Public opinion of TriMet's decisions have been pretty mixed, mostly because TriMet's decisions are so convoluted that they can be a real challenge to understand. In reality, Metro and Portlanders need to have a bigger civic conversation about the future of TriMet, looking at the big picture. We have 3 looming existential crises of TriMet to be concerned about that are bigger than revenue dips, crime, or homeless people.
Civic leaders and the public are focused on a quick "fix" for TriMet revenue drops - even though we've seen this coming for a long time, it's very predictable that TriMet's Board of Directors acts at the last minute. Also, very predictably, TriMet's Board opted for a fare increase because over the previous 20 years that's been a go-to answer to every problem (except for that one time they killed Fareless Square). The politically appointed boards of TriMet and Metro lack the unique specialized knowledge of the issues I'll bring up here. If TriMet knows about these larger issues, they're obviously burring it from public view. In the short term, increasing fares is like putting fresh paint on a house that's on fire; in this situation, that paint is HIGHLY flammable.
First - fare hikes as a tactic is a brain-dead move. Just the most utterly stupid and self-sabotaging response to a looming budget shortfall. I'm dwelling on this because it illustrates their terrible decision-making, which is functional proof they have no idea what they're doing. Some of the core reasons for this:

• Increasing fares reduces utilization. Higher cost means fewer people ride, which will decrease the ridership revenue. It will also marginally increase the number of people who won't pay (funny story, some of those who don't pay actually can't afford to). TriMet isn't a monopoly or inelastic service, and plenty of other choices exist that didn't exist 20 years ago: an actual bike share, scooters, electric bikes, UbeLyft, shared vehicles, and more bike paths. Before the pandemic, it was common that I would bus into downtown for work and then take a Lyft home because it wasn't all that expensive, like $8 more than a bus ride - TriMet's price increases make a system that wasn't very competitive simply less compelling.
  
• Across Portland we need to go through a process of austerity and downsizing government. I absolutely support Wheeler putting a pause on rate increases, but for God's sake, we have far too much largesse in every layer of government. If you need to learn what I'm talking about, read my old article on Parks & Rec. So many divisions/agencies have doubled their staff while reducing service levels. It's bonkers. Cutting throats needs to be an imperative. This is because the great majority of public sector employees in Oregon and Portland are incompetent, redundant, and only exist because Oregon and Portland have been reluctant to use automation. And I don't mean the cutting-edge AI stuff, I'm talking about people who still handle business processes as if they're paper forms. I could tell so many stories from my professional experience - but you'll have to take my word for it for now: culling this bureaucracy is the right move, and until there's a significant downsizing, the political class is taking none of the financial crisis or cost of living situation seriously.
  
• TriMet's operating budget/revenue is primarily Payroll Taxes, not passenger revenue. About 20-30% of TriMet's budget comes from people buying fares, whereas the bulk of money TriMet needs comes from payroll taxes that businesses pay directly. Because of this, transit activists (including myself) have been proponents of increasing the payroll taxes marginally to make TriMet free for riders. Of course, fareless transit comes with a wide variety of new and different problems (that's an article for another time). Still, when you understand that only a sliver of revenue comes from fares, increasing the fare simply results in a marginal increase in revenue. The much bigger problem is going to businesses investing outside of Metro, and changing workforces that 1) won't pay payroll taxes reliably, 2) don't need people to go into the office. Think about the longer-term game here: is TriMet's board going to increase fares as utilization drops and payroll taxes continually diminish? (See my point above about how their default answer is "yes" because it's the only politically expedient answer.)
  

Reading comments about the fare hikes, most of the public thinks TriMet is dealing with a safety or utilization issue. Both of these are 100% true: soft-on-crime progressives have wholly obliterated the working class perception of TriMet safety - there are so many different ways this has happened, but we should thank so many people in the media and political class: Ana del Rocio's crying wolf about racism in fare inspections (and the media entertaining it), or Mike Schmidt deinstitutionalizing of the justice system, or Legislature's inability to act on the massive mental health crisis and drug addiction crisis in Oregon. No matter the underlying cause, we have a system where deranged violent mentally ill tweakers can be disruptive on the train, but working-class people face a $250 fine if they can't afford a $2.50 ($2.80) ticket. TriMet is less safe, especially the light rail and bus lines. We could hypothetically talk about various policy and infrastructure changes, such as turnstiles and security guards - but pragmatically, this won't do shit when our society has adopted a philosophy of transforming the urban core into an open-air insane asylum and opened the doors to the prisons. This safety issue is well beyond TriMet's scope, and even if there was consensus among TriMet and Metro to solve this, the entire justice system and Legislature is still broken.

Fare Hikes and Utilization is the Red Herring - Let's talk about TriMet's future

In reality, multiple design choices made decades ago set us up for failure. But we also have to thank brain-dead progressive lunatics and corrupt politicos who have steered our transit decision-making into the ground.
There are three specific issues I'm going to talk about, with each becoming more consequential and disastrous for TriMet:

• Hub and Spoke Design and the need for a redesign of the entire system to fit new commuting/transit patterns
  
• Portland Light Rail's short cars are a capacity problem not worth the price tag to fix
  
• Autonomous vehicles are here, and it's just going to get worse for TriMet
  

The strategic design of TriMet's system is broken, and it's been broken before.

If you looked at a map of TriMet's bus and rail system, you'd see a design pattern often referred to as a "Radial Design" or sometimes a "Hub And Spoke" design. The Hub and Spoke strategy is building our transit system around centralized locations to connect to other routes. For Portland the idea is to go downtown (or sometimes a Park and Ride) where you can connect to your next destination. This is why the majority of bus routes and all the max routes go downtown, to our Transit Mall and Pioneer Square.
Downtown planning was a smart idea in the 1960s when it was coupled with Main Street economic theory and prototype urban development zones - all of this wrapped up in the 1972 Downtown Plan policy. During these decades, the primary economic idea of urban revitalization was that downtown cores could provide better business climates and shopping districts that amplify economic activity synergistically. In other words, packing all the office jobs and luxury shopping in one area is good for workers, business, and civic planning.
All very smart ideas in yester-year, so TriMet became focused on serving the downtown business community myopically. This myopia became so paramount that it was considered illegitimate (actually taboo, borderline illegal) if you used a Park & Ride facility to park and NOT ride downtown. Amanda Fritz once explained that we couldn't expand Barbur Transit Center because that would result in students parking at Barbur Transit Center and riding the bus to PCC Sylvania. This view implies that TriMet exists only to service downtown workers, not the students, not the impoverished mom needing to go to a grocery store.
How does TriMet's hub and spoke design represent its purpose?
Portland's unspoken rule of transit philosophy is that jobs pay for the system (remember, business payroll taxes pay for most of it), so TriMet should be focused on serving people utilizing it for their job - employers pay for it, and they get value out of it. But this is both unspoken (never said aloud) and largely unobserved. The whole idea of TriMet as a social service to serve low-income people, to help impoverished people - well, those ideas were just lukewarm political rhetoric that is tossed out as soon as some Undesirable with tattered clothing reeking of cigarettes gets aboard - then Portlanders jump right back "this is for workers only!" Sadly, there hasn't ever been a public consensus of why TriMet exists because I could equally argue that TriMet's purpose isn't serving the working class; it's actually vehicle emissions reductions - but here, too, reality contradicts that this is the purpose for why we operate TriMet. TriMet's real purpose seems to be "Spend money on lofty capital projects" and if we want to be cynical about it, we can elaborate "…because large capital projects enable grift, embezzlement, and inflating property values for developers."
We haven't always depended upon a hub and spoke design. A great article from Jarrett Walker written in 2010 on his Human Transit blog explains in "The Power and Pleasure of Grids"

Why aren't all frequent networks grids? The competing impulse is the radial network impulse, which says: "We have one downtown. Everyone is going there, so just run everything to there." Most networks start out radial, but some later transition to more of a grid form, often with compromises in which a grid pattern of routes is distorted around downtown so that many parallel routes converge there. You can see this pattern in many cities, Portland for example. Many of the lines extending north and east out of the city center form elements of a grid, but converge on the downtown. Many other major routes (numbered in the 70s in Portland's system) do not go downtown, but instead complete the grid pattern. This balance between grid and radial patterns was carefully constructed in 1982, replacing an old network in which almost all routes went downtown.

Over the years the grid pattern was neglected in favor of a downtown-focused investment strategy. To a real degree it made practical sense: that's where the jobs were. But again, this is the presumption that TriMet and Mass Transit ought to service workers first, and there's not much consensus on that. But while we can't decide on TriMet's purpose, we can absolutely agree on one important thing: Downtown is dead.
No 5-star hotel is going to fix it. (As of writing, I'm not even convinced that this mafia-connected bamboozle of public fraud will open.) No "tough-on-crime" DA to replace Mike Schmidt, like Nathan Vasquez, will fix downtown. It's not JUST a crime problem: most of the problems we deal with today mirror the problems facing Portland in the 1960s, especially our inability to invest in good infrastructure people actually want to use. That's on top of crime, vandalism, and an unhealthy business ecosystem.
IF we want to maintain TriMet (and that's a big IF, for reasons I'll explain below), then it will be focused on something other than downtown. We need to move back to a grid-design transit system, as this is a much easier way to use transit to get around the city, no matter your destination. If TriMet continues to exist and operate fleets in 20-30 years, this is the only way it exists - because it will just be too inconvenient to ride downtown as a side quest to your destination, especially as we look at 10, 20, 30, 40 years from now.
Of course, we can only transform some parts of the transit infrastructure this way, and there are no uplifting and moving train tracks here. So light rail doesn't have a future in the grid system - but even without the grid system, light rail is doomed.

