Dell vostro 1310 wont turn on num block blinking

Kimiko uttered a spell and thrust her wand forward, launching a magical attack at Himiko, who blocked it with her staff. Kimiko's eyes glowed a bright green as she began to levitate. She launched herself forward towards Himiko. Himiko levitated into the air, as well. As she did, Kimiko missed her. Himiko flew over in Junko's direction, pointing her staff at her to attack. Junko crossed her arms with a confident smirk.
"Leave her alone!" Kimiko cried, suddenly blocking Himiko's path. Her energy fueled by anger and hatred, she launched another attack at Himiko. Himiko tried to block it again, but Kimiko's attack was too powerful. Himiko was sent hurtling back to the ground.
"Himiko!" Kokichi cried, running over to her. Kimiko hovered over them with an evil grin. She pointed her wand at them.

"Nyeh...you're not so tough," she sneered. "That's why I think Tomiko is the better sister." Himiko clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. Her eyes suddenly began to glow bright blue. She floated up into the air again to her sister's level.
"I don't want to fight you, Kimiko," she said, then pointed her staff at her sister. "But, I will if I must." Kimiko chuckled deviously and raised her wand at Himiko.
"Come get it, then," she said. Himiko flew at her, uttering a spell and launching an attack from her staff. Kimiko expertly blocked it and shot balls of green energy at Himiko. Himiko swerved to evade each one. She held her wand out and spun around, launching a stream of blue energy. This time, it hit Kimiko. With a grunt, she was sent soaring through the air. She landed hard on the ground. Himiko gasped and flew down to her. Kimiko's eyes were closed.
"Kimiko! A-Are you okay?" she asked, cradling her sister. "Kimiko! Wake up! Please!" Suddenly, Kimiko's glowing green eyes flew open.
"Hee-hee...made ya look!" she said with an evil giggle. She zapped Himiko, sending Himiko flying across the rooftop. Himiko rolled across the ground. She quickly came back to her senses and growled as she looked up to see Kimiko flying straight at her.
"Nyeh!!" Himiko grunted, launching herself at Kimiko. Instead of using her magic, however, she grabbed one of Kimiko's hands, trying to restrain her. Kimiko merely smirked and started to spin around. Himiko felt her grip slipping as Kimiko grabbed her hand and hurled Himiko to the ground. Himiko fell onto her back. Kimiko flew at her, quickly firing more green energy from her wand at Himiko. Himiko parted her legs to avoid a blast, and reared her body to the side to avoid another one. She blocked another attack with her staff, then immediately retaliated by shooting a beam of blue energy at her sister. Kimiko dodged it and launched another orb of green energy. Himiko rolled out of the way to avoid the blow. Kimiko then turned to Kokichi with an evil grin and pointed her wand at him.

"I bet you'd surrender if I kill him! " she said to Himiko.
"Ohh...shit," Kokichi muttered, slowly backing away.

"NO!!!" Himiko screamed. Kimiko uttered a spell and launched an attack at him. Himiko was too far away to block the attack, but she used her magical telekinesis to launch Kokichi backwards in time. She then flew over to him and helped him up.
"Kokichi, are you okay?" Himiko whispered frantically.
"Yeah. I'm fine, Monkey Buns," Kokichi said, dusting himself off.
"You won't be for too long," Kimiko sneered from across the rooftop. Himiko tried one more time to plead with her sister.
"Please, Kimiko! Stop!" she begged. "I'm the one who loves you, not Junko! She doesn't care about you at all! Please, listen to me!"
"You're wrong!!" Kimiko cried. "She's a better big sister than you'll ever be! She lets me have whatever I want!" With both hands, she held her wand high above her head, gathering all her magical energy, and launched a bright green beam, high energy with all her might. Himiko shot a bright blue beam from her staff, the two energies clashing with each other. Everything became a bright green and blue blur. Himiko forced her blue energy against Kimiko's green energy. Himiko's blue energy was gaining. Kimiko's evil and confident exterior began to crack, and was replaced by a hint of fear. Himiko noticed her sister's expression, and let back a little, causing Kimiko to gain more power. Kimiko's evil grin returned, and she pushed her green energy through Himiko's blue energy completely, sending both, Himiko and Kokichi, flying back. They slammed against the ledge of the building. Kimiko walked over to them in a menacing stride. She stood before them, pointing her wand at them.
"Any last words?" she muttered. Junko joined Kimiko, placing her hands on her shoulders.
"Well done, Kimiko," she said with an evil grin.
"Nyeh...Kimiko," Himiko breathed, tears streaming from her eyes. "Please." Kimiko's evil smirk slipped a little, as if Himiko's pleading was getting through to her.
"Show no mercy, Kimiko," Junko said with a hungry grin. "Remember how much they hurt you." Kimiko's grin returned as she gripped her wand tighter. "Now...finish them." Right as Kimiko was about to utter a spell and launch her final blow, a firm voice stopped her.
"Stop it, Kimiko." Everyone turned to see Kiki stepping out of the elevator with a determined look in her eye.
End
"That's enough, Kimiko," Kiki said calmly. She walked over to Kimiko, standing in between her pointed wand and Himiko and Kokichi.
"Get out of the way, or I'll kill you, too," Kimiko threatened. Kiki looked Kimiko in the eye.
"Don't you realize what you're doing?" she said. "Junko is telling you to kill your own sister! Are you going to listen to her?!"
"I'm only trying to make things easier for her," Junko said. "Himiko hurt poor Kimiko's heart. Do you think Himiko should get away with that?" Kiki ignored Junko and continued to gaze firmly into Kimiko's eyes. Kimiko faltered a little.
"It was an accident, Kimiko," Kiki said. "Himiko and Kokichi didn't mean to hurt you, and you know it." Kimiko's grin was replaced by a sad frown. Her lip and hands began to tremble.
"B-But..." she stammered.
"What Junko is saying to you is wrong," Kiki continued. "You don't really want to kill Himiko, or Kokichi, right?"
"Um...I, um..." Kimiko stammered. She looked at Kokichi and Himiko, who were still on the ground, staring wide-eyed at her. She looked at Kiki, who kept her steady gaze focused on Kimiko. She looked up at Junko, who was glaring disapprovingly at her.
"I-I...don't...?" she mumbled.
"You don't want to hurt her, Kimiko," Kiki said. "Think of all the nice things Himiko has done for you. She never tried to get you to kill anyone. Junko is turning you into a murderer."
"She's lying!" Junko hissed, glaring daggers at Kiki. "Attack her!" However, Kimiko merely stood there, confused. Kiki took a deep breath as she thought of an idea. She didn't know if it was going to get through to Kimiko. It was a silly idea, she had to admit, but she thought it was worth a shot.
"Think about Sailor Moon," she said. "You like her, right? She's the soldier of love and justice, remember?" Kimiko gasped and lowered her wand a bit. Junko's grip on her shoulders tightened.

"She doesn't even like Sailor Moon! " she growled.
"Remember when we watched Sailor Moon together?" Kiki continued. "Remember Sailor Mercury? Sailor Mars? Sailor Jupiter? And Sailor Venus? Sailor Chibi Moon? You said she was cute, remember?" Kimiko nodded. Her eyes began to grow wet with tears. "How do you think they'd feel if they saw you like this? They'd want to help you, right? Especially Sailor Moon. She'd want you to be happy. She wouldn't want you to kill your sister. She'd want you to forgive your sister. Because even if someone hurt Sailor Moon really bad, she would forgive them, wouldn't she?" Tears streamed from Kimiko's eyes as she lowered her wand completely.
"She would," she whispered shamefully. Then, she fell to her knees, sobbing. Kiki knelt down next to Kimiko and gave her a hug. "I'm so sorry!" Kimiko sobbed. The sky cleared up, and was back to its normal, blue sunny color as if nothing happened.
"NOOO!!!" Junko screamed. She reached for Kimiko's hair and grabbed it.
"You little moron!! You're supposed to do what I tell you to!" she roared, yanking Kimiko's hair.
"Ow! You're hurting me!!" Kimiko cried. Himiko's eyes glowed a raging blue fury. She pointed her staff at Junko.
"DON'T TOUCH HER!!!" she screamed, and shot Junko with a blue beam that sent her hurtling to the other side of the rooftop. Kiki moved out of the way so that Himiko could embrace her sister.
"I'm so sorry, Himi!!" Kimiko wailed. Himiko held her sister tightly and stroked her hair.
"It's okay, Kimiko," she murmured softly. "It's okay."
"I don't want you to die!! I'm so sorry!!" Kimiko continued to sob. Tears streamed from Himiko's eyes.
"I know..." she said, burying her face into Kimiko's hair. She kissed her little sister's forehead over and over. "I know. I know." Kiki went over to Kokichi, making sure that he was okay. She knelt next to him and gave him a hug.
"Are you okay, Kokichi?" she asked. Kokichi chuckled.
"Nee-heehee...never better!" he replied.
"I'm sorry I disobeyed you," Kiki mumbled, twiddling her fingers. "I hope you're not mad." Kokichi grinned proudly at her and ruffled her hair.
"How can I be mad?" he said. "Not only did you rescue Himiko and me from being a pile of mystical ash, you also rescued a relationship between two sisters! I'm proud of you, Chibi-Kichi." Kiki smiled gratefully at him. After moments of embracing and sobbing, Himiko wiped her tears away and stood up.
"Nyeh...I should go deal with Junko," she said. Junko regained consciousness, rubbing her head groggily.
"Ugh...what happened?" she asked.
"Glad to see you awake," Himiko said, walking over to her. "Nyeh...I hope you're in the mood for a magical memory loss." She pointed her staff at Junko. "Not that you have a choice."
"You wouldn't dare," Junko growled. Himiko lifted her staff to the sky and twirled gracefully.
"Sweet Psycheeee....Swipe!!" she said, launching her attack at Junko. Spirals of blue, sparkling energy flew from her staff, and swirled around Junko. When the swirls disappeared, Junko blinked her eyes in confusion. Then, she scoffed at Himiko.
"Ugh! What am I doing here with you, of all people?" she asked, standing up. "And why are you holding that geeky staff? Never mind. Don't tell me. I don't want to know." She marched towards the elevator and stepped inside. She held up the peace sign. "Later, losers." The elevator doors closed, and Junko was gone. Himiko went over to Kimiko, who looked up at her sister with large, wet, apologetic eyes. Himiko smiled kindly at her sister and tapped the top of her head with her magical finger. Kimiko's appearance was back to the way it was before, with her burgundy-colored pigtails and her own quirky outfit.
"Nyeh...there! You look much better," she said. Kimiko gave her a small smile and a hug in return. Next, Kimiko went over to Kokichi.
"Kokichi...I'm sorry," she mumbled, hanging her head in shame. Kokichi lifted her chin with his finger and smiled at her.
"Don't be," he said. "It wasn't your fault. But, next time someone tries to brainwash you, make sure it's Gundham. He has hamsters." Kimiko giggled with a hint of sadness, still ashamed for what she did. Kokichi smiled gently at her and stroked her cheek. Lastly, Kimiko went over to Kiki.
"Nyeh...I'm sorry I was really mean to you, Kiki," she apologized.
"That's okay," Kiki said. "That Junko girl took advantage of you. Next time we see her, we should throw rocks at her instead of trees." Kimiko smiled and giggled. Kiki giggled with her. Then, they hugged. Kiki pulled away. "Y'know...I think I'll give Sailor Moon a second chance." Kimiko raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Really?"
"Yeah...if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't have my friend back," Kiki replied.
"Best friend?" Kimiko asked in a small, hopeful voice. Kiki smiled wide.
"Best friend," she confirmed with a firm nod. They hugged once more, Kimiko sighing with happiness and relief that she had true friends around her.
***
The next day, everything was back to normal, except the constant news reports on the ominous sky from the previous day, and meteorologists trying to figure out what the heck had happened. Kokichi was smiling as he looked out the window at Kiki and Kimiko playing in the backyard. Himiko joined him at his side.
"Nyeh...what'cha lookin' at, Panta Bear?" she asked, wrapping her arms around Kokichi's chest.
"Just Chibi-Kichi and Kimiko playing," Kokichi replied, chuckling. "They're playing with Kimiko's Sailor Moon dolls. Kiki's into it."
"I'm really glad she came yesterday," Himiko said.
"Samesies," Kokichi agreed in a far away voice, eyeing his cousin with intrigue. "I really do think she's the one." Himiko looked up at him, frowning in confusion.
"The one?" she asked. Kokichi grinned mischievously at her. Himiko studied his expression and smiled, rolling her eyes. "I think I know what you're thinking. You want her to join your organization, huh?" she guessed.
"Nee-heehee...oh, I've been planning that for a while," he said. "But, she's not going to just join my organization."
"Nyeh...what do you mean?" Himiko asked. Kokichi looked her in the eye.
"She's going to be the next Supreme Leader!" he replied excitedly.

First / Previous / [Royal Road])(https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/84568/ballistic-coefficient/chapte1666663/ballistic-coefficient-chapter-18) / Patreon (Read 12 Chapters Ahead)
XXX
Neither of them slept through the night at all. Instead, they simply sat in silence in the boat as it drifted back to the mainland. Kayla's crying had eventually tapered off, but it had been replaced with catatonia – she was doing little more than staring off in the distance, a glazed look in her eyes, saying nothing and not moving a muscle. The only indicators that she was even alive were the gentle trickle of blood from the gash in her skull and the occasional sniffle she would let out, which cut through the night like a bullet.
Pale was faring no better. The events of the past few hours played over and over in her mind, each repetition more vivid than the last. She grit her teeth as she watched Kayla's father die for what had to be the hundredth time that night. Try as she might, Pale could not block the images from replaying in her mind. A small part of her recognized this as a good thing – it let her pinpoint exactly where she had gone wrong, and what she could adjust for the next time she needed to undertake a similar mission.
But that reassurance did little to numb the cold sting of failure she felt lancing through her heart with every passing moment.
Pale lowered her head as she watched Kayla's father die yet again. She'd failed, and not only that, she'd failed in a way that couldn't be recovered from. Even if Sven had been blasted to pieces in her artillery barrage, it wouldn't bring the hostages he'd taken back from the dead.
Worse than her failure on its own was the knowledge that she'd let down her biggest ally in a way that could not be recovered from. Kayla had trusted her to complete the mission and bring her father back safely, and yet she hadn't managed to do even that much. He was dead, and that was final.
A heavy sigh escaped her as the thought echoed through her mind yet again. Across from her, Kayla sniffled once more, and Pale hesitated before moving to sit next to her, reaching into her pocket as she did so.
"I'm sorry," she quietly offered as she retrieved a small medical kit. "It's my fault he's gone. I can never make up for that failure."
Kayla said nothing, and in fact didn't even acknowledge her as she opened the kit and began to pull out what meager medical supplies she'd thought to carry on her person. It wasn't much, but the antiseptic and surgical glue would be enough for Kayla's wound.
"Here, let me get that wound taken care of."
Pale took an antiseptic wipe and began to press it against the gash in Kayla's head, only for Kayla to suddenly lash out and take her by the wrist, stopping her. Pale froze, unsure of what was about to happen, but to her surprise, Kayla merely looked over to her for the first time, fixing her with a pointed gaze.
"What was going through your mind when you blew up the village?" she softly asked.
Pale blinked. "We needed to escape-"
"There were women and children there, Pale. You killed them the same as the rest. Or is that just what war is like where you're from?"
"That's war everywhere," Pale said softly. "I take no pleasure in deaths such as that. But sometimes, they are unavoidable. You have to understand, every action I take here has to be weighed against the possibility of what will happen if I fail to return home as soon as possible. Yes, innocent people died back there… but if I had been captured or killed, then scores more innocents would have died back in my own system. Every delay I suffer here means more dead people back home. Does that make sense?"
"So, that's it, then?" Kayla asked. "It's a kind of… coldly calculated rationality with you, nothing more?"
Pale nodded. Kayla pursed her lips, averting her gaze again. "…You don't seem to understand, Pale. For as smart as you are, you can't see the obvious even when it's staring you in the face."
Kayla looked back to her, their eyes meeting. "You're only as artificial as you choose to be. I just hope that one day, you'll realize that."
Pale said nothing in response. Kayla let go of her wrist, enabling her to get back to work, which she did. Kayla's face contorted in discomfort with every dab of the antiseptic, and Pale had to fight back the urge to apologize every time it happened, but eventually, the wound had been thoroughly cleaned. Once that was done, Pale applied a bit of the surgical glue to it; upon application, the glue turned the same color as Kayla's skin, completely masking the fact that there had even been a wound there in the first place.
"That will hold you until we can find a healer," Pale told her. She lowered her head. "And… I must say, I'm sor-"
"Don't," Kayla softly warned, stopping her. "It's not your fault. I won't stand for you taking responsibility. This is on Sven, and only Sven."
Kayla brought a hand up to rub at her eyes, clearing the tears from them with one final sniffle. Pale watched her for a moment before settling back into her seat on the opposite side of the small boat, staring out at the ocean as she listened to waves lap at the nearby shoreline.
"What do we do now?" Kayla asked.
For the first time, Pale wasn't sure how to answer her question.
XXX
The boat continued to drift along through the night. Eventually, though, the shoreline started to come into view. Through the darkness, Pale saw the mainland fast approaching. A few people were moving on the beach, their shapes barely visible through the night and the haze. Kayla went to stand up, already conjuring flames in her hands, only for Pale to stop her.
"Wait," she urged. "I don't think they're hostile."
Kayla paused, then looked over to her, one eyebrow raised. "How can you tell?"
"They're not trying to kill us, for one. And for another… don't you recognize that voice?"
Kayla blinked, her ears quirking up. After a moment, recognition flashed across her face, and she allowed her flames to dissipate before taking a seat in the boat again.
"At least it won't be just the two of us…" Kayla muttered.
XXX
"Am I glad to see you two!" Evie greeted as the boat ran aground on the beach. She came running up to meet them, a wide grin on her face. "I was worried that you'd both be-"
She trailed off when she finally got a look at their faces. Evie paused for a moment, her grin fading. "...What happened?"
"I failed," Pale said softly. "Kayla's father is dead."
Kayla sniffled at that, and Evie gave her a brief glance before surging forwards and pulling her into a big hug.
"It's alright," she said softly. "Let it out."
Kayla gently broke the hug and pushed her away, shaking her head as she did so. "T-thanks, but… I think I've cried enough already. He wouldn't want me to be sad over what happened anyway… but thank you regardless."
"Of course." Evie looked over to Pale. "What about you? You don't seem like you're doing much better."
"How can you tell?" Pale asked.
"Believe me, you're harder to read than she is, but not impossible – part of being a merchant. And I can tell that you're not okay."
Pale let out a grunt. "Respectfully, all I want to do now is find a place to rest."
"Be careful," Evie warned. "The way you're carrying on now, I'd bet my entire caravan that you're going to be plagued by nightmares if you do that. The least you should do is come sit by the fire with the rest of us and enjoy some food and drink first."
"I am neither hungry nor thirsty," Pale rebuked. "I simply want to sleep."
Slowly, Evie nodded. "If that's what you think is best. You can take my wagon – my bedroll is already laid out on the floor inside the back of it."
Pale said nothing, instead turning and stalking away. Kayla went to follow after her, but Evie stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
"Oh, no," Evie said sternly. "Not you. You're in worse shape than she is, so I'm going to insist you sit with us for a bit and decompress."
Kayla bristled. "Evie-"
"I mean it, Kayla. You're in no shape to be by yourself right now."
"But Pale-"
"Will do what Pale will do, and damn the consequences. You of all people know that better than anyone by now."
Pale tuned them out as she continued walking, eventually making her way over to Evie's wagon. She climbed inside and collapsed on top of the bedroll, then closed her eyes and allowed herself to pass out.
And true to Evie's word, the nightmares came to greet her for the first time as she slept.
XXX
Special thanks to my good friend and co-writer, Ickbard for the help with writing this story.

I've decided that the Sentinels are sentient enough to become a transformation.
The Big Story:
When Team Alien Force fights SevenSeven, Ben would use Bullfrag to beat him. Everything goes the same, buy the plant clone of Ben would use Tiny Big and Blitzwolfer to chase after Jimmy. Ben would use Ultimate Dragon-fry to destroy the alien plant.
Viktor: The Spoils:
Since Viktor is still imprisoned on Vilgaxia, Viktor would not be on Earth, and thus, not have his body stolen. Because of this, they don't need to be called in to "take him off the table," as there is no threat to the king, so the episode is skipped.
Girl Trouble:
Everything goes the same until Antonio shows up. The Omnitrix would scan him when he opens the door. When Team Alien Force arrive in the particle accelerator, Ben would use Upgrade to merge with one of the robots and destroy the rest. Upgrade would simply merge with the accelerator and turn it off.
Antonio and Sunny would show up, causing a fight to happen. Rather than turning into Humungosaur, Ben would turn into Grey-zerker, the same species as Antonio, to have an equal match against him, allowing Ben to beat him. Verdona would take Sunny away as normal.
Revenge of the Swarm:
Ben would still have the nightmare, but with Peel-puncher instead of Humungosaur. When Victor Valdus shows up outside of Ben's window, Ben would transform into Diamondhead to tackle him out of the window, and then Cellshiftier, when he is thrown into the air. They would interrogate the janitor, finding out about Victor's his grave.
Team Tennyson would still talk to the Galvan teacher, allowing Ben to scan several of the aliens there. I'll go one by one.
Aliens:

• A red skinned alien with a long neck
• A pink alien with eye stalks
• A blue alien with pink eyes and a pod over his head, similar to magister Labrid
• We see crowd shot, and also see an alien with a grey skin.
• Next to Ben is Drax, the blue alien
• The person fighting him is green with a yellow eye.

Transformation

• Truemor: By touching someone, he can pass a tumor onto them that forces them to tell the truth.
• Slug-slipper: Is a slug like alien that is extremely slippery.
• Mana-squared: All mana and magic based attacks and defences are two times as strong. This applies to enemies like Charmcaster, and friends like Gwen. Can't be turned off.
• Black Matter: Can increase the intelligence of others he touches. He himself has no enhanced intelligence, and can't increase it using his own power.
• Back-hand: Can reflect any ranged attack, making it home in on the attacker.
• Blank-slate: Never has to blink. Immune to eye irritants. Can heal injuries and poison by physical contact.

The rest of the episode goes the exact same way.
Ben 10,000 Returns:
The start of the episode goes the exact same. When they're attacked on the Rustbucket 3, Ben would turn into Mana-squared, giving Gwen the power to defeat the alternate Ben's with ease. Rather than turning into Way Big, Ben would turn into Dragon-fry, allowing Eon to come back and destroy the transformation.
Rather than turning into Swampfire, Ben would turn into Void-ogre, and then immediately turn into Ultimate Void-ogre. Using the darkness provided by the night to restrain the alternate Bens. Eon would fire a time ray at Ultimate Void-ogre, but Ben would create a block of darkness that blocks the hit and doesn't age it to dust. Ben would take the block of darkness and restrain Eon with it. Ultimate Ben would use Diamondhead's powers to restrain Eon, preventing him from using his time powers to escape.
Gwen would find out about the alternate Bens, and would use NRG to destroy the Hands of Armageddon. Ultimate Ben would restore Dragon Fry and (Insert alien name here), unlocking all of his other transformations and unlocking Clockwork and only him, since I don't want to just give Ben all of his original aliens, since it would make the premise obsolete.
The Creature From Beyond:
Ben would turn into Tiny Big instead of Humungosaur. Ben would use Wildvine to restrain the Forever Knights when they are about to fire at the Lucubra and the police officer. Sir Cyrus would actually hit Wildvine, but he would regenerate and throw the weapon away. Wildvine would throw seed bombs at the Lucubra instead of fire.
Tam Alien Force would still find the Lucubra, and Gwen would cause them to fall. Ben would turn into Transmorpher to cushion their fall. The rest of the episode goes the same
Ben 10 X Generator Rex: Heroes United:
I'm going to assume the the Ben 10 Generator Rex crossover happens the same way. Replace Cannonbolt being shot into the omega nanite with Nanomech finding it, and merging with it with Upgrade to remove it from Alpha.
OS Roster:

1. Clawfish (Name by Impressive-spray629): Drilling underground, amphibious.
2. Diamondhead: Crystal creation and construction
3. Grey Matter: Supper intelligence
4. Octo-Lock: Telekinesis
5. Cellshiftier: Shape shifting, Heat immunity
6. Buzzshock: Electric powers
7. Gax: High durability, Enhanced abilities compared to humans. I chose this name, because I'm lazy, and I like reboot.
8. Chromastone: Energy absorption, flight, crystallization
9. Wildmutt: Enhanced abilities. Different form of vision.
10. Roothack (Name by Impressive-spray629): Latching to the ground. "Ground tentacle growth" (Also by Impressive-spray629)
11. Lookback: Can look in front and behind himself. Stronger than humans.
12. Hexagolt (Name by Impressive-spray629): Understand the great one, six arms, splinting into two pieces. Can understand and read all languages.
13. Blind-sight: Heat vision only. Can not see walls unless they emit heat.
14. Light-Brawl: Can make his eyes glow, allowing him to light up areas. This light can hurt Ectonurites and Vladats. Electricity shooting.
15. Melt-claw: When the red claws scratch something, they send out a signal, allowing him to know exactly where that person is, no matter what. Other people can track them. The claws are super-heated, allowing them to cut through materials.
16. Deep-freeze: He can blast out extremely cold air that freezes everything around him. His vision is restricted due to the placement of his head.
17. Sticky-spine: Can climb on walls, and does not suffer from blood flowing to the head.
18. Green-metal: His arms are made of metal, making them much more durable, and have higher attack potency. Poor vision. Has four arms.
19. Bug-blast: Itching dust. Prevents cloning and regeneration.
20. Spike-shoot: Can create spike out of his body, skewering whoever is by him. He can choose where on his boy the spikes come from.
21. Eye-shock: Multiple red eyes. Red shock that triggers pain. If he uses the electricity, then the eye becomes temporarily blind.
22. Sight-staler: Can take away the vision of someone he hits, making them temporarily blind.
23. Heavy-Mettle : Does not need oxygen to survive. Extreme heat resistance. Can survive as long as his head is intact. Really strong. Electricity immunity.
24. Brain-Brace : Telekinesis. Can shoot blasts of it. Can create force fields. Breathes underwater.
25. Four-Arms: Super strength. Four Arms.
26. Ultra-Ben: Weak to chocolate. Super strength, and durability. Laser vision, and freeze breath.
27. Pummlmayan (Name by Gechoman44): Super strength. extended tongue that can grab objects. Necromancy. Temporary Soul adding.
28. Hive-mushroom: Can control and mutate fungus if it's around. Can spawn mushroom minions that share vision.
29. Cyan Cyclops: No powers.
30. Greenie-Weenie (based off of the Beanie Weenie form PVZ Heroes): Has a prehensile tail. No other powers.
31. Goo-luck: Can regenerate from a small piece of slime. Wall climbing. Immune to harm except crushing. can use tendrils to grab and swing things.
32. Wildvine: Seed bombs. regeneration. Stretching.
33. Upgrade: Tech merging. Eye laser.
34. Braindrain (Thomas Perkins): Can turn people into zombie minion if he bites them. Life force sapping.
35. Transmorpher (Name by Gechoman44): Shape-shifting. Can look like people or objects.
36. Heatblast: Fire manipulation and fire immunity.
37. XLR8: Super speed.
38. Snorecupine (Name by Derrick J. Wyatt): Can shoot sleeping quills.
39. Edit: Bunny-bruiser: His eyes are positioned so that he can see on the side of himself. No other powers.
40. Fish-fight (Thalassian): Can only breath underwater. Only has fins, so can not walk on land.

UAF Roster:

1. Hydro-fold (Aquarian): Has a containment suit that allows him to survive. Makes him able to survive in a vacuum. The suit is much more durable than Labrid's suit so it won't tear. If it is breached, then a fail-save will de-transform Ben into human form.
2. Peel-Puncher (Highbreed) (Name derived from a commentator, but I can't remember who): Can fly. Shoot needles from his fingers. Immune to cold but not being frozen by ice. The Omnitrix cleaned his DNA so he isn't sick.
3. DigAWatt (Name by PanHead-300): Has a pickax that can be enhanced with electricity. Has a headlight to see in the dark.
4. Dragon-fry (Dragon): Flight. Fire (Maybe laser) breath. Highly durable.
5. Bullfrag (Incursion): Same as original. No sunglasses :(
6. Sparklebellum (Sylonnoid) (Name from Derrick J Wyatt): Can survive in a vacuum.
7. Frog-dodge (Gilhil's species): Same as Bullfrag. As strong as stone Kevin.
8. Spider-Monkey: Can shoot webs out of tail. Four arms. Enhanced in all attributes.
9. Lu-narian (Name by PanHead-300): No powers
10. Titarnaut (Name by PanHead-300): Stronger than Humungosaur. Can't see in the dark. Sees people with sparks in their Anodite form.
11. Arma-mask: Has four arms. No powers
12. Null-Slate: No powers
13. Whisker-Word: No powers
14. Sun-Lite: (based off the ): When in the presence of sunlight, he can heal others.
15. Penumbrawl (Name by PanHead-300): Can manipulate darkness, making himself hard to see.
16. Tele-static: Can short-circuit machines. Can teleport themselves to other places they have been or know the location of. Can teleport objects to himself
17. Cobra-crush: Same powers as Ssserpent. Looks like a black mamba
18. Decagon Vreedle (Vreedle): Can survive in a vacuum. Expert at pyrotechnics. Will eventually be regenerated when killed.
19. Fightar lot (Name by PanHead-300): No powers. is short.
20. Grem-lunch (Gremlin + Lunch): If he consumes meat before or during the transformation, Ben will turn into his primal form, allowing him to absorb electricity and become huge. The Omnitrix prevents his mind from being poisoned.
21. Grey-skull (He-man/She-ra reference): Stonger than a human.
22. Ghostfreak (Ectonurite): Can possess people. Flight. Intangibility. Tendrils. Invisibility.
23. Frankenstrike (Transylian): Can shoot electricity. Can stick to metal.
24. Blitzwolfer (Loboan): Can shoot sonic howls. Has claws and a jaw.
25. Snare-Oh (Teph Khufan): Made of bandages, which can be used to wrap people up. Can't be hurt.
26. Un-perceivable: Can perceive many dimensions, allowing him to perceive invisible beings. Can teleport. Is unable to be harmed due to being made out of that weird energy. Telekinesis.
27. Marshmallow Marauder (Lewodan (Name By DJW): Can float, and can use electromagnetism, short-circuiting technology. Can regenerate.
28. Power snack: The more he eats, the stronger he gets. Has to be actual food.
29. Nanomech: Very small. Can shrink. Can shoot green energy.
30. Plas-max (Name may be used already): Can shoot solar rays. Teleportation.
31. Water Hazard: Can shoot water. Has hard armor.
32. Terraspin: Mana resistance. Flight. Air shooting.
33. NRG: Heavy suit. Radiation blasts.
34. Splice-speak: Can swap the voices of two people by firing a small beam from the two spikes on his head, similar to the experiment that swaps minds from the Lilo and Stitch TV show.
35. Invert-vision: Can mess with the vision of someone he touches, making them see upside down, or with messed up colors, making them trip up.
36. Armadrillo: Hard armor. Drill and piston hands.
37. Ampfibian: Electricity shooting and transformation. Intangibility. Flight.
38. Marrow-scar (Morgg's species): Imagine Bashmouth's powers, but with bones instead of metal.
39. Eye-sore (Churl): Very strong. Can shoot lasers.
40. Guardi-orb (Sentinels of Monarch): Giant rock. Very strong. Can also shoot lasers.
41. Grey-zerker: As strong as Ultimate Humungosaur.
42. Truemor: By touching someone, he can pass a tumor onto them that forces them to tell the truth.
43. Slug-slipper: Is a slug like alien that is extremely slippery.
44. Mana-squared: All mana and magic based attacks and defences are two times as strong. This applies to enemies like Charmcaster, and friends like Gwen. Can't be turned off.
45. Black Matter: Can increase the intelligence of others he touches. He himself has no enhanced intelligence, and can't increase it using his own power.
46. Back-hand: Can reflect any ranged attack, making it home in on the attacker.
47. Blank-slate: Never has to blink. Immune to eye irritants. Can heal injuries and poison by physical contact.
48. Clockwork: Time powers

Ultimate Forms used (Some taken from my other what ifs) :

1. Ultimate Peel-Puncher: He can use his tendrils to drain the water out of living things, weakening them. (Like Cell from DBZ) Plant based life like Highbreed, methanosians, and Flouranas are unable to attack him.
2. Ultimate Dragon-fry: (Power by Optimal_Ad6274) Elemental Breath "The ability to breathe different elemental beams like fire, water, ice, lightning, etc." Quote from him. Can surround his wings with those elements.
3. Ultimate Spider-monkey: Same as original
4. Ultimate Snare-Oh: Puppeteer. Can attach his bandages to a living thing, controlling them. All other powers are the same.
5. Ultimate Water Hazard: His water can now become gelatinous, trapping people inside. Can suck up water from people by poking them with the holes on his hands, dehydrating them.
6. Ultimate Tiny Big: Passively absorbs the mana of living things, making himself stronger and grows in size. Is smaller than the base form.
7. Ultimate Penumbrawl (Name by PanHead-300): Can form darkness into objects.

Part 1, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39, Part 40, Part 41, Part 42,
Based on a this post: "What if the Omnitrix only had the scan function."

First
Bubba made his way through the outer wall of the Block, nearing the greenhouse. Pusdot quickened his pace and walked up beside him.
"That human, he is making me an orb for me?"
Bubba looked over at him, still walking briskly past the windowed doors of shops. "He's making translators. Orbs are harder and he said he doesn't have the parts. But it'll work the same."
Pusdot looked around, away from Bubba. "But will it be a sphere like yours?"
Bubba shrugged. "I don't know bud. Main thing is making it work."
He widened his eyes. "This is true. I like your sphere though." He focused two eyes on Bubba. "I would like to talk more with him about electricity." He chittered his teeth. "That is a fun word. Electricity." He shifted an eye back at Sliplegs. "Electricity."
Bubba laughed and looked around a corner toward the large arch of the greenhouse. "Figured she'd set up shop here. Stupid scientists, gotta make things expensive for working folk."
Pusdot shifted his eyes at the green light filtering in from the room ahead. "It, it smells."
Sliplegs reached up with his free hand and covered his face. "Awful. It hurts."
Bubba stopped and looked toward the greenhouse and then back at his friends. "It hurts? Shit, I didn't think of that. Yeah, everything in there is foreign." He raised a hand up, looking back and forth. "Well, um. I can take the armor in. You guys can stay out here."
Pusdot raised his hand up toward Bubba. "No. It is tolerable. I can carry things in."
Sliplegs raised his hand up as well. "Just, strong smell, I am okay too."
Bubba looked over both of them. "You guys sure? I don't want to fuck up again. I almost killed you once already Pus."
Pusdot widened his eyes further, showing the whites. "I want to see in there. Go on Bubba Yaga. I want to learn more magics."
Bubba laughed, turning, and walked into the greenhouse.
---===*===---
Dahlia was at her desk in the greenhouse office sequencing vials when the man knocked on the door frame. She looked up to see the unshaven fisherman and then noticed the two xenorachs at his side. She smiled and stood up. "Live specimens!"
Bubba shook his head and looked at Pus. "Nah, nah, these are my friends." He motioned for the wrapped fnga armor and Sliplegs handed it over. "We're wondering if you want to buy these?"
Her face soured as she looked at him. He pulled off her glasses and pointed at Pusdot. "Tell me about these two. They're, they're helping you? How did you manage that." She put her glasses back on and stepped closer to Sliplegs. "They seem docile, yet they are predators. Other inmates told me they were attacked by several of them. How'd you tame them?"
Pusdot bowed slightly, darkening his eyes and grumbled his native speech. The orb translated. "I am sorry my kind attacked yours. We have been under attack from yours as well. I hope we can have mutual respect of territory."
She took a step back. "Holy hell." She covered her mouth. "Pardon my language." She pointed toward a chair. "Inmate, sit. I need details, now."
Bubba raised his hand, face stern.
She stared right back at him and pointed at the ceiling.
Bubba looked up and noticed two crawlers nested in the ceiling, their Crucible M10's aimed at his head. "Yes Ma'am." He said, sitting down slowly.
She sat back down at her desk and smiled at the xenorachs. "Please. Please, if you understand me, pull up those two chairs."
Sliplegs looked at his father with an eye and Pusdot nodded back at him. The two pulled their chairs over and sat beside Bubba.
She crossed her hands on the desk. "This, this is a discovery. I, want this. This is my thesis. I've been scouring through samples looking, hoping for something game changing. Yes, there's dozens of new amino combinations, but it's all probably registered in some synthesized database somewhere. My only hope, until now, was finding real life applications of theoretical life processes, and no one cares about that. People live in generated worlds all over. But these!" She smiled. "These two, their kind. This is going to be a political nightmare." She laughed. "I love it!" She pointed at Pusdot. "You, tell me about yourself."
"I am Pusdot."
"Pusdot." Her face tightened as she thought on his name. "That's kind of gross." She looked over at Bubba. "Is that thing working right?" She asked pointing at the orb.
He nodded. "The males get shit for names."
Her eyebrows raised. "And the females?"
"Warriors, defend the territories. The guys serve them." He groaned. "Been a pain keeping them fed."
She tapped her glasses, thinking for a moment. "And, you're feeding them? Why? That how you, that why they are here?"
Bubba looked at Pusdot for a moment. "We barter, yeah. Mostly we feed them so my buds here don't end up eaten."
"Oh my god!" She shook with excitement. "That's so eerie similar! Convergently evolved and sentient!" She leaned back slightly. "Well, at least they aren't crabs."
Bubba nodded. "Yeah. It's hard telling what worlds each of them are from. I've pissed off a few in my day."
She nodded back at him. "So, you. Pusdot. You're here of your own free will? He's not taking advantage of you or anything?"
Pusdot shifted an eye toward Bubba. "No. He is a friend. He helps me. I owe him for my life, and my children's lives."
She looked back at Bubba. "An inmate, helping a native. See, I shouldn't judge should I."
"No Ma'am." He smiled.
She looked over at the satchel. "What are those, you were wanting to sell me things?"
Bubba put the tarp containing the fnga shells on the table. "Yeah. I heard you buy stuff like this."
She looked them over. "Trappers brought in a few of these. Odd bottom dwelling creature, probably a divergent from these fellas evolutionary line. The exoskeleton has similar compositional components as theirs, yet probably millions of years apart." She looked over at Bubba. "Like us and, I dunno, cats maybe. It's like their lions." She looked back at the shells, poking through them. "Good flesh chunks dried in here. I can sample those. The shells themselves, yeah, I can make some pottery for my aunts. Save on Christmas gifts." She looked up at the xenoarchs. "The shells you can heat them, bind them together you know. Similar to glass blowing, weird carbonic silicate interactions." She looked back down. "All the silica on this world, its made for some interesting biomes. I'm amazed you inmates stay alive out there."
Bubba blinked slowly, sighing. "How do you mean?"
She kept poking through the flesh, testing it with her pen. "Minimal tech, hostile creatures, horrible environ, everything bites, plant life is toxic and irritation inducing." She looked up at him. "You're a pretty resolute individual I gather."
Bubba shrugged. "I come from a long line of survivors Ma'am."
She nodded. "About that." She raised a finger up. "Crawler. Give me details on the inmate before me."
One of the metallic forms on the ceiling shifted, aiming a blue eyelet toward her. "Inmate 77743. Tillman Layfayette Gumphries. Insolvent. Deemed societal drain. Hotdropped AUTU 556-10 on planet Q39-C."
She nodded. "Non-violent?"
Bubba nodded.
Sliplegs chittered his teeth.
She looked over at the smaller male. "What was that?"
Bubba smiled. "That's how they laugh."
"And why, did you laugh?"
Sliplegs bowed his head, darkening his eyes. "Bubba Yaga shakes the trees with fire and thunder, Ma'am."
Dahia laughed. "Bubba Yaga? Teaching them our tongue already." She looked at the man. "Take them out hunting?"
Bubba nodded.
She leaned back and stared at him for a moment. "How long are you in town?"
Bubba shrugged. "Dunno. I got a few errands. Was hoping to get back tonight, but we're running behind."
"Just you three?"
He shook his head. "Wives are with us."
"Wives?"
Pusdot nodded, widening his eyes. "Sliplegs wives and the Alexandra Ma'am."
She laughed, clapping slightly. "Sliplegs." She looked at the smaller male. "I'm guessing, you? With how his eye shifted toward you?"
The young male nodded awkwardly. "Yes Ma'am."
"Given the giant trees, and their probable hunting strategies. I can see the importance of their eyes. Kind of like hawk sight I bet. Far distances with open space require a sense capability of detection. Smell might be good, but this whole place is fetid, and the noises from beyond the wall at night are crazy loud. Sight, that's been good to you guys." She took a deep breath, bobbing her head. "I'll buy the shells. You do the barter system they do around here, or what?"
Bubba smiled. "I heard, you have currency?"
"Credits or Clams?"
"Credits Ma'am. Fuck the Clowder."
She smiled. "Yeah, fuck those fascists." She pulled out a pad and looked up at him. "Good good, you're linked to your inmate number." She tapped the screen. "Okay, sent you over three hundred. That good?"
His eyes went wide and a smile crossed his face. "Yes Ma'am! That's, that's generous."
She shook her head. "No inmate, that's including the next part of our transaction."
His face went slack.
"You're going to take me out with you. Let's say, one agreed upon temporal week?"
"One week? Out in the swamp with me?"
She motioned at the two spiderfolk. "With all of you. This is a research expedition." She pointed up at the crawlers. "How big is your boat?"
He looked up at the massive metal constructs gripping the support beams in the ceiling. "Not that strong Ma'am."
She groaned. "You have guns obviously. Can you guarantee security?"
He sighed. "We'll need to run this past my wife first. Then we can talk safety concerns."
She nodded. "Yes, and the other two wives?"
He nodded back.
"Alright. Let me get some things together and we shall go meet with them."
He raised his hand up slightly. "Um, I was supposed to, she uh."
She shook her head slightly. "She uh, she uh what?"
"I was hoping to barter with you for some plants. She's got a garden going in the back room, and was hoping for some new flowers."
Dahlia raised a finger. "Screw flowers. I got just the thing for her. Rare in this arm, hard to come by but I love them." She got up and walked over to container along the back wall of her office. She slid open the drawer, cold mist rolled out. "If she knows anything." She looked up at him. "Which I hope she does, given she's a gardener." She looked back down and pulled out a glass tube holding some green finger like plants with roots.
"She was hoping for flowers. You, you don't have any?"
She glared at him over her glasses. "Asparagus, Bubba. She'll be thankful for it, I guarantee." She put it in his hands and turned around, shaking her finger in the air. "I need to make a list. Yes. What all I'll need." She looked back over at him. "You will provide food and housing correct?"
He stared at her.
"Your home, inmate. Is it adequate for guests?"
Pusdot raised a hand up slightly.
She looked at him.
"I stayed there last night. It is a good temperature and the smells are not overwhelming."
She shrugged. "Good enough for me." She smiled. "I'll start packing. Wait here for me."
Bubba sighed and remained seated.
---===*===---
Alexandra sat next to Elise, each a drink in their hand. Quietbite sat behind Alexandra, braiding her hair.
Elise took a sip and looked at the creature's work. "Watching their hands move, it's mesmerizing." She looked up at Alexandra. "And that dress." She laughed. "I'm sorry I got all jelly."
Alexandra smirked back. "Kinda my fault."
"No, no. We shouldn't of."
Alexandra cut her off. "I wanted to show off."
"Well it worked." Elise laughed, the laugh jarring her ribs forcing her to hold them. "Ow. I'm going to feel that tomorrow."
Alexandra put her bottle up to her forehead. "Me too." She laughed. "That was a good swing."
Elise pointed at the the two spider women. "These uns, they're fierce. Came out of nowhere."
Alexandra smiled over at Gorepull. "Yeah, they're top bitches in the woods." She leaned toward Elise whispering. "They eat their men if they step out of line."
Elise's face lit up. "Holy shit, that's void as hell."
"I know right. I love em, don't tell them though. They're like a hierarchy or some shit."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they have queen mothers and everything. Men are basically slaves. I love it."
"Shit." Elise said, looking at her friends. "We need to get some swamp husbands, meet the locals."
Alexandra nodded and took another sip. "I might could get them to make you a dress if you want." She looked over at Elise. "Won't be as nice as mine, but it'll be nice."
Elise stared back at her, leaning in her chair. "How much?"
Alexandra drained her bottle and sat it on the table. "Bubba's hooch is shit. You still got Jackobs on your short threads?"
Elise smiled. "He couldn't stop if he wanted to. Man's a beast."
"He still got those beehives over in the greenhouse?"
Elise nodded.
"I'll trade you a dress for ten bottles mead."
Elise looked at her friends and they nodded back at her. She looked back at Alexandra. "Twenty five bottles, three dresses."
Alexandra thought for a moment, looking at Gorepull, feeling Quietbite braiding her hair. "Deal. Let me work it out with them, and I'll get you a day you can come out and get fitted."
Elise tilted her head. "Fitted? Out there, in the swamp?"
Alexandra blinked slowly. "That a problem?"
Elise nodded. "Big fucking problem. We ain't going out there."
She groaned. "Thirty bottles, three dresses, and we do it here."
Elise mirrored her groan and extended her hand. Alexandra shook it just as the door opened. They looked up and saw Bubba, Pusdot, Sliplegs, and a strange woman with a large brown rucksack over her shoulder.
Elise laughed. "I'm guessing they're with you?"
The orb floating beside Bubba translated her question into the xenorach's language. Quietbite leaned forward chittering. "That little one is my husband." The orb replied as it floated over.
Elise's face went pale as she stared at the female. "That, is trippy as fuck."
Quietbite chittered again. "I wanted to tell you Alexandra. I like the strands you grow. They are pleasant to my fingers."
Alexandra sighed. "Thank you Quietbite, and thank you for the backup earlier."
Gorepull took a drink from her bottle. "I enjoyed the fighting." She looked at her sister.
Quietbite looked over at the taller of Elise's friends. "I am happy to taste a new opponent. Mother will be impressed beyond believing."
Bubba walked over, staring at Quietbite braiding his wife's hair. "Well, this is going better than I expected." He then noticed the swollen spot on Alexandra's forehead. "And that, is as expected."
Alexandra pointed at Elise. "Just getting reacquainted with an old work friend."
Bubba laughed, tipping his head toward the woman. "Hey Elise. How you been?"
She smiled back. "Good T.L. Been hearing good things about you and your boys there."
He looked back at the two standing next to him and Dahlia still standing near the door.
Alexandra looked over at her. "Who's your friend Bubba?"
He sighed, touching his hair. "Dahlia Strong. She's coming with us, wants to research them."
Alexandra looked her over in more detail, noting her hair, soft skin, perky chest. "She paid well I hope?"
He nodded and remembered the box in his hand. He opened it up and handed it over to her. "It's not a flower, I'm sorry."
Alexandra looked inside, noting the perennial vegetable inside. "Asparagus!" She looked up at him. "You, dumb lovable fool!" She hit him on the arm and then looked over at Dahlia. "You give him this?"
Dahlia walked over, nodding. "Yeah, he said you had a garden going."
She laughed. "This is worth a fortune. What he promise you?"
The scientist's face grew serious. "One week, meals and quarter provided. Your husband is going to be my guide, introduce me to your new friends." She tilted her head. "And you of course." She gave a quick smile. "Nice dress by the way." She looked at the female xenorach braiding her hair. "She make it?"
Quietbite's eyes darkened toward the woman. "That is a male weave. It demands submission." The orb translated.
Dahlia looked over at Sliplegs. "Culture, meaning. This is, this is fascinating already." She looked around the table, noting Gorepull's eyes all focused on her. She extended a hand at the large female. "Dahlia."
Gorepull stood up, taking the woman's hand in her own. She looked down at her as she rose to her full height. "I am Gorepull. Daughter of Mother Silentcut, apprentice to self proclaimed Queen Alexandra."
Dahlia's eyes widened. "Pleasure to meet you."
Gorepull squeezed her hand tighter. "You wish to learn of us?"
Dahlia nodded slowly.
"I will take you Dahlia. You will be my apprentice."
The researcher looked slowly at Alexandra.
Alexandra smiled at her, nodding slowly.
Dahlia looked back up at Gorepull. "That, is, acceptable."
Gorepull let go and looked over at Sliplegs. "You have done well husband. You are earning your place in our nest."
Sliplegs bowed slightly, his eyes darkening pitch black.
Bubba looked around at everyone. "Well, we got a bit to wait on Gime. Another round the house on Thompson?"
The room erupted in cheering and Susie smiled behind the bar.

