt I could reach out and snatch them with my hand even though they were over a hundred yards away now.
Bracing the rifle on my knee, I sighted through the scope and pulled the trigger, worked the lever to eject the shell and fired again. On the fourth shot I watched as Blackheart Bill’s horse stumbled and dropped to the dirt. I was aiming at Bill, but taking out his horse was good enough.
I watched as Bill took cover behind his downed horse and yelled at his men to come back and get him. They didn’t even look back, hunkering down as he started shooting at them, hitting one and dropping him from the saddle. Taking aim through the scope, I shot a few more rounds at Bill, causing him to turn his attention back to me and return fire.
A gunshot from behind me caused me to jump. Turning to see the source of the gunfire I saw Silas standing over the body of his horse. I guess he decided to end its misery.
Holstering his weapon, Silas yelled at the outlaw. “It’s over, Bill! Throw down your guns!”
Bill fired off another few rounds, none of them even coming close. A gunslinger like Bill might be deadly at close range, but he was just as accurate with a pistol as everyone else at a hundred yards.
I fired off a Metal slug from the Marlin and Bill returned fire. Our standoff continued, none of us wanting to commit to a move.
“How far you think that is?” I asked Silas.
“About a hundred ten, hundred twenty yards. Why?”
“Long as I’m here I might as well try to zero in this scope,” I replied, sighting down the barrel while adjusting the stupidly expensive piece of equipment.
“It’s a nice scope,” Silas admitted, rolling a cigarette. “You’re only as good as your gun.”
I nodded, fired off another shot, adjusted the scope, then fired off another. Until I got this thing in a vise and did it properly, this was as good as I was going to get.
The top of Bill’s hat was just visible over the ribs of the dead animal, so I used [Aimed Shot] and fired, eliciting a string of curses from the outlaw as it was knocked from his head.
I grinned at Silas, who returned it with a smile of his own. “You think this is gonna take long?” I asked.
“Put a few of those explosive rounds into that horse. That should get ‘em moving,” Silas answered.
“That was an [Overcharged] stone bullet,” I said. “Not sure it’ll have the same effect with a Metal slug.”
Silas nodded his head. “Be careful you don’t Overcharge too much, you can damage the core of your gun or even cause it to explode,” he said.
I sighted down the scope and triggered [Overcharge] with 5BP, sending another five Metal slugs downrange just as quick as I could work the lever-action. The slugs tore through the carcass, kicking up little puffs of dust as they tore into the ground beyond it.
Bills hat began to wave over the remains of the horse, then it dropped from sight.
“Let’s give him a few minutes,” Silas suggested. “If he’s playing games, he’ll lose patience. No sense endangering ourselves if he decides to pop up and start firing.”
I shot a few more [Overcharged] Metal slugs into the carcass, the last one causing the hat to fall out of Bills hand. Through the scope I could see his limp arm draped over the side of the horse.
Pushing the Marlin back into Inventory, I rose from the ground and looked at Silas. “You take the left and I’ll take the right?” I offered.
Silas loosened his pistol in its holster and began walking.
“Is it always like this?” I asked the bounty hunter.
“Like what?”
“So…messy.”
Silas tossed the remains of his cigarette onto the ground. “This was pretty bad,” He admitted. “Most times it’s just some guy in a small town saloon or holed up in a shack somewhere in the woods. Someone who thinks moving a few towns away will cover their tracks. Some even try to start their lives over. Bill was a two gold bounty, someone a posse would chase down, not two men.”
“So why did we go after him?”
“Because I thought he was in the Hardash forest, not running roughshod over the patriarch of Silvertown,” Silas laughed suddenly, shaking his head. “The plan was to locate his hideout, collect a few more men to handle his gang, and ambush them.”
We eased around the bullet-ridden horse to discover Blackheart Bill bleeding out. One of my bullets had gone through the horse, through his back and exited his chest. He gave us a bloody grin as we approached with guns drawn.
“There’s a healing potion in the saddle bag under the horse,” the bandit said, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “I’m worth more alive than dead and you don’t want to throw away good money, do ya?”
Silas pulled the hammer back on his gun, pointing it at the outlaw’s head.
“Wait,” Bill said, coughing weakly. “I got a dragon core, a real dragon core. I’ll tell you where to get it.”
“Now where would you get a dragon core?” Silas asked.
“From the Silvertown mines,” Bill rasped. “One of my boys, his brother works the mines and told him that they found dragon bones. That’s when I took the girl and made her daddy my bitch. He’d do anything to get her back.”
Silas pulled the trigger, splattering the outlaws head all over the remains of the horse.
“I’ve heard enough,” He said, holstering his pistol. “He kidnapped the girl and the others, holding them hostage so the Patriarch and other townsfolk wouldn’t interfere with his scheme. Let’s find the girl and get back to town.”
“Damn, Silas. In cold blood,” I said, turning my head from the sight of the gore. This is twice today I’ve seen the inside of a man’s skull. I should be bothered by this, like really bothered, but I’m not. Not really. It’s like there’s a disconnect and the only thing my brain can process is how smooth and efficient Silas was when he pulled the trigger. I can still taste bile in the back of my throat though.
“You want to do that thing of yours? Or you want me to dig his core out?”
“I’ll handle it,” I said, kneeling to touch the man so I could trigger [Disassembly]. “You should go see about the girl, she’s trying to use my Horse to get away and is having a nervous breakdown because he won’t move.”
I asked Horse to mosey around the burning remains of the shack with his new rider and to meet Silas. He sent back an image of him riding in a wagon with me pulling it. I’m guessing that he’s not enthused about being a taxi service.
The girl, Loretta Jurgens, was not in good shape.
The door set into the wall of the canyon covered the dead-end shaft of an abandoned moon silver mine left behind by some prospector. Loretta had been kept in there for the better part of a month and was in hysterics trying to get Horse to move. I'll let Silas deal with her while I process everything.
I collected 2100 credits for the all bandits, another 130 silver that I split with Silas, and of course, all their cores which would need to be turned in for bounties. A dozen pistols and several score of bullets were added to my inventory as well, including several knives and other personal effects that Silas assured me would fetch a few coin at a local pawnshop or general store. And gold teeth.
All that remained now was to locate the loot and leave this hell hole.
[INDEX]

Apologies for the lateness, catching up on some because I've not been able to get round to this for too long, will also cover previous RTD2 episodes since there's been a bunch more votes for them too:

The Star Beast: 6.9

The standard deviation is 1.86. Overall, this was just below average, the 41th percentile. This was a fairly divisive episode, achieving the 70th percentile of the standard deviation.

Wild Blue Yonder: 8.6

The standard deviation is 1.38. Overall, this was well above average, the 89th percentile. People generally agreed on this episode, achieving the 33rd percentile of the standard deviation.

The Giggle: 7.6

The standard deviation is 1.88. Overall, this was above average, the 64th percentile. This was a somewhat divisive episode, achieving the 72nd percentile of the standard deviation.

The Church on Ruby Road: 7.0

The standard deviation is 1.61. Overall, this was just below average, the 45th percentile. This was a slightly divisive episode, achieving the 53th percentile of the standard deviation.

Space Babies: 5.1

The standard deviation is 2.01. Overall, this was one of the most hated episodes, hitting only the 7th percentile, and was by far the lowest of the era so far. This was a very divisive episode, achieving the 78th percentile of the standard deviation.

The Devil's Chord: 6.9

The standard deviation is 2.07. Overall, this was below average, the 42nd percentile. This was also a very divisive episodes, achieving the 80th percentile of the standard deviation.

Boom: 8.4

The standard deviation is 1.26. Overall, this was well above average, the 84th percentile. This was a very agreeable episode, achieving the 20th percentile of the standard deviation.

73 Yards: 8.3

The standard deviation is 1.72. Overall, this was above average, the 82nd percentile. This was a fairly divisive episode, achieving the 61st percentile of the standard deviation.

Dot and Bubble: 7.9

The standard deviation is 1.94. Overall, this was above average, the 71st percentile. This was a very divisive episode, achieving the 75th percentile of the standard deviation.
/Gallifrey's average across every story is still 7.0. See the following table for a comparison to recent episodes:

Story	Title	DW Mean	Gal Mean	Reddit Mean	DW SD	Gal SD	Reddit SD
309	The Star Beast	7.2	6.9	7.1	1.83	1.86	1.92
310	Wild Blue Yonder	8.6	8.6	8.5	1.44	1.38	1.48
311	The Giggle	8.0	7.6	7.8	1.68	1.88	1.89
312	The Church on Ruby Road	7.1	7.0	7.0	1.78	1.61	1.92
313	Space Babies	5.2	5.1	5.1	2.12	2.01	2.06
314	The Devil's Chord	6.8	6.9	6.7	2.16	2.07	2.17
315	Boom	8.3	8.4	8.2	1.55	1.26	1.51
316	73 Yards	8.1	8.3	8.2	2.01	1.72	1.86
317	Dot and Bubble	7.8	7.9	7.7	2.07	1.94	2.04
ALL	[ALL STORIES]	7.1	7.0	6.9	2.2	2.17	2.26

You can see the results presented as a, trying something new here, Box and Whisker plot here. Suggestions for improvements and additional graphs are welcome.