The fatal flaws of light rail in Portland.

I want to preface this by saying I like light rail as a strategy, it's not a bad system or bad civic investment. I could write another 5,000-word essay on why Seattle did an excellent job with light rail and the specific decisions Portland made wildly incorrectly. In transit advocacy the wacktavists inappropriately categorized skeptics of Portland's light rail as some soft bigotry - as if you're racist if you don't like Portland's light rail - even though, ironically, most light rail systems tend to be built for the preference of white culture and white workers, precisely what happened here in Portland and most cities (but this is all a story for another time).
Portland's light rail system has a capacity problem and has dealt with this capacity problem quietly for the last 20+ years. When you see the capacity problem, you can quickly understand this light rail system won't work in the future. All the other smart cities in the world that designed light rail realized they needed big long trains to move many people. Portland decided to limit the train car length to the size of our city blocks to save construction costs - and this has always been a fatal flaw.
Portland's highest capacity train car is our Type 5, according to Wikipedia it has a seating capacity of 72 and an overall capacity of 186 per train. Let's compare:

• Washington DC has 6-car trains capable of carrying 120 passengers per car, or 720 per train.
  
• Salt Lake City has a 4-car train capable of carrying 230 passengers per car, or 920 per train.
  
• Seattle's Link system has a 3 or 4-car train, each capable of carrying approximately 200 passengers per car, so 600 to 800 per train.
  

Portland's light rail lines have roughly the same people moving capacity as a single lane of a highway, maybe marginally more, maybe marginally less. These other cities have a light rail system that can move the same amount of people as an entire 3-lane highway.
You might suspect that Portland could simply run trains more frequently - but nah, that's impossible because the trains run through the central core of downtown Portland, and they're blocked by the real interfaces with road traffic and bottlenecks. TriMet/PBOT/Metro has offered rosy ideas that we could hypothetically run cars every 90 seconds, 2 minutes, 4 minutes, or 6 minutes (depending upon who you ask) - but these are garbage numbers invented out of thin air. For example, you could stand at Pioneer Courthouse Square at 4:50pm on a Wednesday in 2016 - there was a train opening doors to load passengers, and you could visibly see the next train at Pioneer Place Mall pulling into the station behind. Trains were running at approximately a 3 to 4 minute at peak - but on paper, TriMet will claim anything, as they don't give a shit about lying to the public. But the bigger problem is that trains were full. You might have to wait 90 minutes to find a train that offers a seat. And god forbid you had a bike.
I'm not making this very real capacity problem, Metro even acknowledges:

At the busiest hours of the day, 40 light rail trains must cross the river and traverse downtown – one train every 90 seconds. As the region grows and the demand for light rail increases, the region will need at least 64 MAX trains through downtown every hour, more than one train each minute. Our current system can't support that change.

Suppose you're silly enough to trust government propaganda. In that case, you can read the details of Metro study on this in 2019. If we assumed their numbers added up, it's just fucking impossible to run 62 trains per hour, because passenger loading and unloading can take a full minute (sometimes longer). So unless we want to apply substantial g-forces onto the passengers, the train isn't accelerating out of the stops fast enough. Not to mention how unreliable this whole system would be if a sole tweaker, bike rider, or person with a stroller held up the system for 2 minutes.
This is why the bottom line needs to be upfront about capacity - quoting Metro's study here:

Today MAX is limited to 2-car trains because of the length of downtown city blocks. A tunnel could allow for longer trains if the stations outside the downtown core are retrofitted. In the long-term, this could greatly increase MAX capacity.

Do you see that trick? Build a tunnel, yes - but the entire system has to be retrofitted. Literally every light rail station would need to be redesigned, the lines themselves recalculated for larger heavier trains - and extending platforms at Willow Creek might be simple enough, but how in the living fuck is Metro going to afford to expand the Zoo stop? Doubling the size of that platform would cost $500 million alone.
If the city weren't full of cheap dipshits, we would have elevated or buried our light rail lines in the 1980s or 90s, enabling longer train cars to run. Yes, we all knew back then that it was the best practice not to have light rail running on the street - it's less safe, less reliable, runs slower, and limits train car size. Oops.
Just to keep TriMet's own bullshit inflated utopian vision, it would mean spending another billion dollars just to unfuck downtown, bypass an aging bridge, and potentially allow a marginally higher volume of trains - which again is a band-aid on a mortal wound.
The real buried lede is that to add extra train cars means retrofitting all the stops in the system - that's tens of billions of dollars. You can argue costs, but Metro knows we need to do this. It means shutting down the system for a year or years while construction and retrofits happen. It's fucking outrageous. Is this system worth of people per line worth 20, 30, or 40 billion dollars? Fuck no, it ain't. Again, if we had a raging metropolis of industry and commerce downtown, we could reasonably entertain the idea for a moment - but we don't and never will again.
Some folks might argue that if we kill off the light rail system we'd lose out on all those lucrative Transit Oriented Developments. Originally the public was told that Transit Oriented Development strategy would cause a massive infusion of private investment because the light rail was so damn lucrative and desirable for Richard Florida's Creative Class. Turns out the Creative Class is now called today the Laptop Class, and they don't give a flying fuck about street cars, light rail, or walking scores - because most can't be bothered to put pants on during their "commute" from bed to desk. TOD was all a fantasy illusion from the beginning, as multiple studies about Portland commuters showed that college-educated white folks riding Max were equally comfortable riding their bike as a substitute for the same commute. All of these billions of dollars was to accommodate white fare-weather bikers. So here's my hot take on transit: pave over the rail lines and put in bike lanes, and boy, then you'd have a bike system to give folks like Maus a hardon. But of course, Bike Portland would complain because their focus isn't biking; they exist only to favor all poorly thought utopian transit ideas.
Another group of Max/TOD advocates would claim that TOD is better for disabled and impoverished people. And yeah, there's truth there, but see my entire argument above about the Hub & Spoke design of TriMet being the antithesis of transit as a social service. If you believe that TriMet should serve low-income people, you must advocate for a bus-centric grid design.
But even if you're a die-hard believer in light rail - there's another inevitable reality coming that is the nail in the coffin.

Autonomous vehicles will replace mass transit faster than the automobile replaced the horse.

I work in advanced technology, and the thing about tech is that the public and politicians deny that it's going to be there until the majority of the public finally experiences it. You could say this about personal computers, internet, cloud compute, electric cars, smartphones, distributed ledger (cryptocurrency), AI, and driverless vehicles.
Schrodinger's technology doesn't exist until it's measured in an Apple store or your mother asks you for tech support.
No one thought AI was really real until ChatGPT did their kid's homework, and today most people are coming to terms with the fact that ChatGPT 3.5 could do most people's jobs. And that's not even the most advanced AI, that's the freeware put out by Microsoft, they have paywalls to access the real deal.
In 2018 I rode in my colleague's Tesla in self-driving mode from downtown Portland to Top Golf in Hillsboro. We started our journey at the surface parking lot on the west side of the Morrison Bridge. He used his phone to tell the car to pull out of the parking spot and to pick us up. Then he gave the car the address, and it drove us the entire way without any human input necessary. The only time he provided feedback was to touch the turn signal to pass a slow car on the highway. People think self-driving isn't here - but it is - and it's gotten exponentially better and will continue to do so. People will complain and moan about idealized, utopian, pedantic "level 5" full self-driving, how none of it exists or could exist, as a Tesla passes them on the road and the driver is half asleep.
Of course, Portland and every major city have also thought deeply about self-driving technology, and a few places have implemented self-driving solutions - but so far, none of these are really at scale. Though it will be a short time before cost-conscious cities go all-in.
TriMet kicked around the idea of using an autonomous bus for a leg of the trip of the Southwest Corridor project, connecting a segment of the light rail route to the community college. It was bafflingly stupid and short-sighted to think they could use it in this niche application but that it wouldn't open the floodgates for a hundred different applications that eviscerate TriMet's labor model. The simplest example of autonomous operation would be to operate the light rail systems - because they don't make turns, all we need is an AI vision service to slam on the breaks if necessary - that technology has existed for 20+ years. We could retrofit the entire train system in about 3 to 6 months - replace every Max operator with a security guard, and maybe people would ride the Max again? But I digress.
Let's speculate about the far-future, some 5, 10, or 20 years from now: your transit options will expand significantly. The cost will decrease considerably for services using automated vehicles.
You'll look at your options as:

• Drive to work: fastest, takes $100+ worth of gas a month, but you also need $50+ for insurance and $500+ for the monthly car payment, plus those surprise maintenance and broken windows. Also, do you pay for parking? Pick a number for how much it costs to drive your personally owned and manually operated vehicle to work each month.
  
• Autonomous vehicle service: price TBA, but think of how much an Uber costs when you don't have to pay the driver, you don't have to pay for gas. An Uber that runs for $20 today would likely be $10 or less. So, to and from work 20 times a month, $200. $300? Ok, let's just say it's $400 a month. It's still all cheaper than owning a car and driving it to work. No parking fees, and it picks you up quickly enough that it's not a nuisance.
  