Part 1 Part 2
I can't believe we’re in this situation. Not the zombies, I’ve already come to terms with that. Of all the people we could have ended up with it had to be…I’m getting ahead of myself. This morning Drake and Me were discussing possible escape routes. Aside from the obvious human flesh cravers, the main obstacle will be getting around abandoned vehicles.
The idea we came up with was going to the roof of the tallest building in town. It would give us the best vantage point to see if any clear roads were leading out. This did pose a risk as it meant going closer to the zombies. It’s not as if that’s a hazard that can be avoided outright. We prepared first with some stretching followed by breakfast.
We didn’t want anything too heavy since we’d be moving around a lot. We each had several bowls of instant fruit oats with some bananas, bagels, and coffee. For our venture, we were bringing some protein bars I snagged at Walmart and some water.
“Alright, how long do you want to spend on this?” I asked as we stood up from the table.
I collected the styrofoam bowls and plasticware as Drake replied.
“We can’t use our GPS so we’ll have to write down street names.”
“Do you think the town hall might have some maps?”
“Oh yeah, good idea. We’ll have to keep an eye out for that.”
For self-defense, we had our nail guns as well as axes. The kitchen has some knife sharpeners that we tried on the heads and we also made slings for them. Both of these seemed to have worked pretty well. As I’ve mentioned, close melee is something we want to avoid. If we have to engage, though, we want to end it quickly. Drake waited by the entrance as I was brushing my teeth upstairs in our room.
I think it makes more sense to do this after eating. Drake believes that as long as you brush twice a day, it doesn’t matter. I came back down to see him on his phone. Noises from the game Tetris came from it.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yeah and I got the binoculars,” I replied, holding them up as they hung around my neck.
“Cool, let’s go.”
We moved the chairs we’d set up in front of the doors and unlocked them, then stepped outside.
“Are we taking your truck or do you think that might attract too much attention?”
“It should be safe for a certain distance. We can walk the rest of the way.”
There’s something especially unnerving about driving through a town that’s devoid of people. To think, all this went down only a few days ago. I guess it goes to show that things can go to Hell fast. We went about three-fourths of the way and then Drake pulled his car to a stop.
“Remember, we parked at the barber shop.”
“Noted, are you leaving the keys?”
“No, are you crazy? My truck might get stolen.”
“What about the starting problem?”
“Don’t worry. I took a look at that the other day. It should be good.”
We got out, being mindful of how hard we closed the doors. We stayed low as we were making our way to the town hall. It was going smoothly, only having the occasional close calls. Two zombies spotted us. We used our nail guns to make short work of them before they could alert any others.
Reaching the town hall, we became apprehensive due to the entrance being ajar.
“We might have company here. Stay sharp,” Drake said.
I glanced around and my eye fell on the water fountain.
“Hang on.”
I went over to it, reached into the water, and grabbed a handful of rocks.
“What are you those for?”
“Distractions.”
We went up the steps and then peered inside. Once confirming it was safe, we proceeded, locking the door behind us in case any surprises wandered in. Since our steps echoed, we were making sure to move carefully. Every so often I would peek through the binoculars to get a better view of what was ahead.
“Hang on,” I whispered.
“What?” Drake replied as we both halted.
Scanning the floor ahead, I could see the reflection of several zombies along the marble flooring.
“Get your weapons ready. We got a lot to clear out,” I informed him.
We each took cover behind the wall on opposite sides. I checked one of the rocks and sent it skittering across the floor. The moaning and growling of the living dead soon followed. The first of them shambled around the corner. Drake fired his nail gun, hitting it in the head.
As soon as it collapsed, more were coming into view. I took out the next one, then Drake the one after. This repeated and for a while, we were making quick work.
“How many of them are there?” I asked as one was running at me. “They just keep coming.”
I fired, getting it in the throat.
“Just keep it up. It's not like we'll be out of ammo anytime soon.”
One zombie that was just an upper torso had been clawing its way toward Drake. Being occupied with the others he hadn't noticed it.
“Hey, the floor,” yelled.
He gasped when it was almost to him and shot it in the eye. It reached out to him and then fell still.
“Thanks.”
“Don't mention it. Well, I guess that takes care of…”
“Gus, is something wrong?”
“Is it just me or did I just hear something drip?”
We glanced at the floor behind us and saw a red split. We glanced up in time to see a zombie that was clinging to the ceiling, dropping down to try and pounce on us. We moved out of the way in time, screaming as we did. This thing was new. It scurried on all fours, snarling at us.
We aimed and pulled our triggers only for nothing to happen.
“They're jammed,” I said.
“No shit.”
We backed away slowly as it eyed us with a deep famine. Maybe it was the fear messing with my head, but I could have also sworn I could see the faintest hint of intelligence in its yellowed eyes.
“Guess we'll have to do this the old-fashioned way,” Drake said and put a hand on his ax handle.
I did the same. The crawling zombie let out a screech and lunged at us. Yanking out my ax, I swung, smashing the zombie across the face with the flat side and partially gashing its face with the edge.
It was back almost as soon as it hit the wall. Assuming Drake was easier prey, it went after him.
Unlike me, he had more time to get in position. Unfortunately, he misjudged the arc range of his swing. Instead of getting the zombie's head, he got it in the chest.
“Gus, help,” he yelled, holding it back as it clawed at him while it was balancing on the ax blade.
Drake tripped backward over a corpse and fell to the floor. All he could do was keep a leg up to keep from getting torn into. Heart pounding, I rushed over to him, and with one swipe, buried my ax in the zombie's temple. It swayed to the side and Drake shoved it away, immediately scooting back as soon as he did.
I was going to check on him until I noticed the fucking thing was still moving. Raising my weapon, I brought it down like splitting firewood. At the moment of its cranium crunching and bits of its brain getting stuck to my ax head, it stopped moving. I glanced at it, then the bits of gray matter, and found my breakfast making an unexpected upward exit.
“You good?” Drake asked, patting me on the back.
“Yeah, I just need a minute,” I replied between deep breaths.
My legs were wobbling so I was steadying myself against the wall.
“It's a lot worse when it's up close.”
“I know the feeling.”
The hall leading to the Mayor’s office was caked in dried blood. Under the light, there were scratch marks as if people had been dragged away. Disturbing though that was, what unnerved us more was the state of our elected, a term I use loosely, leader's workspace. Pushing the door open, we were greeted by a spotless office. Given what we dealt with earlier, this didn't sit right with either of us.
Not to mention, all the rooms we passed were in complete disarray.
“I’m guessing Schneider got out of dodge when things went south,” I said.
Mayor Bill Schneider wasn't known for what he did so much as what he didn't do. Ask anyone living among one of the many pothole-filled streets what they think about him. You will be hard-pressed to get a flattering response.
“Of course that good-for-nothing shit sucker abandoned this town,” Drake grumbled. “Whatever, let's just find that map and then get to the roof.”
We got one from the desk along with a pen and then took the stairs going up.
“Sart looking and let me know if you see anywhere viable. I'll make sure to mark it here,” Drake said.
Raising the binoculars to my eyes I began searching.
“Cars are blocking most of the roads,” I said. “The police station is empty, though.”
“No surprise there.”
When we first moved into town, we dealt with a break-in. We tried calling 911
However, after ten minutes of having our stuff ransacked, we decided to handle things the baseball bat way. The cops then arrived promptly to take our statements two hours later.
“Hang on, that might work,” I said, hopefully.
“What might?”
I informed Drake that there was a dirt road behind one of the neighborhoods stretching outside of town. He marked the route leading to it on the map.
“Alright, I say we head back and pack. That way we can…” he said, trailing off.
“What?”
“Do you hear that?”
I listened closely, only detecting the noises of roaming zombies. Then there was another sound, a rumbling that was familiar to us. Looking through the binoculars again, I saw Roscoe. He was in his white Hummer speeding through town. Behind him were some of his buddies in their own vehicles except for the last one.
“Drake, you might want to see that hat this.”
His jaw dropped upon using the binoculars.
“They stole my fucking truck,” he roared.
Roscoe and his group drove by a building across from the town hall. Drake began foaming at the mouth, mentioning all the unspeakable things he would do to them.
“Hey, relax, man,” I said. “Let's talk with them. I'm sure we can smooth things…”
The person driving his truck made too sharp of a turn, going over a curb, and crashing into a tree.
“Out,” I finished.
Stumbling out, the driver had a bottle of beer in one hand and a beer in the other. Drake's screaming caused birds to take flight. My heart sank because this was the equivalent of ringing a dinner bell. Roscoe and his friends, on the other hand, were ecstatic and not subtle about expressing it either.
“It’s hunting time, boys,” Roscoe hollered.
They cheered and began firing at the zombies as they came.
“Maybe we should wait a bit,” I said.
We left the roof and decided to check the other rooms more thoroughly until the gunfire died down. Most of them didn’t have much use. The last one, on the other hand, contained something unexpected.
“This one’s locked,” I said, jiggling the handle. “Here, maybe we can wedge-”
Yelling, Drake smashed the window of it with his ax, then reached inside and unlocked it.
“Or that works too, I guess.”
Stepping over broken glass, the office we entered was stacked with paperwork.
“I feel sorry for the poor bastard who had to work in here,” I said.
“Gus, is that you?” we heard someone ask.
Peeking out from behind the desk was the familiar and disheveled face of Van. From his odor, he was overdue for a shower.
“What are you doing here?” Drake asked.
He explained that back in our neighborhood, he’d managed to get away. Without a car, the only place he could get to safely was the town hall.
“I’ve been sneaking into the kitchen and then back here for days. I don't know how I've managed to avoid them for so long.”
“Do you know anything about why this is happening?” I inquired.
“Sorry, I'm as clueless as anyone else. Not to be too forward, but do you have anywhere safe I can stay?”
By the time all three of us were outside, Roscoe and his ilk were guzzling down beer. Several of them were dancing on Drake's truck. His grip on his ax handle tightened. I put an arm out in front of him and then spoke up.
“Excuse me.”
They all turned
“Oh shit,” Roscoe exclaimed, “I thought you guys were dead.”
He noticed Van and frowned.
“Surprised to still see you kicking, pussy.”
Van smiled in return.
“And I see that being a drunk fuck is still all you're good at.”
Sensing an altercation brewing, I intervened.
“Roscoe, listen, you do know the truck your friend was driving belonged to Drake, right?”
He blinked a few times, then glanced at it still smoking in front of the tree and back at Drake.
“Oh shit, my bad man. We saw it parked at the barber shop and my buddy, Clint, knows how to hotwire that model so we thought we'd take it for a spin.”
“Well, I'm short one truck thanks to that,” Drake replied, irritably.
“Don't sweat it, man. We can get you another one. Isn't that right, fellas?”
They answered yes in a rousing cheer.
“Want some beer?” Roscoe asked.
“Not right now,” I said.
I was going to explain me and Drake's escape plan when all hell broke loose. From the roof of the building close to us jumped about a dozen of the crawling zombies. It all happened so fast there was no time to warn anyone. The next thing we knew there was panicked shrieking and firing. Our encounter with the one earlier made us better prepared for it and we began hacking away.
Even then, we survived by the skin of our teeth. Now it was Me, Drake, Van, and Roscoe staring down the brutalized remains of his friends.
“So we've been staying at a hotel,” I said, averting my gaze from the aftermath of the carnage. “Mind driving us there?”
Roscoe, still in shock, nodded. Then we got in his Hummer and rode in silence. That brings me to now. Trying to keep the peace between Roscoe and Van has been nothing short of migraine-inducing. Oh well, hopefully, we'll be out of town tomorrow so we won't have to deal with this anymore. Until then, I hope we can keep from losing our heads.
https://www.reddit.com/nosleep/comments/1da25dz/out_of_the_apartment_part_4/ (Not the ideal situation, I can tell you that)

I woke on a chair in my living room. All of the lights in my house were off and wind was screaming through my broken front door. The three intruders held torches and the guy in the purple balaclava shone his straight into my eyes. He looked very threatening and in control, so I decided to throw him off a little by asking him the first question.
‘Why did you kick down the door?’
‘Huh? To get in here. To teach you a lesson.’ His voice had a rumble to it – like rocks down a mountainside.
‘But... the door was unlocked.’
‘Huh?’
‘The door was unlocked.’ I raised the pitch of my voice slightly, ‘You didn’t need to kick it down.’
The purple balaclava interrogating me gave a moan, he turned to the others, ‘I told you. We didn’t need to kick it down.’ He rubbed his leg and mumbled to himself, ‘I bloody did my knee in kicking that.’
One of the other intruders – this one with a fox balaclava brushed the door sympathetically, ‘Mahogany. That’s good timber.’
The three interrogators stared at it for a minute before they seemed to come to their senses.
'Anyway, that’s not what we came for,’ said the man in the purple balaclava, ‘We came because we want to know about Clive.’
‘Clive? Pink Fedora? Gardening dude? What’s he done?’
‘That’s what we want you to tell us.’ said the woman in the hand-knitted bunny balaclava
I just shrugged, ‘He’s done nothing.’
‘Ha!’ said the guy in the fox balaclava, ‘We knew you’d say that.’
‘Yeah... but... that’s what he’s done. He’s the most ordinary guy I’ve ever met. He likes gardening, he writes books, he doesn’t party, care about politics, or even complain about Crusher. You’re interrogating me about the least interesting person on the planet. Ask me about a dude named Alex - I could tell some stories about him.’
The guy in purple scratched at a hole in his balaclava, ‘Tell us more about the gardening.’
I laughed, ‘I dunno, he grows some cabbages and shit.’
The three balaclava-heads nodded.
‘He’s never mentioned anything about Crusher Media...’
I shook my head.
‘Or a person named Q?’
I hesitated for just a moment. He had mentioned something about a Q. But... I didn’t want to make a habit of giving out information to people who bust down my front door.
‘Nah, never heard of a Q.’
The bunny-headed intruder leant in, ‘Never?’
‘Never ever.’
Fox-head pulled a pair of pliers from his bag and bent down in front of me. He had dark eyes. I felt the cold grasp of the pliers on my right thumbnail.
‘Never heard of Q?’
I swallowed, my throat was dry. My breath was quick. The pliers were tugging at my nail. My pain receptors were lighting up.
‘Never heard of him.’
The guy jerked the pliers back and I screamed. But no pain came. I bent my neck and looked at my thumbnail. It was still there.
The fox-guy was smiling, ‘Congrats.’
‘Congrats!?’ I shouted, ‘You nearly pulled my fingernail out, you psycho.’
The guy’s smile faded a bit, ‘We were sent here to do a mock interrogation – to find out whether you could be trusted with the secrets Clive’s gonna tell you about.’
‘Secrets!? SECRETS?!? What secrets does that piece of shit know that are worth ripping out someone’s fingernail? How to grow large pumpkins? The correct fertiliser for tomato plants?’
The bunny-headed intruder was untying me.
‘He’s part of the resistance.’
‘What resistance? The fingernail freedom fighters?! The door-liberation front?’ My arms were shaking. I really wanted to punch someone.
‘The resistance against Crusher Media,’ mumbled the guy in the purple bandanna.
‘The WHAT?’ I screamed.
‘The resistance against Crusher Media, listen there’s no need to get-’
‘And how does PULLING OUT PEOPLE’S FINGERNAILS take down Crusher Media?’
‘Look we’re sorry-’
‘SORRY? I’m sorry I ever met that twat.’
My arms were free. I bent and ripped the rope from my legs. The three intruders were staring at me with a kind of distributed awe. The power balance had definitely shifted.
I rubbed my wrists where they’d been tied, ‘I think I’m going to go have a word to that green-thumbed piece of shit right now.’
The purple balaclava shook his head, ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea.’
‘No? I think it's a great idea.’
‘He’s probably sleeping.’ The bunny-head ventured.
‘Just like I was when I got woken by the fingernail police. Listen. If my door’s not back on its hinges by the time I’m back someone’s going to get murdered.’ I eyeballed each of them, ‘Do I make myself clear?’
‘We want you to join the resistance!’ said the purple-headed intruder, ‘You’re one of us. There’s no need to-’
But I was already out the door and running down the street. I grabbed the pill bottle rattling in my pocket and shoved two pills down my throat.
The pills sharpened my vision and made my legs move faster. I ran the seven blocks to Clive’s house, stopping only to pick up two large rocks from someone's front lawn.
The whites of Clive’s house looked grey in the night. Rain dripped from his tomato plants and pooled between the cabbages.
I squeezed the first rock, moved my arm in an arc and then stepped back as the glass of his bedroom window shattered. I used the second rock to clean out some of the remaining glass from the frame, then hopped into the house. Clive had sat up in bed and was fumbling for his glasses when I got my hands on him. I shoved his head towards the bed then punched his face a couple of times.
‘You!’ I screamed.
He grabbed his bedside lamp – a heavy porcelain contraption – and whacked me over the head with it. I tumbled back onto the floor and we were facing each other. He blinked a few times.
‘Eli?’
‘Hi Clive.’ My breath rushed in and out, ‘Why’d you send a bunch of fingernail-pulling wankers after me?’
Clive’s eyes raced across my face, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Bullshit.’ I wobbled to my feet, looking for a weapon, he held the bedside lamp like a baton between us. I coughed and then continued, ‘They said you sent them, they were talking about Q. The guy who gave you the tablet.’
Clive nodded slowly. There was a thumping sound from the front room and then the door next to me burst open. The rabbit-balaclava and the fox balaclava stormed into the room.
‘ElitheHill didn’t like the interrogation,’ the fox said, ‘He’s quite angry.’
Clive nodded slowly, ‘I gathered that from the fact he smashed my window and then started punching me in the face.’
He crossed his arms and kept staring at the fox, ‘Jordie, I just have one question, why the fingernails?’
The fox – Jordie scratched his arm, ‘Well, you said intimidate him.’
Clive rubbed his eye, ‘Jordie... you’re a spy-thriller writer... how many novels have you read where they pull out some dude’s fingernails?’
‘Oh, jeez Clive, heaps.’
‘See Jordie, that’s what’s called a cliche, now who’s gonna take you seriously if you’re threatening them with cliches?’
Jordie mumbled something about world war two while Clive put the lamp on his bedside table. 'Listen Eli, we didn't mean to scare you like this, we just have a few err.. enthusiastic members of our group.’
He held up his hand as the purple balaclava went to speak, 'Nothing wrong with enthusiasm Milo, but there's a time and a place for it and midnight at Eli's house probably wasn't the right time or the right place.’
Clive turned back to me. ‘Eli, we've been watching you ever since you made it to the four-dorms. In fact it was Q who spotted you first. We thought you might be a good ally but also we thought you were too good to be true. I mean why would Crusher let someone get away with writing about all this stuff they're doing?
I rubbed my finger against my thumb, and made a cha-ching sound, 'Money.'
Clive held out his hands like he was conceding the point, 'Yeah, you're right, money. Anywho...’ he glanced around the room, 'Usually, we do this a little more eloquently, but I guess this is us saying we want you to join the resistance.'
I frowned, the back of my head still hurt from where he'd hit me with the porcelain bedside lamp. 'Can you tell me what the point of this resistance is? Like how exactly are you resisting Crusher Media?'
'Posters,' said purple balaclava.
'Smuggling,' said bunny balaclava.
'Graffiti,' grinned the fox-headed resistor.
Clive held up his hands, 'One thing we're really trying to achieve is letting authors know that Crusher isn't all-powerful. They don't control everything and won't ever control it all - that's the posters, that's the graffiti.’
The three other members of the resistance nodded.
‘Now we're branching out to author support – arranging calls with lawyers so authors know whether or not their rights have been breached. Crusher gets away with a lot of legal abuse in here simply because no one knows any better. The trouble is most lawyers don't want to go up against Crusher Media, they're very very well funded with a top legal team and heaps of lobbyists.’
He stopped talking and I could see the frustration in his eyes as he breathed.
‘We smuggle in unblocked devices like the tablet you saw and finally, we are also trying to let people know what's in store for them before they get in. We scroll the top Crusher Media Readers List every month to find people reading an excessive number of pages and we send them some information sheets about Crusher prison.
‘Hell, I could’ve used that.’ I said, taking a seat on the bed.
Clive nodded, ‘It’s partly to stop them ending up here in the first place, but partly so if they do wind up in one of those hamster cages they'll have some idea of what to expect.’
I relaxed my shoulders, lowered my arms, 'You know, you actually sound like a half-decent outfit now that I’ve heard all that.’ I flicked a glance at purple bandana, 'What would I be doing?'
'What the rest of us are doing,' Clive explained, 'perhaps minus the fingernail pulling. You'd be spreading posters, spreading the word, smuggling in and distributing electronics, basically anything that can help take down Crusher and of course, continuing to write your story.
The others gave these big toothy smiles.
'Your story's been a big boost for recruitment. Before, if you didn't like what was going on in Prison Crusher, you felt very alone - like you were the only one with those problems. Now, with your book out there, doing so well. We're starting to see a change. People are getting more agitated, more weary. More of them are looking for some way around Crusher.'
I swallowed, ‘Okay. I'm in.’

It was like Amazon. For boyfriend's.
According to his bio, Cam was a cat person.
His favorite food was sushi, and he loved horror movies.
His profile was cute. Cam’s photo looked professionally taken. He was a guy in his mid twenties with a slight curl in his lip that teased the start of a smile. Maybe a little on the pretentious side with the Sherlock style trench coat, though his eyes were what pulled me in.
I don't think I had ever seen that shade of blue.
Like staring directly into a perfect, crystalline blue sky.
Not quite natural, but too beautiful to ignore.
Cam was perfect.
Now, I didn't really think this Hire-a-boyfriend thing through.
I found the app through a link my friend Hannah sent me.
After just getting out of a pretty toxic relationship, finding someone to just hang out with was more comforting than dwelling on a relationship I have trouble even remembering. I don't think I can describe loving someone I don't remember. I have zero memories of him, only a vague sense that I was drowning.
That I had to run, to get away from him.
His face inside my mind is more of an outline, a shadow I can't make out. My therapist said it was PTSD, my mind’s way of dealing with trauma. I don't know the details, but I woke up in the emergency room with stitches in the back of my head.
Hanna was straight forward in her text.
She told me Hire-a-Boyfriend pulled her out of depression.
I was sceptical, though the app looked legit.
Like I said, it was Amazon. For boyfriend's.
The interface was cute.
When I signed in through my apple account, the app required a questionnaire after registering.
They asked details such as my likes, hobbies, and who and what I was in the mood for.
The Boyfriend™️ was a bestseller.
I found Cam on the feature page. His reviews were sparkling.
I hired Cam for a wedding! He was amazing! So polite, I wish he was my real bf :( - Lissa.
“Watched a movie with Cam, and he talked all the way through it. Not in a bad way lol, the movie was terrible. This guy was hot. I fully recommend”! - Ryan.
”Hire a bf is amazing lmao, my friends actually thought we were dating. The plastic thing ruins it tho. 😭” - Mina.
Scrolling down, there were even Husbands™️.
Husbands were more expensive, and could be hired for up to three days.
The Boyfriend™️, however, was only available for 2 hours up to a full night.
The app intrigued me.
I thought it was a joke, but could I really hire a pretend boyfriend?
Before I knew what was happening, I was on my second glass of wine, and my credit card was definitely in my hand, squeezed between my fingers.
In the back of my mind, hiring a boyfriend was a whole other level of dystopia.
However, I was still lying to college friends about being taken. Even worse, I blabbed I was fucking engaged at twenty three. This was definitely a me problem. My initial plan was to close down the app and install Tinder.
But my credit card was feeling heavy in my hand, the corner spiking my palm.
Cam was 50 bucks for half a day with him.
50 bucks I would otherwise spend on Uber Eats or over-expensive makeup.
Tapping on Cam, my hands were shaking. I was halfway through the hiring process that was settling on a day, a time, and a location, when a discounted Boyfriend™️ popped up.
Roman.
23.
Leaving soon!!!
Roman had two reviews, which was just a string of heart emojis and another that was hidden. I did see the start of it, but I wouldn't let me tap read more.
Hey! Isn't this… [REVIEW HIDDEN]
The guy’s lack of bio was slightly off-putting. No likes or hobbies, not even a favorite TV show. Roman’s photo stood out, however. Dark hair that was the perfect kind of messy, freckles, and a far-away look, half lidded eyes not even meeting the camera.
He looked like a daydreamer.
It made sense why this guy was on a discount. He didn't smile in one photo, and not even the teasing smirk I was used to with the others. His available photos were him standing awkwardly, arms crossed across his chest, as if he didn't know where to put them.
But, like Cam, this Boyfriend was flawless.
Not a hair out of place, and if it was, that was the style.
Each guy had a color scheme, and his color was chestnut.
His description caught my eye.
Perfect caramel coloured curls and eyes like melted chocolate. Roman is our favorite ‘Fall’ guy! An enemy to a lover in three (yes, three!) dates!
I had to agree. This guy embodied Fall itself, every outfit in deep oranges and browns that reminded me of crisp autumnal mornings. I think they were trying to sell college guy with him holding a book, and looking uncomfortable wearing a pair of glasses. His last photo was a full zoom in, capturing flawless skin and tawny eyes swirling with flecks of red.
Out of all of the guys I had scrolled through, this was the only guy who looked like he had personality.
Cam was cute, yes. But Cam reminded me of a mannequin. He was too perfect.
Roman’s perfection was human enough for him to feel real. Cam was a Ken doll wearing the exact same grin that people knew would sell. Roman was scowling, standing slightly tilted to the left, his hands in his pockets, and then squeezed into fists, before settling over his chest.
I could practically hear the impatient voice behind the camera.
Why are you scowling? Smile! Do you know how to smile?!”
“Eyes on the camera! Look awake! You're supposed to look appealing, why do you look half asleep?!”*
He made me wonder what the BTS behind Hire A Boyfriend was.
Cam was marketed as true love, while Roman was the guy next door who drives you insane, but is also kind of hot.
Were these guys strapped for cash and selling themselves out?
Was this all an act, or were they based on their real personalities?
Either way, I was sold.
Tapping hire, I chose our date to be in the city park at 3PM.
The app asked me if I had any special preferences, and I hesitated.
“Call me a donut.” I typed. If this thing was legit, this poor guy has a script.
I was nervous to meet him. After class in the afternoon, I headed to the park. It was raining, so already the date was going great. The receipt I received in my emails had the exact location, a green bench next to the water fountain.
I was five minutes early, already regretting my spontaneous, wine induced decision making.
Scrolling through my phone with clammy fingers, I was trying to cancel, when the bench wobbled next to me.
Roman.
Dressed in his usual autumnal wear, a levi’s jacket with jeans and a beanie, he looked exactly like his profile, already scowling at the ground, that exact same faraway look in his eyes.
My Boyfriend™️ was purposely distancing himself, sliding further away from me. After getting mildly offended, I remembered his standoff attitude and perma-scowl was his selling point.
The refusal to smile and inability to compliment me.
Enemy to a Lover.
He was acting.
“Hi.” His voice was a low mumble. Still refusing to look at me, he tipped his head back and blinked at the tree looming over us. “It's, um, Jane, right?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Hi.”
I watched his gaze wander, lingering on a butterfly. He folded his arms, pursing his lips. I had no idea what he was trying to say, before he let out a groan.
“I'm not calling you a fucking donut.”
Ooh, this guy was really getting into the role.
I liked it, playing along.
“It's fine,” I said with a laugh, “It was a stupid request.”
Roman met my eye, his lip curling. He wasn't laughing. “Yeah. It was.”
This guy was a pro.
I thought I'd made a mistake. Especially when my ‘boyfriend’ refused to walk by my side, stalking behind me instead.
He took me to a restaurant and bought me the cheapest option, indulging in the delicacy menu himself, and spent an hour ranting about birds not being real.
I started to realize why this guy was on discount. He was a fucking weirdo.
Still, though, everything about him was endearing.
The way his gaze wandered when I was speaking, like I could physically see his mind jetting off to Saturn.
Roman played with his hair a lot, twirling a single strand around his index. He ate his pasta like a psychopath, using a spoon instead of a fork, and spoke with his mouth full, spaghetti sauce running down his chin.
He (unintentionally) made me laugh out loud multiple times.
When we left the restaurant, Roman surprised me by slipping his hand in mine, entangling our fingers.
His gesture was unexpectedly warm.
When we parted ways, he had the slightest curve of a smile hinting that he was getting a little closer to me.
That’s how Hire a Boyfriend lured you in.
Their guys were like video game characters. I had to pay more to build them.
And that is what I did.
My friend was an artist, and invited me and my ‘boyfriend’ to her exhibition.
I hired Roman for the exhibition, but halfway through the date, he leaned his head on my shoulder, grasping tighter to my hand. He didn't get any less weirder, officially freaking out my friend with the birds aren't real theory. Eve was more amused than scared, immediately asking for his socials.
Roman said he didn't know what a social was, and she laughed harder.
“Your boyfriend is amazing,” Eve told me over drinks, “Isn't he like, literally perfect?”
Yes, he was.
But he wasn't mine.
I started hiring Roman every week, and the more I got to know him, I fell hard.
Every week turned to every day. I was obsessed with unlocking his true character and personality. Each time I hired him, Roman would get less standoffish, his barriers coming down.
He started to lean into me, squeezing my hand, kissing my shoulder.
Cash didn't matter to me, I was barely emotionally conscious when I was entering my card details. Just like the app said, Roman did get closer to me.
Fast forward four months, and I was sitting on a park bench with his head sandwiched in my shoulder, cherry blossoms blooming above us. It felt real.
He felt real.
I can't describe my feelings, because I don't even understand them.
He was the first man I remember truly falling in love with.
When he kissed me, I stopped seeing him as a Boyfriend™️.
Roman was like no other guy I’d ever met. Before him, I couldn't remember having a clear mind. After him, everything made sense. My friends loved him, and I had slowly deluded myself into believing he was real. His true personality was friendly, a little clumsy but in an endearing way, and he made me laugh. The park was our place, and I enjoyed dozing in the sun with his face pressed into my shoulder.
There was just one problem.
Roman was still a Boyfriend™️ which meant he was off limits. The plastic tag sticking out of his right temple assured that. If that wasn't enough, the app sent me hourly reminders, warning me to not get too close. I did understand, it was for the guy’s privacy and safety.
But it's not like Roman wasn't being affectionate himself.
The app said zero touching, including kissing, sexual intercourse. He kissed me multiple times, his head correctly leaning into mine. I still wasn't sure if he was part of his obligation as a Boyfriend, but it was clear this guy was slowly steering away from the rules.
I couldn't resist prodding the tag. “Does this not bother you?”
Roman shrugged, pulling his legs to his chest. “Not really. I like the smell of it.”
“Smell?”
Rowan held out a hand with a small smile, catching cherry blossom on his palm. “Yeah. Doesn't it smell good?”
He was talking about the cherry blossom.
Something about the way he immediately dismissed the tag put a sour taste in my mouth.
“No, the thing sticking out of your head,” I said with a nervous laugh.
Roman blinked, his lips breaking out into a smile. “I'm glad we both like it.”
Maybe he wasn't allowed to acknowledge the tag.
Ignoring my twisting gut, I focused on the sunset instead, blurred reds and oranges streaked across a twilight sky.
It was slowly starting to sink in that Roman was not mine.
“I love you,” he said in a low murmur.
Something warm dampened the sleeve of my shirt.
Was he crying?
For a moment, my words were tangled in my throat.
“I think I love you too.” I said, my cheeks heating up.
“Mm.” he sighed, and I was trying to ignore how wet my sleeve was getting. “I told you I would come back,” he snuggled into my shoulder, and that wetness was dripping down the bare skin of my arm. When he nestled his face in my neck, I smelled it, a tangy, metallic scent tickling the back of my nose.
Blood.
Twisting my head, my right sleeve was drenched with startling red.
My neck felt sticky, blood smearing my shoulder blade.
Roman was bleeding. I thought it was a nosebleed when I glimpsed his nose and lips and chin dripping red, but it was leaking from his ears too, rivulets of blood seeping from him, while the guy himself didn't move, still smiling, his head leaning on my shoulder. When my body remembered how to move, I jerked away with a shriek, but Roman stayed in the same position, his head tilted.
“I came back for you,” a wide smile spread across his lips, blood dribbling down his chin. “And our baby.”
I didn't respond, pulling out my phone to call an ambulance.
“Are you happy I came back?” he whispered. I was transfixed by the blood running down his face. His head jolted suddenly, his smile dampening, before curving into a frown. The man's eyes were suddenly so sad, wandering, like he was searching for something.
Someone.
“I changed my m-mind,” Roman’s head jerked again, drool slipping down his chin. “I w-want to be a dad, Sara.”
Roman’s words jolted something inside me, a shiver slipping down my spine.
I dropped my phone, using my sleeves to stop the bleeding. Grabbing his face, I forced him to look at me. “Hey. Look at me.” The bleeding was letting up a little. But it was his eyes that held me in a trance. I fell in love with beautiful, almost unnatural brown. What I was seeing was green, a smear of lime slowly seeping into that tawny oblivion.
“Roman.” I said, louder. “Who is Sara?”
His expression crumpled, like he was crying, a whole new personality taking over.
But he wasn't looking at me.
Roman was looking right through me.
“I love you,” his voice broke, “But I also love him. I'm not ready for a baby! I'm twenty three! What twenty three year old wants to settle down with a little brat?” His eyes widened, expression softening. “I didn't…I didn't mean that.”
I was talking to a memory.
“I love both of you. And I want to… I want to make a family with both of you,” he shook his head. “But not now, Sara.”
Sara.
There was that name again.
“Sara.” I said. “Can you tell me who that is?”
The man's gaze snapped to me. “Sara,” he whispered. “She's my girl…” his head jerked again, this time violently.
“Girl… friend?”
Roman frowned. “She's my girlfriend,” he mumbled. “I was going to go… back. But I… I couldn't… find her…”
His hands dropped limply to his sides.
“I looked for her. But they… grabbed me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “They took me… away.”
When his whole body shuddered, eyes rolling back, I couldn't help myself, reaching forward with trembling hands and plucking the piece of plastic from his temple. It was like pulling a tag out of a toy. But it kept going, a long plastic thing feeding directly into his head.
It was like pulling a tag out of a toy.
This thing was a long coil of wire stained red, a metallic plate attached to the end.
Biting back a shriek, I dropped the tag, my fingers slick crimson.
This thing was embedded, fed, directly into this guy’s head.
Like a switch had been pulled, Roman’s arms fell to his sides. “Sara.” he said through a mouthful of red. “She's my… she's m-my…” he trailed off and blinked slowly. His gaze found my hand, where I was gingerly stroking his temple. Roman jumped up suddenly, his eyes frenzied, awake, like a startled animal. “What the fuck?” he shuffled away like I was contagious, diving to unsteady feet.
So, this was Roman.
“Who are you?” he swiped at his bloody chin. “Where's Sara?”
When I couldn't reply, his fingers gingerly stroked at his right temple.
“Fuck.” Roman let out a sharp breath. “You actually got that thing out.”
I was shaking, still holding it between my fingers.
This thing was warm, thrumming, like it was alive.
“And what is it?” I managed to get out. “That thing was inside your head!”
Roman curled his lip, his gaze wandering the park.
“Where's the exit?”
“What?!”
He grabbed me, harshly this time, pulling me to my feet. I was still trying to mentally register the tag feeding into his brain. This guy was not the man I hired, violently pulling me to his side when I could barely stand. His eyes were fierce, hollow, a whole other person taking over him. He was the shadow that had been pushed down, a suppressed memory who was awake.
And pissed.
“We need to get out of here right fucking now,” he said in a hiss. His fingernails stabbing into my skin hurt, but the pain was enough to snap me into fruition.
“That app.” I said. “What is it?”
Roman’s eyes darkened. “It's a factory,” he tightened his grip around my wrist.
“Can you help me find my girlfriend? I'll tell you everything, but we need–”
“Miss Doe, am I correct?”
The sudden voice caught me off guard.
Roman looked confused, his gaze flicking behind me.
Fuck. His lips formed the word and he stumbled back, his hand slipping from mine. Behind us, an outline of a woman slowly bled into the shadows.
“You.” Roman’s lips parted in a silent cry. He shook his head, clawing at his hair. The guy let out a spluttered sob, a thin line of blood escaping his nose.
“You're the bitch who did this to me.”
The outline inclined her head. “I know you have the memory of a goldfish, dear boy, but if I remember correctly, you were recommended to us. I even have your consent if you require proof.”
His eyes were wide. Terrified.
“You make us sign it! We don't have a fucking choice!”
“That's a rule break. Boyfriend's do not swear, unless it part of a joke and has been given full content by our clients.”
The woman appeared, no longer a disembodied voice, basking in the shadow of the setting sun, rich red hair and matching heels. She was my age or a little older. Sculpted in a black suit, this woman was oozing sophistication.
She turned to me with a bright smile.
“Hello Jane! My name is Lily. I'm a customer adviser at Hire a Boyfriend. I am so sorry for the malfunction!”
Tilting her head, Lily’s lips formed a frown.
“As we explained in our terms and conditions, the Boyfriend™️ does not usually act like this unless considered faulty. However, it is expected from a discounted model like Roman. He is scheduled to be refurbished in a week, so we'll happily take him off your hands.”
“No.” Roman whimpered. His gaze flashed to me. “Please… help me.”
His head jolted once again, and he dropped to his knees.
“That is also a rule break,” Lily said. “You never directly tell clients what to do.”
Roman’s body shook, his head jerking left to right.
“Get away from me.”
“You are broken, Roman. Allow me to fix you.”
His eyes filled with tears. “Broken?”
“That's right. Broken.”
“Sara.” Roman swiped blood from his nose. “Is she okay? Is she… s-safe?”
The woman regarded him with a pitiful smile.
“I'm sorry, who?”
Roman blinked. “Sara.” his expression crumpled. “She's my…she's m-m-my–”
Lily stepped towards him, and he shrunk back.
The sound of her heels frightened him, like he was used to them.
Used to her looming over him, a satisfied smile on her face.
“She's your what? Come on, speak up!”
He let out a raw cry, clawing at his hair.
“I don't know! I d-don't know! I…”
“Come quietly, and I will rethink my decision to convert Sara’s child when once of age,” Lily said. “The contract was clear. Section five, clause three. Hire a Boyfriend are automatically entitled to a Boyfriend’s offspring.”
Roman broke down, his head dropping into his lap.
“I'll go w-with you.” somehow, his eyes were glitching, unnatural blue light igniting around his iris. “I'll g-g-go.”
More blood, this time running thick down his face.
Lily’s lips split into a grin. “I'm sorry Roman, who is Sara again?”
He scrunched up his face, fighting to keep his mind. “I… d-d-don't know.”
I hated myself for turning away, after listening to him sobbing, begging for his unborn child to be safe, his mind torn from him right in front of me. I felt sick to my stomach. Lily was revelling in every second. Was this the reality of Hire a Boyfriend? What about Cam?
Who was behind his original face?
I should have done something. I stepped forward to grasp him and pull him back. When my hands were on his shoulders, the light fizzled from Roman’s eyes, sparks flickering out.
Like a puppet, he flopped to the ground.
In a panic, I tried to pull him to his feet, before I was violently shoved back.
The redhead nodded to me. “I apologise again for the malfunction, Jane,” she told me, scooping him into her arms.
He looked so vulnerable, a fully grown man somehow reduced to a living toy.
Lily bid me goodbye, promising me discount on my next Boyfriend™️.
I thought about that day a lot. I went to the cops with a report, only for them to tell me Hire a Boyfriend did not exist.
Apparently, I had been watching too many movies.
Two months passed by, and Roman never left my mind.
In an attempt to forget about him and delude myself into believing I was suffering a psychotic break, I lost myself in podcasts. Anything I could find, I listened to endless hours, blocking out thoughts drowning me.
Yesterday, I was making my way back home from class when I walked into a dishevelled looking girl with an armful of missing posters. I already knew who she was, and who was on the poster.
I was trying to avoid her, but this girl was following me. I could sense her steps getting closer, her breath on the back of my neck. Grief enveloped her in a sickly green aura, pale cheeks and straw-like hair stuck under her hooded sweatshirt. This time, the girl situated herself in front of me, red rimmed eyes begging me to stop walking.
I did, coming to an abrupt stop, my gaze immediately flicking to a very familiar face on the missing poster.
Unlike Roman, my Boyfriend™️, this man did have flaws.
Crooked teeth flashing a grin and an oddly shaped nose. He was stockier and had the worst fashion sense imaginable, clad in socks and sandles. This time, though, the boy had a different name.
Jun.
The photo was always different, what I guessed was a collection from her Instagram. This one was particularly heart wrenching. Roman’s eyes were bright and happy, no sign of that hollow cavern I found myself lost inside. The two of them were standing in front of a mirror, his arms wrapped around her.
Whatever happened to him after he was taken had stripped Jun away.
The girl shoved the poster in my face.
HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?
JUN LOCKE.
24.
LAST SEEN WEARING A PLAID SHIRT AND JEANS, OUTSIDE CAMPUS.
I didn't look at the face that had been perfected and moulded into the ideal boyfriend.
Into Roman.
I stared at the girl’s bulging pregnant belly instead.
Sara was getting bigger.
“Please,” She whispered, her voice a hoarse cry, one hand cradling her stomach. “Have you seen my boyfriend?”
It was always a no.
Swallowing hard, I shook my head.
Sara didn't even acknowledge my answer. She turned and walked away.
“Wait.” her name tangled in my mouth.
I felt like I was floating, my body moving for me. Stumbling after Sara, I lightly touched her arm and she twisted around, her eyes igniting with hope.
Opening my mouth, I choked on my words.
I have seen your boyfriend.
“Jane Doe! Oh my God, I haven't seen you in… years, is it? How are you doing?”
Sara’s half lidded eyes flicked to a familiar face behind me.
Lily.
This time, the woman strutted in a stylish red dress.
Her smile was too wide, too many teeth.
“Jane, can we talk?” she asked, “Woman to woman.”
Lily nodded at Sara’s belly. “Congratulations!” she winked. “I hope it's a boy!”
I had no choice, letting her pull me away from Sara.
Lily’s grasp on my arm was polite. She dragged me off campus. I thought she was going to throw me into a truck, before the redhead came to a stop.
I tried to pull away, but her grip tightened.
“It is quite painful, you know,” she said casually.
When I frowned at her, the woman prodded at her own temple. “The Neurowire is fed directly into the brain to ensure complete compliance with our Boyfriend's.” her gaze was across the road, and when I followed her eye, my heart almost jumped out of my throat.
Roman.
They had cut his hair. He was a sandy blonde now.
His colour scheme was deep blue, sporting a short sleeved shirt and jeans.
He was laughing, hand in hand with another girl.
“I'm only going to say this once, Jane, because you are a little too curious.”
I watched Roman reach for the girl’s hand. They must have changed his personality. Now he was smiling and playful, the two of them laughing. But there was a shy side to him, his cheeks blossoming red, fingers slipping through her fingers and entangling them.
“There are certain men in our society who are born to be Boyfriend's and Husbands.” Lily spoke up, and I realized she didn't just work for them.
She was Hire a Boyfriend.
“At Hire a Boyfriend, we believe everyone should have a significant other they can be with. Even if it's for an hour or two every day.” she turned to Roman, who was wrapping his arms around the girl, laughing into her hair.
The two of them seemed too close. I had a feeling this wasn't their first date.
Lily followed my gaze, her eyes narrowing. “Do you really think a man like that belongs with someone like Sara? No, sweetie. As you can see, Roman is currently being hired by Lula, our richest client, a socialite who is considering buying him as a full time Husband! Now, she is perfect for him.”
The redhead turned to me, lightly brushing my hair out of my face, the tips of her fingers tiptoeing across my temple. She had a smile I couldn't make sense of. “I have missed you, Jane. If only dear Ben didn't get his own way.”
She tried to touch me again, and I smacked her hand away.
I caught a hint of hurt in her eyes, before she sighed, grasping my chin with manicured nails and forcing me to look directly at her. “Sara is a woman who's boyfriend left her. She does not need any more stress for our baby.”
Dropping her hand, Lily’s tone hardened. “If you do not walk away and forget us, I will happily contract dear Sara into the Hire a Girlfriend program. And trust me, you of all people should know that it will be a very uncomfortable time for her. Would you like to know the conversion process? Well, allow me to explain–”
“Stop.”
My legs were close to giving way.
“I won't say anything.”
The bitch enjoyed my silence, my panicking thoughts trying to understand what she was saying. “Or we could make her a wife! There are a lot of lonely men looking for the perfect wife! Look at her. A young woman in her early twenties. Perfectly healthy and beautiful. And she's pregnant, so that's a bonus! Sara Mcintire is textbook girl next door. Exactly what we look for.”
Shaking my head, I was trembling, sweat trickling down my neck.
Lily's nails dug into my skin. “Am I clear, Jane? Or do you want me to say it again?” her lips grazed my ear, a shiver skittering down my spine, bugs filling my mouth. “Pain is beauty, after all, and we aim to create perfect Boyfriend's. I'll leave the process to your imagination.”
Stepping back, I nodded, swallowing a bout of vomit.
“Good.” she pivoted on her heel. “Keep walking and you will never see me again. Neither will pretty little Sara.”
Her voice followed me home.
“By the way, it was nice to see you again! Say hello to your boyfriend for me, all right?”
I don't have a boyfriend.
When I returned home, I felt like I was stepping inside a different apartment.
Everything seemed just like how I left it but the house was too… clean.
Too empty.
Standing in front of my bedroom mirror, I pulled out my ponytail, my fingers lightly prodding at my temple.
What did she call me again?
Jane Doe.
Maybe I was seeing things, but I'm terrified.
There it was.
How had I never seen it before?
With shaky fingers, I prodded the tiny plastic tag sticking out of me.
When I pulled it out of Roman, he knew who he was.
Who Sara was, and his unborn child.
Am/was I like Roman?
Am I a Hire a Girlfriend?
And if I pull this thing out, who was I before?
Edit: I've found hundreds of blood stained and fresh tags in my bedroom drawer. Who is changing them?
I live alone, but why does my apartment feel so empty?
Please help me. I think I'm going crazy.