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Apologies for the lateness, catching up on some because I've not been able to get round to this for too long, will also cover previous RTD2 episodes since there's been a bunch more votes for them too:

The Star Beast: 7.2

The standard deviation is 1.83. Overall, this was just below average, the 45th percentile. This was a fairly divisive episode, achieving the 66th percentile of the standard deviation.

Wild Blue Yonder: 8.6

The standard deviation is 1.44. Overall, this was well above average, the 83th percentile. People generally agreed on this episode, achieving the 41st percentile of the standard deviation.

The Giggle: 8.0

The standard deviation is 1.68. Overall, this was above average, the 69th percentile. This was a somewhat divisive episode, achieving the 57th percentile of the standard deviation.

The Church on Ruby Road: 7.1

The standard deviation is 1.78. Overall, this was just below average, the 41st percentile. This was a fairly divisive episode, achieving the 62nd percentile of the standard deviation.

Space Babies: 5.2

The standard deviation is 2.12. Overall, this was one of the most hated episodes, hitting only the 6th percentile, and was by far the lowest of the era so far. This was also one of the most divisive episode, achieving the 86th percentile of the standard deviation.

The Devil's Chord: 6.8

The standard deviation is 2.16. Overall, this was below average, the 34th percentile. This was also one of the most divisive episodes, achieving the 89th percentile of the standard deviation.

Boom: 8.3

The standard deviation is 1.55. Overall, this was well above average, the 78th percentile. This was a fairly agreeable episode, achieving the 49th percentile of the standard deviation.

73 Yards: 8.1

The standard deviation is 2.01. Overall, this was above average, the 72th percentile. This was a fairly divisive episode, achieving the 79th percentile of the standard deviation.

Dot and Bubble: 7.8

The standard deviation is 2.07. Overall, this was above average, the 61th percentile. This was a very divisive episode, achieving the 82nd percentile of the standard deviation.
/DoctorWho's average across every story is still 7.1. See the following table for a comparison to recent episodes:

Story	Title	DW Mean	Gal Mean	Reddit Mean	DW SD	Gal SD	Reddit SD
309	The Star Beast	7.2	6.9	7.1	1.83	1.86	1.92
310	Wild Blue Yonder	8.6	8.6	8.5	1.44	1.38	1.48
311	The Giggle	8.0	7.6	7.8	1.68	1.88	1.89
312	The Church on Ruby Road	7.1	7.0	7.0	1.78	1.61	1.92
313	Space Babies	5.2	5.1	5.1	2.12	2.01	2.06
314	The Devil's Chord	6.8	6.9	6.7	2.16	2.07	2.17
315	Boom	8.3	8.4	8.2	1.55	1.26	1.51
316	73 Yards	8.1	8.3	8.2	2.01	1.72	1.86
317	Dot and Bubble	7.8	7.9	7.7	2.07	1.94	2.04
ALL	[ALL STORIES]	7.1	7.0	6.9	2.2	2.17	2.26

You can see the results presented as a, trying something new here, Box and Whisker plot here. Suggestions for improvements and additional graphs are welcome.