• Mass Transit: $150 per month, but ugghhh it's slow, it smells like piss, a guy jacked off in your hair, and you can't schedule a meeting for the first 30 minutes of your anticipated workday in case you miss a connection - and it breaks so often the government actively hides the reliability data from the public and media.
  

Just a few years into this future we'll see a brand new trend, one that already exists: a shared autonomous vehicle like a privately operated bus. For example, Uber Bus - it already exists as a commuter option in some cities, it's just not autonomous yet. The significant benefit of an autonomous bus is that these shared vehicles will utilize HOV lanes very commonly, and commuting in an autonomous vehicle will be as fast as driving to work in your manually operated car while also being less expensive.
Simultaneously automobile accidents in autonomous vehicles will be virtually non-existent, and insurance companies will start to increase prices on vehicles that lack AI/smart assisted safety driving features. Public leaders will see the value of creating lanes of traffic on highways dedicated explicitly to autonomous vehicles so that they can drive at much higher speeds than manually operated traffic. Oregon won't lead the way here, but wait until Texas or one of the Crazy States greenlights a speed limit differential, and self-driving vehicles have a speed limit of 90, 120, or 150 miles per hour. You might think "accidents would be terrible and deadly" but there will be fewer accidents in the autonomous lane than in manual lanes. At this point, it will be WAY faster to take an autonomous vehicle to your work.
Purchasing power of consumers will decrease while the cost of vehicles will increase (especially autonomous vehicles), making ownership of any vehicle less likely. Frankly, the great majority of people won't know how to drive and will never learn to - just like how young people today don't know how to use manual transmission. However, fleets of autonomous vehicles owned by companies like Tesla, Uber, and Lyft will benefit from scale and keep their autonomous bus fleets operating at low cost. This will lead to a trend where fewer and fewer people will own an automobile, and fewer people even bother learning how to drive or paying the enormous insurance cost.... while also depending upon automobiles more than we do today.
Eventually, in the distant future, manually driven vehicles will be prohibited in urban areas as some reckless relic from a bygone era.
Cities and public bodies don't have to be cut out of this system if they act responsibly. For example, cities could start a data brokering exchange where commuters provide their commuting data (i.e., pick-up point, destination, arrival time). The government uses either a privatized fleet or a publicly owned fleet of autonomous vehicles to move as many people as possible as often as possible. Sort of a publicly run car-pool list - or a hyper-responsive bus fleet that runs for the exact passengers going to exact locations. A big problem companies like Uber, Lyft, and Tesla will have is that they'll lack market saturation to optimize commuting routes - they'll be able to win unique rides, but the best way they can achieve the lowest cost service model is these super predictable and timely commuter riders. The more data points and riders, the more optimization they can achieve. These companies can look at the data for as many people as possible and bid for as many routes as possible - optimizing for convenience, time, energy usage, emissions, etc. The public will voluntarily participate if this is optimized to get the cheapest ride possible. If the government doesn't do this, the private sector will eventually.
As a parallel, no one today even considers how Metro runs garbage collection. No one cares. And if you didn't like Metro's trash service, if you needed a better service for unique needs, you go procure that on your own. Likewise, you wouldn't care about the quality of the commuting trip as long as it's up to some minimal standards of your class expectations, it's reliable, nearly as quick as driving your own vehicle, and it seems reasonably affordable.
If the public ran this data exchange, fees could subsidize lower-income riders. This is a theory on what a TriMet like system or mass transit system could look like in a primarily autonomous world where most people don't own their own or drive an automobile.
This system would be far from perfect, opening up all sorts of problems around mobility. However, it's hard to see how autonomous vehicles will not obliterate the value proposition of mass transit.

Another narrative on the same story.

As the working class moves to autonomous vehicles, transit agencies will collect fewer and fewer fares - prices and taxes will rise, creating a cycle of failure. As a result, some cities will make buses self-driving to cut costs. It could start with Tokyo, Shanghai, Oslo, et al. Again, it's unlikely that Portland or Oregon will be the first movers on this, but when cities start laying off hundreds of mass transit operators and cutting fares to practically nothing, there will be substantial public pressure to mimic locally. It will be inhumane, it will be illiberal, to make those impoverished bus-riding single mothers pay premiums. As most of the fleet becomes autonomous, responsive, and disconnected from labor costs, the next question arises: why do we still operate bus routes? Why big buses instead of smaller and nimble vehicles?
This alternative story/perspective leads to the same outcome: we figure out where people are going and when they need to get there - then dispatch the appropriate amount of vehicles to move that exact number of people as efficiently as possible.
But our local government getting its act together on all this is outside the world of possibility.
In a practical sense, we're going to see history repeat itself. Portland's mass transit history is about private and public entities over-extending themselves, getting too deep in debt on a flawed and outdated idea. As a result, the system collapses into consolidation or liquidation. Following this historical pattern, TriMet/Metro won't respond to changing conditions fast enough, and laughably stupid ideas like cranking up taxes or increasing ridership fares will continue to be the only option until the media finally acknowledges these groups are insolvent. I just hope we don't spend tens of billions of dollars propping up this zombie system before we can soberly realize that we made some mistakes and these vanity-laden projects 20 and 30 years ago need to die.
You see, the biggest flaw with TriMet isn't the design, it needs to be outpaced by technology, it's that the people making decisions at TriMet and Metro are going to make the politically expedient decisions, not the right decisions. They won't redesign, and they won't leverage technology for cost savings, so this charade will just get going along until the media simply declares they're insolvent.
Back to fares for a second - the media happily reprints TriMet's horseshit take about "The higher fares will bring in an estimated $4.9 million in annual revenue starting next year, the report says." Just sort of amazing to me there's no skepticism about this number - but most spectacular is no media considerations about alternative solutions. For example, I could tell TriMet how to save $9,548,091 next year - a useless program primarily utilized by white middle-class folks who own alternative methods of transport - and this would inconvenience way less transit-dependent people than raising fares. But, that's off the table - we're not even developing a decision matrix for when we kill the blackhole of money known as WES.

Do the cameras continuously upload or do they upload after an incident?
My partner was involved in a stock truck crash where the stock truck driver plowed into a stopped row of traffic, luckily all 3 cars involved had just dropped off their kids to school a minute earlier.
These particular trucks have road cam and driver cams.
The trucking company has told everyone involved including the police that the camera footage wasn't there as apparently a cable was broken in the crash so it wasn't uploaded, what are the chances of this happening? Wouldn't the footage still be on the device?
It's a small town and the word on the street is that the driver has had incidents before due to being on his phone while driving, this guy really should not be driving 40odd tons of death machine and I feel like the company is trying to protect this driver.

Hey guys,
I already posted on PcBuild but I saw that this community is bigger, and I want severale advices. Also I live in France so prices may be different.
I'm planning to build the gaming PC of my dream, and leave my old i5-8600K - RTX2060 build. At first I choose i7-13700KF and RTX4070Ti but I saw that AMD RX7900XTX is a the same price of the 4070Ti and it has much better benchmark, and also 24GB of VRAM, which is future-proof. My budget is around 2000€ as I'm planning to get around 650€ with my current build.
It's been a long time i'm looking into AMD build, I saw that some drivers issues can happen, but it get better with time. I know that RT perf is not that much but it's enough imo (a little bit below RTX4070Ti).
My question is, which build you think is the best, and future proof ? I want it to last at least 5-6 years. For now, i'm very interested on the AMD build, but I want to hear your suggestions (is AMD really that good at gaming ?). I'll say that I will use 80% of gaming, and 20% of productivity and other things like a little bit of ML for fun. I choose a 12 core CPU bc I don't want my comp to be slowed when I multitask.
Also I took a look at the Ryzen 9 7900X3D with V-Cache, it cost 150€ more but, is it really worth it ?
Here's both AMD and Intel-Nvidia build (both worth ~2650€) :
Intel-Nvidia
PCPartPicker Part List

Type	Item	Price
CPU	Intel Core i7-13700KF 3.4 GHz 16-Core Processor	$390.98 @ Amazon
CPU Cooler	Noctua NH-D15 chromax.black 82.52 CFM CPU Cooler	$119.95 @ Amazon
Motherboard	MSI MAG Z790 TOMAHAWK WIFI ATX LGA1700 Motherboard	$321.52 @ Amazon
Memory	Corsair Vengeance 32 GB (2 x 16 GB) DDR5-6000 CL36 Memory	$99.99 @ Amazon
Storage	Samsung 980 Pro 2 TB M.2-2280 PCIe 4.0 X4 NVME Solid State Drive	$139.00 @ Amazon
Video Card	MSI SUPRIM X GeForce RTX 4070 Ti 12 GB Video Card	$990.99 @ Amazon
Case	Fractal Design North ATX Mid Tower Case	$169.99 @ Amazon
Power Supply	be quiet! Straight Power 11 750W 750 W 80+ Gold Certified Fully Modular ATX Power Supply	$139.90 @ Amazon
Case Fan	be quiet! Silent Wings 4 48.7 CFM 120 mm Fan	$23.90 @ Amazon
Case Fan	be quiet! Silent Wings 4 78.4 CFM 140 mm Fan	$24.90 @ Amazon
Case Fan	be quiet! Silent Wings 4 78.4 CFM 140 mm Fan	$24.90 @ Amazon
Prices include shipping, taxes, rebates, and discounts
Total	$2446.02
Generated by PCPartPicker 2023-06-01 15:26 EDT-0400