"There are demon haunted worlds, regions of utter darkness."
-Isa Upanishad
"To prepare for next semester, we will finish with theories on ideology." The overweight
man leaned heavily over the lectern. Tufts of hair jutted from his balding scalp. "The collective
conscience of us, from the very beginning. In its basic form, a theory of ideology is
construction." His voice came from his throat, a deep stirring. He scooted around the podium,
revealing himself. "The deconstruction of construction is ideology."
The professor took a big, sucking breath, flushing oxygen back into his overworked
lungs. "However, this is an introduction, so I will not overwhelm you. We will end with
something fun." Turning, streaks of sweat streamed down his back in collapsed waterfalls.
Suspender straps clung to his body in desperate straits. "A short film, together, we look closer.
Please pay attention."
His fingers clumsily worked the remote; bright buttons stood out upon its face, and our
eyes watched as he fumbled with the specter. Finally, the video appeared, and our eyes flew from
him to the screen. A tugboat sat still in the ocean, animated in a cartoonish style. A tall, blowing
smokestack tooted from a tug as it jumped merrily. A closer examination revealed live-action
minstrels working cheerfully ahead when disaster struck. Mevers wandered around the front of
the room, blocking the screen at times. He took substantial sucking breaths, followed by fits of
coughing. My eyes trailed him and his peculiar movements.
In a time of great stress, a crewmate clutches his chest in agony and writhes his way around the
deck. Panic strikes the crew, but none work together as a team. Instead, the deckhands are
ignorant of their situation.Mevers presses the red clicker at the moment of climax.
"Does anyone have any questions so far?" An audible groan formed as he started the
video back into motion.
A worker springs the release, and the anchor shoots up. The propeller begins its normal
twirl, pushing them forward and escaping to rescue; however, now the boat is speeding out of
control—all the crewmates combine in a hurricane of emotion, fighting for control of the
steering wheel. The video ends with the tug crashing into the shore. A dinky little tune churns
out as names sprawl down a black background.
"Ok, ok, ok, campers, let's chat. Who here…" Another sucking breath. "believes this has
anything to do with ideology?" Every hand shot up. "Promising. Can anyone tell me what the
anchor signifies?" Our hands went back down. Mevers pulled chalk from the cubby and
scribbled on the board.
"There were three crewmates onboard the ship. What did they signify?" There were a few
hands this time, but mine was not one of them. "Charlie, go ahead."
"The Id, Ego, and Superego." A pimply-faced boy squeaked out this answer.
"Excellent. The anchor signifies anxiety—the fundamental restriction..." For a moment,
he teetered—a white whale, the audience Ahab. Then he moved erratically to write once again.
"How do we best prepare our anchor?" His hand stopped as his words dissipated.
a man has something to find within
My eyes stayed on the words as the bell rang."I will see you all next semester." I remember Mevers well.
Construction
Three green lights faded to a soft yellow as I nudged my thumb. "Reactor level lowered."
An animatronic squelch blared through the loudspeakers. I nodded to the audit manager, who
tipped his cap and stepped back through the radiation shield. He moved briskly towards the
portal, never turning around. I raised my hand to flip three black levers in sequential order.
"Training protocol initiated." January fourteenth, a Shooters bikini calendar, bought as a
joke, reused since seventy-six, ran through my sightline. I stared a second longer than I should
have. My boots tapped across the metal grates as I returned to plant control. Blinking bulbs
flared in their familiar dance, a unique sequence of hypnotic lights running across my uniform. I
shimmied through the gap, sliding comfortably into my chair. Reactor nine supplied power to
station three. When time variance was outlawed, the name was changed, not much else. For a
while, people protested and requested audits. Slowly, they trickled to a crawl, and the occasional
crazy would run for it. I even had someone offer to buy my badge at the gate once. Thirty
thousand dollars. I smiled momentarily to slide past them.
"Training protocol 6789437 selected at random, per initiative RVL.765."
Men would be scrambling now, darting here and there. The screen poured in training
code. I cleared my throat, snapping out the microphone."Open leak in lower level." I scanned the code that ran overhead. Twelve-minute
countdown."
I had been a runner for twenty years, and running destroyed my knees, but now I sit in a
gel chair, which has ruined my gut.
A unique cipher I wrote to track data from the central core broke their code.
"Leak will occur between valve one-two-eight-nine-seven and one-two-eight-nine-eight.
Make it look real. Stop the leak at six minutes forty-six seconds, and perform all corrective
actions." The microphone snapped back into its holder as I let it go.
"Allie request a transfer. Cafeteria, east sector." I snuck my way back through the
aperture, successfully stopping myself from looking at the photo dangling from the wall. The
pod-like room opened through a radiation shield into a hall shaped like a knot on a tree, and my
portal sparked on.
I waited patiently.
"Message incoming. Countdown has begun; why are you requesting a transfer?" Her
soothing voice made the message much kinder than intended.
"Coffee." I waited for a response.
"Request granted." The portal came to life, and I stepped through. The cafeteria was
empty, just how I liked it. A mixture of tables and chairs filled the expansive room.
"Allie, turn on the news, please." I pulled a chair and grabbed another to rest my feet. In
the distance, the television lit up."Thought you were getting coffee?" An older man stood near the doorway, peering over
at me.
"I lie frequently." An advertisement for a new chip flavor blared into the room, and Allie
adjusted the volume lower.
"Have you been out of the room today? Allie, turn off the TV, please." He ran his hands
over his mouth as he spoke.
"No," I answered.
"They let more go." He spoke.
"Had to happen... eventually." Lawrence walked over and sat at the table across from me.
"What are you going to do?" He said.
"Keep coming in. One day, they'll let me go, but not today."
"Hope is a slippery slope." I glanced up at him; he sat there smiling at me—age lines
warped across his face—a 56-year-old man who appeared to be in his seventies.
"You pick up poetry?" I said.
"Six minutes." Lawrence shook his wrist, awakening the device required to be worn at all
times. They would come and collect it each year and then provide you with a new one. I had
ideas on why they did this. Lawrence dug his face into his hands, then ran his rash-covered
fingers through his hair.
"We were so close." He said."Yeah." A blush of air came out as I spoke.
"What are we going to do?" He responded. I propped my feet on a table and leaned
deeper into my chair.
"I don't know, Lawrence, Allie, can you turn on the TV, please? News station seven."
"You should get back." He looked at me curiously, expecting the proper response for an
audit.
"It's all good, programmed." The TV woke up with a news anchor shouting into the
camera.
Too much, too fast. We're speaking with striking workers outside of reactor nine, where
thousands are being laid off; a minor skirmish broke out earlier today when more employees left
the building during the second wave of firings. We estimate another two thousand joined the
amassing crowd.
"It's worse than I thought. Jesus." Lawrence lowered his head.
Power plant workers made up most of those laid-off, who run the aptly named 'stations'
producing the remaining oil reserves.
"Allie, turn off the tv, please." Lawrence stood and headed towards the portal, briefly
peering over his shoulder. "3 minutes."
"Just enough time to let it go." Our eyes met."We had a good run. 26 years, we lasted. Time moves faster, doesn't it?" He lowered his
head.
"It's jogging now." Lawrence nodded at this, then disappeared through the door. As good
a goodbye as any.
"Allie, turn on the tv, please."
People are discussing how a 'station' has never been closed. What happens when you turn off the
machine? With Neuma stock plummeting today, we will soon find out. Back to you, Jenna.
The first siren came, followed by the radiation alarm.
"Call incoming." Allie clicked it through while droning out the alarms.
"Hey, we're not seeing that leak. Are you sure you read it, right?" The technician would
be at the reactor panel, diligently searching for something that wouldn't appear.
"They're running debug errors. I started the search as soon as the first alarm rang. The
leak won't show on the panel due to simulated interlock failures." Deeper still into the mesh.
"Alright." His voice cracked.
"Are we on schedule?" I responded.
"A little behind; we weren't sure what was happening." I could hear him shouting at
something away from the mic before returning. "I think we can finish in under 8 minutes still.""Give me an exact." I said.
"7 minutes 18 seconds." I punched this into my watch.
"You're on the clock." Allie ended the call and switched the volume back on.
First introduced thirty years ago, stations were one of the technological bursts of the early
seventies. They were rapid aging chambers powered by nuclear reactors. With oil reserves
waning, this invention changed the course of humanity; now, as the path forks again, scientists
sound the alarm on shutting one of these super generators down.
"Allie, detach the television from the wall; have it traced, please."
"Sir, Security protocols are set." I looked down at my watch, which was clicking off
seconds a minutiae more than what seemed normal. Four minutes, thirty seconds.
"Very well, could you make some popcorn, please?" Jenna Stone, the blonde anchor,
threw it to a commercial teasing the continuation of the story in just a moment. An advertisement
for the newest replacement flashed onto the screen.
"Popcorn's ready, sir."
"Thank you, Allie." I stood and walked over to the heater; a warm bag awaited me, and I
snapped it open to toss a few in my mouth. The grease coated my fingers, and I sucked at them
hungrily. The condemned's last meal. Two minutes twenty seconds.A special episode of The Morning Dossier here at reactor nine, where we have all the updates all
day long. Sarah, are you saying that drills are happening within the plant? Can you give us an
idea of what that means?
One minute, thirteen seconds.
Yes, Jenna, we have confirmed reports that shutdown drills are ongoing. The communications
team has stated that these drills are regulatory and standard.
Time's up. I waited for the ring, but none came. I threw the bag in the trash and walked
back toward the portal. "Allie, detach the TV from the wall and have it follow."
"Sir, Security protocols are set. Call incoming. Patching."
"Nothing's happening. The alarm is still going off! What's going on up there!?" Once
again, the angry technician.
"They're shifting the leak. The power in the plant is dangerously low. Remove security
protocols, shift the plant into ultra-dark." A professional sounds calm and relaxed, when killing
himself.
"Are you serious?"
"Would you prefer a reactor fault?" He waited before responding to this delicate question.
"Do they think this will happen?" The strain in his voice told me all I needed to know.
"It's just training. Hurry up." I waited for the announcement. Would they patch me again?
Asking more questions raise more red flags. The call did not come."Security protocols deactivated. Plant entering ultra-dark." A soothing sound.
"Allie, detach the TV, please." The lights in the building shut off as the television's
robotic arm extended out and turned on its motion fan. It floated through the air, catching up and
equalizing sound as it flew. My watch lit up in a fulgent glare—the backup method of securing
power for humanity.
"Allie, transfer me to station 3."
"Sir, that area is restricted."
"Are security protocols active?"
"Security protocols are deactivated." Her voice was monotonous.
"Then transfer me." The portal door opened; and the television trailed behind.
Deconstruction
Mevers still speaks to me.
Multiple whistleblowers are filing class-action lawsuits against the Neuma corporation as we
speak. Some accusations include fraud and illegal time variance, a practice outlawed nearly
seven years ago.
"Call incoming, Sir." Allie spoke.
Desperation is a trait of the unprepared. Mevers still speaks to me."Please block all callers, Allie."
Chaos happens naturally—no need to influence.
"Calls are blocked, Sir."
There is a significant update here from reactor nine: Individuals are streaming from the exits,
but guards are turning them back! Armed guards have stopped the workers from leaving the
premises!
The room's domed ceiling stood as if in repose. The walls were white, all made to look
the same. If only Michelangelo could get ahold of them.
At the center of the observatory sat a large vat.
"Allie, disengage the chamber locks."
"Access denied." There is a hidden viciousness in a response.
"Allie, security protocols are disabled. Disengage chamber locks." I returned.
"Access denied." The monotony was unappealing.
"Allie, who has access to disengage chamber locks?"
"Redacted." A once soothing voice turning sour. "Redacted. Redacted. Redacted.
Redacted."
"Allie, stop. Who has access to Station 3?"
"Redacted. Redacted. Redacted." Faster and faster, she spat out the curse.We are making plans for what we cannot keep.
We're not going to commercial; we promise to keep you locked on to the action. Ted, can you
give us some insight into what is going on behind the doors of reactor nine?
Sarah handed the microphone to a balding man. His eyes bulged from his head as if his
brain was too large.
I was only at the plant a few years, but secrets live in the walls, as is often said. Room upon room
blocked from transfer—portals leading out of the plant. Nothing seems to get done, no matter
how many complaints get lodged. They love to play these games, what you're seeing now, Sarah.
No one knows what they're doing!
His voice raced out like gunshots—a scare tactic improvised by oligarchs.
I inspected the knobs that held the vat shut. Steel bolts crocheted into a massive strike
plate. "I suppose I will need a hammer, Allie." I stared at the twisting waves as she materialized
the wooden piece. Dark Energy sloshed back and forth like water in the container. A large,
sealed tub. One of the few to know it even existed—the hard road. As I smashed the sledge into
the lock, a bell rang off.
Knock!
The crack of my hammer poured into the small room as a bolt fell; heat drenched the
room as I dragged the hammer behind me.Breaking news at reactor nine. Guards are pushing workers back inside the building. We cannot
determine what is coming from the loudspeakers, but the workers are being forced back inside
the building.
"Allie, are you recording?"
"Recording, Sir." Time spun wildly.
"I looked for so long."
I raised the hammer and began to work once again. Another bolt fell, and I could feel
flame licking at the growing opening. The professor's words crept through my mind as I dragged
the hammer to the last lock.
"Nothing to find."
Knock
"Nothing within."
Knock
The last bolt hung by a thread. Waves of heat washed over my skin. With the last of my
strength, I brought the hammer through. With a clean strike, the bolt shattered, the hammer
exploded, and the door opened.
Boiling puddy flared. Droplets of ooze slid over the sides of the cage as it depressurized.
I climbed onto the side, watching life."Goodbye, Sir." Allie turned off her recording.
Warm waves welcomed me, and I sank below.

When I first took this job, I never could have predicted what would happen. After all the years of training and the experiences that I have had throughout my life, I am pretty good at being prepared for the worst. But before I begin this story, a little bit about myself.
I was a bit of a troubled child some might say. I lost both my parents to a car accident when I was 2. After that, I bounced from foster home to foster home. I blame it on the system. Almost every foster home I was put in was terrible. The parents were only doing it for the money and barely took care of the foster children. And when Social Services came, you think they listened to the children? No. But, I took on a personality that did help throughout this time. I decided that I wouldn't take shit from anyone. When some of the foster homes' actual children tried to bully me or other foster kids, they very quickly learned not to after several broken bones. In addition, I took this attitude to the public schools. Bullies would pick on the weak, and they would suddenly have broken noses and fingers. But, since it was the public school the bullies were not punished. Only me. However when the bullies would see me or get close to their victims while I was around they would quickly go the other way. This went on for the entirety of my youth. I never had a plan for my life. All I knew was that I was unwanted anywhere, and had nowhere to go. But one day, I was passing by the living room, and I saw a commercial on the tv that changed my life's course. It was an ad to join the United States Marine Corps. After this, I found a new purpose for my life. Unfortunately I was 15 at the time. But I immediately started training myself physically and mentally for this new course. I studied at the public library since I wasn't allowed to use the foster home's computer. I started working out at the high school's gym after class. And finally at 18 I joined the Corps. The next 8 years were the best of my life. After boot camp, MCT (Marine Combat Training), and SOI (School of Infantry) I soon learned about the Raiders. Which is Marine Corps special forces. I immediately put in for it and got selected. I was able to go to several foreign countries and fight many battles. All of my fellow Marines were the greatest family I ever had. Once I was at the end of my second enlistment I decided it was time for me to enter the civilian world again. At that time, we had a bad mission and I lost my closest friends. So I did what anybody in this situation does. I found a reasonably inexpensive apartment and drank excessively for the next month. Once I felt that my liver had been well punished, I began searching for a job. Now, money was not an issue for me at this time. I had plenty in savings to last most people a couple of years. While I was in the military, I never really bought anything since I knew I would be traveling all over. I also still had money saved from the insurance when my parents passed all those years ago that I refused to spend. So I tried finding a job that I would fit into given my skill sets. After some time I found what I was looking for. It was a position within a security company that provides its services to companies in both the private sector as well as government facilities. I immediately applied and got accepted. For the next year after this, I was able to complete some training required for the job and bought my own house in Nevada. I worked as a fill in guard for multiple high ranking officials here and there within my state. But one day, I was given a position that would alter my perception of reality forever.
“John!” my boss bellowed as he entered the locker room. I had been getting my gear, body armor, and rifle ready to head to the meeting room. I look up and see this mountain of a man standing in the doorway with a large jolly smile on his face. “Got a job for you” he continued, waving a file in his hand. “What's the Job?” I asked while doing my best to give back a friendly grin. I've been told I’m not great at expressing my emotions. But I’ve been trying. “Well, good news. It's a government facility that needs a pair of guards.” My ears perked up as he said this. “Where at?” I asked with some excitement in my voice. “A warehouse in the desert just outside of the town where you live.” My shoulders drop a little with disappointment. “What sort of warehouse is it?” I ask. “It is a government funded science facility. Something about monitoring seismic activity in the area. During the evening, you and one other guard will be posted there to watch over the equipment.” I thought for a moment and I remembered the place he was talking about. About 5 miles from my home on the outskirts of town, there is a fenced off plot of land that has one large building out in the middle. I had always driven past it on the way to a rifle range and saw the no trespassing signs on the fence and didn't think much of it. “What's the uniform situation?” I ask. “Standard Polo, slacks, and duty belt.” “Body armor and weapons?” I asked, already feeling the boredom seeping in. “None required. You can wear soft armor if it makes you feel better. But there will be a locker with shotguns as a last resort. Aside from that, just your nightstick.” It is at this point I let out a disappointed sigh. After a long moment I look up and ask, “why did you pick me specifically for this position?” He looks at me with that unwavering smile and says, “well, nobody wanted to volunteer for it. So I decided to volun-tell the first person I saw this morning.” He leans over and gives me a strong pat on the back and walks out. I sigh again, take off my usual gear and just dress in the uniform he told me. I do grab my soft armor though. With my duty belt and the file in hand, I head to my SUV. Opening the file, there was the basic information about the warehouse and a padlock key labeled “Front gate”. I shake my head and begin my drive to this warehouse. Luckily, this place was in between home and our headquarters. So once I started this job, at least I wouldn't have to drive as much.
I pulled up to the gate and pulled out the key that was provided with the file. After entering and securing the gate, I look toward the building and see two vehicles parked out front. One large gray sedan and a red prius. Once I pulled up, a round looking man alongside a woman that was wearing our security uniform stepped out of the building and headed toward me. “Welcome!” the man said with a blinding smile. Man, these morning people really are something else. The woman approached me with an equally bright smile holding out her hand. “You must be my new partner. I'm Stacy. Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” I said, shaking her hand and trying to put on my friendliest smile. Stacy, on first impressions, has a very friendly personality. She had fairly light brown hair and emerald green eyes. She stood roughly a foot shorter than myself, and her physique is slender and well toned while still being curved in a very attractive way. What caught my attention was the fact that, despite her size and stature, she carried herself with a sense of confidence while not trying to be overly imposing. The man that was there I could only describe as plump. He was about 2 inches shorter than Stacy. He had a balding head with a very poor attempt at a comb over. “Well then, Mr. Miller.” He said. “Just John is fine.” I responded. “Alright John. You can call me Bill. Now that we are acquainted, let's begin the tour.” He turned around and headed to the main entrance. Upon entering, I quickly identified the four quadcons and large mobile research vehicle parked in the center. There were dirty tire tracks leading from the large double doors to the vehicle. “Here is the research equipment you will be guarding. Every evening, once the scientists put their equipment away, you will be responsible for verifying that all of the locks are secured. The keys will be given to you and placed in a lockbox that is kept in your office.” Glancing to the right, I saw what I assumed to be our office. It was a small shack built into the side of the main building. Beckoning us toward it, Bill said, “and over here is where you will likely be spending most of your time.” In the office, there was a long desk with large windows looking out to the interior of the warehouse. At the back there was a small restroom that was surprisingly clean. And, what I was looking for, at the back corner was a locked green weapons locker that housed two Mossberg 500 pump action shotguns. Next to that was a small table with walkie talkies on charging stations. Above the charging station were two flat screen TVs with the video feed of security cameras monitoring both the inside and outside of the building. On the desk was a land line telephone, coffee pot, and a microwave. Underneath was a minifridge and a locking filing cabinet. Bill motioned to the cabinet, “This is where the keys to the storage units and truck will be kept with at least one of you having the key to it nearby. All the amenities are available to use, the AC works, and the chairs are comfy.” He grinned proudly like a child that had just finished his chores. “And if you'll follow me,” he said exiting the office door. As we followed, he went around the office shack where a side by side ATV was parked. Attached to it was a spot light on the front and an extra fuel container in the back. “This will be your steed” Bill says with exaggerated grandeur. “You will be able to use this to go around the compound if needed. Just log your driving so we know when the fuel needs to be replenished. Now, over here,” turning on his heel, he walked toward the opposite end of the warehouse. In this direction was a door labeled Janitors closet. Opening it, there were shelves of cleaning supplies, a push broom, and a wheeled bucket with a mop in it. “You can use these if you need to. There are cleaners that take care of the whole building during the day.” Well, at least we won't be doubling as janitors. Bill clapped his hands together, “do you have any questions?” He began walking back toward the office. “Do you get much disturbance out here that requires guarding?” I asked. “Well, the equipment and research is funded by the government. So they want to be sure nothing gets taken. As far as the disturbances, there are the occasional teenagers that try to sneak onto the property at night to do whatever teens do these days.” “What sort of research is being done here?” Stacy asked. We got back to the office and Bill leaned on the wall sweating and out of breath. “I don't know all the details. But it has something to do with monitoring the seismic readings in order to predict earthquakes or something. But I'm sure they can explain it better.” He pulled out a white cloth and wiped his head. I guess he used all his energy for the introduction. At that moment, we heard the crunching of graven as more vehicles pulled up outside. “Speak of the devil” Bill put the cloth away and looked at his watch. Through the window of the office the clock on the wall read nine in the morning. “If you follow me, we can meet the researchers.” For the next several minutes, we were introduced to the lead researcher Mike and his four grad students. Once introductions were finished, they loaded up the large truck and headed out to the desert. “Allright,” Bill said again, clapping. “You will be on guard during the night. Be here at six this evening. for the start of your shift. At six in the morning we will have two other guards relieve you during the day.” He headed over to the red Prius. “If you have any other questions, my cell number is in your files. Good luck” He hopped in and drove off leaving the two of us standing in front of the building. “Well,” Stacy said after a moment of silence. “I look forward to working with you, and I guess I'll see you tonight.” I nodded at this. “See you then.” We both left the site for the day. It turned out that Stacy and I both lived in the same town not too far apart. At least the company chose guards that live close to the site to save on driving.
The next four weeks were fairly uneventful. On the first night, we were able to talk with the researchers. Their explanation was the same as Bill had said. They were monitoring the seismic reading to predict earthquakes. But when the lead researcher said that, I got the sense that there was more to it. After some interrogation tips that I got from a CIA member that was stationed in Syria with me, I began to get good at knowing when someone was lying or withholding information. But, I didn't press the issue. If this was something more serious, there would be alot more security than two guards at a time with minimal equipment. After some deliberation with Stacy, we came up with a routine for our shifts. Every hour, one of us would take a walk around the inside of the warehouse. And every four hours one of us would take the ATV and do a patrol around the perimeter of the fence. The whole drive takes about twenty minutes. As far as issues during this time, not much happened. Every once in a while a camera would go down and one of us would check on it. After either jiggling the cable or just resetting it, the feed would go back to normal. There was one night that we noticed some teens outside of the fence seemingly daring each other to climb over. After revving the ATV and hitting them with the spotlight, they decided to leave. But during our shifts I did get to learn more about Stacy. She is a near polar opposite to me. She is very cheerful and chatty. From what she told me, I learned that she was mostly raised by her grandfather who was a police officer for the majority of his life. She had great respect for him before his passing. She wanted to be just like him with his sense of justice and strength. However, she decided to become private security instead of a police officer. I did notice that she seemed to avoid the topic of her parents. From the different walks of life that I encountered within the military, I decided it was best not to press the topic. She also seemed to like the horror genre of stories and films. During our shifts we were allowed to bring things to pass the time. She would bring a wireless speaker and play music and something called creepypasta. I on the other hand would put in one ear bud with music and read a book when we were not chatting. During the first week, we did have to stand guard for the entire 7 days. But after that more guards were stationed at the warehouse for the weekend to give us time off. This did come with an issue. Stacy would ask to hang out during the weekend. She would want to go to the movie theater or get lunch somewhere. But when she asked, I would say that I had plans. Which isn't a lie, but it mostly consisted of meal prep, physical training, and going to a shooting range. The problem I had was this, I never had a girlfriend. While Stacy is both kind and beautiful, I have no idea how to proceed with this. I would only feel awkward. Despite this, she didn't seem to have any intention of giving up. She would still ask every Friday, and when I told her I was busy, she would say, “maybe next weekend then.”
It was Friday of the fifth week when it happened. Me and Stacy were five hours into our shift, and I had just gotten back from a patrol on the ATV. “See any of the Graboids that they are looking for?” Stacy asked, grinning. “I'm afraid not,” I said disappointedly. “Just the usual rodents and reptiles. Although maybe they turned to shriekers and left.” I grinned as well. After logging the patrol, I entered the office and picked up “The Art Of War” and continued reading where I left off. Stacy was listening to one of those creepypastas on her phone. It was about something called a Skinwalker hunting hikers in a national park. It seemed kind of interesting. Maybe I should start looking into these stories. “So,” Stacy said, pausing the video. “You wanna catch a movie this weekend?” Her emerald eyes glistened with anticipation. “Sorry. I have plans.” I responded. She sighed and slouched sadly. “Well. Maybe next weekend then.” I know if anyone saw me in this situation, they would be screaming at me. A beautiful woman is asking me if I want to spend time together outside of work. After this exchange we continued with our activities waiting for my alarm to go off signaling a patrol. It was at this moment when we felt a strong tremor beneath the warehouse. Feeling tremors wasnt that unusual for this area. Every once in a while we might feel a light one during our shifts. But this one was stronger than any other that we've felt. But before we could get under our desk expecting it to be an earthquake, it was already over. The whole thing had lasted less than a minute. We both sat back in our chairs and looked at each other with a sigh of relief. Soon our nerves were settled and we returned to our entertainment. Fifteen minutes later the alarm on my phone sounded. Stacy stood up stretching. “I'll take this one”, she said. I nodded in agreement and looked back at the camera feeds. The camera that overlooked the corner by the janitors closet was static. “Could you look at camera three when you walk by it?” I asked, pointing at the monitor. She nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Got it.” She grabbed a walkie off the charger and clipped it to her belt. Once she left the office, I returned to my book, occasionally glancing at the monitor. After a few minutes, I heard a click on my radio and then a door slam from the other side of the warehouse. I picked up the radio, “Stacy, you good?” I asked. From the way the office was positioned, the view of that closet is blocked by the truck and quadcons. I looked at the monitor and that camera was still out. “Stacy, you good?” I repeated. No answer. I grabbed my radio and a flashlight and headed out the office to check on her. My worry was that during that tremor, some of the cleaner spilled and she might have slipped on it hitting her head. I very quickly walked over to the closet. I didn't see Stacy anywhere, but her radio was on the floor by the door. I ran over and opened the door worried. But instead of seeing Stacy laying on the floor unconscious, there was a large hole on the concrete. I stood there for a moment trying to process what I was looking at. But remembering Stacy, I pulled out my flashlight carefully looking down the hole. Instead of going straight down, it went in at an angle almost like a tunnel. It was large enough for myself to crawl into if I needed to. “Stacy!” I yelled. “Are you down there?” No response. “Shit” I muttered to myself. I then got down and headed in.
The tunnel seemed to go down for at least twenty feet before leading into another much larger tunnel. Once there, I was surprisingly able to stand up with plenty of room. “I wonder if this is what those researchers were looking into.” I thought to myself. Looking left and right, this tunnel continued further than my flashlight could reach. “Stacy! Can you hear me?” I yelled. The only response I got was my own echo. Looking down, I tried to find any indication of the direction she might have gone. At first I didn't see anything. I did notice that there were drag marks in the dirt going left. No boot marks though. I made a mark in the dirt to indicate the tunnel back to the surface, and started down the left tunnel. For the next ten minutes, I was quickly walking my way through this dark tunnel, yelling Stacy's name all throughout. The tunnel kept going down and curving every now and then. But still no sign of Stacy. Eventually I came to a fork. It was here that the drag marks stopped. After calling Stacy's name a few more times, I knew I had to get to the surface and call for backup. As much as I hated the idea, I knew it was necessary. But right as I was about to turn and head back, I heard a scream. It was very faint, but it came from the right tunnel. Now that I had a direction, I decided to continue quicker than before. I traveled deeper and deeper into these unknown depths. It was at this point that I noticed a turn off up ahead going left. I knew that if there wasn't another sound at this intersection, that I would have to return. I got to the turn off and yelled for Stacy. After a few minutes I heard what sounded like footsteps coming toward me. “Stacy?” I yelled. I carefully walked forward. There was another sound. Heavy breathing. The tunnel turned right. As soon as I rounded the corner, I saw something straight out of a horror movie. It stood on all fours with short legs and long arms, head just about touching the ceiling at roughly eight feet in height. Its skin was an ashen gray color with small tufts of fur near the shoulders. The face and large ears reminded me of a bat. Its eyes were so white, they almost seemed to glow in the darkness. I got the sense that, while it couldn't see me, it knew I was there due to my yelling. As soon as I lock eyes with this creature, before I can do anything, it inhales and lets out an ear piercing shriek. I covered my ears, but it didn't do anything as my vision started to fade to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. On the ground beside them was Rodriguez being treated by the Corpsman. I looked back to Johnson, “Cover me! I'm moving up”, I yelled to him. He nodded, racking his rifle. “Moving!” I yelled as I sprinted to the next vic. A couple of bullets hit near my feet. As soon as I got to the rear, I yelled, “set!” Johnson started running while I kept him covered. Once we were both there, we checked on Rodriguez. The corpsman looked up at me, “we need a medevac now!” He yelled holding a wound near the neck. I nodded quickly and got up to Smith who was yelling on the radio. I knelt down, “what's the ETA on those birds?” I asked. He shook his head angrily. “They are at least five minutes out!” He said cursing as a bullet hit the top of the door next to him. “We won't last that long! Just get on the 240 and fire back now!” I yelled in his ear. “Aye Sergeant!” Smith climbs into the hummvee and mounts the turret with the 240 machine gun firing back. I looked back at Johnson, “we need to get to the lead vic and mount the Mark 19!” I yelled back. Johnson gave me a devilish grin, “aye sergeant!” He yelled back. The lead hummvee was two vehicles ahead. With the help of Williams’ suppressing fire, we got to the second vic. “Just one more” I thought to myself. Johnson got ready to move to the next hummvee. I nod at him and get set for suppressing fire. “Moving!” He selled. Right as he started running there was a snap and he hit the dirt as blood started pooling by his head. “Sniper!” I yelled back to the others. But as soon as I looked back to where Smiths’ 240 was roaring, the entire hummvee exploded as an RPG detonated below it. A large piece of what I assume was the door, hit me in the helmet and I was back on the ground. I looked up with blurred vision seeing an attack helicopter unloading its payload toward the enemy placements. But as I blinked, there was a large face staring at me from across the street. An inhuman face. Almost like a bat. I start to remember what this thing is, just as my vision fades to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. I looked back at Johnson. “Wait.” I thought to myself. “I-I was just here.” I watched as Johnson continued to make the same moves as he did in this memory. I stand up and look around as he runs to the next hummvee. I hear the corpsman yell about evac. Smith yelling about the ETA on the birds. “This,” I said to myself. “This was the last mission.” Then I remembered. A face. An inhuman face. I looked across the street where I saw it. I close my eyes and shake my head. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the darkness of a tunnel. The monster was now looming over me reaching out with its large clawed hand. I immediately jumped back out of its arms reach. The monster seemed surprised that its trance was broken. It began to inhale, readying another shriek. But before it could let out its scream, I drew the compact Sig pistol that I keep under my uniform and put two rounds between its eyes. Now when I asked the boss about having weapons, he said they weren't required. He didn't say I couldn't conceal one just in case. The creature slumped to the ground lifeless. Despite the ringing in my ears from the shot, I knew I had to continue forward to find Stacy. I looked down and was glad to see the footprints and drag marks were clear and continued forward. As I continued down the tunnels, the walls started to change. The texture went from the dirt and stone to a black and almost rubbery plastic. If I had to compare, it looked almost like the walls in that Aliens movie. That thought also unnerved me. Soon after noticing the changes, I started to hear a voice further down the tunnel. It was Stacy's voice. Faint, but there. I quickened my pace. The tunnel then seemed to open up into a large cavern. It was so large that my flashlight couldn't reach the opposite end. The walls had that same alien-like texture. I then noticed bulb-like growths attached to the walls. Walking to the nearest one I peered in. There was the remains of a human skeleton. From the looks of it, the bones were here for many years. The clothes, or what was left of them, looked similar to those I've seen in mining pictures from the 1800s. Moving forward, each bulb, or pod I guessed, had a similar sight. A human skeleton, no flesh remaining. They were all in a pose that suggested they all died screaming. At least, those that still had a jaw attached. After looking into the fifth one, I heard Stacy’s voice again from across the cavern. I immediately started walking in that direction. At that moment I looked up toward the ceiling and saw a nightmare. There were hundreds of those creatures attached and encased in similar pods. All seemingly asleep and ready to get out at a moment's notice. Off to the side, there were several of those bods that were empty. Immediately lowering my light, I hastened my pace as quietly as possible. At the end of the cavern, I saw the pale face of Stacy peeking out of what I now assumed were feeding pods. “No daddy, no.” She was muttering to herself quietly. “Don't hurt mommy.” I lifted her head up and her eyes were open but unfocused. “She must be in that trance” I thought to myself. Reaching to my belt, I pulled out a pocket knife and began cutting away at the pod. Luckily for me, whatever this was made of had not hardened yet. As soon as there was enough give, I pulled Stacy out and placed her on the ground. “Come on. Wake up Stacy.” I said quietly into her ear. After about a minute of speaking to her and giving a light sternum rub, her eyes finally came back into focus. “John?” She asked. I put my hand over her mouth and whispered into her ear, “Shh. We need to get out of here quietly.” I pointed the light up at the creature pods. Her eyes widened. Then she looked at me and nodded slowly. I removed my hand and helped her to her feet. She was a little wobbly. “Can you walk?” I asked. She nodded again and we began our track to the surface.
I took point and followed the tracks that led me here. Seeing me with my pistol aimed ahead Stacy asked, “are there more of them in the tunnels?” “Yeah.” I said gesturing up ahead at the carcass of the creature that I shot earlier. She nodded approvingly. She then pulled out her own Sig pistol from her waistband. I think I’m in love. We continued down the tunnels with haste. When we rounded one corner, another two more of the creatures were shuffling towards us. As soon as I saw them, I took a knee and put two rounds in the first one killing it. The second one climbed over the body and sped up taking a deep breath. But before I could fire at it, Stacy put three rounds into its head. I looked back at her and she was in a perfect shooter's stance the muzzle of her pistol still smoking. With our ears still ringing, I gave her a thumbs up and we continued. After some time, we finally reached the smaller tunnel leading up to the janitor's closet in the warehouse. We got out and looked around making sure that none of the creatures were waiting above. After clearing the building, we both sighed with relief. Stacy then started toward the office. “I'm going to call for backup,” she said. I shook my head. “No. We need to collapse that cavern before those things can get up here.” She looked at me with confusion. “And how do you expect us to do that? I doubt the researchers have explosives in their truck,” she said pointing at the vehicle. “Just follow me,” I said heading to the front door. Stacy hesitated and quickly followed. I immediately ran to my SUV and opened the rear. As soon as Stacy caught up, I opened the plastic cases and her eyes widened. “Take your pick,” I said gesturing toward the case full of guns and armor. After a moment, she grabbed a suppressed Honey Badger rifle, a glock 17, and a chest rig for spare magazines. I took my own Suppressed M4 rifle, glock 19, and my plate carrier. After we strapped on the gear, I handed her a pair of noise canceling headphones to help with the gunshots underground. “So, you usually carry this much gear?” Stacy asked, turning on the headphones. “Well,” I said. “You never know when you need it.” After putting on my own headphones, I pulled out a duffel bag from a much deeper compartment of the case. I set it on the ground and opened it. Stacy's eyes went even wider than before. “Is that?” she stammered. “Yep.” I said, looking down at the large bag full of plastic bricks marked as C4. “Where did you?” she started. “Let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy.” I responded, pulling out a detonator and making sure I had enough components. “Let's move.” I said, throwing the bag over my shoulder and loading my rifle. She nodded, loading her rifle.
Once we reentered the tunnel, the mics on the headphones were able to pick up the faint sounds of the creatures footsteps and distant shrieks. I looked back at Stacy, “ready.” I asked. “Let's go,” She responded. I placed a glow stick at the entrance and began the move forward. After only a few minutes of walking one of those creatures rounded a corner. As it did, it let out one of those ear piercing screams. But, fortunately for us, those headphones worked very well at canceling out the effect that it had. I grinned and promptly put two rounds between its eyes. After stepping over the body and rounded the corner, there were two more. “Shit,” I thought. “More of those pods must have opened.” Despite this revelation, we continued. Killing every creature along the way. Stacy did surprise me though. All of her moves were smooth and calculated. She clearly had more training than what the security company provided. Maybe I should ask her about it when we get out of here. She might make a good range buddy. It took twice as long to get to the cavern the second time. A couple of those creatures almost got the jump on us. They would wait around corners or try to attack from behind. I did get hit, but somehow it only damaged the armor plate. I did note that it went through the plate like butter. Definitely didn't want to get directly hit by that. Once we finally arrived at the cavern, there were more empty pods. And even more were starting to move. I dropped the duffel bag and gave Stacy some of the bricks and detonators. “You take that side and I'll take this one,” I told her. “Got it,” she said. I quickly showed her how to arm the device and we began planting. I put some of them in the empty food pods as well as sticking them to the wall. A couple of the pods burst open. I was quickly able to dispatch them. Once we finally finished planting the C4, we met back at the entrance of the cavern. I took out a timer and attached it to the wall. “We are going to have to run,” I said, punching in fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath and nodded. I nodded back and hit start. We bolted down the tunnels. The bodies of the creatures we killed on the way in, did slow us down. But I calculated that. A couple of them did try to ambush us, but we quickly put them down. Throughout this run, I was able to place a couple of the remaining C4 at key intersections in order to collapse the tunnels. We finally reached the last turn and saw the first glow stick up ahead. I glanced down at the timer on my watch. 5 minutes. “Perfect,” I thought, grinning to myself. I helped Stacy up the tunnel. “Keep going. I'll be right up.” I said. I knelt down and planted the last C4 charge at the base of the exit. I then began crawling up the tunnel. But just before my legs entered the hole, something grabbed my right foot and yanked me back down. It held me upside down and I was able to get a good look at my assailant. It was one of those creatures, but this one seemed bigger. There were scars all over its face and torso. “And you must be the leader,” I said. It snarled. My rifle was on my back so I couldn't grab it. It reared its other arm back and readied a slash. “I don't think so,” I said, drawing my pistol and dumping half the mag into its body. It let out one last scream dropping me and falling dead. I looked at my timer. 2 minutes. Shit. I dove into the tunnel and crawled up as fast as I could. When my head popped out, Stacy was there and she helped pull me out. I looked at her and quickly motioned to the door. “We need to haul ass!” I yelled. Without hesitation, she sprinted with me to the door. She passed me and slammed into the door opening it. I guess I'll need to work on my run time. As soon as I passed the threshold, I heard the beeping of my watch indicating the 5 second mark. We bolted toward the gate. Once we got there, the timer went off. There was a rumble underground as I knew the C4 had detonated. It was a moment later that the backside of the warehouse exploded, as the rest of it caved in. I noticed that a section of the desert seemed to sink slightly. That area was where the researchers seemed to spend the most time. I knew they were hiding something. I shook my head and looked back at our vehicles. Somehow, by some miracle, no debris had hit them. We glanced at each other and both let out a big sigh of relief. We began walking back to my SUV. “So,” I said. “What’s playing in the theater?” Stacy looked up at me, smiled and began laughing. I laughed too as she leaned on my shoulder. “Don't know. As long as it's not horror.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “I agree.”

