Wow df neck socket

Yesterday I did a full system upgrade.
This morning I attempted to mount my external backup drive and I was not allowed to mount as a normal user. Dmesg gave me this:
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[ 218.024441] usb 4-5: new SuperSpeed USB device number 2 using xhci_hcd[ 218.042006] usb 4-5: New USB device found, idVendor=1058, idProduct=25a3, bcdDevice=10.30[ 218.042019] usb 4-5: New USB device strings: Mfr=1, Product=2, SerialNumber=3[ 218.042024] usb 4-5: Product: Elements 25A3[ 218.042029] usb 4-5: Manufacturer: Western Digital[ 218.042033] usb 4-5: SerialNumber: 5647475757583947[ 218.083468] usb-storage 4-5:1.0: USB Mass Storage device detected[ 218.083804] scsi host30: usb-storage 4-5:1.0[ 218.083869] usbcore: registered new interface driver usb-storage[ 218.099108] usbcore: registered new interface driver uas[ 219.085221] scsi 30:0:0:0: Direct-Access WD Elements 25A3 1030 PQ: 0 ANSI: 6[ 219.085500] sd 30:0:0:0: Attached scsi generic sg5 type 0[ 219.086655] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] Spinning up disk...[ 220.097499] ...................ready[ 238.336508] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] Very big device. Trying to use READ CAPACITY(16).[ 238.336704] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] 15627986944 512-byte logical blocks: (8.00 TB/7.28 TiB)[ 238.336708] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] 4096-byte physical blocks[ 238.337000] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] Write Protect is off[ 238.337012] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] Mode Sense: 47 00 10 08[ 238.337287] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] No Caching mode page found[ 238.337288] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] Assuming drive cache: write through[ 238.390919] sde: sde1 sde2[ 238.391274] sd 30:0:0:0: [sde] Attached SCSI disk[ 269.027964] gvfs-udisks2-vo[943]: segfault at 636578 ip 00007fd48ff114e6 sp 00007ffecf7b0200 error 4 in libgio-2.0.so.0.7600.3[7fd48fe9f000+10e000] likely on CPU 2 (core 2, socket 0)[ 269.027974] Code: 0b 00 48 8d 3d 9f bb 09 00 ff 15 cd 6c 12 00 31 c0 5b c3 90 f3 0f 1e fa 53 48 89 fb 67 e8 72 fb ff ff 48 85 db 74 2d 48 89 c6 <48> 8b 03 48 85 c0 74 05 48 39 30 74 0d 48 89 df ff 15 3c 6f 12 00[ 478.390522] EXT4-fs (dm-4): mounted filesystem a47b8046-677c-4cbc-a992-d268cba48f8d with ordered data mode. Quota mode: none.

Hello everyone,
Last January, I purchased a CX-60. As it is still difficult to find user reviews of this model, I took the time to write this review in the hope that it can be helpful to you if you are considering buying this car. I hope that my experience can answer some of your questions and assist you in your decision-making process.
Exterior Design (4/5)
The design is particularly successful. The car has a sleek look and gives the impression of being in motion even when stationary, just as the designers promised during the design phase. It has nothing to envy compared to its competitors, such as the Audi Q5. Although I'm not a big fan of black rims, I must admit that they blend harmoniously with the Takumi package on this model. The black accents on the rims, tinted windows, and mirrors create a visual signature that doesn't go unnoticed. Unlike most models, it stands out more in person than in photos, especially in terms of size. It is truly massive. For comparison, it is longer and taller than an Audi Q5. When you see it for the first time, the "wow" effect is guaranteed. However, the rear of the vehicle is less expressive and does not do justice to the front and side views. Fortunately, the quad exhaust at the back helps maintain the sporty character of the model.
Interior Design (5/5)
The interior layout is clean, simple, and modern. It features a large central screen, a minimally customizable driver display, and a head-up display integrated directly on the windshield. This efficiency will surely appeal to those who struggle with screens everywhere displaying unnecessary information. Similarly, you cannot customize the ambient lighting in the evening. The lights are fixed, in a neutral color, and the adjustment only offers 3 intensities. It may not be to everyone's liking, but personally, I find it liberating to be free from countless customization possibilities that always leave a sense of dissatisfaction. As for the materials, they come in understated colors and durable textures, both in terms of aesthetics and longevity (at least for now, time will tell). The center console is impressively wide and gives a sense of space rarely felt in vehicles of similar size. When driving this car, you feel like you're aboard a large American SUV like the Suburban or Ford Explorer. Unfortunately, there are not many storage compartments. The huge center console only offers a tiny compartment that can hold a few small items and keys at most. The door pockets are also very low and not very practical.
Ergonomics (4/5)
The cabin offers generous space for all occupants, including the rear seats where even adults over 1.80m tall have ample legroom. The seats, which are rather firm and have limited adjustments, can be surprising at first, especially if you're coming from a vehicle with a multitude of settings. In the first few days, I experienced sharp back pain, especially since the car lacks flexibility as I'll mention later. After three weeks of adjustment, the pain disappeared, and I even noticed an improvement in my posture. In my previous vehicle, my seat was so comfortable, like a sofa, but now I realize it was bad for my back. Inside this car, with its comfort inspired by Japanese tatami mats, I ultimately feel better, less slouched, and more alert. The trunk offers significant capacity, especially compared to similar models. However, it doesn't have a dual compartment or a sub-trunk to store charging cables. The tailgate rises very high, over 3 meters. It struggles to lock in place when encountering resistance, which can damage it from the first uses. I recommend adjusting it by pressing the closing button while it's opening, to lock it at the desired height, and holding down that button for 5 seconds (until you hear a series of beeps) to limit the opening range.
Technologies and Equipment (3/5)
The connectivity is quite comprehensive, although Apple CarPlay suffers from some instability and unexplained bugs (random disconnections, unexpected cuts, slowdowns, random automatic connection). Wireless charging also sometimes poses a problem. It works randomly and seems to generate a lot of heat on the phone. When not in use, an error message keeps flashing, indicating that no phone is being charged.