AMD
PCPartPicker Part List

Type	Item	Price
CPU	AMD Ryzen 9 7900X 4.7 GHz 12-Core Processor	$409.00 @ Amazon
CPU Cooler	Noctua NH-D15 chromax.black 82.52 CFM CPU Cooler	$119.95 @ Amazon
Motherboard	MSI MPG B650 CARBON WIFI ATX AM5 Motherboard	$289.99 @ Amazon
Memory	Corsair Vengeance 32 GB (2 x 16 GB) DDR5-6000 CL36 Memory	$99.99 @ Amazon
Storage	Samsung 980 Pro 2 TB M.2-2280 PCIe 4.0 X4 NVME Solid State Drive	$139.00 @ Amazon
Video Card	XFX Speedster MERC 310 Black Edition Radeon RX 7900 XTX 24 GB Video Card	$979.99 @ Amazon
Case	Fractal Design Torrent ATX Mid Tower Case	$229.89 @ Amazon
Power Supply	be quiet! Straight Power 11 850 W 80+ Platinum Certified Fully Modular ATX Power Supply	$196.76 @ Amazon
Case Fan	be quiet! Silent Wings Pro 4 97.41 CFM 140 mm Fan	$49.87 @ Amazon
Prices include shipping, taxes, rebates, and discounts
Total	$2514.44
Generated by PCPartPicker 2023-06-01 15:24 EDT-0400

​
Thanks all !

There’s been much speculation - or has it been proven as fact? - that Netflix has terminated their deal with the Sussexes.
What of this project, floated as recently as the end of April 2023, about them being in talks with Netflix about a series that doesn’t trash the Royal Family? It’ll be all nice and wholesome:
- Sussexes will go to South Africa to meet various communities. That makes sense, because ‘When you married into the royal family we rejoiced in the streets the same we did when Mandela was freed from prison.’ (Daily Mail archived / unarchived)
- They’ll help build houses in the villages they visit.
- To bring a ‘humanitarian’ focus, Meghantheduchessofsussex will bring ‘awareness to safe birthing practices’. ‘The cameras will follow [the Sussexes] as they visit compounds and share medical education... Meghan is particularly keen to share information about giving birth safely with the women she meets.’ [Funny, I thought South Africans were aware of safe birthing practices - risks are due more to lack of funding and facilities. But Meghan knows best.]
If this happens, we’ll see how a living person will be canonised as a saint. Still say you can’t polish a turd.
Daily Mail archived / unarchived.

There are so many stories I could share but I’ll stick with the most recent issue that’s coming up this weekend.
My husband and I have been together 24 years, married for 20 of those years. I’ve struggled a lot with his family from the very beginning of our relationship. I’ve bent over backwards for them all these years and they’ve literally used me and abused me. My MIL has never cared about my feeling or needs. Everything revolves around her needs. Never mattered to her how I felt about anything as long as she gets what she wants. My FIL sexually assaulted me for years until my husband finally saw it for himself and put an end to it. I put all these things aside and still wanted them to accept me. I kept my feelings to myself because I didn’t know better. I didn’t want to upset my husband and put him in a bad position. But it just made things worse for myself.
My husband has a hard time standing up to his parents so they inevitably get everything they want from us. I believe 95 percent of the problems in our marriage have to do with his family.
Our oldest is graduating this weekend. We live 2-3 hours from our parents so they a lot of times stay overnight when they visit. It is close enough we’ve made single day trips to visit and our parents have (kinda) done the same. I say kinda because my in-laws don’t really do it because they guilt my husband so he’ll offer them to stay with us. With our sons graduation this weekend I asked my husband what we will do if our parents want to stay overnight because we don’t have the space for all of them. He told me nobody would be staying with us. Well, last night I found out my in-laws thought they’d be staying with us. Only they were trying to manipulate my husband by asking if they’d be staying with us or would they need to get a hotel? I was livid! I told my parents nobody would be staying with us and they were perfectly fine with that. They hadn’t even considered it. I don’t understand why my husband can’t be clear with his parents and just tell them nobody will be staying. And why do the in-laws think it’s necessary to get a hotel?
I know a lot of people will likely think there’s nothing wrong with them staying in a hotel. I should be happy they aren’t staying at my house but for me it means I have to continue hosting until they go back home.
I just needed to vent but any advice is helpful.

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a towering ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, with a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.

Hi, for context ages will not be shared just know I am a former sophomore going into junior year and my sister is a upcoming freshman.
As the title stated I am so sick of my deadbeat mom and entitled brat of a sister, today I woke up and went to say hi to my aunt(my should be legal guardian) and saw my sister wasn’t in the room so I asked my aunt where she was and found out that my mom was told that me and my aunt were asleep and she took it upon herself to pick up my sister and take her out god knows where. Now for context and background information my mother does not live with me and my aunt or dad, she moved out back in the middle of 2022 because she believed my aunt and dad were targeting and bullying her for being a deadbeat mother and god forbid she help my aunt pay bills. Now for those who probably wondering why I’m posting this is because I need opinions to help convince my aunt to kick my sister out since she tells my mother everything that happens in the house.
Now my sister is entitled, she gets what she wants and all the new electronics she finds amazing, for example she got an animal crossing gen 1 switch for Christmas in 2019 and didn’t use it for three years until I started using the joycons for my switch since my control didn’t have that rubbery part on the levers and I have sensory issues to plastic touching my fingers when I’m playing video games.
Now back to the present, my mother had picked up my sister to take her out, I don’t care if she took her out it’s the fact that my sister didn’t tell my aunt that my mother was planning to take my sister out. My sister had told my mom that me and my aunt were asleep and my mom tends to do things with my sister more when my dad is out of the house, my aunt was mad and upset when she found out, makes sense. My mother was always stingy with giving my aunt money to pay bills or to even buy me clothes or anything I need but once my sister barks and commands my mom uses a lot of money on her just because she’s bigger, meaning she’s on the heavier side and she’s autistic.
My aunt already plans to leave money and jewelry to me and my sister when she dies but now plans to give only me and my dad everything since me and her believe that my sister would only share money with my druggie and drunkie of a mother, I know most of you are going to comment saying that I shouldn’t talk badly about my mother, but here’s some context that y’all should know. After my mother gave birth to me back in 2007, it only took her a week a week of having me out of the hospital for her to realize that she didn’t want to take care of a baby and don’t me basically on my aunt Uncle and Dad basically anyone who would take care of me instead of her she was asleep 95% of my childhood because she didn’t want to be a mother more of a friend a friend who dresses provocatively, and always has her boobs or thighs flashing, because she feels like she should, and not cover up her body, I was always embarrassed for her to be my mother because she would dress provocatively at school events and I would be embarrassed because my friends would tease me about it and teachers would make snide remarks about me and dressing like that when I’m older, I do dress like that but I only dress like that when I’m out with friends other times I dress in jeans, a plaid shirt or jacket and a band shirt basically 80s look. my mother never was really there for me more in there for my sister and she would never get me things I need just recently back in let’s say January my aunt had took me to an eye doctor and I got prescribed contacts so my aunt need a money so she can pay off the 40 bucks that my aunt had to pay to give me my contacts every three months.
My mother caused a lot of trauma through my life and doesn’t commit it or own up to her mistakes but it says that it was my dad‘s fault for causing that trauma. He did cheat on her back in 2008 I believe or 2007 hence bringing in my half brothers . And my dad I guess was just sick of my mother.
Now, my sister acts like my mothers in so many ways doesn’t do dishes doesn’t do basic chores complains when looking after the dogs the planes are doing anything has horrible hygiene and always says that she might take over my room since I do a horrible job and taking care of it when she sleeps in my aunts room and refuses to do what I did back in 2019 and split it one corner of the room to be a little tiny corner where I can have a bed a desk and a TV so I can be comfortable more when I get my own room silly I know but it worked for me. I have told my aunt that she needs to take my sister out the wheel because my sister does not appreciate anything her or my dad do for her for example, my aunt spend so much money on Funko pops and electronics for my sister every Christmas, and she only uses one thing or causes a mess. What’s worse is not my grandmother’s poor jewelry box is being wasted and being destroyed because my sister has constant cups on it and the residue leaves markings on the wood. It was my grandmothers jewelry box and I cherish it every moment of my life. It sucks that she’s gone , but I feel like I deserve the jury box because I take better care of my jewelry while my sister does not even like jewelry
I want to convince my aunt to kick out my sister, so my sister can understand the struggles and actual proof that my mother is a deadbeat and that she has no where near a good person nor the good enough mother to spend basic money for food and clothing I am just so sick and tired of my mother and my sister . Please separate uses of Reddit help me convince and point out reasons to kick out my sister so she can live with my mother since she appreciates my mother more than my aunt and father.

New to lawn care other then manual watering and mowing. Need to learn the basics, Fertilizer(weed /feed) etc etc.
I have killed a tilled my back yard, about a 1100 sq ft.(30'x36') Just Installed underground sprinklers. 1 Big tree far right corner of the yard of the yard, about 8 feet from south side and 10' from western side. I have 2 male dogs and live in southern Montana. House is north side of lawn so what is in the sun is getting blasted all day.
I am wondering what would be my best choice for lawn seed. High traffic, sun and shade.
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Thanks!