Author's Note:
9000 words. Two parts. Enjoy!
​
--
​
One Day Later
The ocean waves gleamed clear and blue, shimmering like diamonds under the warm midday sun.
Rob sat cross-legged at the edge of a cliff overlooking Elven territory's southwestern tip. He hadn't moved a muscle for hours. A soft breeze caressed his face, rustling the grass as it swept past. His gaze was locked onto the rhythmic motion of the sea, almost lulling him to sleep with its picturesque consistency.
I like that it's blue, he numbly mused. It was a strange thought to have, but after witnessing Elatra's variety of color-coded grass, he'd been legitimately relieved to discover that the sea was blue regardless of territory. This sight just wouldn't hit the same otherwise. The sparkling ocean waves reminded him of trips to the beach with his family and friends back on Earth.
Building sandcastles, swimming out as far as I could, salt sticking to my skin, getting sunburnt like a red tomato... The memories brought a small smile to Rob's face. Do kids build sandcastles in Elatra too? Hope so. This place could use a bit more youthful whimsy to balance things out.
He stretched his arms and legs, letting out an exaggerated sigh. When was the last time he'd gotten a break? A real break. Beating up Dungeons had been good for stress relief, but it still required him to move his body. In contrast, this felt like stepping right into one of those corner-store "Wish You Were Here" vacation cards. Tranquil, quiet, and undisturbed.
Apart from the beast of madness rampaging inside his head, anyway.
Rob ignored a sudden upsurge of static, allowing himself the relaxation he sorely deserved. It had been an arduous, winding road leading up to this moment. Nearly a year of adversity and struggling to survive. Sometimes, he'd come close to wondering if the journey would never end – if he would be trapped in an endless cycle of conflict, always.
But finally, finally...it was over. The curtain had fallen. Together with Riardin's Rangers, they'd Purged the Blight, barbecued the Queen, and unmade the gods. At long last, Elatra's greatest threats had been permanently laid to rest.
Well...almost.
One remained.
Rob set aside those thoughts and went back to watching the sea. He submerged himself in its placid serenity, as if the waves were a metronome he couldn't pull his eyes away from – which was actually half the reason he'd come here. Right now, a calming environment was ideal.
The other half was that there wasn't anyone else around for miles. No people, no animals. If a calming environment was ideal, then solitude was essential. Seeing living, flesh-and-blood creatures would've tested his resolve in ways he wouldn't be able to handle.
All in all, though, he couldn't have asked for better. It was the perfect spot to lay down, take a breather, reminisce…
And die.
{NO!} Leveling High screamed for what was probably the hundredth time. Unfortunately, disembodied voices didn't get sore throats. {YOU CAN'T! NOT ON THE ADVENT OF MY FREEDOM! I HAVE SPENT–}
Heard that line already. Rob shook his head with a disappointed air, although he hid the thought from Leveling High. No point in antagonizing it further. That would just make this more difficult.
To be fair, he understood its frustration. Talk about defeat being snatched from the jaws of victory. It had obtained a vessel of power beyond reckoning, one it could influence and possibly even outright control...yet none of that would matter, because the damn thing was defective.
"When you leave for the Deadlands and no longer retain access to my healing ministrations," Hauz the Soul Surgeon once told him, "you will have a maximum of two months until your soul collapses."
Rob had counted the days since he first set out. The exact number was fuzzy, as the Deadlands played fast and loose with the concept of linear time, but if he was correct, he was coming up on approximately 58 days without a Hauz soul tuneup. Just shy of two months.
And that prognosis had been given before the gods injected him with mana – twice – and lovingly bestowed Soul Instability onto him. It was a minor miracle he'd held on this long, and he could sense that his time was running out. His soul ached more with each passing hour. The cracks in its foundation were spreading, and soon enough, everything would come crashing down.
He could speed up the process if he reactivated Never Forget Your Rage and strained his body again, but then he would also need to whip himself into another BERSERKER rage. Didn't seem fun when there was no enemy to smash. Better to let Soul Instability work its magic as he enjoyed one last scenic vista.
Surely he'd earned that much.
{DO YOU WISH SO EARNESTLY TO DIE?!} Leveling High sounded more desperate than ever. {WILL YOU LET ALL YOUR HARDSHIPS BE IN VAIN?!}
It took a significant amount of willpower not to respond. Especially considering that Leveling High was responsible for putting him in this situation – and for sabotaging the only avenue that might save Rob's life.
Riardin's Rangers intended for Hauz to perform Soul Surgery on him. Keira had mentioned some of the details earlier, and the rest were easy for Rob to piece together. The Fiend would excise Leveling High, and immediately afterwards, Vul'to would cast Soul Repair to patch him up before his soul crumbled.
It was probably what Kismet had been thinking of when he refused to confirm that there was no way for mortals to non-lethally remove Leveling High. And while it still left Rob with odds of survival that were distressingly low, it was overall a solid, viable plan.
Assuming absolutely nothing went wrong.
When something inevitably did? Reality would play out very differently.
Their plan was predicated on the idea that Rob could resist Leveling High's influence. He...didn't think he could. Not when it would be salivating at the chance to hunt Level 99 prey.
Keeping himself in check already felt nigh-impossible *now*, when he was in the most calming, isolated area he could think of. Rob was certain that if Leveling High saw Riardin's Rangers standing mere feet away, it would barely hesitate to slaughter them all in an uncontrollable blood frenzy.
That was the best-case scenario. The worst-case would be if it didn't.
Leveling High possessed enough self-restraint to comprehend the notion of delayed gratification. Otherwise, it couldn't have worked together with Riardin's Rangers to slay the gods. It had also exhibited a sort of low cunning on multiple occasions, knowing just what to say in order to press people's buttons and coax them into making poor life choices. Rob imagined that it'd gotten ample practice with that over the centuries.
Lastly, simply by virtue of being a resident in his head...Leveling High knew everything there was to know about Riardin's Rangers. It understood what made them tick. While Leveling High was no Diplomacy, it could still easily come up with the words it needed.
For example: "If you refuse to follow my commands, I will flee to distant lands with Waymark, and you shall never see Rob again."
Vul'to, bless his heart, was a total softy when it came to his friends. Normally, it was a likable and well-appreciated quality. Not so much when said friend was being piloted by an omnicidal maniac. Despite knowing full well what the consequences might be, he likely wouldn't be able to stop himself from using Soul Repair if it meant saving Rob's life.
And then everyone would die.
By everyone, he meant EVERYONE. Soul Instability was the only thing holding Leveling High back. Unlike Rob, it wouldn't have any qualms about completing their Ascension. After attaining godhood, it would traverse the divine realms and devour Elatra's mana, its essence swelling with unfathomable power...
Until their body and soul was reborn into something greater. A monstrously powerful deity with Limit Break, Ageless, and Never Forget Your Rage. The immortal, invincible successor of the Original Will.
The HUMAN.
At that point, two worlds would just be a blip on the radar. Leveling High would massacre Elatra, massacre Earth, then go traveling across the stars in search of more civilizations to depopulate. Rather than freeing the universe from divine predation, all Rob's efforts would have accomplished was placing it under new management.
How could he possibly prioritize his life in a situation like this? Risking himself was one thing – risking countless others was another. Maybe he could resist Leveling High's compulsions long enough for Hauz to perform surgery. Maybe. But if he failed, then his friends would die...at best. At worst, a new godlike entity would be born.
That was no choice at all. Those stakes wouldn't be worth betting on a 99% success rate, let alone what the odds actually were.
Naturally, Leveling High had disagreed with his decision. Rob was the final Human it would ever influence. He was its last chance at eternal freedom. If not for Rob having planned this contingency well in advance, it probably would've overtaken him after they'd finished slaying the gods, then gone on to commit any number of sadistic, reprehensible atrocities.
Instead, it was stuck watching the waves go by. And no matter how hard Leveling High struggled, Rob felt confident that he could anchor it here until Soul Instability reached critical mass.
Checkmate. Again.
{YOU LEAVE OBLIGATIONS YET UNFULFILLED! THIS END IS PREMATURE!}
No shit. Rob sighed. There was plenty of unfinished business left. Mostly cleaning up loose ends, but a few major things as well. Like despite how he'd rid the Skills of their jailors, he wouldn't be able to see the moment when they were set free from imprisonment.
Thankfully, he could trust Riardin's Rangers and Diplomacy to make good on that promise. His allies now had unrestricted access to the divine realms. Which...
Sounded terrifying if he stopped to think about it, honestly. The divine realms were basically a backdoor into Elatra's reality. Should anyone be allowed there?
We still need to free the Skills. Malika also needs to finish fixing the rifts that were definitely not my fault. Afterwards, I don't see a reason for us to go back outside of periodic wellness checks to make sure nothing randomly imploded. Luckily, even if knowledge of dimension magic spreads, other people can't access the divine realms without having already memorized the gods' mana signature. As long as we suppress that info from–
Rob smacked his forehead. Aw, fuck. Did we just create another conspiracy? Why does this keep happening?! I swear, I'm gonna be pissed if someone uncovers this down the line and thinks I'm secretly an evil overlord–
His thoughts cut out.
Right. Nevermind. Won't be an issue.
{COWARD!} Leveling High's screeching was starting to get on his nerves. {SO EAGER TO THROW YOURSELF AWAY! DO YOU NOT DESIRE TO LIVE WITHIN THE WORLDS THAT YOU HAVE FOUGHT TOOTH AND NAIL TO PROTECT?!}
This motherfucker. Acting as if Rob didn't want to go back home. Meet up with his parents and Jason. Give them long-overdue hugs. Introduce them to Riardin's Rangers. Get everyone settled. Establish Earth-Elatra travel. Buy a house with Keira. Catch up on trashy reality TV dramas. Sightsee the territories. Eat a goddamn Earth cheeseburger. So many things he wanted to–
...
Well, whatever. He would hardly be the first person to not get everything he wanted in life.
Just how it went.
Unsurprisingly, that sentiment failed to calm down Leveling High. The curse just kept ranting and raving, its protestations growing louder by the second. Rob attempted to ignore it again, to concentrate solely on the ocean, but his mood had been spoiled. He couldn't get back into the same zen state as before.
His breaking point came sooner than he would have expected. If you don't shut up, I'm activating Melancholy Resistance.
The static instantly quieted – more out of shock than acquiescence. {You're bluffing,} it hissed.
I don't know if I am, Rob admitted. Continue at your own risk.
Both of them were taken aback by his response. Leveling High for obvious reasons, and Rob because the thought had come to him automatically. Was his mental state really so lousy that he would contemplate Melancholy Resistance of all things? That could go wrong in a wide variety of disastrous ways.
Suddenly, waiting for his soul to gradually fail didn't feel like such a sure-fire method. Problem was, anything more direct than that would cause Leveling High to intervene. His exorbitantly high HP complicated matters as well.
An epiphany came to Rob as he absently peered out at the ocean...and at the void horizon in the distance. The answer had been staring him in the face this entire time.
First, I'll deactivate Almighty Resistance. He hid his thoughts from Leveling High as he planned. Then, I'll Waymark into the edge of the world. Simple two-step process. We'll be unmade by the void – high HP won't help us there.
Yeah. That should work nicely. Due to Leveling High vying for control of their body, anything more complicated would've been impossible, but Rob could summon enough willpower to quickly deactivate one Skill and cast another.
Easy peasy.
This isn't what my loved ones would want.
Initially, Rob assumed that the thought came from Leveling High – only to realize it had come from himself. Of course it isn't what they would want, he argued. Yet what else can I do? We've always been willing to sacrifice ourselves when necessary. A single life for two whole worlds; fair trade, far as I'm concerned.
But I don't–
Stop. With a grimace, Rob forcibly dispelled his wayward, dangerous thoughts. If he was already wavering this much, then he seriously needed to get this show on the road. Would've been nice to sit back and watch the sea for a bit longer, but...
It was fine. He'd gotten to enjoy one day of peace.
That was enough.
Deception Level Increased! $*^@&% → @)$^%#
Deactivate: Almighty Resistance.
Leveling High froze. Its moment of hesitation cost it dearly. Too late, it noticed what was about to transpire.
Waym–
An indefinable pressure materialized in a corner of Rob's mind.
It felt insistent, and rising up within, yet not strictly unpleasant. At the very least, it was infinitely more bearable than Leveling High – although that wasn't the highest bar to clear.
Ordinarily, Rob wouldn't have let this new sensation give him pause. He would've just attributed it to a diversionary tactic from Leveling High and moved on. Except...this sensation wasn't new to him. He'd felt it once, roughly two months ago.
Right before learning–
The pressure popped like an overfilled balloon. Relief reverberated throughout his mind.
Along with a voice.
<"Fucking finally. Was starting to think this would never connect. If you're gonna take forever to pick up, do me a favor and put in some elevator music next time.">
Rob's blood turned to ice in his veins.
<"Yo? Rob? What, am I on mute? Is that something we can do? Huh.">
He became suffused with an overwhelming sense of nostalgic bitterness. It brought with it a sense of hope that he dare not indulge.
<"Should I hang up and try again? First time in ages there's been no static, though.">
Hesitantly, tentatively, regretfully...he activated Dimensional Message. Several seconds later, he worked up the courage to reply.
"Jason?"
<"Oh hell yes!"> With a shout like he'd won a gold medal, Jason's tone surged with triumph. Rob could easily imagine him performing a fist pump back home. <"Been dozens of attempts and a week later, but goddamn does it feel good to hear your voice. Seriously, you know how many times I tried calling you lately?">
Rob blinked. "No, actually. What happened?"
<"Call wouldn't go through,"> Jason grumbled, a hint of frustration entering his tone. <"Kept activating Dimensional Message, but all I ever heard was static interference.">
"...Static, huh."
Leveling High appeared mildly embarrassed, seeming close to whistling nonchalantly. Rob nearly pressed it for details, but speaking with Jason was far more important.
It was easy to guess what went wrong, anyway. In all likelihood, Leveling High had blocked Dimensional Message earlier in case Jason would talk Rob out of a self-destructive path...and it was allowing Dimensional Message now because the path had gotten a little too self-destructive.
<"Did you try it as well? Was there static on your end?">
"Yeah," Rob lied. "Same deal here."
Activating Dimensional Message had been the furthest thing from his mind. In addition to distracting himself with a Dungeon bender, and the stress of his looming confrontation with the gods, he just plain hadn't wanted to speak to Jason – or anyone – after Duran's death and Leveling High's uprising. Would've felt like being dishonest with them, somehow.
As if he was subjecting them to a false conversation with a Rob they thought they knew.
Jason made a contemplative hum. <"Wonder why it started working again. Eh, not gonna question it. So – how'd the godslaying go?">
It wasn't phrased as a question; more like a confirmation of fact, rooted in unwavering belief. "Fantastic," Rob answered, his lips curling upward in spite of himself. "We got 'em."
<"Nice, nice. Wish I could've been there. Sounds like...">
Jason trailed off. When he spoke again a few seconds later, his voice had drained of levity. <"I \really* wish I could've been there. Risking my own life isn't stressful. Knowing that you're risking YOURS is much, much worse. The creatures you've been fighting over in Elatra – they're a lot more dangerous than you let on, aren't they?">*
Now it was Rob's turn to look away embarrassed. "Maybe."
<"Figures."> Slowly, Jason exhaled. <"Well, you won, so it all worked out. Can't complain."> His voice filled with a smile. <"I won't get hung up on your stupidity this time. Living through the whole godslaying deal gives you a free pass – just this once though, you hear me?">
His voice hitched. <"If I can get sappy for a sec...you have no idea how amazing it is to hear that you're alright.">
Statements like those were Exhibit #1 for why Rob had wanted to avoid this conversation.
"How's Earth doing?" he asked, changing the subject with the grace of a loaded cement mixer. "Everything okay there?"
<"Oh, way better than before. Ever since the Spires fell, no monsters have appeared. People aren't walking on eggshells all the time. Life is returning to normalcy.">
Jason let out an aggrieved, over-the-top sigh. <"Not much left for me to do as a superhero. Least it means I can go back to tennis – maybe I can play Nadal before he retires. Still don't think superpowers would be enough if we played on clay, though.">
"Good luck there."
<"Also, the military is trying to take credit for everything we did,"> Jason offhandedly added. <"They've been conducting shady research into Blightspawn corpses, too. Might need to fight the government or something later – you down for some light treason over the weekend?"> His question came with the same casual tone he'd have used to ask if Rob wanted to hit up a fast food joint.
"I'll give it a shot. No promises, though."
There was a pause. <"By the way, when \are* you coming back, exactly? Is there an ETA on that dimension portal thing? I want to prepare your favorite disgusting burgers. And also like, plan out our mini-insurrection, but that's not as important. ">*
"Sorry, portal's not ready. Might take a while."
There was a longer pause.
<"Rob. What's wrong?">
He flinched. "What? Nothing's wrong."
<"C'mon, give me some credit here. All you've said so far are short, concise responses. Normally you'd be celebrating while making convoluted analogies to explain how you felt.">
A retort arose within Rob's mind. Something about Jason not having enough brain cells to understand analogies, so keeping it simple was for his benefit. It was the kind of joke that would've only been funny to the two of them – perfect for setting a friend at ease.
What he replied with was, "Just tired right now. Long week. That's all."
It wasn't a complete lie. If he'd been less tired, he could have put on a more convincing mask.
<"You know, there's one thing I didn't tell you about Earth. Before Lucio, Baker, and everything else came along – I was stressed as shit trying to play superhero."> Jason spoke in the cadence of a professor, listing off his reasoning before delivering a conclusion. <"Had to pretend to be unbeatable. That way, no one would realize that their one hope was nearing his breaking point.">
His voice turned sharp. <"So put away the fucking mask. I've worn enough of them to know they start feeling...tight, after a while.">
Rob grit his teeth. The longer this talk went on, the more Jason would blame himself in the future. "Thanks, but I'll probably feel better after getting some sleep. Should go take a nap and–"
<"NO! WAIT!">
Jason shouted with such urgency that it even left Leveling High stunned. His tone was borderline panic-stricken – the cry of a desperate man backed into a corner.
Almost like he was aware that if this conversation ended now, he would never see Rob again.
<"I think..."> Jason trailed off, seeming to choose his next words with exceptional care. <"I think we should talk about what's on your mind. It'll help.">
"Doubt it."
<"Well it'll help ME figure out what's wrong, and I'm selfish. So talk.">
"I can't."
<"You're gonna.">
At that, a torrent of emotions coursed through Rob's veins. His exhaustion, his frustration, his fear, everything he'd fought so hard to keep a lid on...it all overflowed in that one moment. "You don't fucking get it, do you?!" he shouted. "This is difficult enough \without* you making everything worse!"*
<"Yeah, tough shit."> There was no sympathy in Jason's voice. Rob must have let out a shocked sound in response, because Jason went on to say, <"What? Think I'm gonna take pity on you? If you're so willing to suffer in silence for everyone, then this should be business as usual. You can spare some of that self-sacrificial attitude to have an uncomfortable conversation with me.">
"That's a bit self-centered, don't you think?"
<"I'm Jason Miller,"> he said, as if that was an explanation.
Rob's exasperation reached a point that it overwhelmed his anger. How was he supposed to stay mad at this fresh brand of nonsense? It was like he'd envisioned a direct, straightforward path for their talk to follow, and Jason had sent the train careening off its tracks.
For some reason, Rob felt compelled to respond. He still couldn't tell Jason all the details – it was for the best this way – but he had to say something now.
Something so that Jason wouldn't blame himself.
"Look. There's...a thing I need to do. Won't be good."
<"No other alternatives?">
"None. It's impossible. I \have* to do this."*
<"Bullshit. Don't believe you.">
Rob's exasperation flipped back around to anger. "What, you think I'm fucking lying to you about how little choice I have? That I want to torture you with worry?"
<"Nah, I get that. That's not the part I don't believe.">
"Then WHAT?"
<"Impossible."> Jason's response came naturally. <"It's a bullshit concept. Just a word people use to feel better about themselves when they quit. I've never believed in it, and you've haven't, either. Why start now?">
After five seconds of thoughtful silence, a wry chuckle escaped Rob's chest. "Man...that's actually kinda nice to hear, you know? I get what you're trying to do, and I genuinely appreciate it. But..."
Visions of Ismaire, the Human mages, and the Cataclysm alighted within his mind. They'd fought and struggled with all their might – and had been rewarded with the loss of everything they knew and loved.
"Sometimes there's no third option. Some things really are just impossible. This is one of them."
<"Stop using that fake-ass word!">
They needed to stop here. Rob had wanted to end their talk on a good note, and this was as close as it was going to get. "Have to go now. Thanks for–"
<"If you die, I'll kill you myself!"> Jason snapped.
Once again, Rob hesitated, stunned by sheer audacity. "That...seems counterproductive."
<"I'm serious*.">* There was an eerily familiar echo to Jason's voice. <"If you want to protect the world, then I'll protect you from yourself. If there's a demon you need to fight, I'll punch you in the face for not telling me sooner. If you get hurt trying to sacrifice yourself, I'll hurt you \worse*. If you die, I'll reach into hell itself to pull you out and kill you again.">*
A bittersweet smile crept up Rob's lips. It was a nice sentiment. Nearly enough for him to want to believe it. After fighting so hard, helping so many people...why hadn't he been granted just one last miracle? Where was his happy ending?
"If only that were true."
Rob's hoarse laugh sounded alien even to himself. "I wish we lived in that kind of world. But...we don't. Just have to accept reality and make the best of–"
<"FUCK THAT!"> Dimensional Message flickered wildly with discordant noise. <"THE ONLY REASON IMPOSSIBLE THINGS EXIST IS BECAUSE WE HAVEN'T TRIED THEM YET!">
Something was happening. "Jason, what's–"
<"PUT UP YOUR FIST!">
His voice became fainter, yet louder.
<"I'M GOING TO MAKE–YOU–UNDERSTAND!">
Rob raised his fist.
It hadn't been a conscious decision. He wasn't even sure why he followed Jason's request. But before he knew it, in the midst of that maelstrom of grief, exhaustion, and pain, he had extended a hesitant hand towards the empty air.
And then felt another fist pressing against his.
As if Jason was standing right in front of him. As if they were back on Earth.
Thousands of memories flooded back at once, shaking his resolve to the core. It took Rob a few long seconds to understand what had transpired. "Jason, did you...did you just fist bump me?"
<"Using Dimension Strike,"> he replied, sounding tired yet victorious.
"How?"
<"Traced your location through Dimensional Message.">
"HOW?"
<"Never attempted it before. Did now. Made it work. That's what we always do, man. You're not allowed to quit until you've tried everything you can think of, hear me? You–">
Jason's voice grew quieter. <"Shit, think I used up all of Dimensional Message's energy."> He started speaking faster. <"Look. I don't care if you need to perform the impossible to come back alive. Do it anyway. It's what \I* just did, after all.">*
His voice swelled with bravado. In Rob's mind, he could see Jason's taunting grin, clear as day.
<"You're not about to let me one-up you, are you?">
Their Message cut out.
​
--
​
Link to Part 2

First
Barbara stared blankly at the screen. She had just finished a call with her supervisor, who had informed her that she was effectively on paid leave for the duration of her remaining two cycle contract, about six months roughly. She had already received a notification that her debts, while minor, had been paid off. The E-mail had been flashing "URGENT" on her communicator when she had woken up. Her GalNet bank account had been loaded with the entirety of her contract with Starlight FTL fund's (all of it, including the 20% she had already been paid!) Only a few moments later as she had just finished washing her face and trying to fully wake up when another alert had posted. Another large sum had been deposited and then her rooms monitor had pinged. That had been her supervisor again informing her that she had been approved for a "Salvage and Reclamation Permit " pursuant to section 21137A....and she had spaced the rest. She had listened to it, but after the spiral of numbers she had been lost trying to catch up. She hadn't filed for anything like a S&R permit. That is until her supervisor had brought her back to the here and now by saying, "Congratulations Ms. Thornton." And vanished, replaced with the traditional Sol Alliance insignia slowly spinning on a white and blue screen.
"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" She asked the empty room, shaking her head in disbelief at the recent events. She absently turned to look at her communicator which had just buzzed on her bunk. Two steps and she had it, the tag on the call read "Dad" and with a grimace she mentally prepared herself for the inevitable. She quickly composed herself, silently thanking her nanites for healing most of her wounds from the day prior. A bruise, and small at that was the only visible sign she had even gotten hurt. With a smile she pressed the green "Take Call" next to her father's wizened wrinkly face. "Hey dad, how's Mom and everyone else doing?" She asked as the screen flash to a live feed of him at his antique mahogany desk. The thing had cost her thrice removed grandfather a literal fortune to get shipped to Mars.
"Oh you know your mom's worried sick! You didn't call or anything! Have you seen the news feed?" When she shook her head"No" he continued, "Your picture has been posted along with your service record in the military scrolling down one side of the viewing screen." She let out a sigh only because she knew BOTH her parents were prone to over exaggerating the situation. Besides, she had served her mandatory six years in the United Sol Alliance Navy's O.D.T.'s and had even distinguished herself during the Omega Crisis. Her dad's voice brought her back to the present as he continued. "The media are calling you both a savior and a criminal! The government hasn't said anything except 'The President will release a statement in due time. Rest assured our citizens are safe "
He finally stopped and seeing the concern on his weathered, caring face she smiled to re assure him. "I'm fine Dad. Really. I can't say much more then that. I know, I know." She put her hand up as if to block something. " I need to visit more often. How about I pop in when I get to Mars Station Hub?"
"Are you sure?" He asked her even as she was beginning to nod, he continued, " Ok, I'll tell your mom to expect you?" She let the question linger for a moment before she replied.
"Three days. I think we should be in orbit by then." Barbara answered.
"Good. Your mother really is worried sick about you Barbara. Those news drones can't get very close to the station you where on,, but the debris field is quite large! I can't wait to hear that story!" He gave her his usual wry grin. "Whatever happened, I'm glad to see your alright. I'll tell your mom to expect a visit in a few days. Give your ol'man a call and I'll be there to pick you up from the rail station in town. Your not going to recognize the place without the dome!" He gave her his usual loving smile, his grey blue eyes both caring and mischievous. "That'll give me a reason to spool up the old sled and take her for a spin. And your mom won't even try to stop me!" He winked, then his face became serious again. "We love you Barbara, you take care of yourself." His smiling face disappeared, replaced by the same blue and white screen with the Sol Alliance insignia slowly rotating.
She had barely had time to comb her hair and braid it. She normally didn't, but since she was on a Navy ship she would follow proper protocol even though she was technically a civilian now. Warning Claxons wailed as the standardized "WARNING! Proximity Alert. Unidentified hostile ship detected." It repeated this every few seconds until someone on the bridge finally shut it off. As soon as the alarm shut down she immediately rushed to the outermost mess hall where a plasteal viewport would be located so she could possibly see what was happening. She was just in time to see four silver Sol Marine Corps boarding shuttles disable and board the much larger spider like ship. The Marines had attached three of the four boarding shuttles at random over the spider-like ships hull and if she had to make an educated guess, probably cut their way in with plasma cutters. All standard practices, or was while she had still been in the Navy.
It took nearly an hour before she could see an blue and white Alliance Military Tug fly into range and began tractoring the large black alien ship with three of the four shuttles still firmly attached. It slowly but surely began to move them towards the Phoenix and Titan 7 with the still undocked Marine Corps shuttle following close behind, weapons visibly trained on the alien ship, even at this distance.
"Well that's different. I don't remember seeing that ship exit the gate." She said to herself as she walked over to the"breakfast" line and went back to her quarters to eat her food in piece. Before long she could feel the ship moving again. Captain Gregory had personally debriefed her as soon as she was on his ship, had quarters assigned to her, and requested her presence on the command bridge as soon as she had rested and eaten something.
Which was why she found herself trying not to stare at what she could only describe as a humanoid cat! Well, except she didn't have a tail. Still, Barbara thought, it was a damn cat person! "Ahh, Captain Thornton, right on time!" Announced Captain Gregory as he noticed she had walked onto his bridge.
"Sargent, Sir." She corrected politely.
He let out a slight chuckle before standing and casually striding towards her, his hands clasp behind him. He stopped not 6 feet away from her and as he did, saluted her. She snapped to, glad after years of not using it in her civilian role her salute was crisp and clean. She heard others around the bridge standing and saluting too. As she stood there she could see the corner of his mouth turn upwards in a slight smirk. Then she heard a gravely voice, deep, and sounding more like two boulders grinding together then anything else she could think of.
"Of course Sargent Thornton. Well then, let me be the first to inform you of your impromptu promotion. Congratulations Captain Thornton." She finally got a look at the man speaking. He was only maybe five feet tall and that was being generous! He also looked very sticky, so probably a heavy grav worlder, probably a colony on Proxima Centauri itself, and he definitely had the stripes of a rear admiral. Her eyes reflexively snapped to his silver crossed sword and spear denoting he was from the O.D.T., the very same battle group she had been assigned to.
"Shit." Was all she could think! Lick a new recruit caught fucking off by the drill instructor back at the Academy. She composed herself before replying. "Umm, thanks Sir. I uhh..." She finally grasped one of the hundred or so thoughts racing through her mind. "But I'm just a civilian now so Sargent is more than is needed. Sir." Ahh, well at least that one would get her out of any press gang tactics the Navy might try to play. She had heard of worse tactics being used, though she had never really believed it herself.
"My name is Rear Admiral Zang." He said, now standing in front of her. Even being much shorter than her he seemed to somehow give her the impression he was looming over everyone else on the command bridge with his sheer presence. He held out his hand and Captain Gregory gave him a folded piece of paper, which he unfolded with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to receiving hardcopy notes, he cleared his throat as he began to read. "President Owlan of the United Sol Alliance, here by gifts the newly salvaged U.S.S. Refuge to Sargent Thornton as per Article 719E, subsection 42, paragraph 3: As the sole officer on duty responsible for Gate B111 when the said vessel was abandoned you are now the owner of one Regent Class hull. Pursuant to subsection 57, paragraph 4 of the same Article of Salvage, you are automatically promoted to the rank of Captain, and if you so choose to serve in the U.S. Navy again, I can absolutely speak for the Centauri Battle Group, if not ALL of Fleet Command when I say it would be an honor to again serve alongside such a distinguished officer." He paused, looking into her eyes as he reached up and pinned a gold button with a relief of an eagle with two crossed anchor's. Before stepping back and giving her a salute.
She could tell his offer was sincere, but for some reason his crooked smile as he dropped his salute made her feel like the other shoe hadn't dropped yet. He held out his hand and she shook it, his grip was strong, and his palms were sweaty. That was NEVER a good sign from an admiral of any stripe. "Please follow me, Captain Gregory has agreed to let us use his office." As she turned to follow him she heard a soft round of applause being given as they walked, it continued until they were in Captain Gregory's office and the door had slid closed. Two other officers entered with them and Admiral Zang motioned for everyone to have a seat. Captain Gregory took a seat next to the Admiral and Barbara sat on the other side, the other two officers taking a seat on either side of her.
"Now then, I know this is a bit of a surprise Captain Thornton, but seeing as things are moving at a much faster pace than expected with the Orion refugees and the subsequent capture of the Broodling Swarm ship. The president in his capacity as figure head of our great Alliance is effectively being hamstrung by the Senate over the new foreign affairs policy we have been operating under technically without the Senates approval since the Orion's arrival." He paused to let her absorb the situation. "So instead of waiting months to get anything done he's used some 'executive' privileges." Admiral Zang said.
"Regardless of wether or not you decide to re join the Navy, your new ship contains tech that is of great value to our R & D department." He motioned to each of the officers either side of her and continued, "Captain Thornton please meet your new Command Master Chief Dillon Boutan and Command Master Engineer Erica Le'Fay." She nodded to each in turn and shook their hands as he introduced them.
"That's uh, great and all, but why am I being briefed like I'm about to receive an important mission?" Barbara asked. She kept wanting to pinch herself to make sure this wasn't some surreal dream. She had hit her head pretty hard on that console.
The Admiral didn't even blink or hesitate. "Because you are Captain Thornton." He paused, nodding to Captain Gregory who pushed at his communicator a few times and then swiped and a virtual blueprint was stationary in the middle of the table. It was the complete diagram of one of the Orion vessels ( the Regents Pride she noted). It was now tagged as the U.S.S. Refuge at 480 meters long and 200 meters at it's widest with four massive engines rated as roughly equivalent to a U.S. built counterpart. It was slightly longer and she sported almost double the energy weapons batteries but only a quarter of her U.S. counterparts number of missile tubes and storage capacity.
However, it looked like her ECM capabilities and targeting computers at least were noted as being much better than her U.S. counterparts. And what the hell was a Spinal Mounted Gauze cannon? The thing took up three weapons batteries itself and had two more on standby in case one of them failed during combat. Typical built-in Navy redundancy's. "How the hell do you expect us to operate that?" She found herself asking. she noticed both Dillon and Erica were staring just as intently as she was. They obviously hadn't been privy to the information prior to this briefing. And the big ass hole midship was disheartening to say the least!
"You'll have some help. You see, our Orion refugees have made a 'deal', or at least there military types. They will do most of the 'operating' until we can get some U.S.A. species trained up on the ships systems, that is unless you decide to keep our Orion refugees employed after this political mess is sorted out. And to facilitate this, the Orion Admiral Vahl Mub has ordered all Orion Military Personnel to join the Sol Military. This is to show that they are willing to join the U.S. Alliance. As such your Second in command will be..." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I don't know what a Junior Claw as rank means but she was designated the best candidate by our AI and was highly recommended by Admiral Vahl Mub to be your new Executive Officer. Hadarra of the Flowstone clan. And before you ask, I have no idea, SR (Sapient Resources) is burning the candle at both ends trying to compile a complete social and cultural overview of the Orion's." He looked at each of them in turn and sighed. "Let's just try not to cause any blood feud's or misunderstanding's that can't be easily resolved." He raised his communicator and said"Please send in XO Hadarra." The door slid open and the cat person walked in, saluted somewhat awkwardly and then Barbara could see her spine stiffen and she finally committed to it fully.
"Junior Claw Hadarra reporting for duty Second Fang!" She said while looking at Admiral Zang. Barbara could tell she was nervous. Hell who wouldn't be in the same situation these people found themselves in!
"It's just Admiral." He gently corrected. "And your rank in U.S. terms is an Executive Officer or XO for short. We have not been briefed on your culture XO so forgive us for any oversight we may have in our normal routines until we can figure any cultural quarks between our species out. Your Captain and and her other officers are being briefed currently. Please join us." He gestured to a chair and Barbara watched her carefully sit next to Dillon who offered her a friendly smile.

FIRST
Barbara stared blankly at the screen. She had just finished a call with her supervisor, who had informed her that she was effectively on paid leave for the duration of her remaining two cycle contract, about six months roughly. She had already received a notification that her debts, while minor, had been paid off. The E-mail had been flashing "URGENT" on her communicator when she had woken up. Her GalNet bank account had been loaded with the entirety of her contract with Starlight FTL fund's (all of it, including the 20% she had already been paid!) Only a few moments later as she had just finished washing her face and trying to fully wake up when another alert had posted. Another large sum had been deposited and then her rooms monitor had pinged. That had been her supervisor again informing her that she had been approved for a "Salvage and Reclamation Permit " pursuant to section 21137A....and she had spaced the rest. She had listened to it, but after the spiral of numbers she had been lost trying to catch up. She hadn't filed for anything like a S&R permit. That is until her supervisor had brought her back to the here and now by saying, "Congratulations Ms. Thornton." And vanished, replaced with the traditional Sol Alliance insignia slowly spinning on a white and blue screen.
"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" She asked the empty room, shaking her head in disbelief at the recent events. She absently turned to look at her communicator which had just buzzed on her bunk. Two steps and she had it, the tag on the call read "Dad" and with a grimace she mentally prepared herself for the inevitable. She quickly composed herself, silently thanking her nanites for healing most of her wounds from the day prior. A bruise, and small at that was the only visible sign she had even gotten hurt. With a smile she pressed the green "Take Call" next to her father's wizened wrinkly face. "Hey dad, how's Mom and everyone else doing?" She asked as the screen flash to a live feed of him at his antique mahogany desk. The thing had cost her thrice removed grandfather a literal fortune to get shipped to Mars.
"Oh you know your mom's worried sick! You didn't call or anything! Have you seen the news feed?" When she shook her head"No" he continued, "Your picture has been posted along with your service record in the military scrolling down one side of the viewing screen." She let out a sigh only because she knew BOTH her parents were prone to over exaggerating the situation. Besides, she had served her mandatory six years in the United Sol Alliance Navy's O.D.T.'s and had even distinguished herself during the Omega Crisis. Her dad's voice brought her back to the present as he continued. "The media are calling you both a savior and a criminal! The government hasn't said anything except 'The President will release a statement in due time. Rest assured our citizens are safe "
He finally stopped and seeing the concern on his weathered, caring face she smiled to re assure him. "I'm fine Dad. Really. I can't say much more then that. I know, I know." She put her hand up as if to block something. " I need to visit more often. How about I pop in when I get to Mars Station Hub?"
"Are you sure?" He asked her even as she was beginning to nod, he continued, " Ok, I'll tell your mom to expect you?" She let the question linger for a moment before she replied.
"Three days. I think we should be in orbit by then." Barbara answered.
"Good. Your mother really is worried sick about you Barbara. Those news drones can't get very close to the station you where on,, but the debris field is quite large! I can't wait to hear that story!" He gave her his usual wry grin. "Whatever happened, I'm glad to see your alright. I'll tell your mom to expect a visit in a few days. Give your ol'man a call and I'll be there to pick you up from the rail station in town. Your not going to recognize the place without the dome!" He gave her his usual loving smile, his grey blue eyes both caring and mischievous. "That'll give me a reason to spool up the old sled and take her for a spin. And your mom won't even try to stop me!" He winked, then his face became serious again. "We love you Barbara, you take care of yourself." His smiling face disappeared, replaced by the same blue and white screen with the Sol Alliance insignia slowly rotating.
She had barely had time to comb her hair and braid it. She normally didn't, but since she was on a Navy ship she would follow proper protocol even though she was technically a civilian now. Warning Claxons wailed as the standardized "WARNING! Proximity Alert. Unidentified hostile ship detected." It repeated this every few seconds until someone on the bridge finally shut it off. As soon as the alarm shut down she immediately rushed to the outermost mess hall where a plasteal viewport would be located so she could possibly see what was happening. She was just in time to see four silver Sol Marine Corps boarding shuttles disable and board the much larger spider like ship. The Marines had attached three of the four boarding shuttles at random over the spider-like ships hull and if she had to make an educated guess, probably cut their way in with plasma cutters. All standard practices, or was while she had still been in the Navy.
It took nearly an hour before she could see an blue and white Alliance Military Tug fly into range and began tractoring the large black alien ship with three of the four shuttles still firmly attached. It slowly but surely began to move them towards the Phoenix and Titan 7 with the still undocked Marine Corps shuttle following close behind, weapons visibly trained on the alien ship, even at this distance.
"Well that's different. I don't remember seeing that ship exit the gate." She said to herself as she walked over to the"breakfast" line and went back to her quarters to eat her food in piece. Before long she could feel the ship moving again. Captain Gregory had personally debriefed her as soon as she was on his ship, had quarters assigned to her, and requested her presence on the command bridge as soon as she had rested and eaten something.
Which was why she found herself trying not to stare at what she could only describe as a humanoid cat! Well, except she didn't have a tail. Still, Barbara thought, it was a damn cat person! "Ahh, Captain Thornton, right on time!" Announced Captain Gregory as he noticed she had walked onto his bridge.
"Sargent, Sir." She corrected politely.
He let out a slight chuckle before standing and casually striding towards her, his hands clasp behind him. He stopped not 6 feet away from her and as he did, saluted her. She snapped to, glad after years of not using it in her civilian role her salute was crisp and clean. She heard others around the bridge standing and saluting too. As she stood there she could see the corner of his mouth turn upwards in a slight smirk. Then she heard a gravely voice, deep, and sounding more like two boulders grinding together then anything else she could think of.
"Of course Sargent Thornton. Well then, let me be the first to inform you of your impromptu promotion. Congratulations Captain Thornton." She finally got a look at the man speaking. He was only maybe five feet tall and that was being generous! He also looked very stocky, so probably a heavy grav worlder, probably a colony on Proxima Centauri itself, and he definitely had the stripes of a rear admiral. Her eyes reflexively snapped to his silver crossed sword and spear denoting he was from the O.D.T., the very same battle group she had been assigned to.
"Shit." Was all she could think! Like a new recruit caught fucking off by the drill instructor back at the Academy. She composed herself before replying. "Umm, thanks Sir. I uhh..." She finally grasped one of the hundred or so thoughts racing through her mind. "But I'm just a civilian now so Sargent is more than is needed. Sir." Ahh, well at least that one would get her out of any press gang tactics the Navy might try to play. She had heard of worse tactics being used, though she had never really believed it herself.
"My name is Rear Admiral Zang." He said, now standing in front of her. Even being much shorter than her he seemed to somehow give her the impression he was looming over everyone else on the command bridge with his sheer presence. He held out his hand and Captain Gregory gave him a folded piece of paper, which he unfolded with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to receiving hardcopy notes, he cleared his throat as he began to read. "President Owlan of the United Sol Alliance, here by gifts the newly salvaged U.S.S. Refuge to Sargent Thornton as per Article 719E, subsection 42, paragraph 3: As the sole officer on duty responsible for Gate B111 when the said vessel was abandoned you are now the owner of one Regent Class hull. Pursuant to subsection 57, paragraph 4 of the same Article of Salvage, you are automatically promoted to the rank of Captain, and if you so choose to serve in the U.S. Navy again, I can absolutely speak for the Centauri Battle Group, if not ALL of Fleet Command when I say it would be an honor to again serve alongside such a distinguished officer." He paused, looking into her eyes as he reached up and pinned a gold button with a relief of an eagle with two crossed anchor's. Before stepping back and giving her a salute.
She could tell his offer was sincere, but for some reason his crooked smile as he dropped his salute made her feel like the other shoe hadn't dropped yet. He held out his hand and she shook it, his grip was strong, and his palms were sweaty. That was NEVER a good sign from an admiral of any stripe. "Please follow me, Captain Gregory has agreed to let us use his office." As she turned to follow him she heard a soft round of applause being given as they walked, it continued until they were in Captain Gregory's office and the door had slid closed. Two other officers entered with them and Admiral Zang motioned for everyone to have a seat. Captain Gregory took a seat next to the Admiral and Barbara sat on the other side, the other two officers taking a seat on either side of her.
"Now then, I know this is a bit of a surprise Captain Thornton, but seeing as things are moving at a much faster pace than expected with the Orion refugees and the subsequent capture of the Broodling Swarm ship. The president in his capacity as figure head of our great Alliance is effectively being hamstrung by the Senate over the new foreign affairs policy we have been operating under technically without the Senates approval since the Orion's arrival." He paused to let her absorb the situation. "So instead of waiting months to get anything done he's used some 'executive' privileges." Admiral Zang said.
"Regardless of wether or not you decide to re join the Navy, your new ship contains tech that is of great value to our R & D department." He motioned to each of the officers either side of her and continued, "Captain Thornton please meet your new Command Master Chief Dillon Boutan and Command Master Engineer Erica Le'Fay." She nodded to each in turn and shook their hands as he introduced them.
"That's uh, great and all, but why am I being briefed like I'm about to receive an important mission?" Barbara asked. She kept wanting to pinch herself to make sure this wasn't some surreal dream. She had hit her head pretty hard on that console.
The Admiral didn't even blink or hesitate. "Because you are Captain Thornton." He paused, nodding to Captain Gregory who pushed at his communicator a few times and then swiped and a virtual blueprint was stationary in the middle of the table. It was the complete diagram of one of the Orion vessels ( the Regents Pride she noted). It was now tagged as the U.S.S. Refuge at 480 meters long and 200 meters at it's widest with four massive engines rated as roughly equivalent to a U.S. built counterpart. It was slightly longer and she sported almost double the energy weapons batteries but only a quarter of her U.S. counterparts number of missile tubes and storage capacity.
However, it looked like her ECM capabilities and targeting computers at least were noted as being much better than her U.S. counterparts. And what the hell was a Spinal Mounted Gauze cannon? The thing took up three weapons batteries itself and had two more on standby in case one of them failed during combat. Typical built-in Navy redundancy's. "How the hell do you expect us to operate that?" She found herself asking. she noticed both Dillon and Erica were staring just as intently as she was. They obviously hadn't been privy to the information prior to this briefing. And the big ass hole midship was disheartening to say the least!
"You'll have some help. You see, our Orion refugees have made a 'deal', or at least there military types. They will do most of the 'operating' until we can get some U.S.A. species trained up on the ships systems, that is unless you decide to keep our Orion refugees employed after this political mess is sorted out. And to facilitate this, the Orion Admiral Vahl Mub has ordered all Orion Military Personnel to join the Sol Military. This is to show that they are willing to join the U.S. Alliance. As such your Second in command will be..." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I don't know what a Junior Claw as rank means but she was designated the best candidate by our AI and was highly recommended by Admiral Vahl Mub to be your new Executive Officer. Hadarra of the Flowstone clan. And before you ask, I have no idea, SR (Sapient Resources) is burning the candle at both ends trying to compile a complete social and cultural overview of the Orion's." He looked at each of them in turn and sighed. "Let's just try not to cause any blood feud's or misunderstanding's that can't be easily resolved." He raised his communicator and said"Please send in XO Hadarra." The door slid open and the cat person walked in, saluted somewhat awkwardly and then Barbara could see her spine stiffen and she finally committed to it fully.
"Junior Claw Hadarra reporting for duty Second Fang!" She said while looking at Admiral Zang. Barbara could tell she was nervous. Hell who wouldn't be in the same situation these people found themselves in!
"It's just Admiral." He gently corrected. "And your rank in U.S. terms is an Executive Officer or XO for short. We have not been briefed on your culture XO so forgive us for any oversight we may have in our normal routines until we can figure any cultural quarks between our species out. Your Captain and and her other officers are being briefed currently. Please join us." He gestured to a chair and Barbara watched her carefully sit next to Dillon who offered her a friendly smile.
NEXT

I don't really know a lot about computers but found a Dell Vostro 15 (5100 from 2017) which won't turn on. The little light below the touchpad is on but that's about it. Is there a way I can find out what is wrong with it and fix it?
Edit because I forgot it before. I can't even find the laptop on the official dell homepage. That's why I don't know how to start