As for driving aids, the lane-keeping system works very well, although it is not autonomous. If you don't have your hands on the wheel, the car behaves like a billiard ball, bouncing from one lane to another. However, if it deviates from its trajectory because you're not attentive enough, it will alert you and secure the car by making a steering correction. It's very reassuring and always activated at the right time. Moreover, it's even a valuable aid on high-speed winding turns, on certain departmental roads. Other vehicles end up cutting through the turns or having to slow down excessively, while you effortlessly stay precisely in your lane.
I was very disappointed with the cruise control, which is not adaptive. Later, I discovered that it is an option that is disabled in the software since all the necessary sensors are already present. You can confirm this through ActiveSense, which provides a complete view of surrounding vehicles. So, I wanted to add this option later, willing to bear the cost, but Mazda doesn't allow it. This strategy, or lack of a sales strategy, is surprising.
The temperature management inside the car is surprising. Without changing the temperature settings in automatic mode, during a long drive, there is a yo-yo effect that is difficult to explain. One moment, it feels quite cool, and a few minutes later, it becomes too hot. I wonder if it's related to the external brightness because on a hot spring day, the air conditioning temperature suddenly rose when the sky suddenly became overcast. However, it was still hot outside. I think there's an overly reactive adaptive mode at play.
The remote car management is quite good. It's possible to activate the heating or air conditioning, which will run for a maximum of 30 minutes before shutting off and sending a notification to your phone. You can extend it if you have a good signal. The car surprisingly receives a signal in unexpected places, even in underground parking lots where my phone has no network. This remote temperature mode is ideal for defrosting the car or leaving a dog inside during cold weather or in the summer when the temperature rises quickly in a closed and parked car. I've tested it in extreme cold and hot seasonal temperatures, and it works very well so far. Of course, it consumes a lot of energy, but you can't have everything without a trade-off. It's suitable for occasional use. The rest of the remote features include locking the car, checking tire pressure, consulting the range, and receiving alerts if the alarm is triggered, which is very reassuring. It's also possible to locate the car precisely. It's a shame that we can't access the cameras, as in other fully electric models.
It's not clear in the vehicle manual, but to deactivate the alarm, you need to press the alarm button on the remote right after locking the car. The indicator will blink 4 times, and then it will be turned off. It's better to do it before leaving your dog alone, or else the alarm will be triggered if the dog moves inside the vehicle.
Performance and Driving Dynamics (4/5)
I own the 327-horsepower PHEV model: 200 horsepower from the atmospheric gasoline engine and 127 horsepower from the electric motor. Although the low-end power is reduced with an atmospheric engine, the electric motor more than makes up for it with its responsiveness and instant torque. Despite its weight, the car is very agile. It even outperforms some more powerful or lighter petrol-powered cars in terms of acceleration. Of course, such models regain the advantage in corners, but not in straight lines. The acceleration is impressive, although the road noise insulation somewhat dampens the sensation. Other vehicles seem almost stationary when you step on the accelerator.
I was initially disappointed with the braking performance, which was less impressive than in my previous vehicle. However, by pressing the pedal harder and adjusting the regenerative braking to the maximum, I managed to get used to it.
The handling is remarkable. Although it's not a sports car capable of maintaining very high speeds in corners, it still surpasses similar-sized competing models. Thanks to the four-wheel drive and four-wheel steering, the turning angle and trajectory in corners are impressive for a car of this size. One of the drawbacks of the vehicle lies in the stiffness of the suspension. Despite the excellent noise isolation, you feel the road imperfections more than you would expect when driving an SUV. Even at low speeds, speed bumps are very uncomfortable and cause items in the trunk to bounce around. Mazda seems to have made this choice to prevent the relatively high car from swaying in corners and reduce the risk of rollovers at high speeds. Adaptive suspension could have solved this problem. However, considering the pricing position against the competition, I understand why the brand overlooked this aspect. Moreover, after 3000 km, I noticed that the suspension has become slightly softer, improving comfort to some extent.
Energy Efficiency and Range (2/5)
The consumption and hybridization aspects encompass the majority of the vehicle's drawbacks. The car discharges quickly, and the actual range is much lower than what the manufacturer claims. Like many owners, I also face a discharge issue when the car is parked. It loses about 30% of charge in 24 hours (and even drains the 12-volt starter battery - as if the headlights were left on). This problem is due to software that prevents the car from entering sleep mode. I have already taken my vehicle to Mazda for reprogramming, and I will have to do it again soon because the issue is still unresolved (now I lose 15% in 24 hours). This problem is not part of the manufacturer's recalls, but many owners are affected. Dealing with a less established manufacturer, this can quickly become a headache. I had to go through many steps and cancel orders for other CX-60s for my company before being taken into consideration by the after-sales service. During my third call, Mazda France assistance even replied to me that they are not Audi. The message is quite clear.