Do the Gorousei members have a Zoan devil fruit, or are they all shadows controled by Imu instead ?
Well, 1st of all when Sabo entered the throne room and "saved" Cobra, he said that he thought that he would be able to take them in 1 blow thx to the surprise effect I guess, but what is more interesting imo is what he said just after that. He said that he could not expect the Hell to be located at the top of this world !!!
Implying that the Gorousei figures when transformed looked like characters coming directly from the hell from Sabo's perspective (and we know thx to Brook that the Hell exists in One Piece !!!), and I don't think that he would say that if they were regular zoan df users or even Mythical ones.
So from my understanding what we witnessed this chapter were not silhouettes but rather shadow monsters, and since we saw Imu using this power first and that there are no identical devil fruits out there beside those created by Caesar or Vegapunk, it's very likely that it was not the Gorousei's powers to turn into shadow monsters, but rather Imu controlling them all at once.
Now let see why I think this make sense. The first argument is that if I was Imu, someone who use to live during the void century (which is 99% confirmed at this point, I mean given that Imu knows the history of the Void century and knew Lili personally it's almost confirmed), then who would I choose as "official" rulers while I stay hidden to protect my identity ?
5 individuals, why 5 ? I don't know yet, but maybe you could help me find out why. But what would I expect from thoose 5 individuals ??
Human are greedy by nature, if you were given the opportunity to rule the world, but you had to share the power between 5 people it's likely that someone would try to kill the other 4 and keep the power for themselve. So why would Imu trust anybody to rule in his place exactly ? Wouldn't it be better for him/her to control 5 figures that are actually related to her like the satellites are related to Vegapunk ? (except that 1 of the satellite betrayed Vegapunk, but could that also be a hint that 1 of the gorousei member aka 1 of her satellite would also betray her ?? idk u tell me, Lili already betrayed her visibly so why not another Gorousei member ??).
Also the gorousei members don't look like they are aging at all so that's also something to take in consideration because if they were normal human with zoan devil fruits, they should still age like normal human do, but they don't !
But given that Imu comes from the void century and that during this time period the world had access to much more advanced technology it's extremely likely that Imu could split her personality into several satelllites like Vegapunk ! and since cloning was a thing back then, and since we know for a fact that Stussy who is a clone does not age normaly as well, it could very well mean that the 5 gorousei members are actually clones from 5 kings living during the Void century and that Imu used their body as reseptacle to transfer her personality.
Now if you were Imu you woud also probably want to have the highest authority over the Seraphims and Pacifistas, higher than the gorousei I imagine, in case one of them would use the seraphim at his advantage to betray you probably, but Vegapunk only gave the highest authority to the gorousei members, not Imu, so what if Imu and the gorousei were the same person, then it would not be an issue anymore.
Also Doflamingo mentionned that with the OPOP no mi he could have used the personality swap and the Marigeoise treasure in order to rule the world so the personality swap must be very usefull to whoever knows the secret treasure of Marigeoise ! But why is that so important ?
Well, since Tashigi and Smoker had personality swap we know that it was tashigi in smoker's body who had control over smoker df power, so if the OPOP no mi user were to swape Doflamingo's personality with Imu, he could gain control over Imu's devil fruit power,
(assuming that Imu has a devil fruit but it's very likely that her ability is a devil fruit and not a new ability that we have never heard about in the manga which is already more than 1000 chapters long... and usually when Oda introduce something new he uses forshadowing even if we are not always good enough to see them coming. But in this case there are literaly no 4"shadowing about Imu's Shadow powers lol so it's likely that it's just a normal devil fruit ability.)
Anyway so I was saying that by taking over Imu's body, Doflamingo would gain Imu's df power and control the 5 gorousei members, thus beeing able to control the World without even anybody realising it because since nobody knew Imu existed in the first place, nobody would have noticed that Doffy would be the one in control of the 5 elders as well !!!
All Doffy would have to do after literaly becoming Imu himself would be to kill him/her, by killing his own privious body, thus removing the possibility to swap back his personality I guess.
And if this was not enough, I guess the OPOP would also allow its user to split Doffy's personality and thus replacing the 5 elders with his as well. then he would procede to kill the 5 elders's personalities transfered in 5 randoms dude (mostly celestial dragons since it took place in Marogeoise) and there you go he would have become the king of the world !
But for this plan to succeed, the haki of the OPOP no mi user (who could not be Doffy because he already ate a df), so his haki should be stronger than Imu's haki I guess cause we've seen that Law was able to annihilate df's effects with a strong enough Haki. But how are you going to outmatch Imu's haki exactly ?? well it could be when the secret treasure of Marigeoise comes into play !
It could be something that was used during the Void century to "erase all memory from history for exemple". It could be something that put you asleep and when you wake up your perception of the reality has changed, like if you were in a gengutsu or something. so it could be powder like the rain powder but instead it is a powder that put you asleep ^^ and whoever would use it would wear a mask to avoid beeing affected by it I guess.
This way you could put Imu and the gorousei members asleep and procede to the personality swap without problem !
Or it could be another treasure that grant his user an imense power capable to surpass Imu's power and then use the personality swap but I like the other theory better.
Also the fact that this treasure is kept secret and hidden in Marigeoise could be either because it could be useful for Imu in the futur, OR because if could be used against her if it was discovered so that's why she keep it secret maybe ? the 2 options are possible.
Okay back to the original topic,
Last argument why I think it was shadows and not silhouettes is because in EGGHEAD Shaka could not see the face of the character shutting down the cameras (even though he kinda looked like Saturn), and he said specifically "What was that Shadow?!" Implying that it was in fact a shadow like the shadows Sabo saw when he faced the gorousei and Imu at Marigeoise ! beside, the way the silhouette was drawn had nothing to do with how Oda usually draw silhouettes, but it matched perfectly how he drew Imu's silhouette in the last chapter... So this tells me that Imu's shadowlike df power was involved somehow in Egghead.
Plus if you look at the chapter 1075 cover, when Vegapunk met the Gorousei, you'll notice that the gorousei were drawn in silhouettes !! but since we know how they look already there was no point in doing so, Oda could have just drawn them normaly so why did he drew them in silhouettes ? To me it's a forshadowing that they are not real human but rather shadows controlled by Imu. Who Vegapunk met on this day was none other than Imu's personalities split in the gorousei members imo.
So in order to check if it was indeed a shadow that Shaka saw through the camera, all we have to do is to find out who it was. We know that York was the traitor but could it be her shutting down the camera ? The answer is obviously NO because when Shaka looked at the camera she was already walking with Usopp and Francky group to look after Vegapunk (her plan with the satellites was already in motion and all she had to do was to avoid beeing caught ! so she did not have any incentive to shut down the camera like at all, all she had to do is to pretend acting like a normal Seraphim untill beeing turned to stone by S Snake. Beside, we saw her giving order to the seraphims and she never mentionned to shut down the cameras so it was not a Seraphim either, plus if it were a Seraphim, Shaka would have noticed it and he would not have said "what was that shadow" since he knows very well the Seraphims powers ! so there is no way it was a seraphim !
So if it was not anybody that we knew was present on the island at the time, it means that it was probably someone who has just arrived on the island and who did not want to be seen. You know who I am talking about, yes it is Saturn, the gorousei member ! He could have used Imu's shadow to avoid beeing recognised by Shaka ! and it also explains the shadows that we saw in last chapter btw !
I know some people theorised that it could have been a BB pirate but their ship arrived near egghead way after that and none of them have a power that would make them turn into shadows, therefore Shaka could have seen them on screen. So Saturn is the character that make sthe most sense to me and that kinda confirm my thoughts that the gorousei members are basically shadows controlled by Imu !
If you want to discover Imu's identity stay with me in the next post ;)
Sorry for the long post ^^

Y'all gotta help because I'm about to flip a coin. I live in my college town (Town A), but I'm graduated and working an awesome new job an hour away (Town B). The commute isn't terrible, spare the roadwork and occasional weather delays. I live in the midwest so it's a boring but easy drive; no traffic, just an hour of driving. My lease is up in two months and I don't have a plan yet.
All my friends are in Town A, and it's closer to family. Town A is considerably safer. Town A has higher rent. If I stay in Town A, I have to wake up earlier, and the commute (while not bad) takes up two hours of my day and more gas money. Town B is cheaper, but more dangerous. I don't know anyone but my new coworkers in Town B. My recent ex lives in Town A, so getting away from him and the memories is a pro for Town B. (There's also Town C, half an hour away from Town B, but an hour and a half from Town A. Its average rent is in between, and I've considered it.)
I truly can't decide! I'm sure there are factors I'm not thinking of as well. Thanks in advance.