When I first took this job, I never could have predicted what would happen. After all the years of training and the experiences that I have had throughout my life, I am pretty good at being prepared for the worst. But before I begin this story, a little bit about myself.
I was a bit of a troubled child some might say. I lost both my parents to a car accident when I was 2. After that, I bounced from foster home to foster home. I blame it on the system. Almost every foster home I was put in was terrible. The parents were only doing it for the money and barely took care of the foster children. And when Social Services came, you think they listened to the children? No. But, I took on a personality that did help throughout this time. I decided that I wouldn't take shit from anyone. When some of the foster homes' actual children tried to bully me or other foster kids, they very quickly learned not to after several broken bones. In addition, I took this attitude to the public schools. Bullies would pick on the weak, and they would suddenly have broken noses and fingers. But, since it was the public school the bullies were not punished. Only me. However when the bullies would see me or get close to their victims while I was around they would quickly go the other way. This went on for the entirety of my youth. I never had a plan for my life. All I knew was that I was unwanted anywhere, and had nowhere to go. But one day, I was passing by the living room, and I saw a commercial on the tv that changed my life's course. It was an ad to join the United States Marine Corps. After this, I found a new purpose for my life. Unfortunately I was 15 at the time. But I immediately started training myself physically and mentally for this new course. I studied at the public library since I wasn't allowed to use the foster home's computer. I started working out at the high school's gym after class. And finally at 18 I joined the Corps. The next 8 years were the best of my life. After boot camp, MCT (Marine Combat Training), and SOI (School of Infantry) I soon learned about the Raiders. Which is Marine Corps special forces. I immediately put in for it and got selected. I was able to go to several foreign countries and fight many battles. All of my fellow Marines were the greatest family I ever had. Once I was at the end of my second enlistment I decided it was time for me to enter the civilian world again. At that time, we had a bad mission and I lost my closest friends. So I did what anybody in this situation does. I found a reasonably inexpensive apartment and drank excessively for the next month. Once I felt that my liver had been well punished, I began searching for a job. Now, money was not an issue for me at this time. I had plenty in savings to last most people a couple of years. While I was in the military, I never really bought anything since I knew I would be traveling all over. I also still had money saved from the insurance when my parents passed all those years ago that I refused to spend. So I tried finding a job that I would fit into given my skill sets. After some time I found what I was looking for. It was a position within a security company that provides its services to companies in both the private sector as well as government facilities. I immediately applied and got accepted. For the next year after this, I was able to complete some training required for the job and bought my own house in Nevada. I worked as a fill in guard for multiple high ranking officials here and there within my state. But one day, I was given a position that would alter my perception of reality forever.
“John!” my boss bellowed as he entered the locker room. I had been getting my gear, body armor, and rifle ready to head to the meeting room. I look up and see this mountain of a man standing in the doorway with a large jolly smile on his face. “Got a job for you” he continued, waving a file in his hand. “What's the Job?” I asked while doing my best to give back a friendly grin. I've been told I’m not great at expressing my emotions. But I’ve been trying. “Well, good news. It's a government facility that needs a pair of guards.” My ears perked up as he said this. “Where at?” I asked with some excitement in my voice. “A warehouse in the desert just outside of the town where you live.” My shoulders drop a little with disappointment. “What sort of warehouse is it?” I ask. “It is a government funded science facility. Something about monitoring seismic activity in the area. During the evening, you and one other guard will be posted there to watch over the equipment.” I thought for a moment and I remembered the place he was talking about. About 5 miles from my home on the outskirts of town, there is a fenced off plot of land that has one large building out in the middle. I had always driven past it on the way to a rifle range and saw the no trespassing signs on the fence and didn't think much of it. “What's the uniform situation?” I ask. “Standard Polo, slacks, and duty belt.” “Body armor and weapons?” I asked, already feeling the boredom seeping in. “None required. You can wear soft armor if it makes you feel better. But there will be a locker with shotguns as a last resort. Aside from that, just your nightstick.” It is at this point I let out a disappointed sigh. After a long moment I look up and ask, “why did you pick me specifically for this position?” He looks at me with that unwavering smile and says, “well, nobody wanted to volunteer for it. So I decided to volun-tell the first person I saw this morning.” He leans over and gives me a strong pat on the back and walks out. I sigh again, take off my usual gear and just dress in the uniform he told me. I do grab my soft armor though. With my duty belt and the file in hand, I head to my SUV. Opening the file, there was the basic information about the warehouse and a padlock key labeled “Front gate”. I shake my head and begin my drive to this warehouse. Luckily, this place was in between home and our headquarters. So once I started this job, at least I wouldn't have to drive as much.
I pulled up to the gate and pulled out the key that was provided with the file. After entering and securing the gate, I look toward the building and see two vehicles parked out front. One large gray sedan and a red prius. Once I pulled up, a round looking man alongside a woman that was wearing our security uniform stepped out of the building and headed toward me. “Welcome!” the man said with a blinding smile. Man, these morning people really are something else. The woman approached me with an equally bright smile holding out her hand. “You must be my new partner. I'm Stacy. Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” I said, shaking her hand and trying to put on my friendliest smile. Stacy, on first impressions, has a very friendly personality. She had fairly light brown hair and emerald green eyes. She stood roughly a foot shorter than myself, and her physique is slender and well toned while still being curved in a very attractive way. What caught my attention was the fact that, despite her size and stature, she carried herself with a sense of confidence while not trying to be overly imposing. The man that was there I could only describe as plump. He was about 2 inches shorter than Stacy. He had a balding head with a very poor attempt at a comb over. “Well then, Mr. Miller.” He said. “Just John is fine.” I responded. “Alright John. You can call me Bill. Now that we are acquainted, let's begin the tour.” He turned around and headed to the main entrance. Upon entering, I quickly identified the four quadcons and large mobile research vehicle parked in the center. There were dirty tire tracks leading from the large double doors to the vehicle. “Here is the research equipment you will be guarding. Every evening, once the scientists put their equipment away, you will be responsible for verifying that all of the locks are secured. The keys will be given to you and placed in a lockbox that is kept in your office.” Glancing to the right, I saw what I assumed to be our office. It was a small shack built into the side of the main building. Beckoning us toward it, Bill said, “and over here is where you will likely be spending most of your time.” In the office, there was a long desk with large windows looking out to the interior of the warehouse. At the back there was a small restroom that was surprisingly clean. And, what I was looking for, at the back corner was a locked green weapons locker that housed two Mossberg 500 pump action shotguns. Next to that was a small table with walkie talkies on charging stations. Above the charging station were two flat screen TVs with the video feed of security cameras monitoring both the inside and outside of the building. On the desk was a land line telephone, coffee pot, and a microwave. Underneath was a minifridge and a locking filing cabinet. Bill motioned to the cabinet, “This is where the keys to the storage units and truck will be kept with at least one of you having the key to it nearby. All the amenities are available to use, the AC works, and the chairs are comfy.” He grinned proudly like a child that had just finished his chores. “And if you'll follow me,” he said exiting the office door. As we followed, he went around the office shack where a side by side ATV was parked. Attached to it was a spot light on the front and an extra fuel container in the back. “This will be your steed” Bill says with exaggerated grandeur. “You will be able to use this to go around the compound if needed. Just log your driving so we know when the fuel needs to be replenished. Now, over here,” turning on his heel, he walked toward the opposite end of the warehouse. In this direction was a door labeled Janitors closet. Opening it, there were shelves of cleaning supplies, a push broom, and a wheeled bucket with a mop in it. “You can use these if you need to. There are cleaners that take care of the whole building during the day.” Well, at least we won't be doubling as janitors. Bill clapped his hands together, “do you have any questions?” He began walking back toward the office. “Do you get much disturbance out here that requires guarding?” I asked. “Well, the equipment and research is funded by the government. So they want to be sure nothing gets taken. As far as the disturbances, there are the occasional teenagers that try to sneak onto the property at night to do whatever teens do these days.” “What sort of research is being done here?” Stacy asked. We got back to the office and Bill leaned on the wall sweating and out of breath. “I don't know all the details. But it has something to do with monitoring the seismic readings in order to predict earthquakes or something. But I'm sure they can explain it better.” He pulled out a white cloth and wiped his head. I guess he used all his energy for the introduction. At that moment, we heard the crunching of graven as more vehicles pulled up outside. “Speak of the devil” Bill put the cloth away and looked at his watch. Through the window of the office the clock on the wall read nine in the morning. “If you follow me, we can meet the researchers.” For the next several minutes, we were introduced to the lead researcher Mike and his four grad students. Once introductions were finished, they loaded up the large truck and headed out to the desert. “Allright,” Bill said again, clapping. “You will be on guard during the night. Be here at six this evening. for the start of your shift. At six in the morning we will have two other guards relieve you during the day.” He headed over to the red Prius. “If you have any other questions, my cell number is in your files. Good luck” He hopped in and drove off leaving the two of us standing in front of the building. “Well,” Stacy said after a moment of silence. “I look forward to working with you, and I guess I'll see you tonight.” I nodded at this. “See you then.” We both left the site for the day. It turned out that Stacy and I both lived in the same town not too far apart. At least the company chose guards that live close to the site to save on driving.
The next four weeks were fairly uneventful. On the first night, we were able to talk with the researchers. Their explanation was the same as Bill had said. They were monitoring the seismic reading to predict earthquakes. But when the lead researcher said that, I got the sense that there was more to it. After some interrogation tips that I got from a CIA member that was stationed in Syria with me, I began to get good at knowing when someone was lying or withholding information. But, I didn't press the issue. If this was something more serious, there would be alot more security than two guards at a time with minimal equipment. After some deliberation with Stacy, we came up with a routine for our shifts. Every hour, one of us would take a walk around the inside of the warehouse. And every four hours one of us would take the ATV and do a patrol around the perimeter of the fence. The whole drive takes about twenty minutes. As far as issues during this time, not much happened. Every once in a while a camera would go down and one of us would check on it. After either jiggling the cable or just resetting it, the feed would go back to normal. There was one night that we noticed some teens outside of the fence seemingly daring each other to climb over. After revving the ATV and hitting them with the spotlight, they decided to leave. But during our shifts I did get to learn more about Stacy. She is a near polar opposite to me. She is very cheerful and chatty. From what she told me, I learned that she was mostly raised by her grandfather who was a police officer for the majority of his life. She had great respect for him before his passing. She wanted to be just like him with his sense of justice and strength. However, she decided to become private security instead of a police officer. I did notice that she seemed to avoid the topic of her parents. From the different walks of life that I encountered within the military, I decided it was best not to press the topic. She also seemed to like the horror genre of stories and films. During our shifts we were allowed to bring things to pass the time. She would bring a wireless speaker and play music and something called creepypasta. I on the other hand would put in one ear bud with music and read a book when we were not chatting. During the first week, we did have to stand guard for the entire 7 days. But after that more guards were stationed at the warehouse for the weekend to give us time off. This did come with an issue. Stacy would ask to hang out during the weekend. She would want to go to the movie theater or get lunch somewhere. But when she asked, I would say that I had plans. Which isn't a lie, but it mostly consisted of meal prep, physical training, and going to a shooting range. The problem I had was this, I never had a girlfriend. While Stacy is both kind and beautiful, I have no idea how to proceed with this. I would only feel awkward. Despite this, she didn't seem to have any intention of giving up. She would still ask every Friday, and when I told her I was busy, she would say, “maybe next weekend then.”
It was Friday of the fifth week when it happened. Me and Stacy were five hours into our shift, and I had just gotten back from a patrol on the ATV. “See any of the Graboids that they are looking for?” Stacy asked, grinning. “I'm afraid not,” I said disappointedly. “Just the usual rodents and reptiles. Although maybe they turned to shriekers and left.” I grinned as well. After logging the patrol, I entered the office and picked up “The Art Of War” and continued reading where I left off. Stacy was listening to one of those creepypastas on her phone. It was about something called a Skinwalker hunting hikers in a national park. It seemed kind of interesting. Maybe I should start looking into these stories. “So,” Stacy said, pausing the video. “You wanna catch a movie this weekend?” Her emerald eyes glistened with anticipation. “Sorry. I have plans.” I responded. She sighed and slouched sadly. “Well. Maybe next weekend then.” I know if anyone saw me in this situation, they would be screaming at me. A beautiful woman is asking me if I want to spend time together outside of work. After this exchange we continued with our activities waiting for my alarm to go off signaling a patrol. It was at this moment when we felt a strong tremor beneath the warehouse. Feeling tremors wasnt that unusual for this area. Every once in a while we might feel a light one during our shifts. But this one was stronger than any other that we've felt. But before we could get under our desk expecting it to be an earthquake, it was already over. The whole thing had lasted less than a minute. We both sat back in our chairs and looked at each other with a sigh of relief. Soon our nerves were settled and we returned to our entertainment. Fifteen minutes later the alarm on my phone sounded. Stacy stood up stretching. “I'll take this one”, she said. I nodded in agreement and looked back at the camera feeds. The camera that overlooked the corner by the janitors closet was static. “Could you look at camera three when you walk by it?” I asked, pointing at the monitor. She nodded and gave a thumbs up. “Got it.” She grabbed a walkie off the charger and clipped it to her belt. Once she left the office, I returned to my book, occasionally glancing at the monitor. After a few minutes, I heard a click on my radio and then a door slam from the other side of the warehouse. I picked up the radio, “Stacy, you good?” I asked. From the way the office was positioned, the view of that closet is blocked by the truck and quadcons. I looked at the monitor and that camera was still out. “Stacy, you good?” I repeated. No answer. I grabbed my radio and a flashlight and headed out the office to check on her. My worry was that during that tremor, some of the cleaner spilled and she might have slipped on it hitting her head. I very quickly walked over to the closet. I didn't see Stacy anywhere, but her radio was on the floor by the door. I ran over and opened the door worried. But instead of seeing Stacy laying on the floor unconscious, there was a large hole on the concrete. I stood there for a moment trying to process what I was looking at. But remembering Stacy, I pulled out my flashlight carefully looking down the hole. Instead of going straight down, it went in at an angle almost like a tunnel. It was large enough for myself to crawl into if I needed to. “Stacy!” I yelled. “Are you down there?” No response. “Shit” I muttered to myself. I then got down and headed in.
The tunnel seemed to go down for at least twenty feet before leading into another much larger tunnel. Once there, I was surprisingly able to stand up with plenty of room. “I wonder if this is what those researchers were looking into.” I thought to myself. Looking left and right, this tunnel continued further than my flashlight could reach. “Stacy! Can you hear me?” I yelled. The only response I got was my own echo. Looking down, I tried to find any indication of the direction she might have gone. At first I didn't see anything. I did notice that there were drag marks in the dirt going left. No boot marks though. I made a mark in the dirt to indicate the tunnel back to the surface, and started down the left tunnel. For the next ten minutes, I was quickly walking my way through this dark tunnel, yelling Stacy's name all throughout. The tunnel kept going down and curving every now and then. But still no sign of Stacy. Eventually I came to a fork. It was here that the drag marks stopped. After calling Stacy's name a few more times, I knew I had to get to the surface and call for backup. As much as I hated the idea, I knew it was necessary. But right as I was about to turn and head back, I heard a scream. It was very faint, but it came from the right tunnel. Now that I had a direction, I decided to continue quicker than before. I traveled deeper and deeper into these unknown depths. It was at this point that I noticed a turn off up ahead going left. I knew that if there wasn't another sound at this intersection, that I would have to return. I got to the turn off and yelled for Stacy. After a few minutes I heard what sounded like footsteps coming toward me. “Stacy?” I yelled. I carefully walked forward. There was another sound. Heavy breathing. The tunnel turned right. As soon as I rounded the corner, I saw something straight out of a horror movie. It stood on all fours with short legs and long arms, head just about touching the ceiling at roughly eight feet in height. Its skin was an ashen gray color with small tufts of fur near the shoulders. The face and large ears reminded me of a bat. Its eyes were so white, they almost seemed to glow in the darkness. I got the sense that, while it couldn't see me, it knew I was there due to my yelling. As soon as I lock eyes with this creature, before I can do anything, it inhales and lets out an ear piercing shriek. I covered my ears, but it didn't do anything as my vision started to fade to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. On the ground beside them was Rodriguez being treated by the Corpsman. I looked back to Johnson, “Cover me! I'm moving up”, I yelled to him. He nodded, racking his rifle. “Moving!” I yelled as I sprinted to the next vic. A couple of bullets hit near my feet. As soon as I got to the rear, I yelled, “set!” Johnson started running while I kept him covered. Once we were both there, we checked on Rodriguez. The corpsman looked up at me, “we need a medevac now!” He yelled holding a wound near the neck. I nodded quickly and got up to Smith who was yelling on the radio. I knelt down, “what's the ETA on those birds?” I asked. He shook his head angrily. “They are at least five minutes out!” He said cursing as a bullet hit the top of the door next to him. “We won't last that long! Just get on the 240 and fire back now!” I yelled in his ear. “Aye Sergeant!” Smith climbs into the hummvee and mounts the turret with the 240 machine gun firing back. I looked back at Johnson, “we need to get to the lead vic and mount the Mark 19!” I yelled back. Johnson gave me a devilish grin, “aye sergeant!” He yelled back. The lead hummvee was two vehicles ahead. With the help of Williams’ suppressing fire, we got to the second vic. “Just one more” I thought to myself. Johnson got ready to move to the next hummvee. I nod at him and get set for suppressing fire. “Moving!” He selled. Right as he started running there was a snap and he hit the dirt as blood started pooling by his head. “Sniper!” I yelled back to the others. But as soon as I looked back to where Smiths’ 240 was roaring, the entire hummvee exploded as an RPG detonated below it. A large piece of what I assume was the door, hit me in the helmet and I was back on the ground. I looked up with blurred vision seeing an attack helicopter unloading its payload toward the enemy placements. But as I blinked, there was a large face staring at me from across the street. An inhuman face. Almost like a bat. I start to remember what this thing is, just as my vision fades to black.
“Sergeant!” There was somebody yelling. “Sergeant Miller!” I opened my eyes and I was on the ground looking at the bright sky. Then a figure appeared reaching down to help me up. Corporal Johnson grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “You good sergeant?” He asked. “Yeah, I'm good!” I yelled back grabbing my rifle and getting back to the cover of the hummvee. As bullets riddled the opposite side of the vehicle, I went to the front and returned fire over the hood taking out two of the attackers. Johnson came up behind me doing the same. “The fifty is down, and Rodriguez is hit!” He yelled while reloading. I looked at the hummvee ahead of ours. The doors were open and I saw Corporal Smith messing with the radio while being covered by Private Williams. I looked back at Johnson. “Wait.” I thought to myself. “I-I was just here.” I watched as Johnson continued to make the same moves as he did in this memory. I stand up and look around as he runs to the next hummvee. I hear the corpsman yell about evac. Smith yelling about the ETA on the birds. “This,” I said to myself. “This was the last mission.” Then I remembered. A face. An inhuman face. I looked across the street where I saw it. I close my eyes and shake my head. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the darkness of a tunnel. The monster was now looming over me reaching out with its large clawed hand. I immediately jumped back out of its arms reach. The monster seemed surprised that its trance was broken. It began to inhale, readying another shriek. But before it could let out its scream, I drew the compact Sig pistol that I keep under my uniform and put two rounds between its eyes. Now when I asked the boss about having weapons, he said they weren't required. He didn't say I couldn't conceal one just in case. The creature slumped to the ground lifeless. Despite the ringing in my ears from the shot, I knew I had to continue forward to find Stacy. I looked down and was glad to see the footprints and drag marks were clear and continued forward. As I continued down the tunnels, the walls started to change. The texture went from the dirt and stone to a black and almost rubbery plastic. If I had to compare, it looked almost like the walls in that Aliens movie. That thought also unnerved me. Soon after noticing the changes, I started to hear a voice further down the tunnel. It was Stacy's voice. Faint, but there. I quickened my pace. The tunnel then seemed to open up into a large cavern. It was so large that my flashlight couldn't reach the opposite end. The walls had that same alien-like texture. I then noticed bulb-like growths attached to the walls. Walking to the nearest one I peered in. There was the remains of a human skeleton. From the looks of it, the bones were here for many years. The clothes, or what was left of them, looked similar to those I've seen in mining pictures from the 1800s. Moving forward, each bulb, or pod I guessed, had a similar sight. A human skeleton, no flesh remaining. They were all in a pose that suggested they all died screaming. At least, those that still had a jaw attached. After looking into the fifth one, I heard Stacy’s voice again from across the cavern. I immediately started walking in that direction. At that moment I looked up toward the ceiling and saw a nightmare. There were hundreds of those creatures attached and encased in similar pods. All seemingly asleep and ready to get out at a moment's notice. Off to the side, there were several of those bods that were empty. Immediately lowering my light, I hastened my pace as quietly as possible. At the end of the cavern, I saw the pale face of Stacy peeking out of what I now assumed were feeding pods. “No daddy, no.” She was muttering to herself quietly. “Don't hurt mommy.” I lifted her head up and her eyes were open but unfocused. “She must be in that trance” I thought to myself. Reaching to my belt, I pulled out a pocket knife and began cutting away at the pod. Luckily for me, whatever this was made of had not hardened yet. As soon as there was enough give, I pulled Stacy out and placed her on the ground. “Come on. Wake up Stacy.” I said quietly into her ear. After about a minute of speaking to her and giving a light sternum rub, her eyes finally came back into focus. “John?” She asked. I put my hand over her mouth and whispered into her ear, “Shh. We need to get out of here quietly.” I pointed the light up at the creature pods. Her eyes widened. Then she looked at me and nodded slowly. I removed my hand and helped her to her feet. She was a little wobbly. “Can you walk?” I asked. She nodded again and we began our track to the surface.
I took point and followed the tracks that led me here. Seeing me with my pistol aimed ahead Stacy asked, “are there more of them in the tunnels?” “Yeah.” I said gesturing up ahead at the carcass of the creature that I shot earlier. She nodded approvingly. She then pulled out her own Sig pistol from her waistband. I think I’m in love. We continued down the tunnels with haste. When we rounded one corner, another two more of the creatures were shuffling towards us. As soon as I saw them, I took a knee and put two rounds in the first one killing it. The second one climbed over the body and sped up taking a deep breath. But before I could fire at it, Stacy put three rounds into its head. I looked back at her and she was in a perfect shooter's stance the muzzle of her pistol still smoking. With our ears still ringing, I gave her a thumbs up and we continued. After some time, we finally reached the smaller tunnel leading up to the janitor's closet in the warehouse. We got out and looked around making sure that none of the creatures were waiting above. After clearing the building, we both sighed with relief. Stacy then started toward the office. “I'm going to call for backup,” she said. I shook my head. “No. We need to collapse that cavern before those things can get up here.” She looked at me with confusion. “And how do you expect us to do that? I doubt the researchers have explosives in their truck,” she said pointing at the vehicle. “Just follow me,” I said heading to the front door. Stacy hesitated and quickly followed. I immediately ran to my SUV and opened the rear. As soon as Stacy caught up, I opened the plastic cases and her eyes widened. “Take your pick,” I said gesturing toward the case full of guns and armor. After a moment, she grabbed a suppressed Honey Badger rifle, a glock 17, and a chest rig for spare magazines. I took my own Suppressed M4 rifle, glock 19, and my plate carrier. After we strapped on the gear, I handed her a pair of noise canceling headphones to help with the gunshots underground. “So, you usually carry this much gear?” Stacy asked, turning on the headphones. “Well,” I said. “You never know when you need it.” After putting on my own headphones, I pulled out a duffel bag from a much deeper compartment of the case. I set it on the ground and opened it. Stacy's eyes went even wider than before. “Is that?” she stammered. “Yep.” I said, looking down at the large bag full of plastic bricks marked as C4. “Where did you?” she started. “Let's just say I know a guy who knows a guy.” I responded, pulling out a detonator and making sure I had enough components. “Let's move.” I said, throwing the bag over my shoulder and loading my rifle. She nodded, loading her rifle.
Once we reentered the tunnel, the mics on the headphones were able to pick up the faint sounds of the creatures footsteps and distant shrieks. I looked back at Stacy, “ready.” I asked. “Let's go,” She responded. I placed a glow stick at the entrance and began the move forward. After only a few minutes of walking one of those creatures rounded a corner. As it did, it let out one of those ear piercing screams. But, fortunately for us, those headphones worked very well at canceling out the effect that it had. I grinned and promptly put two rounds between its eyes. After stepping over the body and rounded the corner, there were two more. “Shit,” I thought. “More of those pods must have opened.” Despite this revelation, we continued. Killing every creature along the way. Stacy did surprise me though. All of her moves were smooth and calculated. She clearly had more training than what the security company provided. Maybe I should ask her about it when we get out of here. She might make a good range buddy. It took twice as long to get to the cavern the second time. A couple of those creatures almost got the jump on us. They would wait around corners or try to attack from behind. I did get hit, but somehow it only damaged the armor plate. I did note that it went through the plate like butter. Definitely didn't want to get directly hit by that. Once we finally arrived at the cavern, there were more empty pods. And even more were starting to move. I dropped the duffel bag and gave Stacy some of the bricks and detonators. “You take that side and I'll take this one,” I told her. “Got it,” she said. I quickly showed her how to arm the device and we began planting. I put some of them in the empty food pods as well as sticking them to the wall. A couple of the pods burst open. I was quickly able to dispatch them. Once we finally finished planting the C4, we met back at the entrance of the cavern. I took out a timer and attached it to the wall. “We are going to have to run,” I said, punching in fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath and nodded. I nodded back and hit start. We bolted down the tunnels. The bodies of the creatures we killed on the way in, did slow us down. But I calculated that. A couple of them did try to ambush us, but we quickly put them down. Throughout this run, I was able to place a couple of the remaining C4 at key intersections in order to collapse the tunnels. We finally reached the last turn and saw the first glow stick up ahead. I glanced down at the timer on my watch. 5 minutes. “Perfect,” I thought, grinning to myself. I helped Stacy up the tunnel. “Keep going. I'll be right up.” I said. I knelt down and planted the last C4 charge at the base of the exit. I then began crawling up the tunnel. But just before my legs entered the hole, something grabbed my right foot and yanked me back down. It held me upside down and I was able to get a good look at my assailant. It was one of those creatures, but this one seemed bigger. There were scars all over its face and torso. “And you must be the leader,” I said. It snarled. My rifle was on my back so I couldn't grab it. It reared its other arm back and readied a slash. “I don't think so,” I said, drawing my pistol and dumping half the mag into its body. It let out one last scream dropping me and falling dead. I looked at my timer. 2 minutes. Shit. I dove into the tunnel and crawled up as fast as I could. When my head popped out, Stacy was there and she helped pull me out. I looked at her and quickly motioned to the door. “We need to haul ass!” I yelled. Without hesitation, she sprinted with me to the door. She passed me and slammed into the door opening it. I guess I'll need to work on my run time. As soon as I passed the threshold, I heard the beeping of my watch indicating the 5 second mark. We bolted toward the gate. Once we got there, the timer went off. There was a rumble underground as I knew the C4 had detonated. It was a moment later that the backside of the warehouse exploded, as the rest of it caved in. I noticed that a section of the desert seemed to sink slightly. That area was where the researchers seemed to spend the most time. I knew they were hiding something. I shook my head and looked back at our vehicles. Somehow, by some miracle, no debris had hit them. We glanced at each other and both let out a big sigh of relief. We began walking back to my SUV. “So,” I said. “What’s playing in the theater?” Stacy looked up at me, smiled and began laughing. I laughed too as she leaned on my shoulder. “Don't know. As long as it's not horror.” I put my arm around her shoulders. “I agree.”

Apologies for the delay, as promised, continuing with the story! Link to previous act: VII

The night wore on. The people in the street thinned, then vanished.
The last Samurai left the geisha house, weaving drunkenly.
And then, two shadowy figures emerged from a side door in the geisha house and headed away.
I followed.
I caught a whiff of opium, so I was able to keep after them without exposing myself much.
They stopped in a deserted alleyway.
The coal from a pipe lit up one of the figures faces.
Tatsuki.
What did you want, anyway?
Tatsuki san, you were so cruel to Satsume today.
So? Samurai are nothing but trouble! Get em drunk, do a dance, take their money, that's it.
Anyone hoping some rich pretty boy will buy their contract is a fool, and anyone who goes out of their way to get their attention even more so.
They'll kill you for looking at them sideways!
I can't say you're wrong, Tatsuki. But, you shouldn't have spoken up when you did.
Those jade magistrates might just wonder if you had some connection to the murders.
What d'ya mean, murders? They just went missing, it's not like we know they're dead or anything.
I was already moving at that point.
Oh but I do know.
I got between the two just as the knife flashed.
It scraped me, and I returned the favor with my tetsubo.
Catching the Geisha in the side, I pulled my blow so I wouldn't kill her. I just wanted to take her off her feet. I had questions.
To my surprise, she not only seemed untroubled by my attack, she kept her feet.
Okay, that's just not right.
Tatsuki. Run to the inn. Get my companions and bring them here.
Tatsuki just stared, slack jawed. Her pipe fallen to ground.
MOVE PEASANT!
She ran.
The not really a geisha moved to give chase, but I blocked her path.
Your fight is with me.
In the dim light of the red paper lanterns, I could just make out the dark stain spreading across her side.
So I did hurt her.
As I advanced, preparing to strike again, she swung her knife. Not at me, but at the string of lanterns.

Most fell harmlessly into the road, but enough did drift into the outer walls of the nearby buildings that I had to rush over and put them out, lest they start a fire.
She used those precious few seconds to break from me and run.
I finished stomping out the lanterns and stood there cursing until Tatsuki came back with my friends. Mantis and Monkey weren't with them of course, still investigating.
Damn bitch is tough. More than simple geisha!
I wounded her though, think you can follow a blood trail this late at night, Kitsuki-san?
Ishigaki.
Toshiro had knelt to examine the blood.
This blood, it's far too dark.
Kitsuki-san leaned in, brought his lantern in closer.
You're right.
Humans breathe in Air, it mixes with our Water, making our blood bright red. As our water passes its strength on to our Earth, our bodies, it becomes darker.
This blood is black.
Toshiro looked up at me.
Just like a corpse that has not taken in any Air for a long time.
Bog Hag?!
I think so, yes.
Kitsuki-san blinked.
I thought you said your technique disrupted the taint of your enemies?
It does, but it's a reflex. I use it when I am struck; it's not as if I would know it's working. Only my opponent would know... ah.
No wonder it was not eager to fight you.
Toshiro and I locked eyes, the same thought running through our heads.
You three go find the Mantis! I'll get the Monkey!
Protocol!
I'll be fine, Toshiro! You're slow, Naomi is sick, and Kitsuki-san isn't much of a Yojimbo!
You three NEED to stay in a larger group!
I was already running, before any more protests could come up.
As I neared the docks I heard the sound of retching. Turning towards it, I found the Monkey.
He was leaning against a building, clutching the side of his neck. I could see him panting. As I came closer he leaned over and puked.
He saw me.
Ishigaki-san? I... I don't feel so good.
I picked him up. His skin was on fire with fever.

Some crazy bitch... She was clutching her side, I asked her what was wrong and as I got close she clawed the shit out of my neck!
Bog Hag talons carried disease in them. She had used the tanto on me because she did not wish to extend her claws through her fake skin.
I had no idea how severe the disease was, or how long it normally took to work, but obviously THIS one was working very, very fast.
I slung the Monkey over my shoulders and ran.
He didn't complain.
I got back to the Inn and stomped heavily as I ran up to our room,
I threw open the door.
Toshiro said hello by blasting both myself and the Monkey with a Jade Strike.
As the energy washed harmlessly over the two of us I set down the Monkey.
Hag got him. With her claws.
Shit.
Toshiro fished out a prayer to Jurojin. As I explained what that meant to the others.
Naomi added her own magic, and between the two the Monkey was saved.
Everyone was quickly brought up to speed.
The Mantis confirmed for us that the Yoriki I had encountered early that day was also the Bog Hag, as his failure to report in had caused a bit of shouting at the magistrate's.
Okay, now that we know what we're looking for, we only need to find one creature in a city of thousands that could change its appearance almost at will.
There was a reason Bog Hags were able to live in Rokugan for a long time should they just make it past the wall.

Hey, uh Toshiro-san?
I'm grateful and all for the magic healing... but why did you blast us both?
Won't hurt you if you aren't tainted. If it did hurt you I'd have blasted you again till you stopped twitching.
Oh.
I chuckled. Hitting one another in the face with that spell is a perfectly fine way to say hello among the Kuni. It has advantages, since a normal Jade test requires you to get close enough to poke someone first.
Couldn't you just hold up your own Jade?
Toshiro took that one.
Greenstone.
There's a mineral that is similar in appearance to Jade, but it's not. Hard to tell the difference at a distance.
Some fools have, from time to time, tried to pass it off as Jade to our Clan when our own stores were low.
Okay.
Now, how do we go about finding this monster?
Check the geisha. The madame, in particular.
It was the Mantis.
That Yoriki not reporting in for duty was a big deal. If the Hag was stepping into their daily lives, then there's an issue.
Geisha live in their house. They really aren't supposed to leave unless called out by a client, or to run errands.
Keeping up a double life like that would be hard.
What? don't judge me! You're the weird ones, being all lovey dovey.
Before we left we ground up jade and prepared powder. Bog hags were invulnerable. The blood was not the hag's, but from the skin she had been wearing.
It was unusual, but not unheard of for older, stronger and more cunning hags to be able to take more than just the surface skin.
This made the disguise even MORE difficult to spot.
Some even learned maho spells to preserve their skins.
We returned to the geisha house as dawn was nearing.
Toshiro placed a ward of flame upon the frame of the door.
We entered.
Tatsuki greeted us.
Oka-san is resting right now, should I go get her?
Please.
As the madame shuffled out, she greeted us warmly.
Hello great Samurai! I cannot thank you enough for what you did for our Tatsuki last night!
How may I help you?

I walked up to her, and held out the finger of Jade I wore.
Hold this a moment.
Oh great Samurai, this one is unworthy of such of a gift.
She was misunderstanding, going through the three refusals.
I heard the Monkey snicker.
No, I'm not giving this to you, I just want you to touch it.
Whatever for great samurai?
Some of the other girls had come out of their rooms to see us.
We just want to be sure.
The door to the front slid open.
Oka-san, I'm home! I have the-
As soon as the Geisha stepped across the threshold, she burst into flames.
Oh shit, which one was that?
Dammit, THEY KNOW!
Uh...
Oh dear, this is going to cause quite the ruckus.
We will have to leave this city now, no matter what happens.
Girls, listen up. The one who kills the big one gets the little girl's pretty skin.
All around us, geisha ripped their flesh off and revealed themselves to be Bog Hags.
Tatsuki fell to her knees, unable to comprehend her entire world shattering in an instant.
Including the madame, and the burned one, I counted six.
I once mentioned we Crabs had a code word for when the teahouse we're in is staffed by demons in disguise, they didn't know they'd been found out, and everyone should grab their weapons and meet out front.
We also had one that meant the same thing, expect that the demons know they've been found out, and you should fight way out.
Yasha.

Toshiro threw Jade fire as we powdered our weapons.
Energy rushed through my limbs as Naomi blessed me.
I was worried, there were a lot of Hags here, Toshiro and Naomi had both used magic earlier, and we were relying primarily on powder to injure them.
The burned one leapt onto Toshiro's back, clawing him
One went for the Mantis, one the Monkey. Two came at me.
The Mantis and Monkey both defended themselves, and I knocked aside the first to reach me, the second one got a claw in under my arm as I raised by tetsubo to block.
She cried out as she struck me, confused.
WHAT WAS THAT HUMAN WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME.
Calm down, that's why I told you to work together on him.
I know what he is doing; it won't harm you.
As the Geishags eyed me hatefully, Troka-san reached inside her kimono, and pulled out a scroll.
Oh shit.
She then clawed herself, quite deeply.
Oh that's a lot of blood...
And my chest burned. I fell to my knees hacking and coughing. Blood poured up from nose and mouth. My lungs ached.
So this is what it's like, to be Naomi...
I had to end that bitch, and I had to do it, now. Before she cast that spell again.
With the strength Naomi gave me, I slammed the haft of my tetsubo into the geishag that had clawed into me, knocking it down, while preserving my powder.
Then I rushed over it and attacked the head of this hag coven.
I saw surprise and fear in the creature’s eyes, it had hoped that spell would slow me down much more than it had.
I spun my tetsubo, two overhead strikes, sliding my hand down the haft to let the full momentum strike her.
She was still standing, but swaying about drunkenly.
I suspected she had overtaxed herself with that maho.
Behind me the Mantis, Monkey and Kitsuki all worked together. As the Kitsuki shoved his blade into one's stomach, the Monkey struck at the back of her neck.
Then the Mantis buried his kama into the top of her head.
The hag made an almost comical gurgle as it fell over, dead.

Toshiro was praying, hard. Another big one. then.
Naomi whispered another prayer and touched the Mantis.
Who then spun and struck the burning hag.
The other hags howled in fury and lunged at the Mantis, taken by surprise at the three on one, he went down under their claws.
Kitsuki-san grabbed the Mantis and dragged him back to Naomi.
She didn't waste any time, not even bothering with a scroll.
As the Mantis groggily got to his feet, Naomi teetered, sweating and panting hard.
For that matter, so was I.
I was still sucking in Air, a terrible panic rising in me at the feeling of not being able to breathe.
I crushed it ruthlessly. I knew I COULD breathe, even though my body was screaming I needed more.
Still, my vision was going dark at the edges.
What the hell did that monster do to me?
It lashed out with a claw, unable or unwilling to spill more of its own blood to work any more magic.
It's talons punched through my chest piece but only the very tips found my flesh.
And before she could draw back, I brought my tetsubo down on her head for a third time.
This time the thing's skull cracked open. Brains and fluid spattered to the floor. It stood there, head still bent from the impact of my strike, almost as if it was bowing before me.
Then it crumpled.

I turned. I needed to repowder my weapon.
Naomi was spent, or close to it.
Toshiro was praying, scroll in one hand, with his tetsubo held out in a warding stance. With that one hand grip he could not defend himself well.
Mantis was badly hurt, near death. Not even Naomi could heal someone so wounded that quickly.
And there were still four of the damn things standing. One hadn't even been hurt yet.
Well let's fix that.
Panting like a horse in heat (even killing the fucking thing hadn't fixed my lungs... was I going to be like this forever?) I charged at the unwounded Hag.
And into her.
She bit at my helmet and clawed at my back as I continued to run, taking her with me
And out the front door.
Through the ward.
When a bleeding Crab in full armor comes crashing through the door of a Geisha house, bearing with him a Bog Hag that is also on fire, people have a tendency to take notice.
One may then assume that, once their brains can fully register what their eyes have told them, they will scream and run about like chickens with their heads cut off.
The people in the streets lived up to my expectations. Spectacularly.
Good, that should bring some more bodies. If we have to we'll just pin them down with sheer numbers until we can bring up enough powder to bring them all down.
The Monkey lashed out at one of the hags, keeping the thing from attacking the Mantis.
The Kitsuki took a stance from the Dojo. I had seen the Shiba do that once, long ago.
The Mantis spun around slipping to one knee he scythed his blades through the legs of two of the hags, causing them both to fall.
Naomi drew another scroll from her satchel
And then Toshiro finished his spell.
The spell was an old one, in use for centuries.
It turned wrathful Earth Kami upon those it targeted, disrupting their own earth, weakening them considerably.
The Earth Kami were particularly incensed should they detect the presence of taint.

The spell had been made famous by one of the sons of the Emperor Toturi the First.
It was, in these days, known as the Wolf's Mercy.
Toshiro managed to get all four of the hags.
The wounded three died on the spot, their weakened bodies succumbing to the severe wounds they already bore.
Only the burning one was still alive.
Kitsuki-san struck it hard.
It trashed in my grip, but I managed to hold on, barely. The Mantis and then the Monkey were finally able to still the beast.
I felt life rush into me, and the pain in my chest eased up at last.
Just as Naomi began to cough once more. I caught her before she fell, and set her down gently.
Tatsuki. TATSUKI! My wife needs her medicine, we need a teapot, water, and a fire. QUICKLY!
My shouts galvanized her, and Tatsuki moved to comply.
Kitsuki-san saw to preparing her medicine.
Toshiro, panting hard looked at me and the Mantis.
Neither of you better get sick from those wounds. I've got nothing left.
And, far too late to be useful, the Crane showed up, Yoriki in tow.

Doji Goemon looked about with disgust, and more than a little fear.
What has happened here?
Naomi was panting hard, still giving little coughs.
She looked at me. Though her eyes were tight with pain, she gave me a nod to reassure me she would be alright soon enough.
So Toshiro, as the only other full-fledged Jade Magistrate in our group, had to explain the scene to the Magistrate's satisfaction.
You had a Bog Hag problem.
We took care of it for you.
You're welcome.
Bye.
Atta boy, Toshiro.
That won't cause any problems, I'm sure.
He then turned and began throwing salt all over.
Wait, just a minute!
No.
WHAT?
Toshiro spun and glared at the Doji.
I had watched Toshiro apply his face paint several times. He started out pure white. Black, all around his eyes, making them tiny pools of light in deep sea. Then, almost haphazardly dipped his four fingers into red, and pulled them across his face.
The visage he created looked like a man with deep black eyes that were far too large, and had been clawed from temple to chin by some great beast.
In other words, pretty damn scary.
And he used it to full effect as he glared at the Doji.
Bog Hags are tainted. They've been hiding in this geisha house for months. People have probably already been tainted. There might be infections even now.
And I HAVE to deal with that.
It's what Jade Magistrates do.
The first step is to Purify this place.
So shut up and let me do my job!
Or do you want to explain to your lord why half this city had to be burned down when the taint gets too deep?
He was bluffing. It was true there were probably people with the taint unknowingly spreading it around, but one geisha house? No way had it become such a crisis.
Toshiro just didn't want to deal with the Crane, and was using the fact that such knowledge was considered shameful in the rest of Rokugan to deceive him.
It worked.

The Doji salvaged his wounded pride by berating his Yoriki.
Don't just stand there! Get some monks, shugenja! And ETA!
The Mantis, meanwhile, discreetly moved Tatsuki out the back, we all knew from the attempt on her life she was innocent of any wrongdoing.
But we doubted Goemon would see it that way.
Several Monks, a small swarm of Eta, and even an Asahina showed up to help with the cleansing.
And all protests from Goemon stopped as the Eta began to bring up human skins from a secret basement Kitsuki-san found.
There were thirty two.
As well as a very large pile of bones. There was no telling how many people were there. There were only three skulls. Not nearly enough for all the bones.
I explained to Goemon.
Bog Hags don't kill just for skins.
They eat people.
Especially pretty women and children.
He excused himself, and hurried off.
I could hear him vomit.
I doubted it was compassion for the victims. Rather I suspected it was fear that such a thing had gone on for so long right under his nose.
I had no doubt he would have much explaining to do when his lord heard of this incident.
I didn't embarrass him further by looking.
Hey, Naomi?
Ha...hai Ishigaki-san?
Still a little sore.
Is he doing that right?
I jerked my head to Toshiro. He had just thrown a second handful of salt at a wall that particularly offended him.
It always seemed... messy to me, when Toshiro purified things.
Naomi nodded. sipped some water.
He lacks grace, I admit but it is fine the way he does it.
Huh.
Naomi advised Goemon on the Jade test, and the Monk in charge of the local Shrine assured us that, should anyone be found with the taint, he could guide them to a temple that specialized in treating those so afflicted.
Toshiro pressed him on the details, but was satisfied the temple in question wasn't one that took mercy too far.
We left, to chase after possible clients with the taint.

We were joined, of all people, by Tatsuki.
"What the fuck is this?" I asked to no one in particular, pointing at her.
Mine. Hands off.
I stared at the Mantis.
He pulled his clothes and produced a piece of paper.
I bought her contract.
From a dead bog hag?!
Yeah. Got a great price.
You just took that!
Look, I know you don't know shit about Geisha, loving your wife as much as you do (Naomi blushed), but the contract is the only thing separating a Geisha from a whore.
I had no idea if that was true or not.
Naomi, of course, wanted to know what the half-person thought of all this.
Naomi's Compassion could really get in the way of her sense of propriety at times.
I don't have any traveling papers, I can't stay there and I sure as hell didn't want to show my face to the magistrate to try and get some papers....
So this works. I mean, I could be a lot worse off right now, and you did save my life...several times over in fact.
Huh. That's very upfront. I wondered what is was that she sensed in us to put her so at ease.
And that's how the Mantis got a Geisha.
So, you gonna marry her?
Monkey, of course.
Naomi hid her smile behind her sleve and tittered.
The Mantis just glowered at the Monkey, but Tatsuki actually fidgeted a bit.
I shared a glance with Kitsuki-san and Naomi as we noted that.
And we headed out for the nearest town.
For a few weeks we spread word of a possible taint outbreak. Discreetly, to local lords. We told them how to check, got them in touch with temples to handle anyone found with the taint.
Naomi went through paper and ink quite quickly, writing letters back home.
I don't think either of them can read yet, Naomi.
The nanny will read the letters TO them Ishigaki-kun. Until we got home to see them again.
I understood. Not a day passed while I was standing on my post on the Wall that I didn't think of home.
When we arrived at the third city, the guard who checked our papers became very excited.