Beyond this specific issue, the management of hybridization lacks customization and seems suitable for a specific use case only. If you live in a house, always have the car plugged in, and regularly make short trips, this plug-in hybrid is suitable. However, if you cannot plug it in daily or if you regularly drive more than 50 km round trip, you might be disappointed. Especially considering the consumption of this car in electric mode, it is often more expensive to charge it than to refuel with gasoline. The cost per 100 km is 2 to 4 times higher at current energy prices. Personally, I opted for the hybrid due to the tax incentives and benefits, but I also wanted to take advantage of remote heating and air conditioning options, especially when I have to leave my dog in the car for a few minutes. Since I cannot recharge it daily in the parking lot of my building, it would be desirable to be able to keep a charged battery and drive in combustion engine mode, but no mode truly allows that. It is possible to choose to recharge the car while driving, consuming approximately 13 liters per 100 km, but you cannot choose to drive solely on the combustion engine without using the high-capacity battery. The sport mode comes close, but the gears are shifted at high RPM, making the driving experience jerky and particularly noisy, and the battery is used as soon as you accelerate a bit (to activate the 137-horsepower motor). An exclusively combustion engine mode would have been relevant, similar to the exclusively electric mode. Furthermore, recharging the battery while driving doesn't work correctly. The recharge is very fast, much faster than when it's connected to 7 kW chargers. However, the displayed percentage does not correspond to the actual charge, which explains why it continues to recharge beyond the set percentage. For example, if you're at 30% and ask the car to recharge up to 50% while driving, it will work at a high rate until it reaches 50%. In normal mode, it will stop recharging the battery, but will continue operating at a high rate to not drop below 50%. So, you end up consuming more without reason, with the engine noise constantly high, which is quite unpleasant. In sport mode, it will continue recharging the battery above 50% without any limit. However, once the car is stopped and restarted, you'll notice that you weren't at 50%, but rather at 35%. The fast recharge was, therefore, fictitious. The problem is that this is a first for Mazda in terms of technology, and no one there is able to provide answers on this matter. The garage I visit explains that Mazda is highly centralized and communicates very little in terms of engineering with the garages. It is, therefore, common for a problem to persist for several months (or more) before being addressed at the technical management level in Japan and then transmitted to local dealerships. However, when deciding to market a technologically immature car, it would be wise to establish a continuous improvement process based on user feedback. In fact, on forums, we can see that Japanese users receive preferential treatment compared to the rest of the world. In conclusion, the battery of this car, which needs to be recharged at a high cost, is only useful for the first 40 kilometers. So, you spend over 3 hours recharging a battery at an exorbitant rate for only 25 or 30 minutes of driving without using gasoline. One might wonder if it's simply a trick to equip professionals, allowing them to benefit from incentives and reduced tax on company vehicles (the primary reason for my purchase). I think many people will never plug it in.
Cost and Value for Money (4/5)
The value for money of this model is indeed very interesting when compared to vehicles of the same standing from other brands, such as Audi. For example, an Audi Q5 offers a similar level but with an additional cost of €25,000. For the same price as a Mazda CX-60, you would only get a Q3 from Audi, which is clearly not comparable. However, it is important to note that the depreciation of this vehicle could be significant, and it might even become difficult to resell it in a few years. This is also true for all plug-in hybrid models. Therefore, I would recommend this model, provided that you negotiate the price well or opt for a lease (the offers are very attractive, and personally, I chose this payment method). The PHEV configuration of the vehicle is suitable for individuals who have daily access to a charging point and have diverse travel needs, ranging from short to long trips. Before the increase in electricity prices, the cost per 100 km was slightly more advantageous compared to gasoline, but today it is the opposite (except when charging from a domestic socket).
Conclusion
I am delighted with this car considering the price at which I acquired it. The positioning is unbeatable, and there are good deals to be made to drive this luxury sports SUV at the price of a "regular" SUV. With a domestic electric socket, choosing the plug-in hybrid is a good middle ground. It's just a shame that the hybrid management is not more refined. Perhaps future updates will address these teething problems.

Let's see? It all started when I was working for something like 7 months in the city of Coquimbo in Chile. Specifically, I was working as a journalist for a local newspaper and a small news channel, it was not the best job in the world but it was not so terrible if we consider that my dream was to be a writer. One day I was being required travel outside the city, particularly to Salamanca and do a report of those that you find at the very end of the newspaper or when you can't sleep and you're lying down watching TV in the middle of the night just to give visibility to small towns and communities, filled with some random ads and stuff, again, it was not the best job in the world, but I guess everyone else started with something like this.
I needed to be there in the morning so I mentally prepared myself with a good cup of coffee and some cigarettes, threw only what was necessary for the luggage rack and managed to say goodbye to my relatives, may sound like a dumb tradition but you never know ... on the road shit happens and for me, that isn't something new, I lived day by day in the office writing columns and sending reports where the number of deaths, the causes of the crashes and the photos, makes you wonder it could have been you or someone you know. But, despite that I preferred to go in my own car, I have never been able to fall asleep inside a bus on the road and moreover, it seems that almost all accidents occurred on these buses, in a certain way, my job was making me go all paranoid.
the car's engine started at 9:00 p.m. and there was a little drizzle but nothing serious, folk music on the radio was a good accompaniment while the city nightlife looked at me with his blinding lights in my attempt to escape the "fish smell" of Coquimbo. I drove for a while until I was entering the sister city of La Serena, and I stopped to eat some fast food, I tried to get in fast to avoid getting wet, I ordered another coffee and french fries to eat.
-Hey young man, where are you going at this hour with this rain, everyone else is at their homes sleeping and resting, do you want to catch a cold? I haven't noticed that an elderly woman was attending me. -I'm going to Salamanca. -And what do you intend to do in Salamanca? that's no place for nosy people or city dwellers The lady left me intrigued and I didn't even have to ask her to answer me. -some people there don't like to be disturbed you know, you can get an evil glance there, some "evil eye" stuff you know. - No, ma'am, I'm going to report a news story, I'm a journalist and besides that, I'm a little skeptical about that kind of thing.
The old-lady ended the conversation with a crooked smile and continued with his own things but deep down myself, the answer he gave me left me with chills, I was not a superstitious person but the seriousness of his face unsettled me. I took the last sips of coffee to wake up and said goodbye to my french fries trying to awkwardly get into the car. The conversation haunted me for a couple more miles, for some reason I was left with a feeling of latent nervousness and with the last lights of the city fading in the rear-view mirror, I began to remember the stories that my grandparents told me as a child... The witches of Salamanca, the cave of Manquehua, and other stories that were part of the folklore began to settle in my head. It was interesting to me to imagine these characters, covered in their black cloaks, walking hidden paths through the forests to celebrate within their covens in Manquehua in the middle of the night. Occasionally I was assaulted by the idea of ​​running into a "Tue Tue *" bird of bad omen on the way to Salamanca, or that a "chupacabra" jumped from the bushes onto the road, it is curious how "ghastly" this can be yet so interesting at the same time despite causing us fear.