Hello! (Disclaimer, first time puppy owner)
I adopted an 11 week male golden retriever a week ago today. It's tough to diagnose exactly what it is, but I think he hates any level of confinement. Whether it's a leash (confined to a radius), a room with the door shut, a pen, or a kennel, he goes crazy and will scream bloody murder the entire time.
My initial idea was to use the pen as his play space. Unfortunately that doesn't work. He screams and actually broke out of the pen the first time he was left alone (for an hour). After this incident, I bought a kennel and have begun working with him to enjoy it. This has sort of happened. He is willing to go in the kennel to eat, get treats, sit, etc. However, the second it is closed he goes ballistic. I've tried other things to sooth him (a t-shirt of mine, kong with treat in it, puppy music, blanket over top, etc.) and he cries the entire time in it.
I live in an apartment, so I have been doing 3 crate sessions a day to avoid the noise at night (I will get evicted if he makes this sort of noise at night). He always goes inside well fed, went to the bathroom, and I always make sure he looks about ready to fall asleep before guiding him in. I'm trying to let him cry it out, but to no avail so far. His longest crate session was 2 hours, and he cried 95% of the time.
In regards to his night routine, He has access to the kennel with the door open and pen. Generally, I lay in the pen with him until he falls asleep, then I can leave the pen and go to be until he wakes up, realizes he's confined, and starts screaming. I then get back in the pen for 10 minutes or so until he falls asleep, and rinse and repeat.
He is "walked" 3 times a day for about 10-15 minutes each time (It's not really a walk. He doesn't like walking so its sort of dragging him along. He fights it the entire time.)
I've barely slept in a week and it's affecting my work--I want to do make sure I'm doing all of the right things. Any suggestions?

Hi There, I've been trying to look for work within a Camera department for a year now after my Masters (I know, shouldn't have wasted the money etc) and aside from a couple internships that went nowhere I've had zero luck. How do you guys do this? where do you look? I just can't find anything! Any time I try and use LinkedIn it just directs me to restaurants that have put "Media" or "Video" in their keywords despite them still just being jobs as dishwashers or waiters. Apologies if this isn't the appropriate way to post here but I'm so disillusioned from this whole process... I knew filmmaking would always be difficult but at this point I'll be without a place to live by the end of the year. Not looking to network, just need advice. I have a show reel if anybody would be willing to give some notes that might make it more effective, but I don't want to break the rules here. Sorry for the venting, it's been a frustrating time.
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EDIT: Didn't mention my experience. I worked on freelance shoots in the city I studied in to get by, everything from commercials to shorts to feature projects in Camera and Lighting for 2/3 years.

My cameras are doing this since getting a new router from my isp. It’s a MikroTik hAP ac Lite Dual Band WiFi Router RB952Ui-5ac2nD-TC router.
I need to know what changes to apply to the router to allow traffic to show in HomeKit.
In the native camera app it shows up no problem but in HomeKit with the cameras being bought in with HomeBridge I get the ‘no response’
Any help would be appreciated

Check out our full Durham events calendar.
If you'd like to add an event to our calendar, submit an event here. Please check with the event organizers to see if events change due to weather. Have a great weekend!

June Featured Events

53rd Annual Bimbé Cultural Arts Festival at Rock Quarry Park

• This family-oriented event is a celebration of African and African American history, culture, arts, and traditions.
• Headlined by Intro, Mr. Cheeks, Petey Pablo, and KRS-One
• Free admission

1776 at DPAC

• The show is based on the events leading up to the signing of the Declaration of Independence, telling a story of the efforts of John Adams to persuade his colleagues to vote for American independence and to sign the document.
• This Tony Award-winning Best Musical is tuneful, witty, and constantly surprising, especially in this revolutionary new production from directors Jeffrey L. Page (Violet) and Diane Paulus (Waitress) with a cast that reflects multiple representations of race, gender, and ethnicity.
• Jun 1-4
• $15+

PLAYlist Concert Series: Raíces, Rutas, y Ritmos at Durham Central Park

• Raíces, Rutas, y Ritmos highlights the importance of music-making among Latin American migrants in North Carolina, as well as the prominence of Latin American-derived music in the Triangle area.
• 6:30 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.
• Free admission

Venue Weekend Schedules

Events at The Carolina Theatre

• Fri, Jun 2 at 7:00 p.m. - Leslie Jones: Live
• Sun, Jun 4 at at 4:15 p.m. - The Empower Experience 2023

Events at The Pinhook

• Thu, Jun 1 at 8:00 p.m. - Dead Fox No Groove / Julia. / Dylan Innes
• Fri, Jun 2 at 7:00 p.m. - OCRCC’s 12th Annual Punk Cuts To End Rape
• Fri, Jun 2 at 9:00 p.m. - Yolo Karaoke!
• Sat, Jun 3 at 6:00 p.m. - Teia Elaine Presents: What Would Eve Do?
• Sat, Jun 3 at 10:00 p.m. - House Of Coxx Drag Show!
• Sat, Jun 3 at 11:55 p.m. - Rent Due Dance Party!!!
• Sun, Jun 4 at 4:00 p.m. - (Early Show) The Lover Boyz W/ Phil Cook + Kym Register And Friends
• Sun, Jun 4 at 8:00 p.m. - (Late Show) The Lover Boyz W/ Phil Cook + Kym Register And Friends

Events at Motorco Music hall

• Fri, Jun 2 at 8:00 p.m. - Halocene With Lauren Babic / Alphamega
• Sat, Jun 3 at 9:00 p.m. - Gimme Gimme Disco
• Sun, Jun 4 at 7:00 p.m. - Mike’s Dead with The Haunt

Events at The Fruit

• Fri, Jun 2 at 11:00 p.m. - Job Fruit Residency: IN2IT
• Sat, Jun 3 at 10:00 p.m. - Paradox: A 90s Rave Experience
• Sun, Jun 4 at 12:00 p.m. - The Fruit Flea: Monthly Flea Market

Live Music at Blue Note Grill

• Thu, Jun 1 at 7:30 p.m. - Curtis Salgado Band
• Fri, Jun 2 at 6:00 p.m. - The Duke Street Dogs
• Fri, Jun 2 at 9:15 p.m. - Adam Ezra Group
• Sat, Jun 3 at 7:30 p.m. - JIVES

Events at Moon Dog Meadery

• Thursdays - Free Board Games
• Thu, Jun 1 at 7:00 p.m. - Trivia
• Fri, Jun 2 at 8:00 p.m. - First Friday Swing Dance Night with Nitelife Boogie!
  • Free dance lesson at 7:30 p.m.
• Sun, Jun 4 at 6:30 p.m. - Moon Dog Open Mic

Live Music at Sharp 9 Gallery

• Sat, Jun 3 at 8:00 p.m. - Eric Williams Quintet

Events at Arcana

• Thu, Jun 1 - Jay Hammond & Andy Stack with Joe Westerlund and Tarot with Virginia
• Fri, Jun 2 - Russell Favret and Tarot with Heiltje
• Sat, Jun 3 - Bardo Bloom and Tarot with Rene
• Sun, Jun 4 - Matty Famartino and Tarot with Joy

Events at Rubies on Five Points

• Thu, Jun 1 at 10:00 p.m. - Miss B Haven Presents: Midnight Remedies
• Fri, Jun 2 at 10:00 p.m. - Mamis & The Papis And Party Illegal Present: Moodboard
• Sat, Jun 3 at 9:00 p.m. - Star People Gang Presents: Freaks And Beats

Events at Durty Bull Brewing Company

• Thu, Jun 1
  • 5:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. - Food Truck: Safari Eatz
  • 7:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. - Thursday Trivia with Nick
• Fri, Jun 2
  • 5:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. - Food Truck: Tacos Paradise
  • 8:00 p.m. - 11:00 p.m. - Open Mic Stand-up Comedy
• Sat, Jun 3
  • 12:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m. - Food Truck: Chop House BBQ
  • 12:00 p.m. - 3:00 p.m. - DJ Jack Bonney
  • 4:00 p.m - 6:00 p.m. - Taxicab Preacher
• Sun, Jun 4
  • 1:00 p.m. - 6:00 p.m. - Food Truck: Charlie C's Hotdogs On Wheels
  • 2:00 p.m. - 4:00 p.m. - Hammered Trivia with Thor

Live Comedy at Mettlesome

• Fri, Jun 2 at 8:00 p.m. - The Racket
• Fri, Jun 2 26 at 9:00 p.m. - Hush Hush
• Sat, Jun 3 at 8:00 p.m. - Bull City Press Presents…
• Sat, Jun 3 at 9:00 p.m. - House Party

Events at Boxyard RTP

• Thu, Jun 1 at 5:30 p.m. - Songstories Live at Boxyard RTP
• Fri, Jun 2 from 8:00 a.m. - 11:00 a.m. - Boxyard Bucks
  • First 100 people on site receive $10 to spend at any vendor
• Fri, Jun 2 at 5:30 p.m. - LOJO: Log Off, Jam On
• Sat, Jun 3 from 11:00 a.m. - 3:00 p.m. - Turns 2 Family Friendly Celebration
• Sat, Jun 3 from 11:30 a.m. 2:30 p.m. - Saturdaze: Uno Dose
• Sat, Jun 3 from 5:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m. - Wonderbop

Events at Glass Jug Beer Lab in RTP

• Thu, Jun 1 from 6:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. - Beer Garden Jam Sessions
• Fr, Jun 2 from 5:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m. - RTP Food Truck Fridays
• Sat, Jun 3 from 5:00 p.m. - 8:00 p.m. - Beer Garden Jam Sessions

Events at Glass Jug Beer Lab in Downtown Durham

• Thu, Jun 1 from 7:00 p.m. - 9:30 p.m. - Live Music in the Taproom
• Jun 1-4 from 6:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. - Weekend Food Trucks

Local Sports

Durham Bulls Home Stand at the Durham Bulls Athletic Park

• vs Jacksonville
• Thu, Jun 1 - Pride Night
• Fri, Jun 2 - Friday Night Fireworks
• Sat, Jun 3 - Saturday Night Fireworks
• Sun, Jun 4 - Kids Run the Bases
• $10+

Running of the Bulls 8K at Historic Durham Athletic Park

• The 15th running of Durham’s premiere community road race! This scenic course will wind through the historic and revitalized neighborhoods of downtown Durham, American Tobacco Campus, Trinity Park and Old North Durham neighborhoods, and finish with a lap of the warning track inside the historic Old Durham Athletic Park!
• Sat, Jun 3 at 7:00 a.m.
• $10-45

Thursday, Jun 1

Thirsty Thursdays at Dashi

• Each month Dashi's Thirsty Thursday drink specials revolve around a monthly theme – spirits, cocktails, special ingredients, brand, location, etc. – with new sips every Thursday. Learn more about upcoming themes on their website or visit them in person – there's always something new to try from their expansive bar!
• 5:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.