You can vote for other episodes by clicking on the links below for New Who, adding your score (e.g. 291 (Spyfall, Part One): 5) and hitting send. Scores are whole numbers between 1 to 10, inclusive. (0 is used to mark an episode unwatched.).
I'll be updating these in future posts as the series goes and more people vote and the numbers evolve! You can change your vote for any episode (including any older ones too), if you wish! Simply vote again (leave the rest blank and they'll be unchanged).
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality*. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.*
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully*, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"*
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Content Warning: Domestic Abuse
***
We pulled off I-51 a little after midnight, stopping at a truck stop which was couched between the highway and a large forest.
We waited in the van for ten minutes or so. Trent had increased the sonar radius to its maximum of 30 miles a little over an hour ago. Somehow the red pings had kept up with us, holding a steady distance of around 20 miles. Considering we were averaging around 80 mph, and a coyote's top speed is only around 40 mph, we figured they had been enhanced in some way. Either that, or they shape-shifted into something faster. Regardless, now that we had stopped, we waited to see if the demon spawn would try and close the distance. Luckily, or unluckily, they didn't. They kept their 20 mile buffer, but we noticed they were beginning to spread out along the circumference of that boundary.
"We're close. They know that, so they're trying to trap us in." Trent said.
"Trying to?—more like they have."
We considered whether we should stay in the van and keep watch, but we figured that would do us little good. At their speed, they could be on us in ten minutes, which means we would need to stay up all night and keep tabs on their positions. Trent offered to stay up, of course, but I shut him down.
"The demon doesn't want to kill us now. You said it yourself. Plus, we need our rest. If they come, they come."
Trent didn't like it, but he acquiesced.
The truck stop had all the essentials: a gas station and mini mart with showers and an attached McDonald's, a large parking lot for truckers to idle and sleep, and even a section with lodging for those who wanted a more comfortable night's rest. I told Trent that he should take advantage of the showers, and after a little convincing, he agreed. While he was cleaning himself up, I patrolled the dingy, half-stocked aisles of "Daisy's Quick Mart". I probably would have been appalled at the quality of the store had I actually been paying any attention to it whatsoever. But I wasn't. I was thinking hard about what awaited me tomorrow.
During the drive, I had asked Trent why the demon would want us to return to the crash site. What did he mean that I would be 'confronting a dark entity in a place he couldn't help me'? He seemed hesitant to answer, but my little stunt outside the storage facility seemed to have sufficiently motivated him.
"When I said I've never done this before, I meant it." Trent started. "I've never done this exact thing before—meaning I've never projected someone into the past."
"So, I'm time traveling?" I asked.
"No—don't think of it like that." Trent paused, trying to come up with a good explanation. "It's more like I'm opening a window for you to look through: not a door. You're going to see the past, but you can't interact with the physicalities there. But that doesn't mean you can't interact with anything."
There was a space of silence as Trent tried to let me work out his meaning for myself. "I don't get it. Are you saying there's something I can interact with? Like what?" And then it hit me. "The demon. The demon can interact with me? Meaning what? It can kill me?"
"Meaning… I'm not exactly sure. You're going to be in a kind of psychic space. If it does damage, it won't be to your body. It'll be to your mind—or spirit. But I don't know what the limits of that damage could be. I just don't have those answers."
"If you've never done this, how do you know any of it will work?"
"That's an easy one." Trent answered. "Because it's been done to me."
There was silence.
"Look, if I know anything, I know my tech. Don't doubt that this will work. It's my job to make sure it does. I just need you to be in the right mental for this. Just because it knows your coming doesn't mean it automatically has the upper hand. It won't be able to see you unless you make contact with it first. In other words, you have to initiate contact. As long as you remain a spectator, you should be okay. Trust me. Just don't make contact."
I started pacing faster—fast enough to catch the attention of the overnight shift worker, a young man whose name I can't quite remember. I know it started with a "J". Jake, maybe? Anyway, he asked if I was alright, to which I responded in the affirmative. He left me alone for another couple passes, but when I almost ran into one of the shelves, he stood up and said, "Uh—I'm going to have to ask you to stop running around. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
I must have stared daggers at him, because he recoiled from my gaze. What's gotten into me? I thought. Then, steadying myself, I apologized. I looked around and grabbed the nearest edible looking piece of merchandise: a bag of Swedish Fish, and placed it down on the counter. "Just this, please."
The cashier rang me up. It was surprisingly cheap.
"Are you sure you're alright?" the young man asked. He was tall with brown hair. He seemed tired—maybe even more tired than me. But he also seemed kind.
I smiled as best I could and said, "No, I'm not. But there's not really anything you can do. Hell, there might not be anything I can do." I furrowed my eyebrows at my own response, realizing that imminent death may have broken my verbal filter.
On the other hand, the cashier did not seem surprised at all. "Ah, I see. It's one of those problems." He responded. "Well, hey, for what it's worth, you seem like one of the resilient ones. I think you'll be alright."
I only smiled and nodded at his mildly cryptic comment. Looking back, the whole interaction was a bit strange, but I had way too much mental clutter to recognize that in the moment. I took my Swedish Fish and walked through the anteroom which led to McDonald's. I found an open yellow booth that wasn't littered with crumpled straw sleeves and sat down, chomping mindlessly on my little red fish until Trent returned. When he arrived, he took my place, and I went to shower. After we were both clean and fed, we returned to the van. The pings were still pushed safely out of harm's way. But that didn't mean we were out of harm's way. Trent asked me if I wanted to sleep in the van, saying that "it'd be the safest place."
I thought it over. He was right, obviously. The van was not only outfitted with weapons I couldn't even begin to understand, but it was also our escape, and it would be just as difficult, if not more difficult to break into than the studio-style motel rooms with their wood doors and big windows. Still, if this was going to be my last night on earth, I wanted to sleep in a bed. A real bed. Trent understood and said he'd stay parked right outside my room for the night.
After purchasing a key from the night attendant, I moseyed over to the cement walkways which connected the twenty or so rooms. Mine was room #56, which I thought was odd since, like I said, there were only 20 rooms. I lugged in my tomato plushie and dad's old book and placed them on the queen mattress.
"I'll be right outside." Trent said after I collapsed onto the bed.
"Trent," I called out, stopping him half-way through the door.
"Yeah?"
All the blood in my body rushed up to my face as I realized my unfiltered mouth almost reflexively said the word "stay". I stared at Trent, my heart beating, my face hot. I considered asking him to sleep on the floor like my dad, but that would be childish and impolite. The alternative was to share my bed… Or I could take the floor.
"I'll just be right outside." Trent said before my mind processed a solution. "Come by if you need anything. I'll be up most of the night anyway."
"Okay," I replied in a faint voice.
Trent shut the door.
I sat atop the bedsheets and acquainted myself with my new living space. A feeling of regret closed over me as I considered that even sleeping on a carseat would have been better if it meant I didn't have to be alone. With a sigh, I turned on the bedside lamp and grabbed the book and stuffed tomato, using the tomato as a backrest as I slipped my legs under the covers and situated the book upright on my thighs. I cracked it open and was immediately blasted with a puff of dusty, old book scent. It was ripe at first, and I turned my head away to sneeze, but as I perused through the pages, the scent grew on me. It reminded me of the days growing up when I'd step into dad's study and read through one of the many volumes on cryptic topics which were at least two college degrees above my Lexile range.
I was only a couple minutes into browsing the collection of different scientific and philosophical works when I came across a page which contained highlighted text. This was unusual, as my dad would never mark up his books. He was a purist on that point. I rubbed my thumb over the yellow lines, and sure enough, it was highlighter.
The highlighted text was part of a small book by Carl Jung called "Synchronicity". There were a total of three pages that were marked, and they advanced like this:
Page 5:
The philosophical principle that underlies our conception of natural law is causality*. But if the connection between cause and effect turns out to be only statistically valid and relatively true, then the causal principle is only of relative use for explaining natural processes… That is as much to say that the connection of events may in certain circumstances be other than causal, and require another principle of explanation.*
Page 19:
…there are events which are related to one another experimentally, and in this case meaningfully*, without there being any possibility of proving that this relation is a causal one, since the "transmission" exhibits none of the known properties of energy…a situation which does not yet exist and will only occur in the future could transmit itself as a phenomenon of energy to a receiver in the present…Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity... "synchronicity"*
Page 22:
A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me, like a gentle tapping. I turned round and saw a flying insect knocking against the window pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer… which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment.
I flipped through the rest of the pages of the book. There was no more highlighted text, but there was a message on the last page which read:
Matthew 7:7-8
I'll meet you in the darkest place.
He also included his typical smiley face which had an ovular shape and three sprouts of hair which I now realized kind of resembled my tomato plushie. It was my dad's writing, of course. But why? And how? What did this mean?
The motel had a Bible stashed away in the nighstand drawer. I got it out and looked up the verses which read the following:
Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened.
I spent maybe an hour ruminating on all of this. The whole discourse on energy and causality and a "falling together in time" just seemed so right. It was clear that my dad definitely did know what I was going through, but for whatever reason, he made it seem like he was oblivious. Why had he hidden that from me? I felt like I was being pulled in two directions. On the one hand, my dad loved me enough to leave this note, maybe even knowing the exact moment I'd need it. But on the other hand, he had neglected my struggles throughout my entire childhood. He even lied at times. Was this really enough to make up for all of that?
And then there was the section about the future transmitting energy to the past. I read back through the whole paragraph and the original writer had meant it to say this as something that wasn't possible, but my dad's highlighting made it seem like he wanted to flip the meaning. The future does affect the past. I thought about where I was headed and wondered if I would soon discover that for myself.
Lastly, dad's message. The Bible verse reminded me of the first time I prayed; how I reached out to God and received peace as an answer to my prayer. Now I feel like I'm actively seeking… something, but I don't know yet what I'll find. And then there's knocking. At first that reminded me of the story with the beetle tapping on the window, but then I went back even deeper in my memory and dug out the monster tapping at my window, and the words my dad spoke to me in order to set my mind at ease: "you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is? Your greatest power is you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them…so if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story."
I was crying into my stuffed tomato now. I felt like all the blinking pieces of my life had finally been pulled together into a completed puzzle. This was all by design. My entire life, filled with so much chaos and confusion, was actually preparing me for this moment. And my dad thought I had the tools and strength enough to get through it. I flipped through the book one more time, thinking maybe he had left some other hidden comment—some formula to defeat this demon and return home. But there was nothing. Only that one comment: "I'll meet you in the darkest place."
What's the darkest place, dad? Is that where I'm going? Are you saying you'll be there, too?
With those thoughts in mind, my eyes became heavy shutters which, with a slight pressure on the pulley, winded shut. My swimming thoughts and firework-like fears dissipated, and I returned to a precious childhood memory. It was after an evening soccer practice. Summer. Dad was driving me to Dairy Queen. I got a cherry-dipped twist cone. I was happy.
So, so happy.
***
I woke up to sunlight blaring through my windows. Shit, I overslept, was my immediate thought. I threw off my covers and opened the front door. A glance at the clock showed 1:13 PM. I shouldn't have even been allowed to stay checked in this long. Damn, am I gonna get double-billed for this?
I heard a rummaging sound around the corner of my motel room. It sounded like a squirrel was trying to find an afternoon snack in one of the garbage bins. I stepped outside. The sun was extremely bright, to the point where I had to squint and put my hand over my eyes to even see the ground in front of me. I was trying to walk toward the van, but somehow I ended up in front of the trash bins where the animal's tail was sticking out from a turned-over, silver garbage can. Its tail was wagging excitedly, and I remember thinking that it was much too large to be a squirrel.
The animal bent down as if biting onto something, and I heard the sound of its growl as it struggled to tug whatever it was free from the barrel. Inch by inch, the creature backed out of the canister, and more of its sharp, sticky hair was revealed. I heard something snap, then the creature leapt back and I saw what it was chomping on. My eyes widened in horror as the pink tube of a human intestine was pulled taut like the end of a tangled hose. Blood and entrails were spilling out of the human's opened gut. And then, behind the canine, I saw the person's face. His face was pale white, his eyes closed, and his hair was slicked back… It was Trent.
Before I could react, I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I whirled around and saw my dad. But—no, it wasn't him. It was someone wearing a paper-mache face mask that was painted to look like my dad. The forehead of the mask was already beginning to crack, white specks breaking off like sawdust. Through the cracks, I could see the figure's true form. I didn't know darkness had its own type of light, but that's the only way to describe it. It was as if malevolence itself was reified into a skin which was actually an amalgamation of millions of little, oozing parasites that leached into the nearby light. When it finally spoke, the demon's voice was a full octave lower than the old man's at the deli. And it had an earth-stilling gravitas.
"Today's the day!" He sang and reached into his pocket. His lips curled upward into a foxy smirk. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this day." He said and held up a razor blade. Half his facade had already fallen apart, and now I could see the bugs up close, writhing in what was either horror or ecstasy. And his scent… it was somehow more rank than the rabid coyote rummaging through the trash can with Trent's cut open body inside. The demon closed in on my position, and in one, decisive motion, he brought the blade close to his chin, then sliced it across my throat. "Wake up!" He screamed.
I jumped out of my bed and grabbed my throat, feeling the cold sting of its quick slice. Hyperventilating, I patted the area down, trying to hold the blood in, but when I removed my hands, I saw they were dry. It was only a dream, I thought. Gray light was only beginning to filter in through the drapes. I'm in my hotel room. I'm safe. I tried consoling, but the pragmatic mental massages weren't enough to hold the force of my knees buckling. I dropped onto the carpet and cried for a long while.
Outside, rain was beginning to fall.
***
By the time I met up with Trent, I had already composed myself and decided to keep my dad's message and the nightmare to myself. None of it seemed particularly productive from a logistical standpoint, anyway. And I wanted to focus on the mission.
We stopped by McDonald's and bought a couple cups of coffee. Trent asked if I wanted any food, and I declined. Black coffee seemed like the only thing my stomach could take at the present moment. I could tell Trent was hungry, but he tried playing it off (I guess to be respectful of me?) I told him to knock it off and get something to eat. I didn't need my Charon getting lightheaded and dropping the paddle before he finished rowing me to Hell. He didn't care much for my joke, but he ordered a couple Chicken McGriddles at the kiosk anyway.
There were maybe ten patrons spread throughout the restaurant. We sat down at the same booth from the prior night, this time across from one another. Trent spent the first ten minutes or so babbling about our fuel supply and the logistics of the trip from here on in. Practical stuff. I've come to realize that's how he deals with his stress. He talks it out in short, durable sentences. I mostly nodded and watched as what looked like a storm front closed in on the truck stop. The sky was overcast, and there were darker clouds in the distance. The rain was still only a patter, but a middle-aged man wearing a yellow bow tie on the wall-mounted TV confirmed that there would be heavier rain and thunderstorms very soon.
After the worker delivered Trent's food and he ate it in record time, I posed the one question that was still on my mind.
"How do I fight him?" I asked.