The electrifying sound of white noise coming from the radio interrupted my thoughts, I was reaching the famous dead zones of the road. From time to time I noticed that there were abandoned houses, fenced lands, among other things but nothing out of the ordinary; It is very common for people to live in these rural areas for a while and then leave to look for jobs in the big cities, especially considering that the urbanization and modernization of our country had only happened a couple of decades ago, more precisely in the year 1970.
I look at the time and it is already 11:30 p.m. This trip is getting too slow for me, to make things worse the rain got stronger, the hours go by and I pass through a couple of towns, so I decided to park my car to smoke a cigarette before reporting to my family by phone, it's funny how people automatically have an infinite amount of topics for conversation when you're away, but they hardly even speak when you are close, later than ever I cut the call and the lights where extinguishing behind the vehicle again and disappeared in the middle of the dark, again it's just me and the road. The headlights of my car were fighting to illuminate against the darkness. The clock arrives at 02:42 A.M and The yawns start to escape from my mouth, there is no radio or telephone signal anymore, at this time you only occasionally see buses passing by on the road, a couple of cars if you are lucky enough but most of the time the road is abandoned. The rain gives me an unpleasant sensation now that there is so little light. Again I picked up the wrongest moment to remember the conversation I had with that old lady...
-you can get an evil glance there, some "evil eye" stuff you know.
A shriek on the side of the road scared the shit out of me, I saw a shadow rushing against my car and I stepped on the brake with all my strength next thing I know was the sound of the car window crashing and everything went black... pitch black.
It felt like time has stopped and I could only hear the rain, I don't know how much time passed by but it felt like a dream or perhaps, maybe a nightmare? I woke up with a terrible headache but apparently my body was intact, the glass was shattered all around the car and the clock said that it was 03:00 A.M. drops are falling inside the car, I try to sit up still scared to look outside but I notice that the lights were destroyed, I see nothing but shadows. I feel a stabbing pain in my face and it seems that I cut part of my face in the accident. I get out of the car nervous and listen as the glass chips on the pavement creak, maybe I could have driven over a horse or maybe some farmer. I try to illuminate a little with the cell phone flashlight and I notice part of the front glass scattered on the asphalt, a slight dent but there are no traces of blood, I try to calm down and take a couple of steps through the rain to see further and between the rain and the nothingness I could see with my eyes a body in the middle of the road.
I thought I must help, maybe I broke one of his legs or worse. walking a little bit faster I managed to get close enough, I was shouting at the body expecting some reply or at least some whining but no one answered and I feared the worst. My heart stopped for a second, I took a step forward to see the face of this body and everything seemed so surreal, it was a mannequin with hollow eyes.
I didn't know what where happening, a mannequin dressed in an old poncho in the middle of the road away from everything, a fucking mannequin. Fear seized me, I looked in all directions searching and searching but I couldn't see anything, what the hell was a mannequin doing in the middle of the nowhere? My head was spinning, and the sound of the rain wasn't helping. until I realized something. The question was not, what was the mannequin doing on the road? But who brought it? For a moment I gazed at the mannequin's empty sockets and then I heard a breath close to me, I wasn't alone.
My heart was racing, maybe they wanted to rob me or some crazy shit, I tried to take a glass from the floor and use the phone light to see around me to get back into the car, the seconds seemed like hours as I slowly walked, I thought about running but I felt that it could be worse, I felt stalked and when my legs began to tremble It was not very helpful either. A little before I got to the car I noticed several footsteps moving around me, they were watching me closely. I heard a sound behind me and the mannequin had disappeared, I was definitely not understanding a shit and I couldn't overcome the anguish anymore so I ran desperately towards the car but someone pushed me. I hit my face with the cold ground and tried to get up as I could throwing punches into the air trying to hit whoever was there, but it was in vain. The radio of the car started emitting white noise again with some random mumbling, I was not seeing damn shit and while I was trying to place the cell phone shining directly in front of me something had gripped me by my hand. I felt another blow and this time my cell phone hit the wet asphalt, lighting someone's shoes, with one stomp they broke the phone. I could only notice my car thanks to the taillights and I was completely blind now.
The rain seemed to be falling in slow motion and every second seemed eternal to me. My hands trembled trying to prepare a decent punch, a decent cut, or anything to whatever it was out here to defend myself. My head was spinning and my heart was racing and then someone took me by the shoulder, I could not see anything but I threw punches and kicks that got everywhere, they tried to grab my feet and I tried to get free the fastest I could until I finally managed to nail that fucking piece of glass and I was released, I fell my back to the floor. A murmur began to sound louder and I could feel someone breathing and gasping around me; I ran as I could towards the car again with my heart beating a thousand times per hour. I almost plunged into the vehicle and without thinking I start the car. A groan of pain was heard along with a loud buzzing and I closed all the doors and I shit you not the damned car didn't want to start, the rain only became even worse and my nerves were about to explode when a hand smashed against the car windows, then two hands and seconds later all the windows were covered, they were trying to break into the vehicle, I could no longer bear the fear, I started screaming like a crazy, I jumped on the seat and I screamed until my mouth hurts; With a kind of tantrum I started to force the car to start with kicks and blows, the vehicle roared and I hit the accelerator. When I looked straight ahead I saw a figure that shouldn't have been there and my throat felt tight; wrapped in a black cloak, just where the damn mannequin was, someone was holding his shoulder where perhaps I had nailed the piece of broken glass. The lack of front light and the rain did not allow me to distinguish his face.
I accelerated as fast as I could, flailing inside the car from side to side, I didn't care about anything anymore, I rolled everything that was ahead. I heard a couple of crunches, a gasp, and the car started to jump until a dead silence was present, I turned to look back and all sense of logic disappeared while a death-cold chill was traveling my spine. The yellowish taillights dimly illuminated a highway full of motionless bodies that shouldn't be there, couldn't be there; They were a bunch of mannequins totally still, lined up in my direction. I put my head down and hid it between my shoulders so I couldn't look anywhere, I felt like a little boy, I felt tiny inside the car in the middle of the blackness of the road knowing that the mannequins were behind me, I kept like this several minutes trying to focus on anything else while the car kept accelerating, my back felt cold, the truth is that I was sweating cold, I did not understand anything and the stabbing pain in my forehead returned to me; It was a superficial but fairly long cut, it was a miracle I didn't pass out and was able to drive straight with all this shit happening.