Vinyl Night with DJ Deckades at Gizmo Brew Works

• Enjoy fresh vibes on the patio with DJ Deckades. Bring your own vinyl to share or just listen to what the DJ is spinning.
• 6:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.
• Free admission

Boulders & Brews Meetup at Triangle Rock Club - Durham

• Show up and climb at TRC Durham, then head over to Hi-Wire for some brews. Don't worry if it's your first time or haven't bouldered before; everyone's welcome.
• Your first visit to the gym with the Meetup includes free admission and gear rental, and subsequent visits with the meetup are $15 and include harness rental (outside of meetups, day pass rates of $19 apply and do not include rentals).
• 6:30 p.m. - 8:30 p.m.

Trivia Night w/Big Slow Tom at Clouds Brewing Brightleaf Square

• Join Clouds Durham for Big Slow Tom's Trivia Night, every Thursday. Win some prizes, drink some beer, and show your smarts.
• Enjoy $4 select draft and $5 rotating bartender's choice all night.
• 7:30 p.m.
• Free admission

Friday, Jun 2

Tasting at Ten at Counter Culture Coffee

• Every Friday morning at 10 am, Counter Culture Coffee opens their Training Centers to coffee lovers who want to learn more about Counter Culture Coffee’s high-quality, sustainably sourced menu.
• 10:00 a.m.
• Free, but donations accepted

Garden Printing: Cyanotypes and Hammered Flower Prints on Fabric at Duke Campus Farm

• Visitors to Duke Campus Farm can come take a tour of the space, learn more about what is grown and why, and choose from a number of plants from the garden to experiment with two printing techniques that highlight the shape and color of fresh produce and flowers. With cyanotype printing, we will use either the plant as a silhouette to make sun prints using UV light, or make use of parts of the plants to create a composition on the blue-tinted paper.
• 3:00 p.m. - 5:00 p.m.
• Free admission (registration encouraged)

Saturday, Jun 3

Durham Farmers’ Market at Durham Central Park

• The Durham Farmers’ Market offers locally grown fruits and vegetables, meats, eggs, cut flowers, artisanal cheeses and breads, home-baked pies, honey, handmade chocolates, preserves, local wines, handmade soaps, fresh pasta, and artwork of all sorts!
• 8:00 a.m. - 12:00 p.m.
• Free admission

South Durham Farmers' Market at Greenwood Commons Shopping Center

• The market strives to support new and growing farms and vendors in the greater Durham area, and they are also home to some of the most iconic Durham brands around.
• 8:00 a.m. - 12:00 p.m.
• Free admission

parkrun Durham at Southern Boundaries Park

• A free, fun, and friendly weekly 5k community event. Walk, jog, run, volunteer, or spectate. It's up to you!
• 8:00 a.m.
• Free admission

Hayti Walking History Tour at Hayti Heritage Center

• So, how do you pronounce H-A-Y-T-I ? What are the Hayti Neighborhood's connections to the island of Haiti? ...to Black Wall St.? ...to the city of Durham at large? These questions are answered while many more are raised in this 75-minute tour of Fayetteville St., the commercial center of Durham’s largest African American residential neighborhood. Stops include the neighborhood’s founding institutions: St. Joseph’s AME church, The Carolina Times, Stanford L. Warren Library and more!
• Stories include: Women of Hayti, Power of Black Churches and Urban Renewal. The tour begins and ends at the Hayti Heritage Center.
• 10:00 a.m.
• $20+

Nasher Community Celebration at the Nasher Museum of Art

• An outdoor party featuring GRAMMY Award-winning producer 9th Wonder and friends. Celebrate Spirit in the Land with pop-up children’s book readings in the galleries. At 2 p.m., Alberto Barrantes, an author visiting from Costa Rica, will give a reading from his new bilingual book Arts for Diversity. Art activities will be inspired by artists María Berrío and Andrea Chung.
• The Museum of Life and Science will join us with StarLab to view the night sky—and insects to study up close. Piedmont Wildlife Center will also bring several animals. Everyone can sample free cotton candy by Wonderpuff. Also fun to try: temporary tattoos inspired by the natural world. Assorted sandwiches and beverages from the Nasher Museum Cafe will be available for purchase. Cash bar.
• 12:00 p.m. - 4:00 p.m.
• Free admission

MAKRS Pop-up at Durham Central Park

• Shop from 55+ local artists and makers, plus food trucks and coffee.
• 4:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m.
• Free admission

Crafternoons at Gizmo Brew Works

• Free pint with purchase of craft box. Choose from a variety of craft packages available for all ages.
• 12:00 p.m. - 10:00 p.m.

Beaver Queen Pageant — Once Upon a Wetland... at Duke Park

• The Beaver Queen Pageant is the Triangle’s own special mix of folly, pageantry, and humor. Contestants take on beaver personalities and compete for the title of Beaver Queen with their fashion, talent, and personality. There will be music, a kid's art activity station, food trucks, and much more!
• Enjoy the fun at this family-friendly and free event which raises funds for the Ellerbe Creek Watershed Association. Vote for your favorite contestants - or bribe a judge - at www.beaverqueen.org. You are not going to want to miss this truly weird and delightful Durham experience.
• 4:00 p.m.
• Free admission

Sunday, Jun 4

Al Strong Presents Jazz Brunch at Alley Twenty Six

• Al Strong, the Grammy-nominated jazz trumpeter, composer and recording artist, will bring a rotating lineup of musicians to perform during Sunday brunch at Durham's Alley Twenty Six. Weather permitting the band will perform in the bar’s namesake alley.
• Brunch from 10:30 a.m. - 2:00 p.m.
• Music 12:00 p.m. - 2:00 p.m.

Art-n-Soul Market at Mystic Farm & Distillery

• Shop handmade in this special setting. Mystic Farm & Distillery in Durham offers a unique place to gather and enjoy local spirits. The Art-n-Soul Market brings the best local artisans, food trucks and live music out to the farm for bourbon tastings, craft cocktails, food trucks and distinctive gifts you won't find anywhere else. Bring your friends and meet us at the bourbon farm! Dogs welcome.
• 12:00 p.m. - 4:00 p.m.
• Free admission

Public Tour at Duke Chapel

• Learn about the history, architecture, and life of Duke Chapel in this tour, which is free and open to the public. The tour begins at 12:15 p.m., or immediately following the conclusion of the Sunday morning service, and lasts approximately forty-five minutes.
• No reservation is required but if you plan to bring a large group please notify us in advance. Meet the docent on the front steps of the Chapel.
• Paid parking is available on a first come, first served basis in the Bryan Center Parking Lot at 125 Science Drive. ADA parking is available in the Bryan Center Surface Lot at the same address.
• 12:15 p.m. - 1:00 p.m.

Trivia at Navigator Beverage Co.

• Hosted by the Triangle’s Trivia team, Hammered Trivia, gather your team and post up to compete for prizes and enjoy an afternoon of great drinks, great friends, and great games.
• 2:00 p.m. - 4:00 p.m.
• Free admission

Running Art Exhibits

upstART Gallery: A Jim Lee Project at Pop Box Gallery

• upstART Gallery will host its first group show at Pop Box Gallery & The Art Chose Me’s residency in Old East Durham. The show features 27 artists who were selected through an open call review process. Artists were challenged to create work especially for this unique space, scaled 1:12 (one inch = one foot).
• Wed-Sat from 12:00 p.m - 6:00 p.m.
• Runs through Jul 1

Exhibit at 21c Museum Hotel

• Truth or Dare: A Reality Show
  • Runs through March 2024
• Open 24 hours
• Free admission

“Extra-Spectral” at the Durham Art Guild Truist Gallery

• This exhibit highlights several NC-based artists that, on the surface, use colors that are “extra” (which is where their commonality ends) to evoke their intent through a combination of this color with forms and imagery as well as the concepts embedded in color’s many identities. Artists Jane Cheek, Jerstin Crosby, Zach Storm, Tonya Solley Thornton and Leif Zikade all require color to play a primary role in their work and their relationship to an audience.
• Mon–Sat from 9:00 a.m. - 9:00 p.m. and Sun from 1:00 p.m. - 6:00 p.m.
• Runs through June 4
• Free admission