Trent finished a large gulp of his coffee, then looked at me. It was the first substantial thing I'd said all morning; Trent could tell something was off with me, but he figured there was no point in asking what it was. "By 'him', I assume you mean the demon?"
I nodded.
Trent licked his teeth clean. "You could try praying again."
"I'm serious," I responded.
"I'm serious, too. It worked before, didn't it?"
"You mean at my house?"
Trent nodded.
"I thought you weren't a religious man?"
"I'm not. Just a practical one. If praying worked before, maybe it'll work again."
"That's the best you've got? A maybe?"
"No, I've got a lot of shit better than a maybe." He answered. "It's just not accessible where you're going. Which is why I recommend not making contact on the first run."
"First run? So we're going to do this more than once?"
"At least," Trent answered. Then, seeing my expression, he continued. "What? You thought this was going to be a one-and-done? We have to conduct some research first. I did tell you this was new for me, right?"
Somehow Trent's response had set my mind at ease a little. I was going to have more than one chance. Of course, why wouldn't I be able to go back more than once?
"Why didn't you tell me this earlier? It would have gone a long way in easing my mind."
Trent lifted his hands in defense. "Sorry, I just thought that was a given. I mean, what we're doing is dangerous, just like I said, but it doesn't mean we aren't going to approach this as safely and scientifically as possible. However, there is a different problem with running multiple trials."
"The Organization?"
"That's right," Trent said like a proud parent. "Our little experiment will be like a giant spotlight, and the longer we wait around after it's on us, the greater the chance we'll have unwelcome company."
"So, safe but speedy."
"Safe but speedy. Exactly."
***
We fueled up and were back on the road a little after 8:00. From that point on, Trent and I were absolutely silent. I had the distinct feeling of being in the eye of a storm. The pings moved closer commensurate with our progress toward the crash site. The cloudfront continued its advance. And I noticed a haze beginning to descend onto the road ahead of us. It was fog.
We meandered further inland, the forest thickening around us until the rain almost stopped entirely—the leaves drinking it up before it fell onto our windshield. I kept my eyes on the radar. We were approaching the large yellow circle which indicated we had arrived. As we pulled closer, I began to feel things. Fear. Eeriness. Doubt. Then happiness. Hope. Love. Normally feelings like these had a clear source to picture, but these sensations came on in waves without any discernible reason. It was almost as if they were blinking into existence inside me.
"Here we go," Trent said like an airline pilot readying his crew for turbulence.
I still recall the exact moment we crossed the boundary into the area of higher energy. It was like something just "clicked" in my brain, and all of a sudden everything felt so much closer. The sound of the rain against the trees was almost right next to my ear. The trees in the distance would oscillate between their position a half-mile out, then suddenly seem five meters away. If I focused on something long enough, it began to radiate those same ethereal particles as when Trent released Ava's "phase lock". I checked to make sure the shifter wasn't set to "TD". Sure enough, it was still in drive.
"Can you see them?" Trent asked. "The shifts?"
"Yeah," I said in a dreamy voice. I felt like I was driving through a wonderland.
"It's the energy. I barely notice a difference. A bit of movement in the trees, but not much else. But I'm sure for you, it's a whole experience."
"What is this?" I raised my hand and caught some of the pixel dust dripping off the sun visor. It disappeared when it made contact with my hand.
"It's a kind of radiation. Everything emits it, just in different quantities. I'm still not exactly sure how it relates to the other realms, but I'm guessing it's a kind of primordial matter that helps connect our worlds."
"It's beautiful," I exclaimed. "I wish I could see the world like this all the time."
"Maybe you will," Trent whispered.
As we arrived at the crash site, I began to get glimpses of the past. My childhood dreams and memories were pushing their way out from my subconscious. I noticed an increased number of blinks, which were validated by Ava who reported the following: "Currently detecting 14,350 novel emergences and 2,777 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 2,777."
"That's a lot of blinks." I remarked. "Why doesn't Ava include them in the net anomalies?"
Trent turned his head so I could see his smirk. "Because blinks aren't anomalies."
I thought about it for a second. Blinks aren't anomalies. "I never thought about it that way."
"It's hard to think about it that way when 'normal' for most people means not picking up on a fundamental aspect of reality. But that doesn't make it any less real."
We continued past the epicenter of the yellow circle. "Are we not stopping?" I asked. "I think we already passed the crash site."
"It doesn't have to be exactly at the site," Trent said. "Plus, we don't want to stop on the side of the road and risk getting some civilian involved. There's a field about half a mile up ahead. I'm going to pull off the road and set up camp there.
The "field" that Trent was referring to was actually a large clearing that dipped down into several trench-like troughs which were filled to the brim with fog like witches cauldrons. Further on in the distance, I saw open fields, probably used for farming, and then a large hill where the trees once again reasserted themselves. We had pulled off the road and up a small incline where the trees had already been broken down, leaving a trail for us to drive through. When we surfaced at the edge of the clearing, Trent pulled us onto a flat bed of dried mud which was maybe thirty yards long.
"Here," he said with a sigh.
We both sat for a minute, looking around at the field. We had finally arrived. The rain was beginning to pick up, and the dark sky made it almost impossible to discern the time of day.
"You ready?" Trent asked.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. In his blue eyes. Was I ready? Did it even matter?
"Let's do this," I said.
***
This was the first time I was really able to inspect the back of Trent's van. He had talked up his gear a lot, and honestly, I was impressed. Not in the way that a scientist is impressed by another scientist's lab—I wasn't any kind of expert—but it still seemed remarkably well managed. Now that I was in a state where my vision had been enhanced, I could actually see the enigmatic particles circulating through the pneumatic tubes which were coiled like the pipes and valves of an elaborate wind instrument. The walls of the van, itself, were glistening white, making it easier to make out everything else inside. Along the floor were five overturned columns. Each column was dark and had a vibrating quality, as if they were charged with energy. Then atop the center three columns was a small altar which supported an apparatus with two skinny, metal arms holding a silver halo. At present, the arms were folded and the halo was suspended a few inches above the altar, faced-down. I thought maybe I'd see particles exuding from it, but instead it was emitting visible waves which bent and warped everything they touched.
"That thing is emitting a lot of energy." I remarked, gesturing toward the halo.
Trent stepped in between the columns and started pulling out the packages he had stuffed in there yesterday. "Just wait till' it's on."
Most of the packages contained only a single piece of equipment, and were otherwise packed with foam peanuts. We carefully removed each box and set them on the ground outside. I asked if the rain would damage any of the stuff inside, to which Trent only laughed and continued lugging out the boxes. When they were all out, Trent removed a box cutter from his pocket and went one-by-one opening them. There were eight pieces in total.
"What is it?" I asked as we fished the first item out.
"It's another apparatus, like the one inside. Except it'll mount on the ground out here."
I pulled out what looked like a metal tripod.
"Good, that'll go on the bottom."
"Where are we setting it up?"
"Over here," Trent said and stepped five paces away from the van. He coordinated himself up so he was centrally aligned with the inner ring, then stomped a few times. "This is the spot."
As we continued to work, I asked Trent about how the whole contraption works.
"Do you remember the first time we were in the van? When we had to escape from the semi-truck?" Trent asked and connected a secondary mounting apparatus on top of the tripod. It had four spider-like legs that made right angles and stuck into the ground.
"Of course," I said. "The 'phase lock'."
"Yeah," Trent said and gestured toward the metal stick that was in my hand. I handed it to him. "The phase lock is a seal on the level of energy that the van is allowed to release. It also controls its dispersion pattern so that it releases its energy in a steady wave. This allows Ava to scan for anomalies without causing us to become an anomaly." Trent stuck the plank into the neck of the tripod.
"So when you released the phase lock, we started emitting more energy."
"That's right." Trent confirmed. "Enough to create an alternate route through a different realm."
"So we blinked into a different realm, then back, just to avoid that truck?"
"That's right."
"But why couldn't we just move out of the way?"
"Because it had locked onto us. It was tracking our motion and adjusting its course based on the amount of energy we were emitting. So in order to escape, we had to radically skew our potential energy and then use it to shift."
"Couldn't he have just followed us?"
Trent connected four more pieces to the device which now looked like an elaborate teepee. He was fishing in the last box when he spoke again. "Yeah, he could have. But it was highly improbable that he would have found us." Trent returned from the bottom of the box with another silver ring in hand. "Think of it like this. Let's say you're trying to escape from some bad guy who's coming after you, and you enter a new room you've never seen before. Would you prefer this room to have three doors to go through, or ten?"
I thought about his riddle for a second, then responded, "It depends where they go."
Trent fastened the ring atop the teepee. "Let's say they all lead to random places, or let's say they're all closets that lead nowhere. The key is that more is better, because the more doors he has to check, the less likely he is to pick the correct one. Make sense?"
"So we opened up a bunch of doors and escaped through one at random?"
"Hence the gear 'TD', for 'Trap Door'."
I marveled at the insights, but not for long. Trent hopped back in the van and pulled a lever that I hadn't seen until now. The two metal arms raised the inner ring until it was perpendicular with the altar. Then Trent clicked one of three red buttons along the back wall, and I saw what looked like a large, glass eye suspended in a magnifying glass protruding from the wall, aligned with the center of both rings. A couple seconds later, the glass eye began to focus the energy which was being fed to it from the pneumatic tubes, and a blue pyramid of light projected from it into the first ring, then from the first ring into the second ring. All three pieces were aligned at slightly diminishing heights, so the cylinder of light beamed through the second ring, into the ground.
"Alright, time for the first trial."
I felt the nerves starting up in my stomach. Trent sensed this and hopped out of the truck. It was raining quite hard now, though it was still warm. Both Trent and I were soaked, but that hardly concerned us. He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "I know you're feeling scared." He said. "But trust me on this. You're going to do fine. Just keep in mind what we talked about. Stay a spectator. Okay?"
I looked into his blue eyes, which seemed especially gray in the dark. Still, Trent's voice was reassuring. All I had to do was trust him. Trust myself. Trust my dad. And it was all going to turn out right.
"I'm ready," I said.
Trent was still for a second, holding my eyes in his. Then he guided me behind the outer ring and into the cylinder of light.
"I should step into it now?" I asked, afraid I'd be called away immediately.
"It's not on yet, so don't worry. I still have to press another button."
I followed Trent's instructions and stood in the blue light which was centered on my chest. Then I watched as Trent ran into the back of the van and posted up next to the glass eye. "Ready?" He yelled out. It was hard to hear him over the rain, but I yelled back. "Ready!"
The next thing I saw was a blinding blue light beam from the van. I heard what sounded like a laser, then saw the cylinder oscillate, expanding and compressing. When the energy reached the second ring, I saw everything around me light up—it looked brighter than noon on a cloudless day. Then the oscillations made their way to me, and I was swallowed up whole.
***
When I came to, I was in the backseat of a car. I felt my butt rumbling. Everything was dim and quiet. And then I heard a woman's voice from in front of me.
"Mark, please, not with Lauren in the back."
The man, who I now identified as my father, pulled the cigarette away from his lips and blew the smoke at my mom. He eyed the back seat where I was sitting, using one of five markers that hadn't rolled off my lap to color a rabbit in my animal color book.
"The kid's fine." he said and took another drag.
"Mark," my mom repeated.
I saw my dad raise his hand in a rapid motion. "I said she's fine, Cheryl. Now check the map and make sure we're going the right away. I can't see shit with all this fog."
I took a moment to make sure I was really in the back seat. I patted myself. I clearly had weight. Then I tried touching the car. At first, my fingertips met a solid surface, but when I tried to press through, my hand slipped into the car. I quickly pulled my hand away as if I had reached into a fire.
That's when I heard the little three year old next to me start crying. I turned and saw that little-me had dropped another couple markers onto the ground and was struggling to reach them.
"Hey!" my dad shouted. "What did I say about crying?"
"Quit it, Mark. She just dropped her markers." said my mom; she turned to help me pick them up.
"What did you say to me?" Mark spat with a voice full of guile. He reached out and pushed her back into her seat. "Don't," he commanded. "She has to learn how to deal with life."
"Deal…" My mom started in disbelief. "Deal with life? Do you hear yourself? What's gotten into you?"
"Sometimes shit happens. It doesn't give her the right to cry. You helping her is just going to reinforce her behavior."
"Her behavior? What about your behavior? You're acting like a total dick."
I didn't even have a moment to react before my dad's hand was across my mom's face. I felt the slap more than I heard it, my own face seeming to swell with the force of the blow. I saw my mom cover her mouth and lean away. Then little-me began to cry even louder, which only challenged my dad to step up his own volume.
"Everyone needs to get a fucking grip before I crash this car." My dad shouted and took another drag. The scariest part was I couldn't tell if he was warning us or threatening us. I felt the sudden urge to do something. There was no way this was real. I was definitely in some fantasy concocted by the demon. He wanted to turn me against my dad. That was the only explanation for something like this. My dad was a good man, not… this.
As I contemplated what to do, I saw a small, golden light appear behind little-me's window. Apparently she saw it, too, because her cries hushed as she traced the wisp with her eyes. After a second, the wisp transformed into a bunny rabbit, reminiscent of the one she was coloring. The rabbit hopped alongside the window, then did a couple circles in place. I watched little me let out a playful laugh and reach toward the window.
"What's going on back there?" my dad asked with a scowl. Apparently the only sound more disturbing than cries were laughs.
I looked back to the front and saw my mom wiping blood from her lip. Her expression was miserable. "Leave her alone, Mark."
"I'll do whatever I damn well want to do, Cheryl. It's my kid back there."
My mom was quiet.
When I looked back toward the rabbit, it was no longer a rabbit but a person. Or at least it looked like a person. The figure radiated pure gold, and atop his head was what appeared to be a King's crown. I recalled Allison's experience of seeing the sun-like figure in her moment of distress. Was that what was happening here? Was this really all true?
"Hey!" My dad shouted, eyeing little-me from the rear-view mirror. "What are you reaching at?"
I looked and saw the golden figure extending his hand toward the window, and little me's hand was reaching back. "Mom, dad, it bright." little-me said.
"What's bright, honey?" my mom asked.
"Don't encourage her, Cheryl."
"Someone there!" little me shouted happily and dropped the rest of the markers and the coloring book onto the ground.
"Who's there?" asked my mom.
"Cheryl, I swear to God. Sit the fuck down."
Everything from that moment on happened so quickly I barely had any time to process it. My mom lifted out of her seat to either get little me's attention or help me pick up my coloring book. My dad responded by grabbing onto her throat, letting go of the steering wheel entirely. He threw her back against the car door, and her head hit the window so hard, the glass cracked. My dad had dropped his cigarette, and I could smell smoke coming from under his seat, but that didn't seem to bother him at all. He turned toward little-me at the same moment my three-year-old hand reached out and grabbed onto the golden figure, whose hand diffused through the window. When my dad turned, I got a whiff of the most awful smell that I wouldn't have been able to place had I not had that nightmare last night. He grabbed onto little-me's shoulder and tugged her away from the golden figure that was trying to pull her the other way. My dad's facade began to crack, and I could see those dark bugs crawling out from the pores in his arms, marching down toward little-me.
I reacted.
I grabbed onto my dad's arm and pulled him off little-me. I heard the sound of my shirt ripping as she was torn from his grip and pulled out of the car, diffusing through it like a ghost. My brief victory was immediately overturned as I saw what was now clearly the demon smiling at me, his wretched fingers curled around my forearm.
"Caught you," He sneered.
Then the whole world once again diffused into countless numbers of particles, only this time, instead of riding through it, I felt like I was falling through an elevator shaft with each floor darker than the last. The further I fell, the less I became aware of my surroundings, and the more I felt a deep sense of loneliness. It was as if I was the only person in the whole world: and the whole world was a prison designed entirely for me. This went on for so long, I began to forget who I was. Where I was. What was.
And then I landed.
***
Source Used:
Jung, Carl. Synchronicity. Translated by Sonu Shamdasani, Princeton University Press, 2010.