The rain insisted on reminding me of the conversation with the old woman at the fast food place, maybe she was right. -Why the hell did I have to come to Salamanca, maybe the witches had something to do with it !? Lots of ideas pounded my head as the car lost into the blackness, now I was alone again. I thought about reviewing what had happened and recovering my composure, I tried to play dumb and ignore everything until I noticed little orange lights on the black horizon; I had arrived into Salamanca and I went straight to the 1st town police station to report what had happened. I Poorly parked the car and launched myself into the station to seek some help.
It was already 07:00 A.M and the sun was about to rise, I lost track of time completely, I don't know how long I was on the road or how much time I spent at the police station. I nervously told the officers everything that had happened, they looked at each other and took me to the local hospital to verify injuries; Throughout the process, I noticed that they were looking at me strangely but there was a certain secret look in them, those kinds of looks that as a journalist you can notice. The day was cloudy and the sun did not appear, the rain was losing strength and I tried to assert my right to report until they ended opening an investigation by sending a patrol. With 3 points on my eyebrow and bruised face I tried to find somewhere to rest and eat something to close my trip, there was a middle-aged gentleman who, while eating, took the opportunity to ask me what had happened to me, I told him almost everything, at least I could Let me vent more openly without looking like a drunk or crazy inside a police station.
After a while where the man listened attentively to me, he sighed and took out a pack of cigarettes, finished lighting him and said: -Maybe they wanted to rob you. Maybe he was right, but his face changed completely when I insisted on the mannequin again. He took a glance over my shoulder and then fixed his eyes with mines. -Son, look. These things are not discussed here, do what you have to do and leave later, lest you end up traveling in a box to Manquehua. Again a chill settled on the back of my neck, and I decided not to ask any more questions. I didn't want to make my situation even worse. –Hey, and don't you know where I can rest? He finished smoking my cigar and this time he offered one to me.
Standing still in a town in the middle of nowhere smoking a cigarette a fucked up car? at least things can't get worse, I could watch the smoke and forget everything for a moment.
I arrived at the hostel that the man with the cigarettes recommended to me and slept for a while but I was still nervous so I took advantage and realized that there was a mechanic nearby, got a deal with him and I left my car for a few weeks under repair, took everything I was carrying in the luggage rack and I went straight to the earliest bus back to Coquimbo, I was no longer interested in the news or the job, I just wanted to get away from this place as soon as possible and whatever the fuck the Salamanca people hides, I don't care if they were witches or someone wanting to assault me, I know what I saw.
The local police called me later that day because the investigation did not show anything more than the possibility of an attempted assault on the road, they dismissed everything for lack of imputable candidates, but the truth is that at this point I don't give a damn; I am cornered to the window of this bus trying to forget and the orange light that glimpses within the clouds that remain, reassures me a little and helps me not to think about what my bosses would tell me for not attending the report and arriving empty-handed. I lost myself looking at the landscape while it stops raining and I found a moment of peace but, for some reason, among all the things that can be seen on the road, my eyes fell directly on a small scruffy cabin in the middle of this vast nothingness and in its windows I got to see a lot of mannequins looking towards the highway, right to where I was now. There were a lot of hollow eyes waiting for me somewhere on the road of Salamanca.

"Pig! Nasty fat pig! - Arthur thought with irritation, leaving the subway, - Squeals, as if she is being cut! Businesswoman! I would put this businesswoman with doggy style right on her huge table and fuck her like a..."
Arthur Lomov was thirty-four and he had everything, like people have - a house, a wife, a child, death ahead, and death inside. He also had a job that he hated. More precisely, the work itself did not cause rejection in him, work as work is no worse than then of others. He did not like the bosses (who likes their?). And not even all the bosses, but only the headmistress, the one whom he was going to "fuck". Sleek and haughty, she spoke to people with undisguised disgust, through her teeth, sincerely and deeply despising the "cattle" that surrounded her. Lomov including. He was nobody for her, a manager, what millions, not even an insect, but a bacterium, office plankton. She has not fired him until now just because there was no case. And then the crisis broke out and rumors about layoffs spread around the office.
And as luck would have it, Arthur mixed up some numbers in the quarterly report. Margarita Nikolaevna called him into the office, and screamed as if he had stabbed and robbed a beggar on the porch of church! Not only did she deduct 30 percent from his salary, she also promised to fire he next time! Yes, he himself would have gone, on the same day! If he had money, real big money, say a million dollars!
Arthur suddenly imagined how he, in an expensive dark gray Versace suit, with a small suitcase in his hand, ignoring the screams of secretary, opened the door with a kick and entered the hated office. How the headmistress's already round stupid eyes are rounded.
"What do you want, Lomov?" She asks.
“I have a business proposal!” He says and puts the case on the table; - I want to fuck you ... Yes, to fuck you now on that table fore million dollars! Behind, you a lustful bitch!
“Yes, you are drunk Lomov, leave my office immediately ...” the headmistress says and the last word gets stuck in her throat, because at that moment Arthur opens the suitcase and she sees tight green bundles with real American money.
The headmistress hardly takes her eyes off the dollars, looks at Lomov, then back at the money. Her primitive brain tries to comprehend the non-standard situation and begins to boil.
"Where did you get this from, Lomov?" she says, swallowing her saliva.
"Who cares? You agree?"
The woman's face is covered with red spots, becomes confused and even somehow miserable.
“This is so unexpected…” she mutters, “what if someone comes in?”
Lomov does not answer anything, and only looks at the headmistress, enjoying her confusion.
Finally, having overcome her excitement, she presses the "selector" button:
“Lena don’t let anyone in to see me! I'm busy!"