Donna Stubbs, Featured Artist at 5 Points Gallery

• 5 Points Gallery in downtown Durham introduces a new exhibit featuring the work of our member artist, Donna Stubbs. Donna uses an archaeological approach to painting, as she lovingly photographs her surroundings and unearths discarded items in thrift stores to create abstract mixed media works.
• Free admission

Chieko Murasugi & Renzo Ortega at Craven Allen Gallery

• An exhibition featuring both abstract and figurative works by two artists with international backgrounds. The SEQUENTIAL exhibition invites the observer on a visual journey, generating an organic relationship between the artworks and the gallery's visitors. Through the dynamics of color, form, ideas, and narratives, Chieko Murasugi and Renzo Ortega seek to generate a dialogue and the experience of art appreciation with the audience.
• Sat, May 20 at 5:00 p.m. - 7:00 p.m. - opening reception
• Runs through July 8

Spirit in the Land at the Nasher

• Spirit in the Land is a contemporary art exhibition that examines today’s urgent ecological concerns from a cultural perspective, demonstrating how intricately our identities and natural environments are intertwined. Through their artwork, 30 artists show us how rooted in the earth our most cherished cultural traditions are, how our relationship to land and water shapes us as individuals and communities
• Tue-Fri from 10:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m. Sun from 12:00 p.m. - 5:00 p.m.
• Runs through Jul 9
• Free admission

Andy Warhol: You Look Good in Pictures at the Nasher

• Andy Warhol: You Look Good in Pictures explores the breadth of the artist’s relationship with photography through several distinct bodies of work including screenprints of celebrities, all of which were taken from photographs, a group of Polaroids and black and white snapshots illustrating his social circles, and an early silent film of the curator Henry Geldzahler from 1964.
• Tue-Fri from 10:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m. Sun from 12:00 p.m. - 5:00 p.m.
• Runs through Aug 27
• Free admission

Art of Peru at the Nasher

• This gallery features ceramics, textiles, metalwork and carvings produced by ancient cultures across what is known as present-day Peru.
• Tue-Fri from 10:00 a.m. - 5:00 p.m. Sun from 12:00 p.m. - 5:00 p.m.
• Runs through Dec 2
• Free admission

Hello there, i hope you enjoy the last third of this chapter.
To all of you who actually read all Awakening posts, i would like to apologise for not providing the links to previous/ next chapter. Have a good day.
​
Aberty drove in an armored troop transport and contemplated her day, her job and her life in general.
'This shit fucking sucks.'
After this sound assesment she turned her atention to her new pod. She didnt have a lot of time to really get to know them in any capacity but from what she knew they were periphery girls like her and she had seen earlier in the morning that they know how to keep their cool under fire.
They seemed like the kind of girls with whom one could enjoy a barbecue and ungodly amounts of alcohol.
'Aaand i just made myself homesick.'
After some further pondering she came to the conclussion that she is in a need of a drink. It probably wouldnt make things better but they could hardly get any worse.
'Not that Red Grain pisswater the coreworlders call a beer. A proper drink needs to hold a flame when you put a lighter to it.'
Grandma's brew could tranquilise a grox and was rutinely used as desinfectant and alternative fuell source. Just thinking about it improved her mood by a significant margin.
'Ah, so many good memories.'
She gave the girls another look and established what passed as eye contact when one is wearing a full helmet with a marine sitting oposite to her. The marine made the unofficial 'turn off the helmet camera i wanna talk' hand sign.
When everyone had done so she began to talk.
»Hello there, my name is Clee'us and im the pod leader. Im sory i didnt talk to you sooner but i only learned that you will be a part of my pod yesterday. I planned to do it in the morning but it didnt pan out so im talking to you now.«
She then pointed at her comrades.
»Those Empress finest paint stick eaters are Abby and Col'y. As for the sister you are standing in for today her name is Borneia She lost her foot two days ago and got shiped back to orbit«
»So Aberty, where you from?«
»Im from from the ass end of the periphery, coreworlders call it Niossohled , people who actualy live there call it Nines.
»One of us!«
The girls cheered.
»Godess damned turox girl! I like you allready.«
»Welcome to the pod.«
Clee'us then sighed, steped forward and put her hand on Aberty's shoulder.
»We herd what hapened to your pod and for what is it worth offer our deepest condolances. I dont know how long you will be a part of our pod but as long as you are here you are our sister and we take good care of our family.«
»Now, we have a job to do«
She sat back at her seat and began to brief her pod.
»The humans figgured out the cave scum cant hold their own in a fight and attacked their base just as they were getting ready to run back to whatever shitty moist hole they call home.«
»I dunno why they did so but i guess they too came to a conclusion that those good for nothin cowards need a beatin.«
»Now listen i know you might think they deserve it, because they do. But our job is to secure the site and evacuate the survivors back to our base.«
»I know you dun like it. I dont like it. You know how this goes. Im not the one who is giving out orders but i sure as deep will make sure we cary them out.
Normaly i would be saying shit like, i expect you to be on your best, most professiona behaviour. Today, knowing how you all feel bout them, all im asking is that you do your job and dont start shit with the 'redacted slur most foul''.
Some minutes later the APC arived at its destination. Clee'us checked the cameras and gave the signal to dissembark.
When the marines steped out of their emotional suport metal bawkses… ukhm i mean armored personel carriers they beheld a scene of absolute devastation.
»What in the deep hapened here.«
Exclaimed a marine when she saw what remained of a line of neatly parked vehicles not to dissimilar to one she arived in.
There were pieces and remains of smart wire, perimeter turrets, vehicles and personel everwhere. Prefabricated buildings were flattened as by a kinetic orbital strike.
Still the marines had seen and in some cases caused a comparable amount of damage before. What made even the more experienced of them look twice was the amount of damage to the ships. It was obvious they werent going anywhere anytime soon and probably never.
»They look like the navy used them as target practice, you sure the humans did this«
Someone asked.
Whille some continued to gawk at the destruction most of the marines soon succesfully sumised the situation.
'Yup, shit is fucked.'
And went on with their work.
First living mercenaries they encountered were at the makeshift baricades inside the ships. Those who expected that the insides of the ships cant posibly look worse than the hull were proved wrong. It was obvious that a brutal close quarters battle was fought for the cargo holds and even some of the main coridors.
In face of such destruction even the most predjudiced of the imperials put their hatred aside and helped their fellow woman regardless of their species, prefered ideology and ocupation.
They rendered first aid and rushed the more severelly wounded to the ambulances that were waiting outside. The marines used combat engineer power frames to remove the debry and cut trough the crushed and buckled metal to free those who were traped in their compartments.
It made for quite a moving scene one could use to advocate for peace and solidarity with fellow sentients so it naturaly didnt last for long.
Aberty was aplying liberal amounts of military grade burn cream/local anestetic to a back of a nighkru mercenary who was laying on the remains of her armor that just barelly saved her life when she heard muted shouting from behind the closed doors to her left. She stood up and asked.
»Do you hear that boss?«
She asked Clee'us who was helping another Nighkru woman put sterile med patches over some quite nasty cuts and scrapes over her lower extremities.
Clee'us stoped what she was doing and turned toward her when another louder cry was heard. Aberty heard way to many human cries of agony to not recognize what she was hearing.
Just as she realised what exactly this meant she saw the mercenary her pod leader was helping go trough a range of emotions before she reached for her pistol.
'No you wont!'
»Watch out boss!«
The nighkru was fast but Aberty was faster. She didnt know exactly what the slaver was trying to do and had no wish to find out.
She fired once and the mercenary colapsed. The nighkru at her feet, she was helping ten seconds ago, tried to stand up. Aberty stomped her into the ground and trained her pistol on her.
»Stay down you piece of shit!«
Clee'us who by now snaped out of the shock of almost geting shot by a woman she was bandaging up, and seeing the said womans head explode all over her, called the leutenant.
»sargeant Clee'us here. We have a situation. A mercenary tried to shoot me and was dispatched with extreme predjudice. There is at least one, posibly more humans on board held against their will.«
A short pause and an audible curse later she got a reply.
»Understood, wait where you are and hold your ground. Leutenant Reixas out.«
The pod positioned in what cover they had and split their weapons between covering the doors and making sure the still living mercenary wont get a chance to try anything.
Their periphery upbringing made it especialy hard to stand and wait when they could hear people call for help.
Fighting the pirates and slavers was at least one of if not the reason they joined the marines. Be it because of a personal experience, wish to protect or want for glory all they wanted to do was to burst trough the door and bring death to those who would dare to enslave Empirial subjects.
All of them at some point in their lives fanthasized about killing slavers and/or saving the innocents from their ville clutches. To be fair the second fanthasy often included a man who would fall in love with them but this still.
Now that they had a chance to, for once in their lives, do excactly what they wanted holding position proved extremely frustraiting. To say they were anything less than fuming at the mouth would be an understatement.
Two instances of gunfire and ten minutes later leutenant herself and three heavilly armed pods reached their position.
Leutenant firstly made sure everyones helmet cam was running. She then called to the mercenaries to surender and gave them ten seconds to walk out with their hands above their heads. When the time ran out she gave the signal to attack.
Were she without a helmet one could see Reixas was almost giddy as she did so.
This was her ticket to promotion the fact that she wanted to do this since she was a teen only sweatened the moment.
What followed was extremely satifying for some the imperials, extremely fatal for the most Way'U personel that hapened to be present there and very frightening and confusing for everyone else.