~Gun Mage Episode 2: A Frosty Reception~
~Planet: Azuria~
I already knew what it was when I got here, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still annoying. Before the I’d left, I took the book with me, adorned my power armor, projectile resistant mask, and the robe of the magus hunter core. I took Hunter and boarded my ship for a four-hour flight down south, making it to the country of Bastion. It took me another thirty minutes to get to Slade City proper and land.
I’d found a decent place to stay for the night, but when I woke up in the morning to start poking around the city, it was just as I thought, no one wanted to talk to me. Of course, it didn’t help that I was in a set of purple power armor, a gold mask, and black robes with an intimidating cowl. No doubt I came across as the magic boogey man, but hell, I still had a job to do and I was going to see this through.
I’d spent the better part of a day asking different people on the streets if there were any strange sightings, but surprise, surprise, no one saw anything. Finally, after searching in the fourth district I found an officer, who finally gave me a little bit of her time. Well, it helps that she happened to be pinned down by a couple of thugs and I’d come to her aid.
You see I happened to be walking down a particularly seedy part of the Fourth District when I heard gunfire coming from a particularly grungy alley. Normally it’s against my principles to head towards gunfire, but considering I needed information then perhaps this was my chance. There was a single dumpster and three guys were laughing while standing in the open, shooting a few low caliber guns at an officer who was standing against a brick wall. There was blood dripping from her right hand and her gun was on the cracked concrete.
“Dance for us cop, maybe we’ll let you live.” One joked, while another took a shot after a swig of what I could only guess was a fowl smelling beer, “You’ve got no gun, you’ve got no friends, all you got is us baby!” They all laughed and I was officially over it.
“Bolt shot.” I held up Hunter as my revolver charged with electric energy. I took aim and fired, but it wasn’t a bullet that left the gun, rather a bolt of lightning that struck the first man, causing him to scream spasm, and fall to the ground. The other three squealed in surprise, “A mage, what are they doing in,” a second one began, but before he could finish, I shot a second round that caught him in the chest. Like the first he came crashing to the ground and it seemed the others were spurred to act as a result.
They began firing, but each shot bounced off my armor like they were throwing stones at me. I pulled my best interpretation of a maniacal villain, giving them my best evil laugh, “Fools, now I will experiment on your rotted corpses!” They screamed, but it wasn’t long before I shot the other two and disabled them before they could attract any other attention. The cop ran, dove, and picked up her gun to aim it at me.
Really, I just saved her and she aimed a pistol at me, well I guess I did act like a crazy cultist back there. So, I tried to be reasonable and put my gun away and held my hands up, “Sorry it was just an act, I was having a little fun at their expense.”
She kept the gun raised, despite the fact that she knew it wouldn’t even damage my armor. I rolled my eyes, “Look uh,”
“Sarisa.”
“Sarisa, you’ve got four disabled thugs, you’re still alive, and I put my gun away, so I can’t be that bad.”
“I’m sorry, I just got shot, a bunch of weirdos cornered me, and now a mage comes out shouting about how he’s going to experiment on their corpses.” She began and I thought that maybe poking fun at those thugs was a bad idea. She reached for a few zipties in her pack and bound the four. I kept my distance, though she was struggling to get them on with one hand. As she came to the third thug she looked up, “That wasn’t funny by the way.”
“I thought was.”
“It’s not especially when the Third District has gone through hell over the past few days.” She moved on to the final thug and wrapped him up before returning her attention to me, “Weird stuff like zombie attacks, people being bitten and the like.”
Finally, I was getting somewhere as this was the first lead I had, “These zombie attacks, was there anything off about them.”
“You mean aside from them being dead?”
“Well yeah, did they move as units, act in a manner that might be atypical.”
“Look man where I’m from the dead stay dead, I doubt the officers had time to analyze them for the subtleties you’re asking about.” She finished. Before she could start hauling them back to her car I asked, “One more thing, would you happen to know if there were other magic users involved?”
“Well, no, but Third District has its own local vigilante if that’s what you want. I’m not sure whether they can use magic or not, but he might have been the reason that the officers escaped.” I thanked her and helped her get the four criminals into the back of her squad hover-car.
She offered to ride me to the Third Precinct where I hoped to find answers. As I got out, I wished her farewell and headed towards the squat brick building, where two Trevaxi guards stood. Trevaxi were natives of Azuria just like humans, Sansarians, Nymeans, and Tarak, but they were a bit hardier than the rest of us. They were humanoid shaped gems with glowing eyes of different colors. The two in front of me happened to be emerald colored, each stood ready to gun me down with shotguns.
I nodded at them as I tried to walk into the station, but the on the left stopped me, “What’s your business mage?” He said in a commanding voice. I backed up a little, “I’m here to look into some strange,”
“We don’t need your assistance, now head back to your academy and stay there.” Well, as expected as that response was, I couldn’t turn back.
“Look my man, I need to speak with your chief, because there may be several magic users involved and I’m not sure,”
“You aren’t sure, you mages never are, now get lost before I throw you into the streets.” I looked back and the streets were crowded, no one particularly paid us any mind. This was not the sort of treatment that the station wanted on its record, but who would believe a gutless mage over a veteran officer?
I had to get in and this guy wasn’t going to stop me, “Look, I’m after this magic user because,”
“I don’t care.” I was starting to get pissed. Now, I wasn’t stupid enough to pull Hunter out, but instead lowered my shoulder and charged towards the door. It was stupid, I wasn’t going to get far, but hell I had to try something. Luckily, I took the Trevaxi by surprise and burst through the doors.
To be fair it was a nice office, the desk seemed nice and orderly, but I couldn’t quite get past all the officers with drawn pistols and laser pistols aimed my way. I quickly held my hands up to thwart any ideas of shooting me, but I got the feeling I was pushing it, maybe just a little. A very serious looking woman with a scar on her right eye walked forward, “You’ve got about ten seconds to tell me what you’re here for.”
“I was here looking for two individuals a vigilante and a necromancer, but your men here wouldn’t let me enter peaceably.” She turned to the two officers and gave them a stern look. I’m glad they couldn’t see my face because I was smiling at their misfortune; couldn’t be me. “Look I’m not trying to get in the way or start any trouble but,”
The woman held up her hand to stop me, “Listen, I know you mean well, but we don’t really trust mages, hell half the reason we’re in this mess is because of strange magic.” I sighed, knowing I wasn’t going to get much more in the way of information here. What I didn’t know is that there was another officer there who was paying attention to our conversation.
“While I’m sorry that my boys caused you trouble, I can’t exactly put you on the case with my officers. Your presence here will only cause a greater distraction from the mass of work we already have. Boys if you’ll escort him out.” Before the Trevaxi officers could take me out, a blue scaled Tarak walked towards us, “Hey boss I’ll take care of our mage friend here, I’ll even take him far away from the station.” This seemed to agree with the sergeant, so the officer took me out to his patrol car.
I got in and he started the hover-car then we set off into the mean streets of Slade City. The city was a lot larger than I remembered it being, repulsor roads arced throughout the city as neon lights and signs tried to grab our attention. Traffic was heavy, but this didn’t seem to bother the officer at all. After waiting for a few minutes till we came to an overcrowded part of the city, the officer introduced himself, “I’m Shos, Shos Vozza. You’ll have to excuse my colleagues, but we really have had our hands full.”
“I’m Jaden Blackthorn and to be quite frank I kind of expected that. Why don’t you tell me about this problem you all have?” I asked, but the officer held up a finger, “Look I couldn’t ask for your help with this case without at least letting me treat you to some food at a nice café here in town.” Well, this was a shock, an officer in Slade City that wasn’t jerk. We came around to a parking lot then landed then headed into the bottom floor of a large skyscraper that served as the headquarters for the Magia Technica one of the largest magical tech companies in the country. At the bottom, however, was a café with a classic wood finish and a few baristas running about in aprons.
I sat down with Shos and the two of us pulled up a holo-menu and ordered drinks and I ordered a blueberry muffin. We sat and ate for a few moments before I finally asked, “So, about this necromancer?”
He sighed, “We don’t know much, he’s worked in the shadows for so long, with the occasional zombie attack here and there, but nothing to catch him though. I’ve been working with a vigilante who calls himself the Shadow. He’s a mage just like you, though a bit less refined since he doesn’t have the same experience.”
“Then he may need help to bring down the necromancer. Is there any way we can get in contact with Shadow?”
“Of course, he’s actually a friend of mine, but I’m sure if the rest of the force found out I was working with a vigilante, then I’d lose my job.” He responded. I wanted to assure him that since he was working with a registered mage, he wouldn’t lose his job, but seeing how quickly they wanted me out, I’m sure that wouldn’t be true either. Shos gave me a pointed look, “I need two things from you if we’re to meet Shadow.”
“Name them.”
“The first, obviously, is that you keep my involvement with the vigilante a secret. The second is that you treat Shadow well. He’s not a bad guy, and he tries to do good with the magic that he was given. I know you’re a mage hunter so I think it goes without saying that the academy wants him put away.”
I stopped and thought about what he was saying for a minute. Most mage hunters were killers, but that was not all there was to our job. We were always meant to bring in mages alive to help them get their powers under control, so that they could contribute to society. I leaned back after eating a bite of my muffin before addressing his concern, “Look, I’m actually here to find a guy name Zerik Shin, a mage that specializes in the School of the Unseen.” This seemed to take the cop aback, so the Shadow and Zerik might be one and the same, “A colleague of mine, Dr. Isabela Silva, wanted me to bring him to Arxor Academy so that we could teach him there. This necromancer and vigilante kind of gave me the first leads to this guy’s whereabouts.”
“So, you’re a friend of Dr. Silva,” He laughed, “Man, I wish you’d opened with that.” This girl got around, didn’t she? I guess mages with the ability to heal were always in high demand and Izzy was one of the best. Shos seemed to relax a bit more, “Listen, I’m supposed to meet with the Shadow in a few hours. How about I drop you off, wherever you’re staying so you can make preparations and I’ll do the same. I’ll pick you up so we can go give him some backup.”
“I’d like that.” We shook hands then got up to leave the café. He drove me to the hotel I was staying, where I began to make preparations for the long night ahead of us.