Then she raises her eyes to Lomov and begins to unbutton her blouse with trembling fingers, the buttons do not obey her, she throws it, grabs the zipper on her skirt.
At this moment, Lomov slams the suitcase shut and takes it off the table.
"Best wishes!" he says.
"In what sense?" The headmistress asks bewildered.
"I changed my mind!" Arthur calmly answers and, without looking back, leaves the office...
He dreamed so much that he almost fell under the wheels and right on the pedestrian crossing. Some idiot on a tinted "nine" flashed in front of him, Arthur barely had time to bounce, but did not calculate his strength and fell into a puddle.
“No, that’s not good,” he thought, rising to his feet and shaking off the dirt from his jacket, “I need to drink urgently!”
* * *
The pub turned out to be very unpresentable, but this did not bother Lomov. Taking two mugs of beer, he hardly found a free table in the bluish smoke and finally took his first long sip.
- Your headmistress got nitpicking you up, and you are completely innocent of anything? - Arthur heard a dry cracked voice in his ear.
He raised his eyes and saw that a dubious appearanceg peasant with a week-long stubble and two mugs of light beer was sitting at his table. Since the question was purely rhetorical, Arthur merely chuckled vaguely in response.
Now ask me, how do I know this? - the stranger did not want to lag behind.
- What is this?
- Well, the fact that you were fucked by your headmistress for no reason at all?
- Well, how do you know that? - Said Arthur to get rid of the importunate type.
- It's very simple - I'm God! - The stranger said triumphantly. And noticing the bewilderment in the eyes of the interlocutor, he explained:
- Well, the one who created the Earth, the Sky and all this! - He glanced around at the smoky pub.
The life of Artur Lomov developed in such a way that he was not ready for such meetings.
"Yeah, that's exactly how I imagined you!" he chuckled sarcastically.
But the impostor, as it turned out, was not going to joke at all.
- What did you want? I look like this because of you! Because that's how you represent me! And if you were a Hindu, I could now have an elephant's head and a long trunk. What if you were a Mayan...
- Don't, I understand everything, - Arthur stopped him, - Just don't expect me to buy you beer!
- Do not make me laugh! I can create so much beer that it will flood not only your entire Moscow, but the entire planet! And what, not a bad idea - a worldwide beer flood! It is high time! Pathetic little people completely lost their fear, they do what they want! I created such a beautiful planet for you: blue seas, snow-capped mountains, shady forests, crystal waters of rivers! And what did you turn it into?
“Yes, the guy seems to be in trouble with his head!” - thought Arthur, listening to the ravings of an uninvited drinking companion.
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.
- Well, if you are so omnipotent, could you, just as an entertainment, create for me, let's say a small suitcase with a million dollars? Lomov asked.
“I could,” reply the impostor, not at all embarrassed, “but I won’t. You see, money is such a thing… no matter how much they give you it anyway, very soon you will feel that this is not enough. I'd rather make sure you never need money at all. Is it coming?
Arthur shrugged vaguely.
- I will turn you, well, let's say ... - the stranger thought for a second, - into a rat!
“I don’t want to be a rat,” Lomov suddenly got scared, “they are vile and nasty!”
- No, no, just a rat! Big black rat! But not today, tomorrow. In the meantime, drink your beer!
- Wait! Don't turn me into anyone! - Arthur shouted, but the hanyga had already vanished into cigarette smoke.
* * *
Arthur could not get the key into the keyhole for a long time, and when he finally managed to open the door, he saw his wife in a dressing gown with a crumpled night face.
- Where are you hanging out? – Unkindly asked she, - Do you know what time it is? And why isn't the cell phone answering?
- The phone is dead. Probably ... - Arthur muttered, barely moving his tongue.
- You're l drunk! - The wife said and grimaced in disgust, - And with whom did you get so drunk?
- You will not believe - with God!
- Moron! - said the wife and slapped Arthur on the head with a slipper.
- I am not kidding! I actually drank beer with God and he promised to turn me into a rat! Tomorrow! - He suddenly felt funny, and he began to choke with laughter, - Imagine, tomorrow you wake up, and your husband is a rat, or rather ratman! But it's tomorrow, and now I want to sleep!
- You idiot, take off your shoes! - said the wife and went to the kitchen.
Lomov threw off his shoes with difficulty and went into the bedroom and, without undressing, collapsed onto the bed.
* * *
He dreamed of some nonsense: Margarita Nikolaevna, completely naked, in only shoes, walked around the office, scolded negligent employees, gave valuable instructions. The subordinates listened to her with a serious look and nodded their heads. And only one Arthur could hardly contain the laughter. But when the naked headmistress began to teach the electrician how to properly install the outlet, Lomov could not stand it and literally neighed out loud.
- Lomov, what's the matter with you? - Margarita Nikolaevna asked sternly, - Did I say something funny? By the way, how are you going to compensate for the colossal loss that you caused the company with your mistakes in the report? Do you have a million dollars?
- I have? – Surprised Arthur – Where?
- Then we could cut off your hand! - Suggested Margarita Nikolaevna, - Although wait! Say, are you drinking?
- No!
- It's good that you don't drink, and then we'll take your liver. Or not, better a kidney, because you have two of them!
And then Arthur saw a huge kitchen knife flash in the headmistress's hand. He realized that it was time to run, but his legs suddenly became wobbly and he could not budge...
* * *
Waking up the next morning with a sore head, Arthur first tried to understand why he felt so bad? Obviously, because he got drunk yesterday - that's clear. He strained his brain, and he managed to remember the scandal arranged by the headmistress, as well as the promise to fire him. After such it was a sin not to get drunk! But where? He didn't remember this.
However, there was no time to think, he was already late for work. Taking a sip of cold tea from a cup standing on the table, he quickly dressed and rushed out into the street.
* * *
Despite all the efforts, Lomov was still late for work. As soon as he sat down at his desk and turned on the computer, the secretary called and said that Margarita Nikolaevna urgently wanted to see him. His heart immediately felt ugly and cold.