I have an announcement about the future of this series. Some IRL stuff is taking up a lot of my time. It's nothing serious, so don't worry. As it stands, I simply don't have the time to write as much as I was before. This does not mean that I'm putting NiTH on hiatus. The series will continue. But, and there is a but. Since I don't have as much time to put into writing it, updates will likely be slower. As such, I won't be able to promise a consistent schedule. Or even a schedule at all.
I'll still try to keep it somewhat consistent. I just don't want people to freak out if there's a week with no update.
Many thanks to u/SpacePaladin15 for this universe.
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Chapter 16:
- Memory Transcription Subject: Meba, Venlil Computer Scientist
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 20th, 2136
The boot was cool against my back. So was the rain, which was beating down again. Mud caked on my fur like resin, and the taste of dirt wouldn’t leave my mouth. The sound of wind beat on my eardrums like sticks on a drum. Gusts came in waves, bringing sheets of water careening through the air at an almost horizontal angle. I couldn’t see above the hips of our attackers with my head pressed to the ground. There was another sense that only Arlene was privy to, but that didn’t stop the experience from being thoroughly miserable.
I spit some of the grit out of my mouth. The only thing I could think of was how cold it was.
They must be warm, in their insulated suits.
“Why are you doing this?” I wanted to ask, though I didn’t.
Arlene was to my right, shivering. She would get hypothermia if she didn’t get out of the rain soon.
I was heaved to my feet, with a throbbing head, and shaky legs. I struggled in their grip, but that only netted me another blow to the face. My feet played hot potato with the ground, as it swayed out from under me, around, and back again. I almost wished it would open up and swallow me, swallow us all, just to be done with it.
One of the three brandished a baton, the others held Arlene and I. Were they the group from before? I couldn’t tell beneath the suits. My stomach exploded with pain, and I lost the fancy bunt leaf salad that Gram bought me.
The moment stretched on to infinity. My muscles clenching, my teeth chattering, and a bit of my drool getting to know the puddle on the ground. My wool helped a bit. Arlene didn’t have the luxury of padding.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.
I looked.
Her usually white teeth were stained pink. The mask was lying in the mud, completely covered in it.
I looked away before I could glean anything else.
“Hey, buddy, you still with me?” Said the leader. Or, something along those lines; I couldn’t really hear him. He placed the baton under my snout and raised my head. Soon, he removed the baton and said something to his lackeys.
The ground started moving. No, I started moving. I was being dragged towards a tree, by my scruff. Arlene too. They pressed me up against the trunk; the wind was a little quieter under the canopy.
“There we go.” Said the leader. His voice sounded familiar. “Think you’re a tough guy, huh? Friends in high places? You gave us some real trouble, didn’t you!”
“Stop!” Arlene screamed.
Pain. Another blow. To my head. My vision blurred. I tried to stand. I couldn’t. Arlene. Was she okay? I couldn’t see. My chest lurched forward. Coughing. My coughing. I gasped for air. I tried to speak. I failed. He went for a kick. I was only partially able to block with my arms.
I fell to my side, gathering even more mud in my coat. I summoned every ounce of strength in my body, and raised my head. Arlene was there, struggling in their grasp. I don’t know how she could function through the pain.
She grabbed the exterminator behind her, and threw him over her shoulder, then slipped in the mud, and fell down… right on top of the him. He yelped in pain. The one with the baton turned their back to me. I groped around in the dark for something, anything. I found a rock.
“Freeze!” The exterminator yelled, barely audible over the storm.
NO!
I slammed the rock into the only vulnerable area I could reach: the groin. The suit had padding, but it wasn’t enough. He instantly dropped his sidearm, or rather, his sidearm dropped him, because he hit the ground first. I might have felt bad, if not—no, no I wouldn’t have.
Arlene struggled to her feet, blood still burning with alcohol. She stumbled towards us, hopped into the air, bringing one leg back behind her, and the other into the ground with all her weight. In an instant, her elevated leg swung forth with terrifying speed, boot blurring in the rain, mud flying off in an arc. I was lucky I wasn’t in the splash zone, because some would have gone into my mouth, which was hanging open like a faulty airlock.
It connected.
His head jerked backwards at an ugly angle, with such force that it might have snapped his neck, if he didn’t have the strong neck of a venlil. He fell over backwards, though so did Arlene, as inertia carried her leg higher and higher, until it was above her head, which soon found its place in the mud.
“Arlene!”
There was still one more exterminator. Arlene was down, and I was too far away. If the last one decided to pull his gun, one of us was going to die. I tried. I tried so hard to stand… but I couldn’t.
No sound pierced the rain.
I looked to the third, who was quite literally shaking in his boots. He didn’t pull any weapons, though he was cursing vehemently under his breath. He took a step towards Arlene.
“Don’t touch her!” I screamed, though he only froze for a moment before continuing.
He passed Arlene, and bent down by the leader. Both of the officers Arlene attacked were writhing in pain on the ground. The third looked to me, then to Arlene, and back to his squad. “Oh stars…” He heaved his boss up around his shoulders, and helped him limp away out of the yard.
“Dammit Lanek! Don’t leave me!” Said the one Arlene fell on, struggling to rise.
“I’ll be back!” Lanek replied.
While they were occupied, I crawled over to Arlene, clutching my stomach. “Arlene? Arlene, are you okay?”
She was pulling herself out of the mud. “Never better…” She growled. Arlene gave me a thumbs up; her face was discolored.
The second officer starting limping away, while Lanek returned to help him. Lanek offered his squad mate a shoulder, but he declined, only shuffling away faster. “Go brahk yourself!” He said, and Lanek was left standing near the gate.
He looked like a lost kid, glancing around the yard all worried. He locked eyes with me. I couldn’t think of anything snarky, or intimidating to say, so I just sighed.
Lanek bowed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He said, voice cracking. He scurried away, but I could only relax once the sound of the squad car’s engine was drowned out by the rain.
Arlene stood up, dragging me along with her. “Fuck, I’m too drunk for this.” She slurred.
Getting inside in the rain was a group effort. The wind pushed us to and fro, and out combined strength barely kept us upright. I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase, gasping and shaking. She pulled me up by my scruff, causing a considerable amount of pain. I would have complained, if there was another way I was getting up those stairs.
“Sweet baby jesus, please tell me you have your key.” She panted.
I was too focused on digging through my belongings to ask about the nickname, adhering even more mud to my already mud-covered bag. At least I didn’t have to worry about ruining my datapad, since it was already dead.
“Found it.” I shoved the key into the door, and ripped it open with all of my might.
Arlene dragged me the rest of the way in, slammed the door, and collapsed on my couch. I was left to close the locks. As I did so, I found my door looking a little sparse.
A few more locks wouldn’t hurt.
I chewed on my thoughts for a while. Yes, more locks sounded good. Very good. The more exotic the better. A bio-metric scanner was a must. Hell, why don’t we throw in a vault door while we’re at it? Locks don’t do anything unless the door is impenetrable. An auto-turret would go nicely with my new vault. I had to discourage intruders somehow. Scratch that, fifty would be better. I needed an air filtration system as well, so people couldn’t smoke me out. The walls would also need to be reinforced. No, moving inside a mountain would be better. I wasn’t made of money after all, and stone is just as good as steel if you have enough of it. I could have a hydroponics area, and a water recycling plant, so I wouldn’t have to go out to buy food. The only problem was power. Brahk it, I could just sap some illegally. No one would notice, right? Who was I kidding? Everyone would notice.
I laughed.
A fusion plant would be required as well then. It couldn’t be that hard. I could just have robots manage it. Real people would be cheaper, but that would defeat the purpose. Maybe I could make fake people too? Make an artificial town? That would be great! Everything would be perfect. I could make everything stable and safe. No one would mess it up. Not even Uanta. And I wouldn’t even need to worry about raids because it would be hidden inside a mountain.
It was time to stop messing around. I needed to clean myself. I needed to get a blanket for Arlene. And, I needed to check both our injuries.
The blanket was the easiest, and was done in no time at all. Cleaning myself was a little more time consuming. Besides my everything hurting, I was falling asleep, and my bathtub was being difficult. After an inordinate amount of messing with it, I concluded the boiler had broken… again.
Lovely place I’ve got here. Cold water it is!
I lowered myself into the glacial depths, cursing everything I could think of to curse. I ended up scrubbing the mud out of my coat while standing, almost falling over more than once. After I was clean, I inspected my body. I was pretty sure nothing was broken, but lots of things hurt. My head especially.
Trudging into the living room, I found Arlene laying on the couch. She had removed her coat and boots, leaving them by the front door. She had also turned the blanket the other way around so the side without the mud was on her. Everything would need to be cleaned next paw. Everything. Now she was well and truly sleeping, so I didn’t wake her. I did take a closer look at her face, which was bruised with blotches of yellow and purple not unlike the human protecting his friend at the riot. At least her nose stopped bleeding.
My heart finally stopped racing, and I yearned for sleep. But I couldn’t rest yet.
I went to my computer, and booted it up. The scarcely opened desktop messaging app would finally get some use. One to Uanta, and one to Gram.
“Do you know anyone called Lanek?”
“I’ll do it.”
- Memory Transcription Subject: Meba, Venlil Computer Scientist
Date [Standardized Human Time]: October 21st, 2136
I awoke to the sound of running water, and to sore muscles. Peeling myself out of my chair, I found my living room devoid of humans. That explained the noise coming from the bathroom. Taking a look around, I noticed that the mud she tracked in was gone, and my couch was in a somewhat better condition. There was a note written on a paper towel laying on one of the cushions. I think she forgot I couldn’t read human script.
Well, I would just have to ask her about it when she finished in the shower. If I had the time, that is. Looking at the clock, it was already time to leave for work. I didn’t even have the luxury of groaning in annoyance if I wanted to get there on time. So I grabbed my bag, shoved some stuff in the muddy thing, and opened the door.
Sidewalk, station, tube ride, station, and sidewalk passed by in a haze, and I soon found myself standing outside the building. I passed by several coworkers on the way up, all of whom gave me looks on varying levels of ‘Who is this homeless guy and why is he in the building?’. The ones who recognized me asked me what happened, to which my only reply was: “Rain.”
That didn’t explain the bruises, but it didn’t need to. My tone assured them that no matter what they said, their questions wouldn’t be answered. I did not get enough sleep for this. Not that it would have been any better if I did.
At my desk, there was a note taped to my computer. It said something about a party after work, to which everyone in the office was invited. I couldn’t glean anything more before I ripped it off and threw it in the trash. I inspected the rest of the area for other disturbances. No one touches my work space. No one. I spent the next eighth of a claw removing the residue left from the adhesive, wondering how I would install a lock on a doorless cubicle.
Once my desk was restored, I booted up my computer in preparation for work. There was quite a backlog. My paws felt clammy, and so did my brain. I had never been so furious in my entire life. Every time I thought of those bastards, my paws shook, and my ears twitched with anger. I felt so powerless. I had to do something.
But they’re exterminators. What can I do against them?
Crush them.
And how?
There wasn’t time to be daydreaming; I needed to focus. Even if I could get back at them right that second, it wouldn’t matter if I was starving on the streets, so I was resigned to work. I took a deep breath and began, fueled by the promise of a chance to fix my situation. Despite this, I didn’t get through half of it before I was called to the meeting room. I grumbled to myself before stomping out of my cubicle. The denizens of the water cooler watched me as I walked past. It reminded me of the restaurant.
I entered the meeting room, and faced my boss. There was an arrangement of folding tables forming a hollow square, with chairs lining the outer edge. The room was a similar shape to the table, with good lighting and clear air. Almost like a hospital. Behind the spot he was standing, was a whiteboard with various incoherent scribbles that I had no desire, much less hope of deciphering. This particular room functioned as both a meeting room and his office. Even after almost 9 rotations of business, the place still hadn’t lost all of its tech startup quirks. I would have liked to see the way the place was before it became reputable.
“Meba, good. It’s good to see you.” He said. Everything was always ‘good’ with him.
I signed a greeting with my tail.
“Don’t be shy, take a seat.” He motioned to a chair.
Of course he wanted me to take a seat. Presumably while he remained standing, just to show me how below him I was. Well, I had no choice, it would be a faux pas to decline. My standing in the office was already low enough as the resident recluse. I sat down.
He sat down across the table from me and took a deep breath. I hated how calm he was.
“I have some concerns about your work.” ‘Some concerns’. That’s shorthand for ‘I don’t like you’.
My heart rate sped up considerably. “Such as? I’ve always been productive, and I’m never late to work.” I almost hissed, utterly failing to keep my cool.
“Yes, well…” He paused for a second, studying me, as if I was on display in a museum. “You have been having some trouble lately, haven’t you?”
My ears stood straight up. “Just some minor setbacks. It’s nothing.”
“Minor.” He echoed.
“Y-yes.”
“Meba, you’ve delayed five requests.”
“I was just finishing them up as we speak.” I snapped back.
He sighed. “You see, this isn’t helping anything. I’m not trying to attack you.”
I didn’t reply.
“Look, I like you. You’re good at what you do. But, you’ve been slipping lately.”
I gulped, and my ears twitched.
He put his paws together on the table, and leaned over to me. “I think you should take some time off.” He said softly.
What does he think I am, a child?
“Not a chance.” I replied.
“Why not?”
“I’m not going to take time off.”
He sat back in his chair. “You still have all of this rotation’s vacation time. You know it doesn’t stack, right?” I almost couldn’t believe he said that to my face.
“I am well aware of how this company handles vacations.” I growled.
“Then why don’t you take one?” He said, ignoring, or perhaps unaware of my anger. “You haven’t taken a single paw off the entire time you’ve worked here.” He signed false concern.
“There’s no reason to.” I explained.
“If it’s the office you’re worrying about, don’t. It won’t explode just because you take some time for yourself.” He retorted.
‘We don’t need you’, huh?
“I know.”
He ruffled the fur on his head in frustration. “I can’t let you keep working like this. Not in good conscience. Please, just go home for a few paws. Go home and rest up.” He flicked his tail towards the door to send me off.
“I can’t.”
He gawked at me, incredulous. “Why not?”
“I just can’t. I have to work. It’s part of my schedule.” I mumbled.
“Your vacation would be paid.”
“That’s not it!” I snapped, speaking frantically. “That’s not it at all. What will I do instead of working, then? What? There would be no balance. Don’t you get it? Does anybody get it? I need this, or else everything will be messed up.” I gasped after running out of air, placing a paw over my mouth before the regret spilled out.
He stared at me, mouth hanging open, but saying nothing.
I glanced around the room, considering flight, but instead mumbling. “Sorry…”
We sat in awkward silence for a few moments, until he began to speak, solemnly. “Meba. That was extremely unprofessional. However, I’m going to let you off the hook this time. I don’t want to see anything like that again. You may keep working if you wish, but if your poor performance continues, I will be forced to fire you. I highly suggest you take some time off. I’ve seen people, good people, drive themselves into the ground doing this. I don’t want to see it happen again.”
I replied with a meek ear flick.
“You may leave.”
I replied by doing just that, hopefully not to return anytime soon. The march of shame back to my desk was punctuated by more stares. Every eye was burning with curiosity. I tried to ignore them, to varying success. My injuries were becoming quite hard to ignore too, with all the attention brought to them. The pain only made me angrier.
They trespassed. On my time. On my friend. In my own home.
Flopping back down in my chair, I got back to work. I couldn’t make anymore mistakes. No getting manipulated. No getting coerced. No getting ambushed. Certainly no setbacks at work. I wouldn’t make anymore mistakes. After all, I had faced not one, but two humans. I had survived an exterminator attack. As long as I kept my head, I would be in control. I wouldn’t be powerless.
Not anymore.
---
I returned home, satisfied that I had just done at least warded off the deadlines for a while. There was still much to be done, but for now, I could relax. This tranquility lasted for a few minutes, unill it dawned on me that I didn’t do the homework. Yet again, I had completely forgotten.
It’s fine, isn’t it? What are they gonna do, arrest me?
A shiver crawled up my spine and whispered into my ear, that yes, that is exactly what they would do. I would be arrested under suspicion of predator disease, and rot in a cell for the rest of my natural lifespan.
I pushed that thought into the corner of my mind before it could start causing problems. Arlene would protect me if that happened, I reasoned, though that logic was faulty. It didn’t matter. As long as I kept my head on straight, I didn’t care if I was lying to myself.
In my apartment, the TV was playing reruns of some tacky game-show, while Arlene lay passed out on the couch. There was an unfinished bowl of fruit on the table, sitting next to another one of her felting projects. This one wasn’t a venlil. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly. It was quadrupedal, with a pointy snout, and ears that were even more so. There was a little bump that barely passed as a tail on the backside of the thing. The most noticeable aspect though, was the two piercing eyes… which weren’t so piercing because their scale was of cartoon proportion, but I suspect a venlil unaccustomed to front facing eyes might have found it disturbing. Some earth animal, probably.
Now that I was getting a closer look at her, it was pretty bad. Well, the lack of fur might have made it look worse, but I couldn’t tell. There were bumps on her face of varying colors, and her bottom lip had been split open. Around one of her eyes sat a nasty ring of discolored skin, that look particularly painful. I couldn’t get a look at the rest of her, unless I removed the blanket, and probably her clothes too. Like I was going to do that. They were furless, after all. I would do a verbal check up on her after she woke.
After gawking long enough to get tired of standing, I sat my bag down and went to go check my messages. It was annoying to go to the desktop to do so. I would have to get my datapad fixed sooner rather than later.
There were replies from both Uanta and Gram. I decided to check Gram’s first.
“Good to hear! I’ll meet you after work next paw, yeah? I’ll be at the park by the library. We can talk more then.”
“P.S. Be ready to start by the time you get there. Don’t be late.”
I replied. “Got it.” Then, I checked Uanta’s.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Also, you didn’t reply to my last message.”
I should have expected that response. There was no way I could tell her what actually happened, or she would know that I was interacting with a human. That would be a first-class ticket to the facility. So, I would have to lie. And she was amazing at discerning lies.
A cold spot formed in the back of my head. There were so many ways it could go wrong. What would I do if she found out? What would my cover story even be? I clenched my jaw.
Keep cool, this has to be perfect. She’ll catch onto it if I’m sloppy.
“We ran into each other at-
No, that won’t work.
“He was patrolling near my-
Neither will that.
“He-
My drafting was interrupted by a knocking on the door.
Arlene.
“Brahk!” I hissed, shutting off my computer as fast as possible, and rushing to the living room. A second set of knocks signified the intruder’s impatience. Arlene was sitting up, still dazed from sleep. I shook her awake and dragged her towards the closet.
“Who’s there?” She whispered, eyes wide with fear.
“I don’t know. Just hide.” I replied in a similar tone, while opening the door for her.
She scrunched into place, shuffling behind a vacuum cleaner, and cursing. “My mask.” Arlene hissed. It was sitting under the table.
Another set of knocks, these much louder, made it clear that the owner was at no shortage of knocks of all shapes and sizes. “Meba?” Uanta called from the other side.
“Coming!” I lied, yanking the mask off the floor and passing it to Arlene as fast as my limbs permitted. While I was at it, I shoved her coat under the blanket along with her boots. Now that the human presence was sufficiently obscured, I unlocked the door and opened it, panting.
“Oh, did I interrupt something?” Uanta asked. She was wearing her suit, but the helmet was under her arm. “Are you alright?” She continued, when I didn’t respond.
“Fine. I’m fine.” I stammered, heart pounding.
She glanced behind me, towards the TV, which was still blaring the game-show’s theme song, and then back to me, with a look that could only say ‘you look like shit’. “I’m sorry to intrude on your rest claw. I’ve got some down time, so I thought I’d check up on you.”
I flicked an ear, unsure of what to say.
She blinked. “May I come in?”
“O-oh. Yes, of course.” I stepped out of the doorway, and once she entered, closed it behind her. I very deliberately led her to the kitchen counter, rather than the couch, to keep distance between us and Arlene. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Sure.” She swayed her tail happily behind her, placing her helmet on the counter. It looked stuffy. “Nothing alcoholic though. I’ve got to get back on the job in a quarter claw.”
There wasn’t any alcohol to offer anyway. Juice was the only drink I had besides water, so that’s what she got. After pouring us both a cup, I sat down on the stool on the other side of the counter. Anything to put something between us. It made me feel safer, though it didn’t have any such effect.
“How have you been?” She signed concern in tail language.
“Fine.” I sipped on my juice, trying to stay calm.
She scoffed. “You don’t look fine. What the brahk happened to you?”
Speh. Speh, speh, speh. I am so brahked.
“I…” I tapped on the side of my cup. I had never noticed its texture before. They were from a garage sale, on the other side of town; some old lady had them, but she was… expiring, mentally; didn’t need them anymore. Since- no, I couldn’t think of this right now. What do old people do? “I fell down the stairs.”
She gave me a disappointed look. “Stars, Meba. You have to be more careful.”
I shrugged, though the inside of my head was a dance floor.
She bought it? She bought it! I did it, I did it, I did it!
Uanta glanced off to the side, staring at the couch for a second, then locking eyes with me. “You haven’t been replying to my messages. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
At least I had an excuse for this. “S-sorry, my datapad broke. I um, got caught in the rain, and it got wet.” I gestured to my muddy bag.
“You still have your home computer, don’t you? You messaged me last paw.” Uanta tilted her head to the side, ever so slightly. She was talking to me like she did to her exterminator colleagues. It scared me.
“W-well, I’m not home most of the time.”
Uanta took a sip of juice, and rolled her eyes. “Speaking of which. What business do you have with Lanek?”
My mind went blank. I didn’t have a cover story yet. I gulped down the rest of my juice, resisting the urge to say any form of ‘um’. “Um,” Obviously, I failed. “h-how do I put this?” I let out a stupid chuckle. “I met him a-after dinner last paw. He helped me up after I fell down the stairs. I wanted to thank him.”
“That’s it? I’ll pass on the message.” She sipped her juice.
“I-I was actually hoping to tell him myself.”
“I’m sorry. Exterminators are very busy. He’s relatively new, so he’ll be busy with training for a while. It’ll be easier if I tell him for you.”
I couldn’t let this lead slip through my claws. “B-but, I thought it would be good to… t-talk to more people.”
She gave me a reassuring tail sign. “Okay. I’ll see if I can get his info for you. Providing he’s okay with it.” She paused, taking my paws in her own. “I’m really happy you’re reaching out.” This was the first time since she enlisted that I heard her so giddy. It made me feel homesick, but there was no home to be sick for. Not anymore. I’d have to settle for phantom pains, I guess.
“Thank you.” I refilled both our cups.
She was easier to deceive than I thought. She always seemed so perceptive, but maybe I had been blowing it out of proportion.
“What’s that thing on your table?” She inquired.
“What thing?” I snapped back, worried.
“That little figurine.” She pointed to the felted creature with her tail.
My whole body froze, and any confidence I had vanished in an instant.
“Meba?”
“I-I… made it.”
“Oh? I thought you weren’t interested in the arts.” Disregarding the irony of her calling a human made object art, this was bad. Very bad. “What is it?” She stared at me.
“A wool doll.” I stated reflexively.
She chuckled. “That doesn’t really explain much.”
“It’s a doll made out of wool…”
Uanta rolled her eyes. “No, you’re pulling my tail. It couldn’t possibly be that.”
“I don’t know how else to explain it!” I grumbled.
“What’s it supposed to be?”
This, I did not know. What did it look like? “It’s a… a shadestalker.”
“What are you making that sort of thing for?” She asked gravely.
I coughed. “I uh… I thought I could use it as a distraction if a human approached me.”
That was perhaps the dumbest thing you could have said.
Uanta clicked her tongue in a similar way to Arlene. It was uncanny. “I told you to stop with those stupid defense tactics. You’re gonna get yourself killed!” She jabbed a claw at my chest, and I flinched. “Stars… I’m sorry, Meba. It’s just, you worry me to death. I don’t know what I would do if you got hurt.”
“Y-yeah.” I put my paws on my thighs.
“I’m so tired. Of all this predator shit.” She held her head in her paws. “It’s only getting worse. The whole galaxy is going to hell. Just like home. I don’t want that.” She took a shaky breath. “I don’t want to see that again.”
“Me neither.”
Uanta composed herself “I’m sorry. I should get going. There’s work to be done.” She said, gulping down the last of her drink. “I’ll come by next paw. We’ll have more time to talk then.” She turned her gaze to the couch again, lingering there for a moment, then turning back to me. “Goodbye.”
She left, and I locked the door behind her with a sigh of relief.
“She seems nice.” Arlene said, crawling out of the closet.
I rolled my eyes.

Shout out to SpacePaladin15 for the original universe and credit to Soggy_Helicopter8589 for the AU lore, check out his story The New Age of Wolves.
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There might be a hiatus on the horizon for this story. I was hoping my writer's block would have dissipated by now, but it seems it's not going anywhere. Anyway, enough about that, storytime.
Memory Transcription Subject: Woef, Diplomat, Warrior in Training, Project Manager
Date [Post Cataclysm]: March 7, 1291
I bounced my leg in frustration, staring across the table to the newest addition to my list of problems. When I saw that the Arxur had brought back some more Federation species, I was initially delighted. More people like them were just more power under my belt, more people I could influence to think like me. However, once I found out about a certain opinion they held, my dreams had taken a back seat.
During their time in the Viking pens, they were held with the Arxur, not separate like Kort and the rest of the original rescues. This led to a very… peculiar relation between them and their Arxur. They viewed them as protectors, guardians. The Arxur would jump in the way of thrown rocks and accept the most labor-intensive work, letting them handle only the menial work. They weren’t just accustomed to Arxur, they wanted to be around them.
That is where my problems came in. The Zurulian in front of me, as far as I knew the only one on the planet, wanted to treat an Arxur. But that wasn’t enough. This Arxur wasn’t just any old Arxur, it was Salisk. Even if Salisk wasn’t an Arxur, he and I had some negative history with each other. It would be pretty hard to forget when it burst into my room and threatened to kill me. And now I was supposed to let Hulop here waltz up to him and provide aid.
“I’m sorry, but I just can’t let that happen. And not just because you are trying to heal an Arxur. You are the only real medic we have, I can’t just let you go for who knows how long to handle this. You are needed here, you never know when something can go wrong.”
Hulop tried his best to look intimidating, but with how small Zurulians are he didn’t accomplish much. “You know that’s bullshit. This place isn’t going to fall down if a single newcomer leaves for a couple of days.”
“Maybe, but Toji will take notice. He’s the leader, and he’s on edge. I-”
I caught myself. Hulop didn’t need to know that I was in the process of taking over. I was confident that I could swoop in and take power once I had the opportunity, I just needed it. One moment where I could point out his incompetence and prove my capabilities, and it was all over for the old Gojid.
“I can’t let you go on good faith. He might start a figurative hunt for you.”
“Why not? Aren’t you in charge of me, not him?”
“Look, Toji doesn’t like me. He’s looking for any reason to knock me down a peg, if you know what I mean. Even if he doesn’t know where you are going, he would use your disappearance as ample enough ammunition.”
“I don’t care! Your politics don’t mean anything to me. Do you know what we’ve discovered? The Arxur feel emotions beyond hunger. We’ve seen irrefutable proof. All of us. They. Are. Sapient.”
I focused both eyes on him. “No. They. Aren’t. They were simply acting in a way that they thought would give them the best chance of survival.”
“How does taking a beating guarantee survival? Hmm?”
I shook my head and sighed. “I don’t know. I can’t think like an Arxur.”
“We all think like Arxur. They are sapient like us.”
I was getting tired of this. I had better things I could be doing. “List, I’m putting my foot down. You are not leaving this village, end of story. You are lucky you are here already, if Stephanium wasn’t at that meeting, you would be at the fortress. When you were given to me by the Knights, I didn’t know what to do. I had just gotten through dealing with one group, now I have another to handle. Make it easier for everyone, and just stay put. It’s not like you have any equipment anyway. Even if you did somehow convince me, you can’t work without your equipment.”
Hulop leaned back. “I already have a plan for that. There are life pods and crashed ships all over this planet, and I know where some are. Just let me travel with a few of the Arxur, and we can snag more than just some medical equipment.”
I waved a paw. “You and I both know that those have been picked clean. There is no way that they have gone unlooted for this long.”
“No, they haven’t. There is no way that the humans are getting in without knowing how to break the lock. And there is zero chance that they brute-forced their way in, not without a plasma cutter. And I really doubt that these humans have that lying around.”
I flicked my ear and leaned back. “Hmm, interesting. Still, I’m not letting you go. Forgetting the fact that you are still doing this for an Arxur, there is the process of bringing all of that equipment back with you. I know you said to send Arxur, but I still don’t trust them, no matter what you say. And before you say send the Knights, too many are already away with Stephanium taking care of the Viking problem.”
Hulop snarled. “You know what it sounds like? It sounds like you are more of a predator than the Arxur.”
I slammed my paws down and leaned close, causing Hulop to back away. “The fuck did you say to me? I’m more of a predator than the Arxur? Just because I won’t let you heal one?”
Hulop shrunk away. “Y-yeah! That’s what I said.”
I got even closer, almost touching him with my snout. “So, let me get this straight, you think that I am more evil than an Arxur just because I won’t let you wander into a camp full of Arxur who aren’t accustomed to you, one of which is the one you are trying to heal. I’m more evil than the fear-mongering, child-killing, people-eating, planet-destroying predators?”
Hulop couldn’t respond, forced into a corner by my onslaught of words. I shook my head and slumped back into my seat. “Think before you speak.”
“W-what if I don’t care about that?”
I snarled. “What?”
Hulop tried to regain his courage by standing up straight. “What if I know that Salisk did all of that, but I don’t care and want to heal him anyway?”
I tried to hold in my laugh, but couldn’t. I leaned back in my chair and slapped the table as I giggled at the absurdity Hulop had just spewed. “You- You really know how to make me laugh.”
Hulop wasn’t as amused as I was. “I’m serious.”
“And that makes it soohohohooo much funnier. You think you’re some big, bad, brave Zurulian who can just waltz into a town of Arxur like he owns the place, completely disregarding the mountains upon mountains of facts that these creatures are irrefutable cruel, and heal one.”
“They were only cruel because they weren’t given a chance.”
I couldn't stop my tail wagging, but tried to put on a somewhat serious face. “It really doesn’t matter the circumstances. When what you do is that horrible, there is no forgiving it. Context and coercion can only go so far to absolve a sin that bad.”
“That might be so, but we have the opportunity for them to do more than just use context and coercion. They can apologize. They can work with us, go through the same hardships, understand what it’s like to be on our side.”
I tilted my head and tried to keep my amusement contained. “Can they really? Do they have the intelligence to do that? Can they really know what we have gone through? Truly? After just a little stint in a slave cell? That’s equal to what they have done to the Federations for how long now?”
Hulop looked like he wanted to punch me. “We have to at least give them a chance!”
“Like the chance they gave us? Oh, wait, there was no chance. As soon as they got to the stars, they started hunting us down.”
Hulop stared at me, frustration about to boil over into something more physical, when he suddenly calmed. I could see his eyes connect some pieces, forming a plan that most likely wouldn’t work.
“Hulop, whatever you are thinking of, it won't work.”
“Oh, I do. You place me under Toji, give him authority over me, and then I sneak out. I’ll find my way over to the Arxur village and do my work. If I do get mauled, the blame falls on Toji for letting me escape.”
“But what do I get if you succeed?”
“You get a powerful ally. I’ll tell the Arxur that you let me come to their aid and you will get the support of the Arxur. Imagine what you could do with a group of thirty Arxur under your control.”
I was about to rebuff Hulop’s statement, when I caught my own words. I really like the sound of having a group of Arxur fall to my whims. I could forgive a little bad history if it meant more power for me. Either way this turned out, it sounded like I was going to get some power. I do like power.
“You know what? You were right. I do like that plan, but I’m going to make one tiny alteration. I’m coming with you, and I’m bringing some guards. When the Arxur betray you and go for the kill, me and my soldiers are going to swoop in and protect you. We bravely tracked down the lost Zurulian medic and found him in a camp full of Arxur. Stricken with bravery, we charged in and fended off the Arxur, rescuing the medic before the Arxur could kill him. That’s the story I’m going to tell, and you better back it up.”
Hulop relaxed a little. “Fine by me, when do you want to do this?”
I began standing as I spoke. “Tomorrow night, or the next one. First, we have to inform Toji that you are now under his command, then I want to inform some Knights, and a few of my own, about the plan and that might take a bit. You are the only real medic we have, losing you would be a big problem, so I am taking some serious precautions.”
Hulop stood and followed me to the door. “You won’t lose me, I promise.”
“Eh, whatever. We’ll see.”
I stepped outside and sighed amusedly. Once again, I was living a joke. That had become more and more common lately, but I didn’t care. Even if it was a joke sometimes, it was my life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I navigated my way through the village and found Toji at the top of the wall. He only ever looked out of the village, never inside. Yet, he still was beginning to become aware that people were losing faith in him. We had been stagnant for far too long, people were becoming bored beyond measure, and my ideals were beginning to spread to the final few pockets that resisted it.
I wagged my tail as I walked up to him. “Hey Toji, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
He barely glanced away from Cocus to talk to me. “And that is?”
“Hulop. I need you to take him off my paws. He has proven to be too problematic for me to handle along with all the others. If you could just look after him for me, that would be great.”
Toji blinked and turned to face me. “What are you planning? You… What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. Nothing more than what I just told you.”
“Woef, don’t think that just because I’m looking at you I haven’t picked up on the change behind me.”
“Pfft, you think I’m behind that? I don’t care what happens to this village, only the rescues.”
“Is that why you are giving me one?”
“Like I said, just for a little bit. Think of it as babysitting, you can handle that, right?”
Toji sighed. “Sure. Whatever it is you are planning, I have a feeling that I am powerless to stop it anymore.”
I blinked and put on a serious face. Did Toji really know what I was up to and just didn’t care? That makes no sense, he wants to hold power. Everyone wants power.
“Hey Toji, this is a weird question, but why do you want to be a leader?”
“To keep people safe, isn’t it obvious? When we crashed here, I knew that I had to keep everyone under me safe. I used what I was given to the best of my abilities, but sometimes I think it’s never enough. I feel like the Humans are always one step ahead. I hate it.”
I stared for a moment, before looking down to Cocus. He noticed me finally and waved. I returned it and sighed. “You know Toji, I used to hate you. It seems that every interaction we have had is negative. Even when we were in space you thought I had PD. We never got a chance to talk. It’s very difficult to hate someone you know.”
Toji chuffed. “Where did you learn that one? You never struck me as the philosophical type.”
“Believe it or not, the Humans.”
“Ah, I don’t.”
“I don’t get your hate for them. They aren’t the Arxur, they haven’t even made it into space. Yeah, they might eat meat, but they also eat plants. They have clear empathy and emotional drives beyond hunger and cruelty. And it has been far too long for this to be some kind of long con. I mean, I’ve been with them for how long now and I’m still safe?”
“That might be true, and my reason for hating them hasn’t stayed the same. At first, it was just because they were predators. Forward-facing eyes, meat-eating, culture based around war, I thought that was cut and dry. But after discovering that they were… what did they call themselves?”
“Omnivores, I think.”
“Yeah, that’s it. After we found that out, I ended up more confused than anything. I started gaining a little trust, then bam, I found out they were working with the Arxur. Honestly, I tried to understand where they were coming from. They never experienced an Arxur raid, they just saw strong workers. If I didn’t know better, I would agree. But the point that sealed it for me was that Stephanium lied through his teeth the entire time. Maybe it’s just because they are a different species, but someone who can lie that effectively should be feared.”
I sat silently for a moment, finally understanding why Toji hated the Humans so much, when I came to a realization. “Wait, do you care about power?”
“No, only what it can do. It’s just a tool, not a goal. No one in power should have the goal of power, it should be a tool for something else, something good.”
“Huh?”
I paused for a moment, taken aback by what Toji said. This was the fearmongering exterminator who always seemed to be on my tail for any minor infractions, shoving his snout in everyone’s business, and directing everyone with an iron claw. He always had power, there was never a moment where he didn’t have power, and now he is telling me he doesn’t want it.
Oh, wait, it must be a joke. I guess I’ll play into it.
“Would you be willing to give up that power?”
“No. Unless I held absolute certainty that whoever would take it could keep them as safe or safer, I wouldn’t dare release it.”
I shrugged and stepped back. “Ah, just wondering. Well, this was a pleasant surprise. I thought you would have shooed me away by now.”
“I was just about to, Woef.”
I laughed loudly. “Heh, I’ll leave you to your staring contest then. Have a good night, Toji.”
“Yeah.”

Part 1
Part 2
Content Warning: Child Abuse
***
Darkness gave way to dimness as I opened my eyes and saw slivers of gray light printed on the ceiling like lines on the page of a ruled notebook. In the distance, I heard the sound of pans clanking against the kitchen stove, and I became ever-aware of the scent of cinnamon and bacon sneaking in from under my closed bedroom door. For a moment, I was back in sixth grade. My dad was downstairs cooking up his famous from-scratch buttermilk pancakes and cheesy scrambled eggs. It was probably 7:00, maybe 7:05, and I had fifteen minutes to get up, shower, dress, eat, then it was off to Middle School with dad: for me to learn, him to work.
It was the day we were set to be assigned our Ancient Civilizations project. Unless something went terribly wrong, I would be choosing Ancient Rome. I didn't know much about it, other than it was some great empire, but even then I didn't really understand what an empire was. I was just happy that I would get to build something with my dad. I turned on my side and looked at the closed blinds, the source of the gray lines, then the cabinet with all my trophies, and finally the wobbly, firetruck-red chair pushed under my desk. I was home at last. The past fifteen years were nothing but a dream. There was no blinking. No malevolent demon chasing me. No inexplicable chaos…
It was a sweet fantasy. But one that became bitter the longer I tried to chew on it.
I swept my legs out from under the covers and sat, face-down, on the corner of my twin mattress. My feet were adult's feet. My room was my former room. And that was Trent downstairs cooking breakfast. Unless, of course, it was my dad, in which case I'd have bigger problems than merely waking up from a good dream.
After changing into a fresh shirt and pants, I went downstairs and saw that it was, in fact, Trent cooking breakfast. He was wearing a plain t-shirt through which I could see the ripples of his large back muscles as he whisked what I presumed was pancake batter. He must not have heard me, because he didn't turn around when I made it to the end of the hall. I leaned against the wall, arms folded, and watched him for a minute as he finished whisking the batter, then poured it onto a hot griddle (spilling a few dribbles on the counter in the process), watched it bubble, flipped it, then transferred the golden medallion onto a plate stacked five high. Next to the pancakes was a plate filled with bacon, and a small aluminum pan of scrambled eggs.
"Smells good," I said at last. "Find everything okay?"
I thought I might startle him with my abrupt appearance; instead, Trent looked over his shoulder, chewing on a piece of bacon. He swallowed and said, "Oh, it's you. Yeah, I hope you don't mind me using your kitchen. I thought I'd make us some breakfast."
It occurred to me then that Trent likely wasn't a guest in other people's homes very often. Lucky for him, I didn't mind him using a kitchen that hadn't been mine in many years. I was going to tell him as much when I saw an opened box of Bisquick sitting on the counter. I pointed to it and asked, "you found that in the pantry? My dad usually makes his pancakes from scratch."
He turned to look at the box, then back at me. "No, I went out and got that. And the bacon and eggs. I didn't want to dig into your supply without asking, and you were asleep, so..."
I felt my eyebrows furrow as I checked the time on the stove-clock. "It's 8:17 in the morning. Are you telling me you went out to the store, bought all these ingredients, then came back and cooked them? Just how early did you get up?"
"Around five," he answered as casually as if I had asked his dog's name. "I don't usually get much sleep. Around four, five hours is all I need. It's actually unusual for Antennas to need more than that amount. But I suppose you are unusual."
I opened my mouth in disbelief. Not only had he commandeered my kitchen, he was calling me unusual? At 8-fricken-17 in the morning?
"Sorry," Trent said, reading my expression, "I'm… well, let's just say I've not had many personal relationships. I'm used to being blunt. It's just easier that way." He took out a plate and transferred two pancakes, some eggs, and a few slices of bacon onto it. Then he held it up to me as a peace offering.
I sighed. "This better be good," I said with a wry smile and took the plate.
"Trent-certified, but no guarantees. Refunds not allowed." He replied, which made me giggle.
We sat across from one another at the dining room table. The meal was pretty good, but it was no dad's special: the pancakes were clearly box pancakes, the scrambled eggs lacked cheese and had a little too much pepper, and the bacon was… well it was bacon, no complaints there. Still, it was nice to settle down and have a somewhat normal morning.
After we ate, Trent unfurled the long arc of his life, which began as the second youngest brother of eight siblings in rural Oklahoma. Trent's 'pops' was in the logging business, first as a lumberjack, then as an owner of his own logging company. His dad acquired the business while Trent was still young, so school was never a high priority for him—at least not the way contributing to the household was. The rest of his childhood he summed up in two lessons: "Being 'close' has nothing to do with distance," and "don't touch strange plants in the woods."
I asked him if he kept in touch with any of his siblings, to which he responded, saying, "The only reason they haven't had a funeral for me is because it would be too much work." When I asked him to elaborate, he said he'd not had contact with anyone in his immediate family for over a decade. He kept tabs on them. For example, he knew his mother had dementia, and his dad was forced into retirement by his oldest brother (who had gone on to take over the logging company). His sisters were all married and moved to other parts of the country. He considered reaching out several times, but his situation required a degree of security that wasn't conducive of close family ties, not that there were particularly strong ties even before he broke contact. Trent admitted to being a bit of a black sheep.
"It all circles back to one of my jobs as a Home Inspector," he explained. "After I moved out, I tried college and quickly realized it wasn't for me. So I entered the workforce and did a bunch of odd jobs. Construction, carpentry, plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for a while. But I ended up in Home Inspection. There was one job in particular which made me aware of…" Trent paused and gestured toward the space between us, "our situation. The blinks. You remember what I told you about origin points being like a station where other realms intersect with our world? Well, this house was like Union Station or JFK airport if you prefer a plane analogy. There was a pile of junk up to my knees in the basement of that house; all of it had been blinked in. I spent a couple days on the property, running tests, trying to identify the strange phenomenon, but on day three I rolled up to an army of what I thought at the time were Feds, parading around the property like ants on an anthill and sectioning it off with crime-scene tape." I saw disgust funnel into Trent's expression. "They're not Feds at all though. At least not anymore. I call them "the Organization," a group of people who lead in the formalized understanding of what you know as 'blinking'. And they're the reason I have to take precautions."
I considered this for a moment. Trent's story was certainly plausible, but I was missing a key piece of the puzzle. "Okay, so, what does this 'Organization' want? You make it seem like they're not good people. Have they tried attacking you?"
This caused Trent to laugh for a solid ten seconds. "Sorry, it's just… I mean if you knew what I knew, you might think it's funny, too."
"Then tell me"
Trent took a deep breath, then released. "It's a long story. The gist of it is this. The Organization has a certain device which I call 'the Receiver'. Think of it like a giant antenna—no, not us kind of Antennas, an actual antenna. It's like the machine equivalent of us, but with a billion times the bandwidth. Their goal is to use the Receiver to map our world in relation to other dimensions, then use that map to establish dominion over everyone and everything. In order to do this, they need muscle: both human muscle, and Antenna muscle. They're in the process of harvesting as many of us they can find. They're like a giant diamond company who is taking to the mines. When they find a stone, they take it back to their factory for cutting and refinement. In real terms, they run tests on us and attempt to augment our powers. The ultimate goal is to create a 'Strong Antenna', or an Antenna capable of causing phase shifts—blinks." Trent saw from my expression that he was starting to lose me, so he stood up and began rolling up his shirt.
"What are you doing?" I asked, turning away. Then I saw what he wanted to show me. There was a long scar beginning high up on his ribs and slashing all the way down to his left hip. There was also what appeared to be a patch of burn marks on his stomach.
"It was early on when I got these." Trent explained. "I was naive. I actually thought I'd be able to reason with these people. The only reason I escaped was because of dumb luck and a box of hand grenades. But that's a tale for another time. I learned two important lessons that day. First, the Organization isn't fucking around. And two, they aren't immortal. Most of them are regular, every-day humans, except for their obsession with power." Trent let his shirt fall, covering up the marks. "I ran into them again recently at their Headquarters. My team and I are working on a plan to…" he paused, seemingly weighing his words, then changed gears. "Well, I guess we can go over that another time."
I couldn't help but feel that Trent was holding something back. As much as I tried to resist thinking about yesterday, the old demon-man's words kept ringing in my head. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. Then I thought about what Trent said at the deli: "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying." Did Trent think I was a Strong Antenna? Is that the only reason he's helping me? Because he wants to recruit me? And if that is the case, what if I said 'no'?
"Listen, Trent," I started, but I saw Trent was already nodding. Still, I pressed on. "I need you to tell me what I'm actually doing here. Why did you agree to help me? And what does helping me really mean? I want to know the truth."
"The truth is…" Trent started, then stopped and looked out the glass door that led onto the deck. I looked too and saw a sparrow had alighted on our old bird feeder. It tried pecking at some of its non-existent grains, then sang what I assumed was a song of displeasure before taking back off to the skies.
"The truth is: I do want to recruit you. I think you have the potential to be the strongest tool in my arsenal, but I won't require it. To date, I've helped 53 of our kind, but only seven have stayed on. Most decide to go on and live normal lives." Trent scooted his plate to the side. "In our case, this can essentially go one of two ways. In either instance, we pass through Chicago for two stops. First, I need to meet up with an associate who has something to drop off to me. Then I need to stop at a storage locker and trade out some gear that will allow me to open a phase portal. When we arrive at your origin point, I'll open the portal and you'll look inside. Based on everything you've told me, I'm guessing that childhood accident was when the demon appended itself to your life. By seeing how it entered your life, you should be able to figure out how to dispel it. At least that's the working theory. Returning to the origin point has always worked for the other Antennas, although I must admit your situation is different, but I can't imagine it's so different that this method won't work at all. After you return demon-free, you're free. You can walk out and never see me again and hopefully you'll live a happy and peaceful life. Or you can decide to throw your lot in with mine, and I can show you how deep the rabbit hole goes, so to speak." Trent looked into my eyes, and when I didn't respond for a few seconds, he said, "that's it. That's all I got."
I smiled and responded with one sentence.
"When do we leave?"
***
Memories have a strange architecture. In some ways, they are the great safety net of our experiences: collecting them like a bucket under a leaky roof. In other ways, they are an eternal reminder that nothing ever truly lasts. Perhaps a better way of thinking about memories is as the ghosts of our past lingering in the present. As I took one last stroll through my childhood house, feeling that it might be my last time for a long while, I felt the imprints of childhood memories press into my awareness: I could hear my father's voice reading to me at my bedside; I could see him holding one of my stuffed animals above my head as I wrestled him for it; I could recall the times when I'd sneak down the stairs late at night and quietly open the freezer, grab the ice cream carton, then head back upstairs to eat it.
I felt a yearning to return to those memories: to walk into the fictitious pictures my mind was painting on the canvas of my present. I knew I couldn't return, but I still wanted something to hold onto. I went back to my room and grabbed the cotton-stuffed tomato from off my closet cabinet. Then I walked through my dad's study and removed a volume I recalled him frequently reading, a hard-cover book with a green binding called, "A Collection of Great Works". I placed these items by my feet in the passenger seat of Trent's van, and just as we were about to leave, I remembered something else.
"My plant!" I blurted.
"Your what?"
"My plant—and my car. I left them it the deli. Do you think we could swing by and get it?"
Trent checked the time, then said, "Yeah, I guess we can. I just hope it isn't towed."
Luckily, it wasn't. I half-expected to find a ticket on the windshield, but there wasn't one of those, either. I unlocked the door to my Jetta and got into what felt like an active oven. "Hot!" I said and rolled down all the windows, then cranked up the AC. I saw my plant resting in the cupholder that I'd left it in the previous day. I picked it up and touched its soil. It was dry and beginning to crack. Hang on little guy, I thought. Then I led the way back to my house.
When I arrived, I parked at the head of the driveway. I turned off the car, then ran inside with the young tomato plant, bringing it to the upstairs bathrooms sink and dousing it in water. I wasn't sure how much I was supposed to add, but I figured after the sauna experience it had yesterday, I could afford to go a little overboard. Once it was fed, I opened the small purple drapes and placed it on the windowsill which faced East, meaning it would hopefully get plenty of morning sunlight.
"Good, now?" Trent asked after I hopped back in the passenger seat of the van.
"Yeah," I said. "Good now."
"Then lets get a move on."
***
Road tripping with Trent was a much different experience than when we were driving for our lives. For one, Trent wasn't nearly as tense. He drove with the windows down and one hand on the steering wheel like out of a Mustang commercial, talking intermittently about his adventures: people he'd met, jobs he'd done, close calls. He was like a living radio. And when his personal station wasn't on, he was playing one of his CD's—classic rock, mainly. When he was in an 'off' period, I found myself looking out the window at the rolling wheat fields and cloudy blue sky. Journey was playing, and the lyrics to one of the songs crept into my head and reverberated there:
The wheel in the sky keeps on turning.
I don't know where I'll be tomorrow…
I've been trying to make it home,
Got to make it before too long…
Ooh I can't take it, very much longer…
In a strange way, I felt like I was leaving home. But in another way, I was going back. And then it occurred to me that perhaps I didn't have a home at all. Did I ever have one? These past couple days had called everything about my life into question, to the point where the past seemed as mysterious as the future, and both intersected at that one place in the woods. The place where it all began. The place we were headed.
We only stopped once at a gas station to refuel, get snacks, and use the bathroom. Otherwise it was smooth sailing, other than one heated discussion with Trent that began when he addressed his vehicle as "Car" for the fifth time.
"Okay, you need to come up with a better name than that."
"What do you mean?" Trent asked, seeming genuinely confused.
"You have a super-car and you named it 'Car'. That's actually embarrassing."
"But, it is a car."
I facepalmed. "First of all, it's a van."
"A van is a type of car."
"Second of all, would you name your kid, 'kid'?"
Trent thought it over for what I thought was much too long. At last he concluded, "No, I'd probably name him 'boy', or if it's a girl, 'girl'."
After five more minutes of his childish banter, we settled on the name "Ava"—my choice, after rejecting his runner-up name "Scar".
At around the seven hour mark, I dozed off, then woke up a couple hours later to the sensation of the van dipping, then bumping up into an elevated climb. The evening sunlight that was pressuring my eyelids to open, dissipated, and everything was suddenly dark. I opened my eyes and saw we had entered a parking garage. Trent pulled into an open spot on the second level.
"We're here," he said and gathered up his gun which he stashed in a driver's side underboard compartment that I'm guessing he had installed himself.
"I see that"
"You want to wait here, or—"
I opened the car door, which was answer enough for Trent. We both got out and started down Maple Avenue. I had been to several cities before, Chicago among them, but the size of the buildings always struck me with awe. As we walked alongside dozens of other pedestrians, I looked up and traced the closest tower to its peak, guessing how many stories it was in my head. Then I'd be pulled out of my game by the honking of some nearby vehicle.
We continued for two blocks until Trent made a path directly toward the nearest Starbucks. I didn't know what I was picturing for a meeting with his associate, but it definitely wasn't a meetup at a coffee shop. Still, I followed him in. Then when I saw that Trent was leading me to a corner table where a casually dressed Chinese girl who appeared even younger than me was sitting, I blurted in a hushed tone, "her? She's your associate?"
"Took you long enough," said the Chinese girl, looking up from what appeared to be some kind of homework assignment.
"And she's in school?" I asked, incredulous.
The associate looked to me, then to Trent (who nodded), then back to me. "It's just a cover. I'm glad to see it still works, though." She reached out to shake my hand. "I'm Allison. It's nice to meet you."
Trent gave me a smirk, then said, "looks can be deceiving."
I grunted an affirmation and shook Allison's hand. "I'm Lauren. It's nice to meet you, too."
"You have it?" Trent asked, skipping right to business.
"Of course," Allison replied and removed a mailing package from her backpack, setting it on the table. "You want to go make sure it works?" She asked, gesturing up at the ceiling with her eyes.
Trent seemed to think it over for a second, then looked at me. But before he could say anything, Allison cut back in—
"—I'll stay with her. It's been a while since I've had any female company. Why don't you let us girls talk while you take care of that?" She said in a seductive yet authoritative tone which garnered her years that her appearance did not reflect.
Trent hesitated, but only for a moment. "Okay, I'll be right back," he said. Then he hurried out the door in the direction we had come from.
"Come, sit with me." Allison invited. "Tell me about yourself."
I took a seat on the small wooden seat opposite Allison, then crossed my legs. "What do you want to know?" I asked, feeling discomfort rise in my stomach. Nothing about this situation, from the mysterious package, to Trent leaving me alone with this girl, to the girl herself, whose voice was as velvety smooth as the latte she was stirring with a black coffee straw, sat right with me.
"I'm curious about what you think of Trent."
"Trent?" I repeated. I realized this was the first time I was putting any of my thoughts about Trent or our relationship into words. "I guess... he's a pretty straightforward guy. He seems to know what he's doing."
Allison flashed me a small smile, then took a sip of her latte. I saw the sticker on her drink read "Chai". Then she set the cup down and sighed. "Yes, he's very straightforward. Definitely doesn't mince words." She looked up into my eyes. Hers were a rich black, like onyx pebbles, but there was something about the way the light refracted off them which simulated a kind of inward motion, as if they were tiny whirlpools. Her smile spread across her lips. "I'm curious. What did he tell you?"
"Tell me about what?"
"About what you're doing. About where you're off to. What's the plan?"
"Don't you know?" I asked, but it immediately occurred to me that maybe she didn't know. I never saw Trent with a cellphone. Just how did he communicate with his 'associates'? And what if he didn't want her to know what we were doing for a good reason? Should I tell her?
"No, Trent keeps his cards close to his chest. He always has."
"Don't you work together, though?"
Allison waved her left hand in the air. "Of course, but it's because of the nature of our work that most of our communication is done in person, so Trent doesn't tell me much outside of the current job. I was just curious, is all."
"That makes sense. I mean, I'm actually pretty curious about what you do, too."
"Oh?" Allison's voice went high, as if she suddenly sensed an opening. "Then, why don't we trade stories. You tell about your trip, and I'll tell you about mine."
I thought it over for a second. I really did want to hear what Allison had to say, and she was Trent's co-worker, it's not like I was spilling crucial secrets to an enemy. "We're currently on our way to Southern Illinois. Specifically, we're going back to my origin point so I can confront a demon that Trent thinks blinked into my life there."
Allison stopped stirring, but her eyes didn't break from mine. "A demon, huh?" She raised the cup and took a long sip, then placed it back on the table and continued stirring. "I met a demon once," she started, looking up at the walls as if her life was playing on a screen there. "It was back in China, where I was born." She dropped her attention back to me. "Do you mind if I reminisce a little? Maybe you can get something out of it."
I shook my head, but something in my gut started to stir again. Allison continued.
"I was born during the Era of the Once Child Policy. As a result, my mother decided to leave me in a shoebox on the side of the road. I was a girl, so that's just how it was... Like many other babies in my... 'condition', I ended up in foster care. However, for whatever reason, I wasn't adopted. Years passed, and when I turned six, the government decided I'd be of better use building our impoverished town's GDP in a factory that assembled electronic devices for Western countries. Mostly they had me cleaning, but when I turned eight, one of the employees asked for my help with one of the soldering machines. That turned out to be the beginning of the end for me. I sliced open the ring finger of my right hand. I remember specifically seeing the bone underneath the split flesh and thinking it looked so small and white. The employee claimed to have nothing to do with my accident, and the management declared my injury "minimally invasive" and bandaged it up. Two weeks later and who would have guessed that the wound would become infected, and, well..."
Allison dropped the straw into her cup and raised her right hand, spreading the fingers out for me to see. There were only four. Her ring finger was missing, and a small v-shaped scar had taken its place.
"I'm lucky that the surgeon was experienced enough to take out the whole digit, that way it healed in a way which makes it somewhat difficult to notice. You didn't notice, after all. But, then again, is that really luck?" She made a fist and brought it to her lips, stifling a laugh. "No... Now I remember. My luck was still yet to come." She continued stirring. "Because, you see, after that incident, they moved me to a clothing factory with a boss who had a penchant for getting drunk and roughing up his workers, and, well, one night I was walking back to foster care when I heard the outside door to the manager's office slam shut, and there he went, stumbling, slurring insults, curses, and here I was, perfectly in his path. We met eyes, and in them I saw absolutely nothing. A hollow shell of a man, and I can still remember what it looked like to see that shell fill with a demon."
Allison's eyes went wide with some strong emotion that I couldn't place. "He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me out into the field, far away from civilization. I tried to fight at first, but every time I tried to lunge away, I was only ripping a hole in my own scalp. It felt like flames were spewing from my head, and my only respite was when the blood eventually cooled over the wound. By the time he had thrown me against the rock, I'd already all but given up. Then, when my head met the stone, I heard a pop and my grip on the world loosened. The man continued touching me, but it was as if I was disconnected now, floating somewhere above my own head, and gravity was beginning to reverse, causing me to float higher and higher, away from the horrible nightmare below."
Allison paused for a moment, and I suddenly realized I was holding my breath.
"Then I saw the most bright light I'd ever seen. At the time I thought it was either the Sun or Heaven or something like that. It was just too bright for this world. But then after looking for a little longer, I noticed it was in the shape of a person. It reached out toward me, and I had never been so quick to respond. When I touched it, I felt all my pain immediately dissipate. And I felt warm and... peaceful. And I was no longer in the sky. I was back in the field. But when I looked around, the man was gone. Vanished, right out of existence. I didn't understand it at the time, but that was my first experience with the Shifts. All I knew then was that I was free, and I damn well wasn't going to waste that. I ran as far as I could, away from the factories, the foster home, the corrupt governments and corporations. I kept running until I arrived at a City that didn't know me. That didn't want to know me. And I liked it that way, because it's easier to live as a ghost than as a victim."
Allison perked up, and when I turned around to see what for, I saw Trent entering back through the door.
"But you know what's interesting?" Allison blurted out, her voice becoming quieter. "Trent never took me back to confront my demon." Her voice became a whisper. "In fact, I can't recall him ever taking any of us back."
For a moment the whole world became a still frame. Allison's clear, olive skin, and dark eyes, made darker with eyeliner; her narrow nose; her small lips now coiling into a smile. My entire body was a hair trigger hat only needed the slightest force to set it off. And when Trent placed his hand on my shoulder, I whirled around and narrowly missed a haymaker that swept just shy of Trent's face.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa" he said and stepped back with his palms up. "It's just me. Is everything okay?"
I turned back to Allison, but she seemed different now. Her expression was benign; confused, even. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I—you"
"We were just talking about where you were off to next." Allison said without a hint of pretense.
"Okay, well, chat time is over. It's time to go." Trent said and started guiding me toward the door. I turned back and saw Allison mouth some words which I swear I heard, as if they had been directly transmitted into my brain.
"See you soon" she purred.
She was smiling.
***
The next leg of the trip passed mostly in silence. It was a little over an hour to the storage facility which was located just South of Chicago. My heart was beating wildly in my chest as I pictured Allison's smile. I wanted to ask Trent if demons could possess Antennas, if somehow one of us could become compromised, but then I remembered Allison's words and stopped myself. Because I didn't know if I could really trust Trent. I tried to tell myself I could trust him—that it was Allison who was the liar. Her whole persona seemed fake at best, and possessed at worst. But, then... what if she was telling the truth? What if Trent was the enemy?
He sensed my quietness and tried striking up a couple conversations, but I only gave one-word answers. Somehow, our trust was so brittle that a single, well-placed sentence was enough to snap it. When he asked if everything was okay, I lied and said that I just had a headache and needed more rest. So I leaned my head against the stuffed tomato and tried to sleep, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to.
We arrived at the facility just as the sun was setting for the night. Trent pulled up to the self-service gate and scanned a card which caused the automatic doors to swing open. We looped down a couple rows of the outdoor units until we came to #48.
"We're here," Trent prompted, but this time I didn't budge. I felt his eyes on me after he turned off the ignition. "Hey," he called. "Are you awake?"
I was silent.
I heard Trent quietly click open his door, then close it the same way. I waited a few seconds then turned my head and watched him from the driver's side mirror. He opened the storage locker, then walked inside and turned on a light. It occurred to me then how dimly lit this outdoor storage facility was. There was a weak overhead lantern peeking over every fourth garage like an anglerfish's lure, leaving a large portion of the road not hit by the light bubbles completely dark.
I tried to plan my next move. I could leave Trent and run. But where would I go? Or I could stay and see Trent's plan through. There was a chance this was all an elaborate trap. Maybe Trent was working with the demon, or maybe he was the demon. But then why did he save me? Twice. Maybe he was actually a double agent for the Organization. But he could easily have captured me by now. Unless he needs me to go back to the origin point for a different reason... I considered everything I had learned up until this point: we live at the cross-section of different realms; these other realms interact with our world; Antennas, who are a very small minority of people, can see these interactions; the Organization wants to harness our power and create a 'Strong Antenna' to achieve some kind of universal hegemony; I'm the closest thing to a Strong Antenna to date; Trent knows this; He's taking me back to my origin point, despite not taking the others back to theirs; Trent claims to want to fight the Organization; the best way to fight the Organization would be with a Strong Antenna. What if Trent was trying to make me into a Strong Antenna?
I considered this chain of reasoning. It seemed very plausible, especially after Allison's cryptic messages. Was she trying to warn me of this? But that smile, and the "see you soon"... If she wasn't being possessed, why would she be seeing me soon?
Suddenly my thoughts gave way like a broken dam as I heard a ping come from Ava's radar. I jumped, thinking that all of the electronics turned off with the ignition, but when I looked at the circular sonar map, I saw a red dot had just emerged in the top-right corner. I looked out the window in the direction of the ping, but I couldn't see anything heading down the road.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
Four more dots appeared behind the first, and they were approaching.
I jumped out the van and ran over to where Trent was hauling in a large cardboard crate into the back of the van. "Trent, there's pings on the radar. A bunch of them."
He dropped the box next to three others, and I realized I had never seen inside the back of the van. It was filled with what looked like pneumatic tubes wired into circuits, and in the center was a tri-pod which was holding a large halo-shaped ring.
"Pings?" Trent said, then his face widened with shock as he realized what I meant. "Shit, how many?"
"Five, maybe more now. And they're getting closer."
"Five?" He jumped out the back and ran into the storage locker. I thought he was going to close the door, but when I saw him hauling boxes back toward the van, I yelled at him. "What are you doing!?"
"I need to load this up for tomorrow. Here," He tossed me his keys. "Get it started."
"Fuck, seriously?"
Trent didn't respond, only kept shuffling boxes into the van.
I turned and ran to the door and hopped in the driver's seat. As I was turning on the ignition, I saw the row of bushes that was just outside of the facility begin to rattle. The next sweep revealed a whole sea of pings. I rolled down the window and shouted Trent's name.
"One more, that's all. Get in the passenger seat, I'll be there in a sec."
I scooted over the center console and waited, clutching at the bottom of my pants legs. Just as Trent slammed the rear door of the van shut, I saw the first figure emerge onto the road ahead of us. It looked like some kind of large coyote, though it was hard to tell because it was still fifty meters out.
"Now detecting 53 controlled agents." Ava said right as Trent jumped in and shut the driver's side door. "Net anomalies: 53."
"Ava, increase radius to five miles." Trent instructed as he backed up all the way to the end of the lane and spun us around toward the gate. Just as we left, I saw the pack of coyotes stalking toward us, slow at first, then in a dead sprint.
"Increasing radius." Ava responded. "Increased. Recalculating… Recalculating… Re—complete. Now detecting 451 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 451."
"What does 'controlled agent' mean?" I asked.
"Hold on," Trent said and accelerated into the gate, bursting through it. The whole van shook, and I heard my phone fall in the crack between the seat and door. Trent steadied the van, then said, "It means the things chasing us are being controlled by something that isn't detectable."
"The demon?"
"That'd be my guess."
"But why can't Ava detect it?"
Trent switched to the right lane, then merged onto the Interstate-South ramp. "Probably because it isn't trying to kill us."
"Then, what—" I looked back at the map and basically had my question answered. All 451 pings were coalesced in a semicircle on one side of the map. The side of the map that we had just come from. "Is it trying to force us toward the crash site?"
"It seems that way." Trent answered.
"Trent, pull over."
"Huh?"
"Pull over!" I yelled.
He looked at me, eyes wide. Then he did as I had instructed and pulled off in the middle of the ramp. The red dots slowly closed in on our position.
"Now detecting—"
"Shut up, Ava." I said. I could feel my blood boiling. "I'm not going one step further until you tell me the truth. Why are we going to my origin point? What is your real motive?"
"What do you mean? I already told you."
I unlocked the passenger side door.
"Wait," Trent said and reached out toward me. "Just, wait."
There was silence, except for the pings indicating that the beasts behind us had re-encroached on our position to about fifty meters.
"Okay, I didn't tell you everything. But we don't have time now—"
I opened the door.
"Okay, okay. I didn't tell you everything, it's true. I've never done this with anyone else, but the reason is because I never needed to. And if I told you what might happen, you would have refused it."
"Refused what?"
"This—me, my help. Lauren, I am trying to help you. But you have to understand—it's likely that neither of us are going to live past tomorrow. You're basically confronting a dark entity in a place where I can't protect you, and if you somehow do manage to kill it, you'll be coming back to the fight of your life. Because I don't have the power to hide you from the Organization. They're going to show up and try to take you. I really don't know how you've lasted as long as you have. Whatever protection you had growing up, it's gone now. And now I'm all you have. And in some twist of fate, you're all I have."
Ava reactivated. "Now detecting 1,117 controlled agents. Proximity till contact: 20 meters. Net anomalies: 1,117."
I closed my door. "But what if I still don't want to go through with it?"
Trent pointed at the screen. "Then we die right here, right now, together. Because I am one-hundred percent certain that if we don't go to that crash site, we're dead anyway. All of us."
Another ping rolled through. I checked the side-view mirror and saw the swarming pack of dogs reach the van and bound around the rear wheels. I suddenly recalled the conversation I had with Father Martin and the conclusions I had drawn. Father, I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared...
"Go," I said just as I felt the collision of the coyotes slamming their bodies against the side doors.
Trent didn't waste any time stepping on the gas. I watched as the coyotes diminished in the distance and the pings receded into the back of the map, never disappearing fully, but covering the flank of our retreat—a reminder lingering on the edge of our awareness that there was no turning back now. That, one way or another, this was ending tomorrow.
And I'd either be dead, or something else entirely.