Previous part: 8.99.
The Jonsie Burrows: Help Wanted 2: Tables of contents
​
One thing that I'm not getting here is why Vanessa is even a part of Vanny or Glitchtrap's situation since Double-V is true. When I originally thought up Double-V, I was originally thinking that Vanessa and Vanny were two different people and/or were sharing the role of "Vanny".
It's just one of them was more willing than the other to be a part of Glitcthtrap's machinations than the other. I didn't put too much thought into it, but it was something I wanted to look for until that Security Team revelation came about.
But now, I'm left with this puzzle piece called Vanessa that I'm not quite sure what to do with now that I know that Vanny is an entirely separate person from her.
She has to be involved with Vanny and Gltichtrap somehow. Maybe the therapy tapes will help.

• CD 1-Therapist: — but a routine check of your online history has revealed that you spend quite a bit of time with someone in an encrypted conversation. We have transcripts, and I’ve read them, but it’s not clear what you’re talking about in these conversations. I can’t make sense of it. You must be getting something from these that I’m not getting. Right? Who are you talking to in these?

These are all things that would've pointed toward Glitchtrap if I didn't know better. So it's someone else doing this? Why and why her?

• CD 5-Therapist: — Apparently, the IT department has put together a pretty lengthy report chronicling non-job-related communications that have been coming to your computer. — what bothers me about what I read is that the messages you're getting seem very manipulative in nature. —You know who I'm talking about. What you might not know is that this person who's been sending you messages has been hacking into your personal files too.
• CD 5-Vanessa: Lots of people know more than I do. Sometimes I need to listen.