Arthur honestly tried, following Chekhov, to squeeze a slave out of himself, drop by drop, but somehow it didn’t work out very well. He could convince himself as much as he wanted that the worst thing this woman could do to him was to fire him. Only and everything! But after all, he has arms, legs and a head on his shoulders; he will not die of hunger. But as soon as he was in the director's office, all logical arguments instantly evaporated, and only one animal inexplicable irrational fear remained. That vile, shrill voice pulled things out of the depths of his subconscious that he didn't even know existed. He literally physically felt how he began to decrease in size.
Even now, standing in front of the huge director's desk, like a delinquent schoolboy, he could not get rid of the feeling of his own insignificance.
“Not only are you unable to write an elementary report,” Margarita Nikolaevna’s voice boomed in his ears, “you are also late!” What do you not like about your work? Or do you want to be reduced?
Lomov suddenly imagined that he really was reduced, and at the same moment he saw how all the items in the director's office, including the hostess, began to grow rapidly. He did not immediately guess that in fact no one and nothing is growing, and that he himself is decreasing in size.
- Arthur Valentinovich, what are you doing? – Finally noticed the strange metamorphoses headmistress, - Immediately stop, I order you!
But Lomov was no longer able to stop anything. He was already looking at the edge of the director's table from the bottom up, and after a couple of seconds he realized that his height did not exceed the height of a woman's shoe.
- Rat! - Margarita Nikolaevna suddenly squealed and jumped onto the table with unexpected agility, - Lena, come here soon!
Whistling a few centimeters from his temple, the massive crystal ashtray hit the carpet with a dull thud, and Arthur realized that any delay could cost him his life. With all his might, he rushed under the closet, and a mobile phone and a few obscene words flew after him.
- Where is the rat, Margarita Nikolaevna? - asked the secretary, who came running to the cry.
- She hid under the closet! Call the guard as soon as possible, the closet must be urgently moved away before she runs away!
Realizing that he could not hide here, Arthur began to look for a way out and soon discovered a gap between the plinth and the wall. With difficulty, squeezing through a narrow opening, he found himself in a pier between the main wall and the plasterboard panels with which the office was sheathed. Only now did he feel relatively safe and tried to analyze the situation.
First, he realized that not only had he shrunk in size, but even worse, he had turned into a rat (he never liked rats). This followed not only from the screams of the headmistress (she could call her subordinate and not that way!) but mainly from the long bare tail dragging after him.
And only then Arthur remembered yesterday's visit to the pub and dubious type who called himself God.
It must be said that yesterday he treated his random drinking companion rather lightly, but now, under the pressure of circumstances, he was forced to admit that the impostor was far from being as simple as it seemed to him at first glance. Of course, he is no God, that's clear. But who? For some reason I didn't want to think about it.
Meanwhile, a security guard came and pushed the closet away. They searched for Arthur for a long time and unsuccessfully, but found only a gap in the wall.
- She probably climbed into this hole, - said the guard, - now you can’t smoke her out of there! Or you order to break the wall?
Then the supply manager and some other people came, made noise, moved the furniture.
This bustle tired Lomov, and he dozed off, and when he woke up, there was dead silence. Obviously, the working day has already ended and everyone has gone home. He was terribly hungry, however, not surprising, because he had not eaten anything since yesterday. And then his nostrils caught a delicious smell, it came from the director's office, seeped through the cracks in the wall, penetrated into the brain and caused painful salivation.
Overcoming fear, Lomov cautiously crawled out of hiding and, sniffing the air, moved in the direction of the source of the seductive aroma. Very soon he realized that the smell was coming from the drawer. Using the wires leading to the monitor, he deftly climbed onto the table, but the drawer was closed, and Arthur's weak rat paws were simply unable to pull it out. Luckily, there was a pencil on the table, he pushed it through the slot and, acting as a lever, opened the drawer rather quickly. To his disappointment, he found there only a pile of useless papers and a thick stack of five thousandth bills tied with an elastic band. The impostor did not deceive, now Lomov's money was not at all interested, out of annoyance he even shit on them, but this only increased the hunger.
“Did the devil pull me to ask this idiot for a million dollars?! - he thought, listening to the hungry cramps in his stomach - And yet, where does this smell come from? How can money smell so delicious!”
He rummaged through the entire drawer filled with stupid papers and finally found in the very corner under some kind of contract a small moldy piece of cheese. Well, yes, of course, it was cheese, only he could emit such an attractive aroma.
Arthur ate it in a couple of seconds and of course he didn’t sated a drop. Unable to resist, he even began to gnaw at the contract, soaked with a cheese smell.
- Are you eating contracts? Look, you will earn an ulcer! - Arthur heard a sly voice behind him and turned around. On the edge of the table sat a small but rather pretty white rat.
- Hello! My name is Larisa, - the rat introduced herself, - And you are Arthur from the sales department!
- Exactly, but how do you know me?
- Yes, I used to work in the logistics department; I was fired six months ago.
- Larisa from logistics? I remember you! - Arthur was delighted, - Such a pretty blonde, you still always wore very short skirts, our men just twisted their necks when you walked down the corridor.
- That's why I was fired.
- Wait, are you, too, like I used to be a human?
- All rats were once people, - Larisa remarked philosophically, - but fear turns a person into an animal.
- What kind of nonsense? - Arthur was skeptical.
- No nonsense. British scientists conducted research and came to the conclusion that over the past 40 years, the IQ in rats has increased by 10 points! And at the same time in all rats living in different parts of the globe.
- And what? Rats live next to people and learn all sorts of tricky things from them!
- Let's admit it. Do you know how many people disappear without a trace every year in our country? 80 thousand! A man went out to the nearest store for bread and did not return!
- Do you think they all turn into rats?
- Maybe not all, but many. We have become!
It was difficult to object to such an argument, and Arthur remained silent.
- What are we all talking about? - said Larisa, - you're probably hungry? Come on, I've got something from the New Year's banquet.