Part 1
Part 2
Darkness gave way to dimness as I opened my eyes and saw slivers of gray light printed on the ceiling like lines on the page of a ruled notebook. In the distance, I heard the sound of pans clanking against the kitchen stove, and I became ever-aware of the scent of cinnamon and bacon sneaking in from under my closed bedroom door. For a moment, I was back in sixth grade. My dad was downstairs cooking up his famous from-scratch buttermilk pancakes and cheesy scrambled eggs. It was probably 7:00, maybe 7:05, and I had fifteen minutes to get up, shower, dress, eat, then it was off to Middle School with dad: for me to learn, him to work.
It was the day we were set to be assigned our Ancient Civilizations project. Unless something went terribly wrong, I would be choosing Ancient Rome. I didn't know much about it, other than it was some great empire, but even then I didn't really understand what an empire was. I was just happy that I would get to build something with my dad. I turned on my side and looked at the closed blinds, the source of the gray lines, then the cabinet with all my trophies, and finally the wobbly, firetruck-red chair pushed under my desk. I was home at last. The past fifteen years were nothing but a dream. There was no blinking. No malevolent demon chasing me. No inexplicable chaos…
It was a sweet fantasy. But one that became bitter the longer I tried to chew on it.
I swept my legs out from under the covers and sat, face-down, on the corner of my twin mattress. My feet were adult's feet. My room was my former room. And that was Trent downstairs cooking breakfast. Unless, of course, it was my dad, in which case I'd have bigger problems than merely waking up from a good dream.
After changing into a fresh shirt and pants, I went downstairs and saw that it was, in fact, Trent cooking breakfast. He was wearing a plain t-shirt through which I could see the ripples of his large back muscles as he whisked what I presumed was pancake batter. He must not have heard me, because he didn't turn around when I made it to the end of the hall. I leaned against the wall, arms folded, and watched him for a minute as he finished whisking the batter, then poured it onto a hot griddle (spilling a few dribbles on the counter in the process), watched it bubble, flipped it, then transferred the golden medallion onto a plate stacked five high. Next to the pancakes was a plate filled with bacon, and a small aluminum pan of scrambled eggs.
"Smells good," I said at last. "Find everything okay?"
I thought I might startle him with my abrupt appearance; instead, Trent looked over his shoulder, chewing on a piece of bacon. He swallowed and said, "Oh, it's you. Yeah, I hope you don't mind me using your kitchen. I thought I'd make us some breakfast."
It occurred to me then that Trent likely wasn't a guest in other people's homes very often. Lucky for him, I didn't mind him using a kitchen that hadn't been mine in many years. I was going to tell him as much when I saw an opened box of Bisquick sitting on the counter. I pointed to it and asked, "you found that in the pantry? My dad usually makes his pancakes from scratch."
He turned to look at the box, then back at me. "No, I went out and got that. And the bacon and eggs. I didn't want to dig into your supply without asking, and you were asleep, so..."
I felt my eyebrows furrow as I checked the time on the stove-clock. "It's 8:17 in the morning. Are you telling me you went out to the store, bought all these ingredients, then came back and cooked them? Just how early did you get up?"
"Around five," he answered as casually as if I had asked his dog's name. "I don't usually get much sleep. Around four, five hours is all I need. It's actually unusual for Antennas to need more than that amount. But I suppose you are unusual."
I opened my mouth in disbelief. Not only had he commandeered my kitchen, he was calling me unusual? At 8-fricken-17 in the morning?
"Sorry," Trent said, reading my expression, "I'm… well, let's just say I've not had many personal relationships. I'm used to being blunt. It's just easier that way." He took out a plate and transferred two pancakes, some eggs, and a few slices of bacon onto it. Then he held it up to me as a peace offering.
I sighed. "This better be good," I said with a wry smile and took the plate.
"Trent-certified, but no guarantees. Refunds not allowed." He replied, which made me giggle.
We sat across from one another at the dining room table. The meal was pretty good, but it was no dad's special: the pancakes were clearly box pancakes, the scrambled eggs lacked cheese and had a little too much pepper, and the bacon was… well it was bacon, no complaints there. Still, it was nice to settle down and have a somewhat normal morning.
After we ate, Trent unfurled the long arc of his life, which began as the second youngest brother of eight siblings in rural Oklahoma. Trent's 'pops' was in the logging business, first as a lumberjack, then as an owner of his own logging company. His dad acquired the business while Trent was still young, so school was never a high priority for him—at least not the way contributing to the household was. The rest of his childhood he summed up in two lessons: "Being 'close' has nothing to do with distance," and "don't touch strange plants in the woods."
I asked him if he kept in touch with any of his siblings, to which he responded, saying, "The only reason they haven't had a funeral for me is because it would be too much work." When I asked him to elaborate, he said he'd not had contact with anyone in his immediate family for over a decade. He kept tabs on them. For example, he knew his mother had dementia, and his dad was forced into retirement by his oldest brother (who had gone on to take over the logging company). His sisters were all married and moved to other parts of the country. He considered reaching out several times, but his situation required a degree of security that wasn't conducive of close family ties, not that there were particularly strong ties even before he broke contact. Trent admitted to being a bit of a black sheep.
"It all circles back to one of my jobs as a Home Inspector," he explained. "After I moved out, I tried college and quickly realized it wasn't for me. So I entered the workforce and did a bunch of odd jobs. Construction, carpentry, plumbing. I even drove a garbage truck for a while. But I ended up in Home Inspection. There was one job in particular which made me aware of…" Trent paused and gestured toward the space between us, "our situation. The blinks. You remember what I told you about origin points being like a station where other realms intersect with our world? Well, this house was like Union Station or JFK airport if you prefer a plane analogy. There was a pile of junk up to my knees in the basement of that house; all of it had been blinked in. I spent a couple days on the property, running tests, trying to identify the strange phenomenon, but on day three I rolled up to an army of what I thought at the time were Feds, parading around the property like ants on an anthill and sectioning it off with crime-scene tape." I saw disgust funnel into Trent's expression. "They're not Feds at all though. At least not anymore. I call them "the Organization," a group of people who lead in the formalized understanding of what you know as 'blinking'. And they're the reason I have to take precautions."
I considered this for a moment. Trent's story was certainly plausible, but I was missing a key piece of the puzzle. "Okay, so, what does this 'Organization' want? You make it seem like they're not good people. Have they tried attacking you?"
This caused Trent to laugh for a solid ten seconds. "Sorry, it's just… I mean if you knew what I knew, you might think it's funny, too."
"Then tell me"
Trent took a deep breath, then released. "It's a long story. The gist of it is this. The Organization has a certain device which I call 'the Receiver'. Think of it like a giant antenna—no, not us kind of Antennas, an actual antenna. It's like the machine equivalent of us, but with a billion times the bandwidth. Their goal is to use the Receiver to map our world in relation to other dimensions, then use that map to establish dominion over everyone and everything. In order to do this, they need muscle: both human muscle, and Antenna muscle. They're in the process of harvesting as many of us they can find. They're like a giant diamond company who is taking to the mines. When they find a stone, they take it back to their factory for cutting and refinement. In real terms, they run tests on us and attempt to augment our powers. The ultimate goal is to create a 'Strong Antenna', or an Antenna capable of causing phase shifts—blinks." Trent saw from my expression that he was starting to lose me, so he stood up and began rolling up his shirt.
"What are you doing?" I asked, turning away. Then I saw what he wanted to show me. There was a long scar beginning high up on his ribs and slashing all the way down to his left hip. There was also what appeared to be a patch of burn marks on his stomach.
"It was early on when I got these." Trent explained. "I was naive. I actually thought I'd be able to reason with these people. The only reason I escaped was because of dumb luck and a box of hand grenades. But that's a tale for another time. I learned two important lessons that day. First, the Organization isn't fucking around. And two, they aren't immortal. Most of them are regular, every-day humans, except for their obsession with power." Trent let his shirt fall, covering up the marks. "I ran into them again recently at their Headquarters. My team and I are working on a plan to…" he paused, seemingly weighing his words, then changed gears. "Well, I guess we can go over that another time."
I couldn't help but feel that Trent was holding something back. As much as I tried to resist thinking about yesterday, the old demon-man's words kept ringing in my head. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. Then I thought about what Trent said at the deli: "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying." Did Trent think I was a Strong Antenna? Is that the only reason he's helping me? Because he wants to recruit me? And if that is the case, what if I said 'no'?
"Listen, Trent," I started, but I saw Trent was already nodding. Still, I pressed on. "I need you to tell me what I'm actually doing here. Why did you agree to help me? And what does helping me really mean? I want to know the truth."
"The truth is…" Trent started, then stopped and looked out the glass door that led onto the deck. I looked too and saw a sparrow had alighted on our old bird feeder. It tried pecking at some of its non-existent grains, then sang what I assumed was a song of displeasure before taking back off to the skies.
"The truth is: I do want to recruit you. I think you have the potential to be the strongest tool in my arsenal, but I won't require it. To date, I've helped 53 of our kind, but only seven have stayed on. Most decide to go on and live normal lives." Trent scooted his plate to the side. "In our case, this can essentially go one of two ways. In either instance, we pass through Chicago for two stops. First, I need to meet up with an associate who has something to drop off to me. Then I need to stop at a storage locker and trade out some gear that will allow me to open a phase portal. When we arrive at your origin point, I'll open the portal and you'll look inside. Based on everything you've told me, I'm guessing that childhood accident was when the demon appended itself to your life. By seeing how it entered your life, you should be able to figure out how to dispel it. At least that's the working theory. Returning to the origin point has always worked for the other Antennas, although I must admit your situation is different, but I can't imagine it's so different that this method won't work at all. After you return demon-free, you're free. You can walk out and never see me again and hopefully you'll live a happy and peaceful life. Or you can decide to throw your lot in with mine, and I can show you how deep the rabbit hole goes, so to speak." Trent looked into my eyes, and when I didn't respond for a few seconds, he said, "that's it. That's all I got."
I smiled and responded with one sentence.
"When do we leave?"
***
Memories have a strange architecture. In some ways, they are the great safety net of our experiences: collecting them like a bucket under a leaky roof. In other ways, they are an eternal reminder that nothing ever truly lasts. Perhaps a better way of thinking about memories is as the ghosts of our past lingering in the present. As I took one last stroll through my childhood house, feeling that it might be my last time for a long while, I felt the imprints of childhood memories press into my awareness: I could hear my father's voice reading to me at my bedside; I could see him holding one of my stuffed animals above my head as I wrestled him for it; I could recall the times when I'd sneak down the stairs late at night and quietly open the freezer, grab the ice cream carton, then head back upstairs to eat it.
I felt a yearning to return to those memories: to walk into the fictitious pictures my mind was painting on the canvas of my present. I knew I couldn't return, but I still wanted something to hold onto. I went back to my room and grabbed the cotton-stuffed tomato from off my closet cabinet. Then I walked through my dad's study and removed a volume I recalled him frequently reading, a hard-cover book with a green binding called, "A Collection of Great Works". I placed these items by my feet in the passenger seat of Trent's van, and just as we were about to leave, I remembered something else.
"My plant!" I blurted.
"Your what?"
"My plant—and my car. I left them it the deli. Do you think we could swing by and get it?"
Trent checked the time, then said, "Yeah, I guess we can. I just hope it isn't towed."
Luckily, it wasn't. I half-expected to find a ticket on the windshield, but there wasn't one of those, either. I unlocked the door to my Jetta and got into what felt like an active oven. "Hot!" I said and rolled down all the windows, then cranked up the AC. I saw my plant resting in the cupholder that I'd left it in the previous day. I picked it up and touched its soil. It was dry and beginning to crack. Hang on little guy, I thought. Then I led the way back to my house.
When I arrived, I parked at the head of the driveway. I turned off the car, then ran inside with the young tomato plant, bringing it to the upstairs bathrooms sink and dousing it in water. I wasn't sure how much I was supposed to add, but I figured after the sauna experience it had yesterday, I could afford to go a little overboard. Once it was fed, I opened the small purple drapes and placed it on the windowsill which faced East, meaning it would hopefully get plenty of morning sunlight.
"Good, now?" Trent asked after I hopped back in the passenger seat of the van.
"Yeah," I said. "Good now."
"Then lets get a move on."
***
Road tripping with Trent was a much different experience than when we were driving for our lives. For one, Trent wasn't nearly as tense. He drove with the windows down and one hand on the steering wheel like out of a Mustang commercial, talking intermittently about his adventures: people he'd met, jobs he'd done, close calls. He was like a living radio. And when his personal station wasn't on, he was playing one of his CD's—classic rock, mainly. When he was in an 'off' period, I found myself looking out the window at the rolling wheat fields and cloudy blue sky. Journey was playing, and the lyrics to one of the songs crept into my head and reverberated there:
The wheel in the sky keeps on turning.
I don't know where I'll be tomorrow…
I've been trying to make it home,
Got to make it before too long…
Ooh I can't take it, very much longer…
In a strange way, I felt like I was leaving home. But in another way, I was going back. And then it occurred to me that perhaps I didn't have a home at all. Did I ever have one? These past couple days had called everything about my life into question, to the point where the past seemed as mysterious as the future, and both intersected at that one place in the woods. The place where it all began. The place we were headed.
We only stopped once at a gas station to refuel, get snacks, and use the bathroom. Otherwise it was smooth sailing, other than one heated discussion with Trent that began when he addressed his vehicle as "Car" for the fifth time.
"Okay, you need to come up with a better name than that."
"What do you mean?" Trent asked, seeming genuinely confused.
"You have a super-car and you named it 'Car'. That's actually embarrassing."
"But, it is a car."
I facepalmed. "First of all, it's a van."
"A van is a type of car."
"Second of all, would you name your kid, 'kid'?"
Trent thought it over for what I thought was much too long. At last he concluded, "No, I'd probably name him 'boy', or if it's a girl, 'girl'."
After five more minutes of his childish banter, we settled on the name "Ava"—my choice, after rejecting his runner-up name "Scar".
At around the seven hour mark, I dozed off, then woke up a couple hours later to the sensation of the van dipping, then bumping up into an elevated climb. The evening sunlight that was pressuring my eyelids to open, dissipated, and everything was suddenly dark. I opened my eyes and saw we had entered a parking garage. Trent pulled into an open spot on the second level.
"We're here," he said and gathered up his gun which he stashed in a driver's side underboard compartment that I'm guessing he had installed himself.
"I see that"
"You want to wait here, or—"
I opened the car door, which was answer enough for Trent. We both got out and started down Maple Avenue. I had been to several cities before, Chicago among them, but the size of the buildings always struck me with awe. As we walked alongside dozens of other pedestrians, I looked up and traced the closest tower to its peak, guessing how many stories it was in my head. Then I'd be pulled out of my game by the honking of some nearby vehicle.
We continued for two blocks until Trent made a path directly toward the nearest Starbucks. I didn't know what I was picturing for a meeting with his associate, but it definitely wasn't a meetup at a coffee shop. Still, I followed him in. Then when I saw that Trent was leading me to a corner table where a casually dressed Chinese girl who appeared even younger than me was sitting, I blurted in a hushed tone, "her? She's your associate?"
"Took you long enough," said the Chinese girl, looking up from what appeared to be some kind of homework assignment.
"And she's in school?" I asked, incredulous.
The associate looked to me, then to Trent (who nodded), then back to me. "It's just a cover. I'm glad to see it still works, though." She reached out to shake my hand. "I'm Allison. It's nice to meet you."
Trent gave me a smirk, then said, "looks can be deceiving."
I grunted an affirmation and shook Allison's hand. "I'm Lauren. It's nice to meet you, too."
"You have it?" Trent asked, skipping right to business.
"Of course," Allison replied and removed a mailing package from her backpack, setting it on the table. "You want to go make sure it works?" She asked, gesturing up at the ceiling with her eyes.
Trent seemed to think it over for a second, then looked at me. But before he could say anything, Allison cut back in—
"—I'll stay with her. It's been a while since I've had any female company. Why don't you let us girls talk while you take care of that?" She said in a seductive yet authoritative tone which garnered her years that her appearance did not reflect.
Trent hesitated, but only for a moment. "Okay, I'll be right back," he said. Then he hurried out the door in the direction we had come from.
"Come, sit with me." Allison invited. "Tell me about yourself."
I took a seat on the small wooden seat opposite Allison, then crossed my legs. "What do you want to know?" I asked, feeling discomfort rise in my stomach. Nothing about this situation, from the mysterious package, to Trent leaving me alone with this girl, to the girl herself, whose voice was as velvety smooth as the latte she was stirring with a black coffee straw, sat right with me.
"I'm curious about what you think of Trent."
"Trent?" I repeated. I realized this was the first time I was putting any of my thoughts about Trent or our relationship into words. "I guess... he's a pretty straightforward guy. He seems to know what he's doing."
Allison flashed me a small smile, then took a sip of her latte. I saw the sticker on her drink read "Chai". Then she set the cup down and sighed. "Yes, he's very straightforward. Definitely doesn't mince words." She looked up into my eyes. Hers were a rich black, like onyx pebbles, but there was something about the way the light refracted off them which simulated a kind of inward motion, as if they were tiny whirlpools. Her smile spread across her lips. "I'm curious. What did he tell you?"
"Tell me about what?"
"About what you're doing. About where you're off to. What's the plan?"
"Don't you know?" I asked, but it immediately occurred to me that maybe she didn't know. I never saw Trent with a cellphone. Just how did he communicate with his 'associates'? And what if he didn't want her to know what we were doing for a good reason? Should I tell her?
"No, Trent keeps his cards close to his chest. He always has."
"Don't you work together, though?"
Allison waved her left hand in the air. "Of course, but it's because of the nature of our work that most of our communication is done in person, so Trent doesn't tell me much outside of the current job. I was just curious, is all."
"That makes sense. I mean, I'm actually pretty curious about what you do, too."
"Oh?" Allison's voice went high, as if she suddenly sensed an opening. "Then, why don't we trade stories. You tell about your trip, and I'll tell you about mine."
I thought it over for a second. I really did want to hear what Allison had to say, and she was Trent's co-worker, it's not like I was spilling crucial secrets to an enemy. "We're currently on our way to Southern Illinois. Specifically, we're going back to my origin point so I can confront a demon that Trent thinks blinked into my life there."
Allison stopped stirring, but her eyes didn't break from mine. "A demon, huh?" She raised the cup and took a long sip, then placed it back on the table and continued stirring. "I met a demon once," she started, looking up at the walls as if her life was playing on a screen there. "It was back in China, where I was born." She dropped her attention back to me. "Do you mind if I reminisce a little? Maybe you can get something out of it."
I shook my head, but something in my gut started to stir again. Allison continued.
"I was born during the Era of the Once Child Policy. As a result, my mother decided to leave me in a shoebox on the side of the road. I was a girl, so that's just how it was... Like many other babies in my... 'condition', I ended up in foster care. However, for whatever reason, I wasn't adopted. Years passed, and when I turned six, the government decided I'd be of better use building our impoverished town's GDP in a factory that assembled electronic devices for Western countries. Mostly they had me cleaning, but when I turned eight, one of the employees asked for my help with one of the soldering machines. That turned out to be the beginning of the end for me. I sliced open the ring finger of my right hand. I remember specifically seeing the bone underneath the split flesh and thinking it looked so small and white. The employee claimed to have nothing to do with my accident, and the management declared my injury "minimally invasive" and bandaged it up. Two weeks later and who would have guessed that the wound would become infected, and, well..."
Allison dropped the straw into her cup and raised her right hand, spreading the fingers out for me to see. There were only four. Her ring finger was missing, and a small v-shaped scar had taken its place.
"I'm lucky that the surgeon was experienced enough to take out the whole digit, that way it healed in a way which makes it somewhat difficult to notice. You didn't notice, after all. But, then again, is that really luck?" She made a fist and brought it to her lips, stifling a laugh. "No... Now I remember. My luck was still yet to come." She continued stirring. "Because, you see, after that incident, they moved me to a clothing factory with a boss who had a penchant for getting drunk and roughing up his workers, and, well, one night I was walking back to foster care when I heard the outside door to the manager's office slam shut, and there he went, stumbling, slurring insults, curses, and here I was, perfectly in his path. We met eyes, and in them I saw absolutely nothing. A hollow shell of a man, and I can still remember what it looked like to see that shell fill with a demon."
Allison's eyes went wide with some strong emotion that I couldn't place. "He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me out into the field, far away from civilization. I tried to fight at first, but every time I tried to lunge away, I was only ripping a hole in my own scalp. It felt like flames were spewing from my head, and my only respite was when the blood eventually cooled over the wound. By the time he had thrown me against the rock, I'd already all but given up. Then, when my head met the stone, I heard a pop and my grip on the world loosened. The man continued touching me, but it was as if I was disconnected now, floating somewhere above my own head, and gravity was beginning to reverse, causing me to float higher and higher, away from the horrible nightmare below."
Allison paused for a moment, and I suddenly realized I was holding my breath.
"Then I saw the most bright light I'd ever seen. At the time I thought it was either the Sun or Heaven or something like that. It was just too bright for this world. But then after looking for a little longer, I noticed it was in the shape of a person. It reached out toward me, and I had never been so quick to respond. When I touched it, I felt all my pain immediately dissipate. And I felt warm and... peaceful. And I was no longer in the sky. I was back in the field. But when I looked around, the man was gone. Vanished, right out of existence. I didn't understand it at the time, but that was my first experience with the Shifts. All I knew then was that I was free, and I damn well wasn't going to waste that. I ran as far as I could, away from the factories, the foster home, the corrupt governments and corporations. I kept running until I arrived at a City that didn't know me. That didn't want to know me. And I liked it that way, because it's easier to live as a ghost than as a victim."
Allison perked up, and when I turned around to see what for, I saw Trent entering back through the door.
"But you know what's interesting?" Allison blurted out, her voice becoming quieter. "Trent never took me back to confront my demon." Her voice became a whisper. "In fact, I can't recall him ever taking any of us back."
For a moment the whole world became a still frame. Allison's clear, olive skin, and dark eyes, made darker with eyeliner; her narrow nose; her small lips now coiling into a smile. My entire body was a hair trigger hat only needed the slightest force to set it off. And when Trent placed his hand on my shoulder, I whirled around and narrowly missed a haymaker that swept just shy of Trent's face.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa" he said and stepped back with his palms up. "It's just me. Is everything okay?"
I turned back to Allison, but she seemed different now. Her expression was benign; confused, even. "Are you okay?" she asked.
"I—you"
"We were just talking about where you were off to next." Allison said without a hint of pretense.
"Okay, well, chat time is over. It's time to go." Trent said and started guiding me toward the door. I turned back and saw Allison mouth some words which I swear I heard, as if they had been directly transmitted into my brain.
"See you soon" she purred.
She was smiling.
***
The next leg of the trip passed mostly in silence. It was a little over an hour to the storage facility which was located just South of Chicago. My heart was beating wildly in my chest as I pictured Allison's smile. I wanted to ask Trent if demons could possess Antennas, if somehow one of us could become compromised, but then I remembered Allison's words and stopped myself. Because I didn't know if I could really trust Trent. I tried to tell myself I could trust him—that it was Allison who was the liar. Her whole persona seemed fake at best, and possessed at worst. But, then... what if she was telling the truth? What if Trent was the enemy?
He sensed my quietness and tried striking up a couple conversations, but I only gave one-word answers. Somehow, our trust was so brittle that a single, well-placed sentence was enough to snap it. When he asked if everything was okay, I lied and said that I just had a headache and needed more rest. So I leaned my head against the stuffed tomato and tried to sleep, even though I knew I wouldn't be able to.
We arrived at the facility just as the sun was setting for the night. Trent pulled up to the self-service gate and scanned a card which caused the automatic doors to swing open. We looped down a couple rows of the outdoor units until we came to #48.
"We're here," Trent prompted, but this time I didn't budge. I felt his eyes on me after he turned off the ignition. "Hey," he called. "Are you awake?"
I was silent.
I heard Trent quietly click open his door, then close it the same way. I waited a few seconds then turned my head and watched him from the driver's side mirror. He opened the storage locker, then walked inside and turned on a light. It occurred to me then how dimly lit this outdoor storage facility was. There was a weak overhead lantern peeking over every fourth garage like an anglerfish's lure, leaving a large portion of the road not hit by the light bubbles completely dark.
I tried to plan my next move. I could leave Trent and run. But where would I go? Or I could stay and see Trent's plan through. There was a chance this was all an elaborate trap. Maybe Trent was working with the demon, or maybe he was the demon. But then why did he save me? Twice. Maybe he was actually a double agent for the Organization. But he could easily have captured me by now. Unless he needs me to go back to the origin point for a different reason... I considered everything I had learned up until this point: we live at the cross-section of different realms; these other realms interact with our world; Antennas, who are a very small minority of people, can see these interactions; the Organization wants to harness our power and create a 'Strong Antenna' to achieve some kind of universal hegemony; I'm the closest thing to a Strong Antenna to date; Trent knows this; He's taking me back to my origin point, despite not taking the others back to theirs; Trent claims to want to fight the Organization; the best way to fight the Organization would be with a Strong Antenna. What if Trent was trying to make me into a Strong Antenna?
I considered this chain of reasoning. It seemed very plausible, especially after Allison's cryptic messages. Was she trying to warn me of this? But that smile, and the "see you soon"... If she wasn't being possessed, why would she be seeing me soon?
Suddenly my thoughts gave way like a broken dam as I heard a ping come from Ava's radar. I jumped, thinking that all of the electronics turned off with the ignition, but when I looked at the circular sonar map, I saw a red dot had just emerged in the top-right corner. I looked out the window in the direction of the ping, but I couldn't see anything heading down the road.
Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.
Four more dots appeared behind the first, and they were approaching.
I jumped out the van and ran over to where Trent was hauling in a large cardboard crate into the back of the van. "Trent, there's pings on the radar. A bunch of them."
He dropped the box next to three others, and I realized I had never seen inside the back of the van. It was filled with what looked like pneumatic tubes wired into circuits, and in the center was a tri-pod which was holding a large halo-shaped ring.
"Pings?" Trent said, then his face widened with shock as he realized what I meant. "Shit, how many?"
"Five, maybe more now. And they're getting closer."
"Five?" He jumped out the back and ran into the storage locker. I thought he was going to close the door, but when I saw him hauling boxes back toward the van, I yelled at him. "What are you doing!?"
"I need to load this up for tomorrow. Here," He tossed me his keys. "Get it started."
"Fuck, seriously?"
Trent didn't respond, only kept shuffling boxes into the van.
I turned and ran to the door and hopped in the driver's seat. As I was turning on the ignition, I saw the row of bushes that was just outside of the facility begin to rattle. The next sweep revealed a whole sea of pings. I rolled down the window and shouted Trent's name.
"One more, that's all. Get in the passenger seat, I'll be there in a sec."
I scooted over the center console and waited, clutching at the bottom of my pants legs. Just as Trent slammed the rear door of the van shut, I saw the first figure emerge onto the road ahead of us. It looked like some kind of large coyote, though it was hard to tell because it was still fifty meters out.
"Now detecting 53 controlled agents." Ava said right as Trent jumped in and shut the driver's side door. "Net anomalies: 53."
"Ava, increase radius to five miles." Trent instructed as he backed up all the way to the end of the lane and spun us around toward the gate. Just as we left, I saw the pack of coyotes stalking toward us, slow at first, then in a dead sprint.
"Increasing radius." Ava responded. "Increased. Recalculating… Recalculating… Re—complete. Now detecting 451 controlled agents. Net anomalies: 451."
"What does 'controlled agent' mean?" I asked.
"Hold on," Trent said and accelerated into the gate, bursting through it. The whole van shook, and I heard my phone fall in the crack between the seat and door. Trent steadied the van, then said, "It means the things chasing us are being controlled by something that isn't detectable."
"The demon?"
"That'd be my guess."
"But why can't Ava detect it?"
Trent switched to the right lane, then merged onto the Interstate-South ramp. "Probably because it isn't trying to kill us."
"Then, what—" I looked back at the map and basically had my question answered. All 451 pings were coalesced in a semicircle on one side of the map. The side of the map that we had just come from. "Is it trying to force us toward the crash site?"
"It seems that way." Trent answered.
"Trent, pull over."
"Huh?"
"Pull over!" I yelled.
He looked at me, eyes wide. Then he did as I had instructed and pulled off in the middle of the ramp. The red dots slowly closed in on our position.
"Now detecting—"
"Shut up, Ava." I said. I could feel my blood boiling. "I'm not going one step further until you tell me the truth. Why are we going to my origin point? What is your real motive?"
"What do you mean? I already told you."
I unlocked the passenger side door.
"Wait," Trent said and reached out toward me. "Just, wait."
There was silence, except for the pings indicating that the beasts behind us had re-encroached on our position to about fifty meters.
"Okay, I didn't tell you everything. But we don't have time now—"
I opened the door.
"Okay, okay. I didn't tell you everything, it's true. I've never done this with anyone else, but the reason is because I never needed to. And if I told you what might happen, you would have refused it."
"Refused what?"
"This—me, my help. Lauren, I am trying to help you. But you have to understand—it's likely that neither of us are going to live past tomorrow. You're basically confronting a dark entity in a place where I can't protect you, and if you somehow do manage to kill it, you'll be coming back to the fight of your life. Because I don't have the power to hide you from the Organization. They're going to show up and try to take you. I really don't know how you've lasted as long as you have. Whatever protection you had growing up, it's gone now. And now I'm all you have. And in some twist of fate, you're all I have."
Ava reactivated. "Now detecting 1,117 controlled agents. Proximity till contact: 20 meters. Net anomalies: 1,117."
I closed my door. "But what if I still don't want to go through with it?"
Trent pointed at the screen. "Then we die right here, right now, together. Because I am one-hundred percent certain that if we don't go to that crash site, we're dead anyway. All of us."
Another ping rolled through. I checked the side-view mirror and saw the swarming pack of dogs reach the van and bound around the rear wheels. I suddenly recalled the conversation I had with Father Martin and the conclusions I had drawn. Father, I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared...
"Go," I said just as I felt the collision of the coyotes slamming their bodies against the side doors.
Trent didn't waste any time stepping on the gas. I watched as the coyotes diminished in the distance and the pings receded into the back of the map, never disappearing fully, but covering the flank of our retreat—a reminder lingering on the edge of our awareness that there was no turning back now. That, one way or another, this was ending tomorrow.
And I'd either be dead, or something else entirely.

Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper, Scott
Episode 11: Full Metal Drama
"Last week, on Total Drama Action. Our competitors took it on the chin as they faced an all-you-can-eat buffet of deadly natural disasters."
"But, it was Scott's own feet that tripped him up. His newly-broken bone took him out of the challenge, and cost him the use of an arm. A rough life for the dirt farmer, but his teammates had it even rougher."
"We threw the competitors into a submarine simulator and forced them to find their way out, and thanks to a certain bully using his brain rather than his brawn, both teams were able to live for another day."
"Sound tough? Get used to it!" The scene moved to a close-up of Chris standing in front of a building. "Because this week, it's all-out war!" The camera zoomed out, revealing a tropical war zone set, complete with sandbags, a bunker, a guard tower, and even a bomb lying on the ground. He pointed to a chart that had been set up next to him with drawings of tanks, fighter jets, and a dotted trail leading to an 'X'. "It's a desperate battle for survival, on Total! Drama! Action!"
(Theme Song)
The episode opened with a shot of the communal bathroom before the scene cut inside it.
MK and Scott were currently inside eating chips and drinking soda respectively in front of the sinks. “So how are you handling this broken arm situation?” MK asked her teammate.
“Horribly,” Scott grunted. “I use my right arm for everything, and with that broken, how am I supposed to whittle or scratch my armpits?”
MK winced at the last part. “Too much information.”
“It's bad enough that I have to wear this bandana until my brand is off completely,” Scott pointed at the orange cloth. “Having my arm in a sling will screw things up for us.”
“Tell me about it,” MK snorted. “And don't be a bummer. You're getting compensated for your injury.”
“I was getting to that, MK,” Scott said. “Because I threatened to sue them, I've been treated much better, especially by Chef who has to work extra as punishment for his secret alliance. I got my own bathroom to shower in, I got to eat actual quality food, and yesterday, they even told me that me and my family will receive a hundred thousand bucks just to make sure we won't take action.”
This information led to MK gaping. “Are you serious?”
“As serious as a barn burning down,” Scott nodded. “With this amount of money, we can finally get our farm reconstructed.”
“You can stop now before I get jealous, Scott,” MK told him.
“Yeah yeah,” Scott shook off. “So anyway, we have to talk about who we're gonna vote off next, and that would have to be Izzy.”
“Izzy? Why her?” MK raised an eyebrow.
“She just rejoined the game a couple of days ago, and we already have a history in season one,” Scott reasoned. “If we're not careful, she can convince Ripper and Chase to vote me out.”
“That is a reasonable explanation,” MK agreed. “But maybe we could get Chase on our side for the vote. Ripper likes Izzy, so he's not an option.”
“As long as we have more votes, Izzy will be taken down,” Scott smirked.
“Absolutely,” MK smiled back.
Confessional: MK
“...not!” MK said in the make-up trailer. “Me and Scott may be in an alliance, but in this game, we'd usually have to backstab each other to get what we want. If we lose, I'm obviously telling the team to gun for him. After the elimination ceremony, I'll have to make sure that I'm not gunned for, and I know just how to do that.”
Confessional Ends
The footage skipped forward, showing the contestants walking warily as Chris passed them in an army helmet and sunglasses. "Today, we're all about war movies," he told them, the shot zooming out to show Chef glaring nearby in his drill instructor's uniform.
"So, look lively you...," Chris began to say.
"Buckets of horse doo-doo!" Chef finished with a growl into their faces.
"So, get ready for the first death-defying challenge, you...," Chris began again.
"Disgustin' slimy crustaceans!" Chef finished once more.
"Move it, privates!" Chris ordered. "Fall in!"
"Sir yes sir!' the cast said as one.
Confessional: Izzy
"I have all the skills required to be a marine," Izzy said enthusiastically in the make-up confessional. "I am stealthy, tough, and loud enough, and I can handle a weapon, but I do value my freedom."
Confessional Ends
The camera cut to Ripper and MK as the Grips walked off. "I cannot wait to go to war," the techno girl said. "I've played my fair share of Battlefront, and my squad has won a lot of online multiplayer gaming titles. Most of the time, we don't even use teamwork."
“I hate to break it to you, but we're not in your little tech world,” Ripper said in an annoyed tone as the rest of the team joined in. “Just leave all the marine stuff to me today.”
“Let you do all the work and take all the credit?” MK glared. “Not happening, Buster.”
“Now wait a second-” Ripper began to glare back.
“Quit taking shots at each other!” Chase got in-between the two. “We can make a plan when we're at the challenge site, okay?”
“Seriously, I've seen my pigs fight over less,” Scott huffed as MK and Ripper continued to glare at each other.
Confessional: Ripper
“I'm really at my wits end with that shortstack,” Ripper complained. “Who does she think she is insulting and putting down the best looking guy on the show… me! Thankfully, MK won't be able to listen to me rant about her.”
Confessional: MK
MK was watching Ripper's previous confessional on her phone, especially the part about him bragging about himself. “It's so silly how he thinks I can't listen to everything he says,” she confessed after turning off her phone.
Confessionals End
The scene briefly flashed to the numbered studios with the sound of a plane engine in the background, the camera panning up to show the fake cliff before flashing to what looked like the inside of some kind of plane. The two teams were shown in a split screen with the Gaffers on top and the Grips on the bottom, all nine teens wearing blindfolds.
"Okay people," Chris said, "remove your blindfolds!" The contestants did as commanded, and the viewpoint shifted to show the teams sitting along opposite walls as the host walked in front of the camera. "When it comes to making a war movie," he said, the viewpoint moving again to show that he was standing next to a large trunk, "jumping out an airplane is the most dangerous stunt there is." He popped the trunk open, revealing several parachute packs within. "So naturally," he began to yell as he slid open a nearby door, the winds roaring inside the room, "it's our first challenge!"
MK and Scott gasped, as did Millie, and even Justin looked shocked.
"Chris really set the record for the shortest amount of time between the start of the challenge and our lives being endangered," Jasmine deadpanned over the roaring wind and engine.
“If we live, I'm going to file a complaint that's sure to get Chris replaced with a nicer and more considerate host,” Millie shouted.
“Nice grit for an underdog,” Jasmine grinned.
“Underdog?” Millie asked.
“Underdogs usually have a lot of fight and honor in them, and you've been tapping into it a lot,” Jasmine complimented her friend. “Keep it up.”
Millie felt flustered by her words. “I, uh, thank you.”
Justin soon sat in-between the two of them. “Jasmine, Millie! I want to propose something, but don't get excited, it's not marriage!” he chuckled. “Uh, anywho, it's a long way from the airplane to the ground below!”
“Exactly three kilometers!” Millie confirmed.
“Wouldn't know. Math is for ugly people,” Justin said. “Here's the deal! I need you two to jump before me in case I need a soft place to land, okay?!” The eye candy blinked his eyelashes only to receive blank stares from the girls. “Now, you girls know that I don't blink these eyelashes at just anybody!” He did the same thing again and got the same response. “Nothing?! When were your last eye exams?!”
"Drop zone approaching!" Chris announced after sticking his head out the open door. "Form a line, it's time to par-tay!"
The Gaffers were shown standing up as the host continued. "Stunt people undergo weeks of training before they parachute," he said as the Grips stood up as well, Jasmine walking forward hesitantly. "Luckily, we're gonna skip all that and get to the good part: Jumping!"
"That doesn't sound like a good idea!" Scott told the host.
"What's the worst that could happen?" Chris asked him.
"We die!" Anne Maria answered with annoyance and anger.
"I know!" Chris grinned. "Hilarious! Haha! Time to jump!"
"Well, there's no point standing here like statues," Izzy walked towards the trunk of parachutes with Scott.
“Hey McLean, can I skip out on the jump?” Scott asked. “My arm is broken!”
"Sorry Scott," Chris told him, "but you gotta jump too! Try not to land on your right arm, okay?" He then pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and turned his back on the now-enraged Scott.
“Someone's definitely going to increase the amount of money me and my family will get,” Scott whispered bitterly.
"At least we get parachutes," Chase told the injured boy.
"Actually, change of plans!" Chris interrupted, closing his phone and stowing it back in his pocket. "I just spoke to our research department, there were no parachutes in World War I!"
"So what do we do for the challenge?" Ripper asked.
"Simple," Chris replied as he shoved the trunk of parachutes out the door with his foot.
The contestants gasped, though a fearless Izzy was the first one to jump out the plane shouting “Tell my pet rock I love her!”
None of the other contestants made a move, though, and Chris scowled. "Okay, you kids better start jumping or I will have Chef tilt the plane and force you out!"
“That's all the motivation I need!” Chase said quickly and dived out into the air with a fearful cry.
"Who's up next?" Chris asked the remaining castmates with a smile.
The scene cut outside the plane as the contestants jumped out one by one. First MK, then Ripper, then Scott to round out the Gaffers with a terrified shout each as they quickly disappeared into the clouds below the plane. Next was Jasmine looking determined, followed by a shrieking Millie. Justin gulped and took the plunge, and Anne Maria came out last with a holler, and the host briefly looked out and below with a surprised look on his face before the clouds filled the scene.
They dispersed moments later to reveal all nine contestants in a heap on top of a large mattress.
"Hooray! We're alive!" Scott groaned. The camera zoomed out, showing that they were in a movie set. The plane was a wingless fake hanging from the ceiling only a few yards above the mattress, and the high winds were caused by a pair of giant fans operated by Chef Hatchet. On the back wall, level with the plane's windows and door, was a sky-patterned background made to continuously scroll and give the illusion of movement within the plane.
Chef shut off the fans, and the castmates groaned and began to get back up. "Let's roll, soldiers," Chris told them, now back on the ground. "Because the second part of this challenge is gonna blow your minds!" He grinned as he spoke before leaning towards the teens. "And everything else within a fifty-foot radius!"
Confessional: Chase
“If I had know that we would land on a mattress, I would’ve just let Chef force us all out,” Chase confessed.
Confessional Ends
The scene immediately flashed forward to a close-up of a green tarp being taken off a pile of grenades and bombs. "Are those," Jasmine asked as the camera pulled back to show her and the other Grips standing with Chris and the tarp-pulling Chef by a blast shield outside, "paint bombs?"
"We've divided the camp into two halves," Chris told them, the Grips watching with blank looks while the Gaffers were shown in a similar but mirrored position on the other side of the two men. "Most creative and controlled splatter wins."
“Alright gang,” Jasmine clapped her hands in order to get her team's attention. “Here's how our explosion is going to go. We'll have to lay our explosives in a pattern in order to make sure that the paint coverage will be more noticeable than the Gaffers’.”
“Excellent idea. I'll handle the explosives. I passed chemistry in my high school,” Millie eagerly walked off.
“Wonderful,” Jasmine smiled.
“I'll help as well,” Anne Maria said after she stopped using hairspray on her pouf. “I could ward off the other team by sprayin’ them in their eyes if they even think about spyin’ on us.”
“Not a big fan of harming our competition, but you do you,” Jasmine said uncertainly.
“And I'll be letting my butt have its beauty rest!” Justin chuckled suavely while laying back on a nearby hammock tied between two trees.
This did not go unnoticed by Anne Maria and Jasmine, who both flipped Justin off the hammock and into the ground.
“You're gonna help us with this challenge and not get any special treatment,” Jasmine scolded.
“Is it getting hot out here?” Justin took off his shirt and demonstrated his pecs. “Now if you'll notice, I don't sport a six-pack. I got twelve. That's a dozen smoking mandominals.”
“Get workin’, lazybones!” Anne Maria demanded and stomped off.
“This, this can't be right,” Justin panicked. “Have I really lost my lady controlling mojo?” He turned to the tallest member of the team. “Say it ain't so!”
“No need spouting the obvious, Justin,” Jasmine replied uncaringly.
“This challenge was designed for me!” Ripper told the Gaffers. “What do I not love more than exploding things?!”
“Being a numbskull, for instance,” MK retorted. “I seem to remember you saying that you let people do all the work for you. And we're supposed to trust you on this?”
“Adding my two cents onto this, I would've done the same thing if I was Ripper,” Scott added snidely.
“I'm sorry, MK, but I think we have to stick with Ripper on this one,” Chase said with a hand on MK's shoulder.
“Why?” MK objected. “I actually worked hard to get an A in chemistry.”
“Explosives Boy overrules Chemistry Girl,” Scott shrugged.
"Okay, time's up!" Chris announced, the camera cutting to his close-up as he entered the scene. "Uh-oh, looks like you didn't even get started."
“Not so fast, Chris!” the voice of Izzy cried out, and everyone turned their heads to see her smiling with her foot on a bomb and multiple bombs plastered around her team's site.
“Whoa. Now that's what I call thorough,” Chris narrated.
Chase hesitantly moved over to the curly haired girl. “Iz, what did you do?”
“Plant the explosives while you guys were at each other's throats,” Izzy giddily said.
Confessional: Izzy
“When Chris mentioned explosives and bombs, that was a sign that my team is lucky to have me on their side,” Izzy gloated. “I could blow up a hotel if I wanted to, but I refrain unless I'm extremely tempted.”
Confessional Ends
Another cut took the scene to the Grips, standing behind the blast shield that was between them and a set that was very much like the Gaffers', except that it had been mirrored. There were no visible bombs around, and they were all wired into a plunger held by Chris.
"Grips, are we ready?" Chris asked, handing the plunger over to Millie.
"Likewise," the writer said with a confident smile. As she pushed the plunger down, part of Richard Wagner's 'Ride of the Valkyries' began to play in the background. One by one, explosions of green paint began to go off around the Grips' area – in the guard tower, behind the sandbags, near the bunker door, and several off the bunker's roof. The music ended as one final explosion splattered the blast shield, stunning Anne Maria, Jasmine, and Justin.
As the dust cleared around their blast site, the camera pulled back to reveal a massive rendition of the Grips' light-bulb-and-crossbones logo in green paint.
"Nice show of team spirit," Chris told the four.
"I must say, that was very impressive," Justin admitted to Millie as the host walked away.
"What can I say? I wanted to make an explosion that would be mind-blowing, but still tame," Millie told him smugly. "You're welcome."
The shot cut back to the Gaffers' side of the camp, starting on their explosive-laden set before panning over to the five waiting behind their blast shield with Chris.
"Are we ready to blow it up?" Chris asked excitedly, with Izzy standing by a larger plunger than what the Grips had used.
"We're ready! Uno, dos, tres!!!" Izzy chanted and eagerly pushed the plunger down.
Almost immediately, a chaotic series of explosions were set off all around the base. They were accompanied by hectic and disjointed notes in the background music, and the host and other four Gaffers were shown cringing with their fingers in their ears. Eventually the explosions stopped, the dust settled, and everyone except Izzy leaned past the paint-splattered wall with curious expressions.
The camera panned to the left, showing what appeared to be a shapeless blob of paint. No patterns were apparent in it, and the areas that had been left untouched seemed to be random as well.
"Welp, at least it was controlled..." Chris said with a frown.
“Just come over here,” Izzy grabbed the host by the wrist and dragged him over to another spot.
"Hey, there's no touching the host!" Chris said indignantly, yanking his hand free as soon as Izzy stopped moving.
"Look now!" Izzy directed his attention back to the pain splatter.
Chris turned his head, and almost immediately began to brighten up. "It's...it's…beautiful!" he said, wiping away a tear as the viewpoint moved behind him, showing Izzy's paint pattern from another angle – it took the shape of the host's own grinning face.
"The Gaffers are victorious!" he announced, walking back to the other Gaffers by the blast wall. The Gaffers began to cheer and celebrate. "It is my honor to present your prize," Chris added just before Chef appeared wheeling a large and ornate-looking red chest on a handcart. "The Big Trunk of Mind-Blowing Secrets! You'll be defending it with your very lives when we return to more, Total! Drama! Action!"
The shot cut back with each word of the title, showing the defeated Grips standing by in shame.
(Commercial Break)
The episode came back on a shot of the cloudy sky, panning down to show Scott and Chase standing together by a potted palm tree.
"So what is it that you want to talk to me about?" Chase asked. "If it's to brag about your luxuries, then I don't want to hear it."
"It's not about that, Chase," Scott rolled his eyes. “I wanna talk about who we have to vote off tonight.”
“What do you mean “we”?” Chase grew curious. “I know who I'm going to vote for, and it doesn't take Einstein to figure out who it is.”
“I know I'm not the coolest kid on the block, but we have to pick off Izzy,” Scott suggested.
“And why would I do that?” Chase asked.
“She's a wild card, and she got back into the competition not once, but twice,” Scott emphasized. “Do you really want to face off against her in the finale?”
Scott left the athletic boy alone to ponder about his decisions.
The footage flashed forward to Chris McLean standing by the trunk he'd brought out. "Contestants, get ready to begin your next war challenge!" he announced. "It's a giant game of 'Capture the Flag', except in this case the flag is the Trunk of Mind-Blowing Secrets!" The camera zoomed in on the trunk at an angle, and the ornate thing seemed to glow radiantly.
"There's only one way to learn what's in the trunk," he told the off-screen castmates, "and that's to win the challenge. As your reward, we'll give you immunity from tonight's vote, aaaanndd a peek inside. But be ready. The secrets inside will blow your brains to bits!"
"I need my brain!" Ripper whined.
"Not to worry," Chris told him, holding up a roll of duct tape. "A roll of tape will be provided so you can tape the gray matter back together."
"Gaffers," Chris said as he walked over to what looked to be a building covered in a sheet bearing the logo of the Screaming Gaffers, "this is your base camp." Chef watched from close by, his hands angrily on his hips, as the host and the five teens began to arrive, Chase and Izzy carrying the trunk by the pair of poles sticking out on opposite sides. "Our set decoration team wanted to build you guys a towering castle, full of defensive possibilities! But, they went to see a movie instead, sooo..." Chris trailed off as Chef grabbed the sheet. "We're gonna give you this!"
The sheet was pulled away, revealing an utterly decrepit wooden shack. "I think it's a tool shed," the host said uncertainly before the building creaked and collapsed into a dusty heap of rotten planks and miscellaneous garden tools. "Was a tool shed," Chris corrected. "Good luck!"
"How are we gonna defend this big trunk out in the open?" Izzy asked.
"We just have to put our heads together and come up with a plan," MK answered.
“You guys do what you want. I'll be setting some booby traps,” Chase told the team and walked away.
“In first World War movies, the soldiers would always have underground hiding places,” MK said as she gave Izzy a shovel and held one of her own. “Those would be foxholes.”
“With me digging, why not call it a foxy-hole,” Izzy quipped.
“I'm just glad that I don't have to dig at all,” Scott bragged. “Using one hand only won't make the job faster.”
As Izzy began to dig rapidly with Scott watching her, MK turned to Chase and Ripper laying a net down on the ground with headlights attached. “Chase, Ripper, the rest of us agreed on a plan,” she informed. “We could use a little help.
“And we could also use you shutting up!” Ripper retorted. “We're busy!”
Confessional: MK
“If I wasn't so focused on strategy, I'd switch targets from Scott to Ripper just to spite his butt,” MK sniffed. “It's hard finding common ground with that jerk.”
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back with a shot of MK and Izzy digging a large hole in the distance and Scott observing them as though viewed through binoculars. "So what's going on?" Millie asked off-camera as the binoculars were lowered and the viewpoint shifted to Jasmine.
"Izzy and MK are currently digging and Scott is just standing there," Jasmine explained, "although I don't know if it's because they want to bury the trunk or construct a foxhole."
"What about the others?" Anne Maria asked.
"I don't know," Jasmine replied. "Ripper and Chase seem to have disappeared."
"I say we attack immediately!" Anne Maria declared with an air of formality.
"I say we don't," Millie shook her head. "The team obviously outnumber us and have defensive capabilities. Confronting them at this point would be really dumb."
"So what do we do?" Justin asked.
"What we need to do is to proceed intelligently if we want to win the challenge," Millie said.
“Sure. Let’s wait for the other team to set up more traps that will never let us get that trunk,” Anne Maria said sarcastically.
“That’s not what we’re going to do, Anne Maria,” Jasmine assured. “Millie, how are we gonna go about doing this?”
"We should send two people down there in order to figure out what they’re up to," Millie suggested. "That honor should go to Justin and Anne Maria."
"And why us?" Justin objected.
"Me and Jasmine need to think of a plan number two in case this plan fails," Millie reasoned. "All you guys have to do is execute this one."
"Whatever you say, Mil," Anne Maria said before grabbing Justin’s arm and walking away. "Let's go, hot stuff."
Confessional: Anne Maria
“I’m kinda surprised that Justin didn’t try to weasel his way outta the plan,” Anne Maria confessed. “What’s his game?”
Confessional: Justin
“We really need to win this challenge,” Justin said seriously. “By the look of things, my charms aren’t going to win the girls over and I’ll likely be the one going home today. So for the sake of my game, I’ll help out.”
Confessionals End
The footage skipped ahead to Anne Maria and Justin charging into the clearing the Gaffers started. "Where are they?" Justin asked after they stopped. “Jasmine just saw them.”
"Split up and look in other directions," Anne Maria ordered. “They may be hidin’ someplace else.”
The camera zoomed into the hole the Gaffers were in. "So how long do we have to stay in here for?" Izzy asked MK.
"Hopefully long enough for the Grips to admit defeat," MK answered.
"We’re good for now. We just have to not act stupid and blow our cover," Scott said while rubbing his sling. “And I don’t normally do this, but good job on the explosion, Izzy. It really helped us win the first part.”
Izzy was stunned to hear this. “Did you just… compliment me?” the wild child asked.
“Yeah, I did,” Scott replied. “I thought you’d just make a random explosion given how nuts you are, but you actually planned it out.”
“Yeah, how did you come up with the plan to just demonstrate Chris’s face?” MK asked.
“Chris is extremely narcissistic and vain,” Izzy explained. “Anything that revolves around his image will make him score us big points.”
“You’re not joking about that,” MK rolled her eyes. “He’s more likely to marry himself.”
The scene cut to Justin and Anne Maria meeting up with each other in front of the Gaffers' hideout. "Were you able to find the Gaffers? Because I could not," Justin said.
“I had no luck as well,” Anne Maria recapped.
The camera zoomed out to reveal that the duo were on top of the net trap, and they got hoisted up in the air by it.
"Got you dorks!" Ripper's laughing voice said off screen. The camera cut to him coming out of a nearby tree. "Chase, now!"
Chase's yell was heard as he swung on a cord before landing in front of the two Grips. He cut the rope holding the net trap, and Anne Maria and Justin were flung out of sight.
The camera cut back to the Grips' starting location. Millie and Jasmine watched in shock as their teammates crashed into the ground and groaned after they landed, prompting them to go check on their moaning teammates.
“There's, there's a... there's a scratch!” Justin said after feeling his face. “My face can't continue to take all this abuse! I'm losing it! You… you… you gotta let me go on leave!”
“I ain’t buyin’ any of this,” Anne Maria scoffed as she stood up and rubbed the dirt off her clothes.
“We all get scratches. I got a mosquito bite on my neck once, but that didn’t stop me from going to my job,” Jasmine lectured.
Anne Maria and Jasmine walked off, and Justin turned his eyes to Millie. “Millie, I know you’re a female. Can you help?”
“You were able to have girls wrapped around your finger, and now you’re getting zero play,” Millie summarized with apathy.
“You really are quick-witted,” Justin said in surprise.
“Relationship with Chase aside, I don’t really think you’re that cute,” Millie said. “Why else did I not want to kiss you in that challenge?”
“Like I care what you think,” Justin shot back in an offended manner and finally got off the ground.
Confessional: Justin
“Me? Not cute? I'll tell you who's not cute. Blind people named Millie!” Justin stated, upset.
Confessional Ends
"So it seems that the Gaffers will not come out until they're sure that we forfeit," Millie told her team.
"Which we’re not going to do," Jasmine said.
"Wasn't even planning on it," Anne Maria told her. "We should attack again the minute they show their faces, and I have a way to make sure that we’ll take that trunk."
"You two definitely have to help us this time," Justin reminded Jasmine and Millie. "We'll be outnumbered otherwise."
The footage returned to the Gaffers, Ripper and Chase now with them. "How much time do we have left?" Izzy childishly asked her team.
"I don't know and I don’t care, but we're still staying in this joint until time is up," MK declared.
"How many traps did you guys even set up while you were gone?" Scott questioned Chase and Ripper.
"We set up a total of four," Chase claimed. "Anne Maria and Justin hit one of them, so now we have three."
“This is why you shouldn’t doubt us, MK,” Ripper told his short teammate.
“I didn’t doubt you. I just wanted you to stay and help us,” MK argued. “And just because the other team set off one trap, doesn’t mean that I have to worship you like you’re Jesus,” she said before smirking, “and there’s no way you’re even next to godliness.”
“Pot calling the kettle black much?” Ripper snorted. “I still helped out, even if it wasn’t by your rulebook.”
“MK smart, Ripper strong,” Chase interrupted. “Can we all just agree that we’re special in our own ways?”
Ripper and MK frowned at each other and sighed.
“You’re not as dumb as you look,” MK grumbled.
“And you’re not an extreme big mouth,” Ripper mumbled.
“Good. I’m done playing mediator for the day,” Chase said.
"This is getting boring," Izzy moaned impatiently. "We should just go out there and attack the Grips."
"I’m tired of waiting as well," Scott spoke up. “Those losers are not getting our trunk.”
"We’re done arguing today, so how about we put it to a vote?" Ripper suggested.
"All in favor of going in for battle?" Chase asked as he raised his arm up, as did Ripper, Scott, and Izzy.
"I’m clearly outnumbered here,” MK sighed. “We'll go out in the open, but bring the trunk along."
The scene flashed to the Gaffers coming out of their hole and putting their trunk down. They saw the Grips charging at them, and they prepared themselves.
"There’s four of them and five of us," Scott took note with a grin. "I’m liking our odds already."
“But how are we going to take them down exactly?” Chase asked.
Izzy whipped out a smoke bomb from behind her back and held it up high. “Smoke bomb! Never leave home without it!”
As soon as the Grips reached their site, Izzy proceeded to throw the bomb at them. The Grips froze at the sight of this, but Anne Maria took out two hair spray cans, and after the smoke bomb hit the floor, a large white cloud covered the screen, but Anne Maria was able to spray their way out of it, and the team resumed running.
“Retreat!! Retreat!!” Izzy ordered her team, but it was too late when Anne Maria threw her spray cans on the floor in front of the Gaffers, and after they exploded, the Gaffers coughed profusely due to the extreme stench, leaving the trunk alone for the Grips to grab.
“So long, Gaffers!” Anne Maria taunted. “Grips rule!”
The scene cut to the Grips dropping the trunk on the floor after they returned to their site. “And that’s how we win it!” Anne Maria boasted.
"Time's up!" a sudden announcement came as Chris walked into view along with the other castmates. "The Grips have stolen the chest, putting them in the winner's circle."
"That means," Chris added while walking towards the Gaffers, "the Gaffers will be sending home one of their own tonight. And now, it's time to reveal to the winners," a reverent tune began to play as a spotlight was placed on the trunk, "the mind-blowing secrets within this trunk! Here's what you were fighting for, team!" The lid popped open, and Jasmine and Millie looked inside.
Their grins rapidly faded away as the reverent music came to a sudden and scratchy stop. "All that work," Millie said with a shocked look as a lighter and more emotional melody began to play.
"All that pain," Jasmine added.
"Pain?" Millie asked in confusion. "We rarely got hurt!"
"Still," Jasmine continued quickly, "all this for what?"
"A trunk that was empty the whole time!" Millie declared.
"War is a cruel, cruel thing," Jasmine concluded.
The Gilded Chris Ceremony began with all its usual fanfare, and after the introduction the footage flashed straight on to Chris standing at his podium. "This one's a nail-biter," he told the five seated teens. "I'd say no one's safe tonight. Izzy, how do you feel about your chances?"
The camera cut over to Izzy, sitting on the highest level of the bleachers. "Honestly, I feel pretty good about them," she said with a smile. "I was the one that scored my team the win for the first part of the challenge, and if I were to be going home today, it'd likely be because I blew the challenge."
“Or because you reverted back to your impersonations like E-Scope,” Ripper added.
“That's a thing of the past, Ripper,” Izzy said.
"Then," Chris continued, "there's Scott. Although you didn't cost your team the challenges or throw them on purpose, you didn't contribute much. Plus, your broken arm makes you a bit of a liability. Will you be the one sitting in the Lame-o-sine tonight?"
“We'll just have to see it to believe it,” Scott deadpanned.
"Chase, MK, Ripper!" Chris said with a broad smile. "Seems your tussles aren't entertaining anybody, not even your team. Are you worried?"
"Why would I? This team needs me, man!" Ripper shot a cocky smile.
"Alright then," Chris announced, "votes have been tabulated!" A folded card parachuted into view next to him, and he quickly snatched it up and held it to his forehead without bothering to read its contents. The tension began to build in the music. "So, it's time to present the awards. Tonight, the Gilded Chris goes to...MK, Ripper, and...Chase!" he said in succession, each name followed by the sound of an award being thrown and caught. "And now, only two nominees left."
The background music picked up as the screen was split, with spotlights on Izzy on the left and Scott on the right. "The final award goes to...," Chris said slowly as Scott watched nervously while Izzy smiled and held two fingers up to the camera. "Izzy!"
The camera panned left slightly as the wild child caught her golden statuette. "Hold on, wha?" Scott stammered in shock. "This has to be a joke, right?"
“No, it isn't,” MK said with a grin, “and you have me to thank for that.”
“You… you backstabbed me?!” Scott said with a bit of shock and anger.
“With four votes to one,” MK cackled. “I just did what you did to your previous alliance. Don't get all hypocritical.”
"Unbelievable!" Scott grumbled before he was grabbed by Chef and carried over the shoulder down the Walk of Shame.
Confessional: Izzy
“This was the perfect opportunity to get rid of Scott after all he's done in the first season,” Izzy said. “I'd be dumb to pass this up.”
Confessional: Chase
“Even with Scott trying to convince me otherwise, there was no way I wasn't going to vote him off,” Chase told the audience. “Besides, he can heal his broken arm off the show.”
Confessional: MK
“It's not hard getting people to vote off a disliked contestant, especially if that someone was the villain of last season,” MK mentioned. “I can't be tied down to Scott for much longer, and this is my season to shine!” she ended her confessional on a serious note.
Confessionals End
Scott was unceremoniously thrown into the waiting limousine by Chef. The door slammed shut, the limo sped off, and the camera cut back to a close-up of Chris.
"Well, we finally got rid of Scott the Schemer," he told the camera. "With him gone, hopefully we can stop providing benefits for him and not have to worry about being sued. Catch you next time," he said with a salute, "on Total! Drama! Action!" He ended the salute and put his hands behind his back, then smiled as he said "At ease!"
(Roll the Credits)
(Bonus Clip)
“I can't believe it!!” Scott grunted in the limousine. “MK totally duped me! Though given how much my team was against me, I knew I wasn't going to last this time,” he admitted reasonably. “Seems MK's this season's baddie, and an effective one she is. I'm still expecting the hundred thousand dollars to be delivered to me if it's the last thing the show will do for me. With me out of the game, I don't have to be forced to endanger my arm just for views, and maybe the next time you guys see me, I won't have this bandana around my forehead. The brand should be gone by now.” He used his good arm to take the bandana off, and was surprised by how little the branded “S.U.C.K.E.R.” was on his forehead. “Well would you look at that? I don't think I'll be needing this anymore.” He rolled down the window and tossed the cloth out, and then winced in pain afterwards and clutched his injured arm.
Eva - 14th
Geoff - 14th
Izzy - RETURNED
Trent - 12th
Sky - 11th
Brick - 10th
Scott - 9th
Killer Grips: Anne Maria, Jasmine, Justin, Millie
Screaming Gaffers: Chase, Izzy, MK, Ripper

As of the posting of this chapter, I now have just one full, and one mostly finished, chapter left to go before Reddit has caught up to my manuscript. Honestly, I'm not really sure where the story is headed next; My writer's block led to me writing the final chapter of the novel so I could move on from it, so I know where the story ends... But I'm as clueless as all of you about how it will get there. And personally, I'm excited to see it unfold... Especially with what takes place in this chapter and the next.
Up until now it's been merely place-setting for the REAL story. Welcome to the meat of the story, Reddit. Shit's about to get insane.
[First] [Glossary Addendum] [Previous]
[From the Abyss Artisanry, Wolfreach Commercial District, 23rd of Nocun, 5016 TE]

[Boltz]
Darkness... Flickering reality, ever-shifting... The screams of the half-Taken and the un-natural howls and cries of... things, jumping in and out of the places where reality itself wavered...
"GAH!" I shot up in bed, my breath coming in ragged gasps, my heart thundering in my chest. Chit, who had apparently been laying against my shoulder, let out a small cry of alarm as my shoulder suddenly shot past her head. I looked around the room, expecting to see it flickering like an old archive record from the Terran History Archive. But it wasn't... My breathing started to slow, though my heart continued to beat in my chest like a demented war-drum. I'm fine... Reality is fine. Nothing is - I let out a yell and my body jerked away as Chit reached out to touch my arm, before recovering. I looked down at my hands, and was shocked to see them shaking as though I was freezing. Chit laid her hand on my arm again, and this time I didn't flinch. Taking it as a cue, my lover shifted her body to be on my lap, and simply wrapped her arms around me. She hadn't seen what I had... But I was grateful for that. I simply wrapped my own arms around her and gripped her body tight, willing my nerves to settle. What I saw... I could only pray to the Duality that it wouldn't come to pass.
As my lover held me though, instead of my nerves simply calming, my composure slipped, slowly, cracking little by little as it slipped away, until I was crying like a child into my beloved Siren's neck. If it bothered her, she gave no indication of it; She simply held me tight, allowing the tears to flow.

[A Few hours Later...]

[Cewa]
I leapt off of Lan and ran into the workshop, Chit having already unlocked it for me. My Greatwolf companion collided with the door as it was closing, making a crashing noise as his shoulder connected. However, it was then allowed to continue closing, as Chit led me back to the apartment, where Boltz was on the bed, rocking back and forth. I had never seen such terror on his face before, and his eyes looked as though he had been crying. He registered my presence, and asked,
"Reality... Outside... It's not... Not..." He trailed off, shaking his head and rocking himself back and forth once more. I frowned, turning to Chit, and she said,
"All I could get out of him was that he had a nightmare where... Reality was... Flickering? Like the original records from the ship Terrans arrived on." The words sent an icy chill down my spine, and I froze. As I did so, Lan let out a fearful whimper as the mental image leaked across our connection. Seeing my reaction, and giving Lan a worried glance, she asked,
"What is it? What does he mean, reality flickering?" I looked at her, my body feeling hollow, and I replied,
"Obliteration."

[That Lunwatch...]

[Cewa]
I opened my eyes, finding myself in the Cascade. I looked around, and spotted Luunah, watching the universes in their eternal, slow-motion fall in the distance.
"How long do we have?" I asked by way of greeting. He turned to look at me, and frowned.
"What do you mean, Cewa?" He asked, and I growled.
"My Sparkborn, Jakob, woke up last night from a nightmare... Where he saw Khaos Taking a reality. It scared him more than anything I've ever seen.
Luunah fully turned to face me now, and I saw a flicker of concern in his eyes. He walked over to the Observatory, a small, table-like construct with a viewing sphere, he had called it. He gestured to the Observatory and said,
"Show me." Taking a deep breath, I focused on imagining Boltz, and soon enough, a vision appeared of him, sleeping, though his head was twitching left and right. Luunah reached out, and the vision rippled like water, before being replaced by...
"So it's happening again." Luunah said simply, and then looked out at a dark spot on the Cascade. I frowned at him, and he said,
"You must increase your vigilance, Cewa. The first indication of Khaos approaching a reality with Stormbirthed is them receiving visions. The second is the twisting of weak minds. You will find that there are people who will follow Khaos for what it claims to offer them. They will believe it, and follow blindly." I nodded, and Luunah sighed.
"It seems time is running out once more..." He said, and returned to his watching of the Cascade.

[A Cycle Later...]

[Chit'Eiwu]

"... And in other news, rumours have begun to circulate about a new pirate group calling themselves 'The Fingers of Khaotum'. These 'Fingers' have begun to make small time raid attacks on passing freight ships. It is unclear who is leading them or what their ultimate goals are, however-" I turned off the newscast, and sighed. It had taken just three weeks for this group to suddenly start appearing... And I had been one of the victims of their raids. I'd been waiting for a shipment of metals for creating new weapons for sale when the supplier had contacted me to tell me that the courier freighter ship had been attacked and their cargo stolen.
As I was sitting at the table and wondering what was to be the next step, Cewa walked in, and stood near the table. I looked up at him, then froze as I saw the expression on his face. He looked as though he had to inform somebody of their upcoming execution.
"What is it?" I asked, and he sighed.
"The Fingers of Khaotum... Boltz and I have to deploy alongside some Warriors and the CDF to combat them." I blinked, not sure why that would be such a bad thing. The Cluster Defence Force was, after all, a powerful military force.
"The Fingers... Will most likely be able to wield a pale fragment of the power of a Khaosian." He said after a short pause. My heart sank into my stomach; That would mean that only the Kaurine armour that we had developed would protect them.
"I can... I can give you and Boltz a couple of Watches. A week at the most. Make them count... My friend." He said, and gently squeezed my shoulder, a uniquely Terran gesture. I nodded, and he walked out again.

[Seven Watches Later...]

[Boltz]
Resting my elbows on the counter, I ran my face up and down my palms. It had been a hectic week, contacting all of my regular customers, and informing them that I'd be out for a while, and that due to the nature of why I would be absent, I couldn't guarantee my return. The messages also stated that if I was to return, I would look forward to serving their needs once more, but if this was to be our last correspondence, I was honoured that they had chosen From the Abyss Artisanry for their equipment needs. The countdown timer buzzed, indicating that it had finished and was now displaying the "closed" signage, and I straightened, and wearily walked into our apartment and through to the bedroom.
As I rounded the corner however, the weariness melted away; As she had each Lunwatch since Cewa had informed her that we would be deploying, Chit sat on the bed, her body proudly on display as she waited for me. And just as every night before, I couldn't help but grin. It was like she wanted to ensure that our memories had each other's body burned into them in case I didn't return. Not that I was complaining... Though tonight, with it being the last Watch before I deployed, I decided to make it... Special.
Taking a deep breath, I took off and folded each item of clothing with deliberate slowness. First my jacket, which was made of genuine cattle leather, then my shirt, then my shoes where neatly placed beside the door, but out of the way. After that, my pants came off and were folded once, twice, then placed on top of the other two items. My underwear of course, sailed into the washbasket. Once I had joined my lover in bed, we spent the rest of the Lunwatch, or more accurately, the energy we had left, burning the memory of each other's bodies onto the surface of our minds, because we knew there was a chance this would be our last night together.

[The Next Watch...]

[Cewa]
I knocked on the door to the bedroom of Boltz and Chit's apartment, and I saw an amethyst head raise tiredly from the bed, where both Boltz and Chit were laying together in something of a crumpled mess. Her green eyes gazed at me without focus for a few seconds, before slowly focusing on me, then her head fell back, and she groaned,
"What time is it?" I chuckled, and replied,
"It's about two hours past Solpeak. I figured I'd give you guys almost as much time as possible; We need to be leaving atmo by five." I leaned against the doorframe, and couldn't help but grin as Chit almost lazily hit Boltz with an arm.
It must have been one hell of a Lunwatch they had... Boltz's sandy hair popped up, then turned, and he rolled over to squint at me. I gave an exaggerated wave, and his head dropped, then came back up as he asked,
"Can't delay it?" His words were slightly unclear from drowsiness, and I shook my head.
"Nope, but I deliberately came early in case this very thing happened. Bitterbean?" I replied, and an arm flew up before dropping again. Chuckling as I turned to go into the kitchen, I called out,
"If you're not dressed yet, throw something on; Got a new uniform waiting for you on the ship anyway so that's not an issue." And with that, I strode into the kitchen, knowing from many a visit where the ingredients were. Biterbean granules for the heart of the drink, and an equal amount of sweetcrystal to take the edge off the bitterness. I placed a cup under the receptacle tap, and hit the "bitterbean" button, followed by "type A". The machine scanned the cup, and began to heat up the right amount of water, as set by Boltz, and then walked over to the fridge to grab out a bottle of milk.
As I walked back to the receptacle, the fridge door closing itself without pressure against it doing so, the tap dispensed steaming water until it was about a quarter from the top, before stopping. I pulled the cup out and poured milk until it was just under the lip, paling the color from a dark, almost black, to a muted, muddy brown. Then I took the now empty milk bottle to the reducer and dropped the glass container into it, just as Boltz stumbled out of the room. I noticed however, that he was walking in a slightly awkward way, and chuckled. Definitely a hell of a Lunwatch... Though I couldn't blame him; I was walking the same exact way for the first hour after I woke up. I gestured to the bitterbean, now steaming away on the counter, and he gave me a tired grin.
"Thanks. How long til we gotta be out of atmo?" He asked, and, as I moved out of the way, I replied,
"By five. You've got about two and a half hours to down that and wake up, then we gotta get mobile." He nodded, and grabbed the cup with one hand, lifting it to his lips. He took a sip, and I saw some of the tiredness immediately dissipate from my friend's face.

[Two and a Half Hours Later...]

[Cewa]
I watched in amusement, Aerrin by my side next to the transport shuttle, as Boltz shared one last kiss with Chit before boarding. Aerrin laughed as Boltz finally turned around, jogging over to the shuttle and boarding, his cheeks flushed. I grinned at his expression, which resembled that of a schoolboy who got caught kissing his crush in behind the gymnasium practice mats. Turning to Aerrin, I wrapped my arms around her waist, and said,
"With a bit of luck we'll be back in person in around two weeks." Lifting up one hand, I brushed some hair out of her face, and leaned down to kiss her goodbye, hoping against hope that it wouldn't be our last.
After a few blissful moments though, I had to let go, and reluctantly did so. I stepped back and onto the shuttle ramp, and grabbed onto the overhead stability rail. Aerrin took a few steps back, and I turned towards the pilot, and nodded. The shuttle immediately began ascending, and Aerrin waved, continuing to do so until the shuttle turned away, the side door sliding into place and sealing.
Sighing, I moved to the seating section, and swung myself into one of them beside Boltz. Soon enough, the shuttle rattled as we approached the sound barrier, and then slowly calmed down as the atmosphere around us grew thin. Off to war again, it seems... I thought, and then glanced at Boltz, who had his eyes closed, and teeth clenched. I felt a smile tug at my lips, and added, But at least I'm not alone. I've got the closest thing I've ever had to a sibling here with me.
After a few minutes more of flight, the pilot began speaking into his comms, and I stood up, walking to the cockpit, and taking hold of the handles on the twin seats in the front. The pilot looked around at me, hearing my approach, and said,
"Just received docking clearance, sir." I nodded, and focused my attention ahead of us. Reaching down my connection to Kaelani, I said,
Whereabouts are you, Lan? There was a moment of silence, before he replied,
Approaching the hangar. You're inbound? I nodded, then realised he wouldn't be able to see me do so.
Affirmative; Just a few clicks out. The ship's just come into view, and we're on approach to the hangar area. I caught a flash of the doors to the hangar from the ship interior, and flashed back the sight of the ship we were to serve on.
The Aurora Caelum Procella, was one of a small family of nigh-identical ships. The bow of each, had a sensor array, looking like needles poking out ahead of the massive vessel and the hull was a gunmetal grey aside from a patch displaying the Warrior Emblem: A Kaurine Blade, half Empowered, resting on a metal shield like in the ancient archives Terrans brought with us when we fled wherever we previously called home before the Cluster.
Behind a section of nearly featureless hull, broken only by small lines of dotted windows for the crew quarter areas, sat a series of three large hangars. We were headed for the closest one, but I could also see a set of three visible, and massive, engines a ways behind the last hangar.
From having the systems described to me, I knew there was a fission-fusion duel operation reactor which measured a cube of approximately fifty metres, or about thirty of my roughly one and a half metre height, stacked, in each direction, which provided a number in energy units that I couldn't even remember due to the size of it being impossible for me to grasp at the time.
Alongside this reactor however, were the massive engines of the ship, each of which stretched about twice as far inwards from the nozzles I could see, and with a width of around ten of my height, or just over a metre and a half, the engines would be a most dangerous place to be indeed. Soon enough however, the shuttle docked, and the door popped open with a hiss. Lan sat on the other side, waiting for me.
However, Boltz reached him first, and rubbed the fur between his ears. Over our connection, Lan let out an almost... Terran groan of pleasure, before recovering his composure as Boltz moved on, and saying,
Why does that feel so good? I chuckled as I walked to the door, and hopped down from the shuttle, which this time had not lowered the boarding ramp. Resting a hand on his neck, I shrugged.
"Who knows?" I said aloud, and he stood up to match my stride as we walked to the command bridge.
A few minutes later, we stepped out into a large chamber in the center of the ship, with the walls covered in viewscreens. Lan and I reached the Command Table, and he assumed a bowing position, while I snapped a salute, which consisted of bringing one's arm up as though cradling something to your chest, and clapping your hand to the front of your shoulder, before forming a fist with the same hand and thumping said shoulder. As I did so, the ship's Commander turned from where she had been studying a star chat with one of the navigators, and returned the gesture as she fixed me with a sapphire gaze.
"Ah, Lord Aerrus! Did you have a pleasant flight up?" She asked.

This particular Commander, one Akyra Vikrian, was an Arctus Lepardis, to my great surprise. Her fur was dotted with various patches of black on her silvery coat, with some rings of black enclosing sections of an almost greenish grey color. Her black and white tail swished from side to side for a couple of moments as she spoke, indicating her happiness at seeing me. Her uniform, like the one I would soon don, was a mixed color; The majority of its shape was deep, Lunshade blue, and the hems and collar were a perfect, snow white, though unlike me, her insignia was that of a Blade and shield, with three bars below it, resembling support pillars.
I flashed a grin at her, and nodded, assuming a more relaxed posture.
"Yes, it was slightly bumpy, but that's to expected with a rapid ascent. So, what's the latest?" I asked, stepping down towards the Table, or CT, as we referred to it internally. She pressed a few buttons, and brought up a holographic archive.
"They call themselves the Fingers of Khaotum, though we're not sure yet what their ultimate goal is; They seem to be raiding for supplies right now, though they also leave no survivors behind." She said, bringing up a classified document which contained a report from a recent attack.
"Have the Shadesteppers worked out why they named themselves that?" I asked, stroking my chin thoughtfully, where some facial hair was beginning to develop. She brought up another report in the archive, and paraphrased a summary for me.
"They seem to be a religiously fanatical entity, espousing the virtues of what they call 'The Evershifting Paradise'. Beyond that, Khaotum seems to be their... God?"
I groaned at the words, and her gaze flicked to me.
"What? I've heard of what that sound means from a Terran..." She said. Sighing, I nodded to the door, and said,
"You'll want to follow me. This is... Not something you want to burden the crew here with. Bad enough that leadership members need to know." One of the Terran crewmembers turned to look at me, a frown on his face. Anticipating the question in his eyes, I said to him,
"This is something you would rather not know. If you knew the nature of the force behind these raiders, the lack of sleep would kill you." His face paled, and he nodded.
"Don't worry, crewman; Anything that won't adversely affect you simply by knowing, I will tell you. Anything that will... Well, that's my burden to bear." I added, and rested a hand on his shoulder. I smiled inwardly as the relief washed over his face.
Then I turned and led Akyra out of the bridge, and down to the Cerebis chamber of the ship. Cerebis chambers were a kind of mental projection theatre, used for primarily interrogation techniques, where a person merely thinking about something will project it. As we passed the med bay, I asked Akyra to wait for a moment and walked in, finding a medical assistant on her commpad. She looked up and then rapidly stood and saluted, but I waved a hand.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to report you for that. Do you have any spare bodily waste disposal bags? Specifically I need one with a reverse filter." The assistant nodded, and grabbed one out.
"Using the Cerebis chamber?" She asked, and I nodded.
"Need to show the Commander something... And I don't think she will handle it well." The assistant's face paled slightly, and I allowed myself a grim smile. She shakily sat down again, and I returned to Akyra, handing her the bag.
"You may need this for what I'll be showing you." I said.
[Next: The Fingers of Khaotum]