So Vanessa knows who's doing this to her or think she knows. But she's been refusing to listen to them before and is now being worn down by the spamming messages sent to her. But the fact that she doesn't react to the news that they are digging into her personal life is very concerning!
Also, after going through Vanny's secret dialogue in Help Wanted, Vanessa's overall demeanor in both Security Breach and the Retro Cds clashes hard with Vanny's in both games. Where Vanny sounds and reads eager and nervous, Vanessa is defiant and reluctant with depressed undertones.
Is Vanessa really infected with Glitchtrap?
Yet now that I'm thinking about it, Glitchtrap has no need to do this as him sitting through Vanessa's therapy session with her would give him this info if she was infected. Who's ever doing this doesn't much about her, but would very much like to. Is it Vanny or Gregory...
Wait, hold on. Vanessa's first therapist mentioned that messages were encrypted and couldn't make out what the conversation was about. But the second therapist can understand these messages to know that they're manipulative in nature. Are these two different messengers?!
" I’ve read them, but it’s not clear what you’re talking about in these conversations. I can’t make sense of it. You must be getting something from these that I’m not getting." - The first Therapist
"but what bothers me about what I read is that the messages you're getting seem very manipulative in nature." - The second Therapist
What changed? Hmm... What exactly is an encrypted conversation? Maybe explaining that will help.
Encrypted text messaging is a method of secure communication that converts your messages into code. This means that only the recipient with the correct decryption key can read it. - Google
That sounds like what the first Therapist is referring to, but she mentions that they got the transcripts for it. Does that mean that got the code or the decryption key to read it? No, she says transcripts, which means the code itself.
But whatever the first Therapist saw in that transcript was legible enough to read and comprehend. This means the conversation wasn't in computer coding that would require someone in the tech field to decipher it, but just ordinary talk that's hard to understand what it's about.
Okay, that clears things up, they're still the same messenger.

• CD 11-Therapist: So, on your breaks, it looks like you were shopping for a costume. You purchased some fake fur material.
• CD 11- Vanessa: I can't talk about this. He said he would always be watching. He could be here or there or anywhere in between.
• CD 11-Therapist: No, that's not what I mean. You can't just ignore an issue. You have to face your memory of the experiences and process them so you can let it go. So you don't get triggered anymore. you can use this sort of self-dialogue to release these things
• CD 11-Vanessa: I don't like doing that.

This one conversation right here throws everything about Double-V out of whack. Why is Vanessa buying fake fur material? And for the very first time, we know the gender of who's messaging her along that he said that he would always be watching her.
Again the "he" here, and the "he will always be watching" part allude to Glitchtrap at first glance. And again, it can't be him because he should be within Vanessa since they merged in Help Wanted! Even if you dismissed the ending I proposed for Vanny and went with the ending where she gets locked up by Glitchtrap, it still wouldn't be him messaging her about watching here because he would be in her body!
And like I already said before, Vanessa has shown no memory problems or bodily control problems, which would've suggested Glitchtrap's control. No, this means that Gregory is doing all of this.
But why is he going after Vanessa? Geez, It's been a while since I even thought about his past before Security Breach. I forgot how much of a black hole of questions he is, regarding the lore. I'll give my updated thoughts about him after the Double-V revelation later.
For now, after going through all of Gregory's dialogue in Security Breach. It looks like he's not quite aware of the ongoings within the Pizzaplex and is shocked by the level of security can employ later in the night. There may actually be a hint of his hacker background in his dialogue if you squint. And Gregory has absolutely no idea what the rabbit laddy's name is until he gets to Fazerblast.
As for Gregory's involvement with Vanessa... Huh, that's weird. Gregory doesn't say Vanessa's name even once in Security Breach. Matter of fact, after the beginning sequence where Vanessa confronts Freddy about him, Gregory just stops talking about or even mentioning her for the rest of the game. This includes the confrontation that leads to her locking him up in Lost and Found and after it...
No matter how you slice it, Gregory's silence about her is super loud with alarm bells. Sure, he dismisses her as working with Vanny in the beginning, but it shouldn't mean that she should be an afterthought to him! Like, Gregory only talks about or mentions "the rabbit lady" after the beginning of the game.
In fact, if we were to rank every important character that Gregory talks about or mentions in his dialogue for Security Breach from most to least, it would look like this.

1. Freddy - 33 times
2. Vanny - 6 times
3. Chica - 6 times
4. Roxy - 4 times
5. Monty - 3 times
6. Moon - 3 times
7. Vanessa - 3 times
8. Burntrap - 1 time

That's absurd! Especially since she's the only other human worker in the Pizzaplex, besides Vanny, who encounters and confronts him. Like, he doesn't even try to communicate with her at all during the entire game!
Even when discovering Vanny's hideout in Fazerblast and Freddy suggests that Vanny is Vanessa due to deduceing Vanny's name being a combination of Vanessa + Bunny, Gregory remains silent about it! No, "Oh maybe you're right." or "That sounds too simple to be right", but instead there's no response to what might be the identity of your pursuer!
It's like he doesn't want to talk about her...
He knows her, he has to know Vanessa! Yet, he said, "I don't know who she is, but she's trying to get me!" to Freddy. Is he lying? No, he just knows about her.
​

• CD 14-Therapist: —They report that they've caught you on camera, or at least it appears to be you. — Well the techs are convinced that you've hacked into their system many times. — the electronics you like? I saw in your file that you have developed software programs that talk to you and repeat phrases, right? The program asks you questions and prompts you for responses. It's kind of like your own self therapy, isn't it? Another way of talking to yourself to work things out, right? When I saw some of your recent encrypted conversation logs, that's what I thought I was looking at. It felt like I was watching someone go back and forth in their own head, but the text found something that's different than that. When I read what they found, at first I thought I was looking at more examples of you just talking with yourself. Then I realized it was different. When I study this, it sounds like there is someone else responding to you. Who is it?

This is either hinting towards Gregory talking directly to Vanessa or Glitchtrap. But something that confuses me is why the therapist has or even be able to see Gregory's encrypted conversation logs?
I'll admit that I'm ignorant about therapy, but should your therapist have access to stuff you created outside of therapy? Unless Gregory created the program on a computer in therapy. It could explain how he's gotten access to Vanessa's files. But I'll drop that talk for now.
Something that's being made clear to me now is that Vanessa is not as connected to the villains as Gregory is, as she's more surprised by the changing of therapist than he is. In fact, Gregory knows why the therapists are disappearing, knows exactly when the therapists do something that would cause them to disappear, and doesn't seem upset when they show up mangled and dead.
But more than anything, Gregory knew Vanny long before Security Breach started. There's no reason why Gregory would know Vanny has enough control over the Pizzaplex to cut off Freddy from the network, in just one encounter. If anything, he should have assumed she was some weirdo stranger in the Pizzaplex that the security and the police needed to take care of.
But he already knew that Vanny had power in the Pizzaplex, maybe not the full scope, but enough to know that if she and he ever came into conflict with one another that ended with her wanting to hurt him then he needed to get out of the Pizzaplex.
Funnily enough, this actually lines up with the first-ever trailer for Security Breach, where Vanny says: "Gregory, I may have lost my temper earlier. But it was just a glitch!" Which implies they were talking neutrally before whatever made Vanny lose her temper. Again, I'm not using this as evidence as it's been cut, instead, I'm suggesting that the idea might have merit.
​

• CD-Therapist: — I have this still shot the techs pulled from the security footage that recorded you in the pizzaplex. That's you, isn't it? I know this image is distorted but I think it looks like you. And you're not alone here. You're talking to someone, or something. it's hard to tell. What are those things? They almost look like rabbit ears. What? You find that amusing? Well I guess it is.

I had always flipped-flopped between the mysterious person being either Glamrock Bonnie or Vanny. Both are connected to Glitchtrap, so either would fit here as Glitchtrap wouldn't be captured by a camera. But with the new evidence I've discovered, Vanny fits as Gregory's mysterious rabbit correspondent in the Pizzaplex.
But what about Vanessa? Is Gregory hacking into her files or is it Vanny and Glitchtrap? Or perhaps Gregory is hacking into her files on behalf of Glitchtrap and Vanny. Either way, Vanessa is getting dragged into Gregory and the Villian's group chat.
Speaking of the therapy, if we take into account the Retro-CD's numbering system the first two numbers are the patient ID number, and the last two numbers are the number of times both Gregory and Vanessa have been to therapy, then we can uncover some invaluable information.
Gregory has been in therapy longer than Vanessa and he was also in therapy before her too. But combining this CD's numbering system with a theory from the Talesbook story, GGY, that Gregory only goes to therapy on Sunday. Then Gregory has been going to therapy for a year and a half.
And if Vanessa is following the weekly therapy session pattern, then she's only been going to it for a little more than half a year. This means she started her therapy just about after Gregory hit his half-year mark for therapy. In addition to all that, Vanessa stopped going to therapy once she was transferred to a new location and never met the fourth and final therapist of the CDs.
Just something you all should keep in mind.
But Gregory definitely knows about her at the very least. That knowledge, I guess, is the reason why he's so shocked to see her face under Vanny's mask in the "To The Rooftop" ending. He knows that Vanessa and Vanny are two different people, but doesn't know that they look alike because he never encountered Vanny before Security Breach without her mask or costume.
On the subject of costumes, I still got no answer for Vanessa's purchase of fake animal fur or what's even happening with her now.
To be honest, this would be so simple and easy if Vanessa was just Vanny. But like as I have shown many times before in both this series and the previous one, simple and easy answers are not always the correct ones.
So, instead of looking for signs of the villain's goal with Vanessa in the lore. Let's look at the similarities and differences between the double Vs.
Vanessa's characteristics are.

• Depressed
• Has anxiety issues
• Tired (It's something that has been mentioned by the first and third therapists in CD-1 and CD-10. But seems to have more to do with the messages she's getting than how she usually is.)
• Likes the blue sky
• Likes to sit outside and read
• Watchful about her calorie intake
• Likes flowers or at least the sweet smell of them
• Doesn't like dark basements
• Oh, and hates kids

Vanny's characteristics are.

• Loves Pizza, especially pepperoni (Huh, no wonder she likes Chica)
• Absolutely, does not care about her calorie intake or a healthy diet (Seriously, Girl has gone full gamer mode with the amount of Fizzy Faz, straw drinks, and pizza boxes in areas with her presence in them)
• Hobbies in painting or graffiti
• Likes or used to like Glitchtrap or maybe William Afton (I talk about this in the secret ending)
• Loves Fazbear Entertainment (Vanny uses red spray paint in Ruin and has drawn two hearts on the FAZ ENT. Logo in the main Lobby)
• Likes Toy Chica
• Likes the Daycare Attendant (She seems to be fond of Moon more)
• Likes to read, or at least, read about the World History of Fazbear Entertainment
• Likes Flowers, a specific species of them(that I can't determine right now)
• Likes summer
• Is a mechanic or roboticist or both (She making something in Ruin Fazerblast and has turned Ruin Monty into her lapdog among other things)
• Super lazy (This one may or may not be true, but unless there's a good reason why she refuses to clean up her room in Fazer Blast, this is staying right here as far as I'm concerned)

Wow, I did not realize we already knew this much about Vanny just from the environment storytelling of the games until I listed them!
Anyway, as you can see, there are some very similar likes between the two and very stark differences in traits as well. I'm not about to list them to save word space, but instead, I want to answer a question. Could Vanessa still be Vanny despite their differences? This isn't so much for me, but for the people who believe Vanny = Vanessa despite my Double-V evidence.
At first, I thought there might've been a chance for that as they both like flowers, to read, and enjoy the outside, or at least the summer in Vanny's case. But now, after listing everything out they're just too different to say they're the same.
Even if we say that Vanny's love of pizza, general bad diet, and trashy room is the result of Vanessa coping with her depression and her situation with Glitchtrap and that her graffiti is the by-product of therapy, along with her interest in growing flowers. That doesn't negate the fact that in Ruin when given the chance to express her anxiety, Vanny doesn't take it.
If you don't know, on the wall where Vanny drew her face next to a slice of pizza in the main lobby near the Superstar Daycare entrance, there is a painted graph. The artist who made the graph also wrote on the right side of it; "TAG YOURSELF".
On all four sides of the graph, the artist made the furthest sides of them represent something. The top Y-axis is Wizard, the bottom Y-axis is Cedar, the left X-axis is Filled with a word that ends in a y, and the right X-axis is Filled with anxiety.
What this graph is showing, or what the artist trying to convey with it, is that each of the four points represents not quite the opposite thing but the furthest thing from each other. Of which, Vanny decided to tag herself on the [furthest left X-axis](https://imgur.com/j9ND1V3), not the right.
This tells us that Vanny feels the furthest thing from anxiety. Something Vanessa, no matter if she's under Glitchtrap's control or not, would be constantly feeling as she suffers from it.
As for what she's feeling, I don't know, the word on the left graph is unreadable and covered by Vanny's face to make it almost impossible to decipher. But what I do know without a doubt, is that Vanny and Vanessa are indeed, two different people with some common likes and polar opposite traits.
So after everything I've talked about in the last three? four? However many parts I've been going over Double-V, what is the best possible answer for the "To The Rooftop" ending stinger. Why do Vanny and Vanessa look alike?
I tried, I really did. I looked for as much possible evidence for anything that doesn't just make me give up and say "She's a Fazgoo clone!" or "She's a robot!"
If Vanny was a stranger who mimicked Vanessa's face, then that's cool and horrifying, but only where it concerns Vanessa herself. (The horrifying part, not the cool part.) It doesn't give us reasons why she would do it in the first place or a way to connect it to the greater lore and Glitchtrap, besides she's a human Mimic. Basically, it lacks motivation from everyone in the Villian party.
So it leaves me with no other conclusion except for one.
Back when the marketing for Security Breach was building up to its release. Steel Wool released four old Freddy cartoon episodes on their YouTube channel. Each episode hides a teaser image for the lore, including a character from the games with words, along with a character stinger at the end.
The last carton, which is the most distorted one, just so happened to include Vanessa as the hidden teaser, and Vanny as the character stinger at the end. And before you all jump the gun, previous episodes have already established that the hidden character teasers have no correlation to the ending Character stinger.
Now, the words in the Vanessa teaser image are quite interesting. It includes "Test and Rat" in the upper right corner, "Pool" in the bottom left corner, and "Bleak Reactant".
Test and Rat could be Test rat or Laboratory rat (Lab rat) as in the species of rat that are bred and kept for scientific research. Lab rat here can also be referring to Vanessa being a lab rat for the villain's experiment for something.
Using that explanation, "Pool" would then mean group or pool of people, which means number of people available for an organization or group to use. So Pool would mean that Vanessa was chosen out of all the Fazbear employees or people in general to be used for the experiment.
This leaves us with Bleak Reactant, which the definition of reactant is a substance that takes part in and experiences change during a reaction, while the definition of bleak could mean lacking vegetation (an area of land), dreary (a room), miserable(the weather), or unfavorable (outcome.)
All of this together means that Vanessa was chosen by the villains out of a group of people to be used for an experiment. An experiment of a change in Vanessa that predicted an unfavorable outcome for the villains.
Vanessa was going to be the next Vanny or maybe something else.
That gives a reason why the villains were so interested in her, why she would be shopping for a costume, why she would be at the Pizzaplex, and why she would be still connected to the villains when someone else is Vanny.
But the reason she was chosen in the first place, why her out of a group of people that might've included Gregory in it too, is because the one who chose her was her own twin sister.
If anyone remembers my only Ruin theory then you would remember my mentioning of Glitchtrap's and Vanny's conversation from Scott's website from a Security Breach poster.
Glitchtrap: "Stay the course."
Vanny: "I will."
Glitchtrap: "Focus on my voice."
Vanny: "I will."
Glitchtrap: "Don't let anyone lead you astray."
Vanny: “I won't.”
Glitchtrap: "Have you selected one?"
Vanny: "I have."
In my theory, I proposed that Gregory was the one that Vanny mentioned selecting here. But now, with all the revelations and new information gained, I believe Vanessa works better here. Vanny would've chosen someone for an experiment that she personally knew of or gotten to know, and who better than her own sibling that she grew up with.
Remember, Vanny is just starting out in her following of Glitchtrap. So would be new to the whole evil thing. And most of the time, the people close to you are the ones that would most likely commit a crime against you.
As for the twin sister thing, it actually didn't come from the "To The Rooftop" ending, but a discussion from the GTlive stream where Mat hosted a little get-together with some of the FNAF YouTuber theorists after Security Breach. There, John Fuhnaff suggested the idea for it from the VR Sisters boss from the Security Breach game Scott made when Security Breach got delayed again.
It's something that I saw some merit in after I discovered the Vanny ≠ Vanessa and after disproving in my head that Vanny wasn't Tape Girl either. The best part of the twin sister thing is that there's no need to throw out all that we know from Vanessa's therapy sessions as they both share the divorced parent's backstory.
As for which is the order twin between the two, I believe Vanessa is the oldest since it makes sense that her father would use the oldest to testify against their mother as she would better understand his instructions. Plus it provides a potential grudge from Vanny to Vanessa for what happened to their mother and a misguided parental affection for Glitchtrap. Unless Vanny's just a fangirl of William Afton, which could be the case.
Also, this means that the reason Vanessa looks the way she does in "To The Rooftop" end credits is because she looking at her dead sister. Oof, I realized that this also means she would've been the one who finds what's left of her in the "Disassemble Vanny" ending too. No wonder Faz Ent. is temporarily closed if they find that one employee is disassembled and the other one is having a mental breakdown from it in the morning.
But what about the "Redemption" ending? We know that by beating PQ3 both Glitchtrap and Vanny are defeated in it. What happens to her then? Where did she go? Hmm... I'm not sure.
What happens when someone is unmerged after being merged for a long time? Unlike Vanessa, we know that Vanny lives in the Pizzaplex. Even by Ruin and Help Wanted 2, she's still living in the building despite its condition so she probably needs time to think and process what happened to her and what's she done. Oh, and therapy. And a house.
But I think that just about wraps everything up for— Wait, HW2's Candy Cadet story! I forgot all about it! I know some people mentioned that the second story had to do with Vanessa, Gregory, and Gltichtrap. Let me skim through that real quick for clues.
Oh. Oh, that's really interesting... But it along with the Jeremy and the Memory dolls can wait until after next time. Sorry for the little to no pictures, I needed space to fit everything in one post and wanted to get everything about Double-V out of the way before I go on hiatus.
Don't worry it has nothing to do with burnout. It won't be too long either, though knowing my track record when saying that, you probably don't believe me.
Truth is, I've been severely neglecting my YouTube channel, and should really start catching up the YouTube version of my series with the online version. Plus, I've got more "Prove it!" to work on.
But most important of all, my birthday is coming up, and I don't want to work, think, or have anything to do with my FNAF stuff on that day. So! Feel free to read and become full with these last few Parts until I come back with more.