Larisa led Arthur to her hole, where a sumptuous dinner was waiting for them: there were half-eaten sandwiches with boiled pork and smoked sausage, and assorted fish, and of course cheese, a lot of cheese.
Satisfying his hunger, Arthur took a closer look at Larisa and suddenly realized that he liked her. And even her long bare tail now did not cause disgust, but rather seemed piquant. And what a wonderful smell emanated from her small, but such a dexterous little body!
Unable to resist the call of the flesh, he approached her from behind and put his paws on her shoulders.
* * *
- Darling! Do you want us to have little rats? - Larisa asked a few minutes later, snuggling comfortably on Lomov's shoulder.
- What? What other rats? Arthur didn't understand.
- Well, how? We didn't protect ourselves! And I am very prolific, in the last litter I brought twelve rats!
- Oh my God! Lomov groaned, “But you can’t do it somehow so that ... well, you understand!”
- Don't you want us to have little rats?
- No, you misunderstood me, that's not the point! It's just all of a sudden...
- What is unexpected? If you don't want little rats, say so!
- It's not that I don't want little rats. You see, this happened to you a long time ago, and in six months you have probably turned into a real rat, you feel like a rat and think like a rat. And I was still a human this morning...
- You were office plankton! - Larisa reminded.
- Okay, so be it! But I walked on two legs, wore a blue suit, a striped tie, and drank Gösser beer.
- You can get beer in the garbage dump, - Larisa suggested, - Sometimes unfinished bottles are thrown there.
- I don't want beer from the dump, damn it! - Arthur got angry, - And I don't want to be a rat! Why on earth should I be a rat? Why, Lord? There are so many real scums around: thieves, robbers, murderers, rapists, child molesters! Well, why me?!
“You and I seem to have such karma,” Larisa sighed sadly, “never mind. Let's sleep better, and tomorrow we'll go to the garbage heap and find you a Gösser beer.
* * *
Lomov fell asleep and had a wonderful dream. In this dream, he was human again.
He was lying in a small bright room on a clean sheet, covered up to his chin with a striped woolen blanket. The gentle spring sun shone through the window, and the soul was light and calm.
He thought that, perhaps, he should go to wash and already threw back the covers, but at that moment voices and noise were heard outside the door. Arthur returned the blanket to its place and pretended to be asleep.
People entered the room, through narrowed eyelids Lomov could only see through the legs and the skirts of white coats.
- But Semyon Arkadyevich, pay attention, a very interesting case! - said the first rather pleasant male voice, - Sick Lomov, he entered yesterday. Hypomanic arousal in an acute form, convinced that he is a rat. When the team arrived, he rushed around the director's office, biting, scratching, trying to hide under the closet, barely managed to calm him down. He was injected with 4 cubes of chlorpromazine. When he wakes up, for some time he will adequately perceive the surrounding reality, but after a few hours the effect of the drug will end.
- Very good! - Answered the second voice, - continue aminazin, add more phenazepam and electroconvulsive therapy. Who's next for us?
- Maklakov, Delirium tremens, entered three days ago...
The voices began to fade, the dream gradually melted away and Lomov found himself again lying in the rat hole. A white rat sat next to him and somehow strangely (with tenderness?) looked at him.
- Larisa? You? - He asked, looking at the animal.
- Well, yes, Larisa, who else?
- You know Larisa, I had such a strange dream here! - Lomov yawned, unable to restrain himself, - As if I had become a man again, I was lying in a clean, bright room, some people in white coats were coming and saying something. It seems like I got sick, I'm in the hospital, and they treat me.
- I, too, at first dreamed of something similar, but then everything went away, - Larisa reassured him, - And it will pass for you too!
- I do not want will pass! Vice versa. Understand - I do not want to be a rat, sleep in this stinking hole, and eat garbage! I want to be human!
- Unfortunately, this is a one-way street.
- In what sense?
- I asked to other rats. There has never been such a case that a rat became a man.
- And what, there is no hope?
- To be honest, not the slightest. Okay, stop talking, let's go have breakfast in the trash, otherwise yesterday we ate up all the supplies!
- I won't go, - Arthur answered and lay down, resting his head on his front paws.
- Okay, lie down. Then I'll bring you something delicious. Do you want rotten herring intestines?
- No.
"Then what do you want I to bring?"
- I do not want anything.
- You can't do that, Arthur. If you don't eat, you'll get sick and soon die!
- That's good, everything is better than this life!
- You know, Arthur, I used to think so too, but then I realized one very simple thing: since we exist as outcasts ...
- Outcasts? Lomov asked.
- Well, yes - rats, cockroaches, crickets and others ... So, since we are exist, then someone needs it!
- To whom? To office plankton? So that they look at us and rejoice that it is not they who have to rummage through the garbage in search of rotten herring intestines?
- Well, yes, at least. And don't forget that at any moment they themselves can be in our place!
- I don't want to be a scarecrow for these one-celled!
- And what do you want?
- Don't know. I don't want to live, that's what!
- We must be careful with desires, - Larisa warned, - they tend to come true!
- Well, let! I want to die and the sooner the better!
- Bad deed is not tricky. There are thousands of ways: you can deliberately climb into a mousetrap, or, for example, go out into the yard in the evening and shout: “Cats are motherfuckers!”
- Faggots! Cretins! Jerks! - Heard the cries of Margarita Nikolaevna from behind the wall, - I will fire you all; you will eat rotten meat in my garbage dump! I told you yesterday to catch a rat! Not only did this bastard gobble up a million dollar contract, but he also pissed off my money!
“Money can be laundered,” the financial director advised timidly, “now many do it!
- Here you take Mark Antonovich and launder this money as you want! And you, Igor Ivanovich, as the head of the security department, urgently take care of the rat! And so that by tomorrow morning I could see her corpse!
- Then I went for mousetraps? Igor Ivanovich asked.
- Go, do something already! Do not stand like idols!
* * *
Arthur not only did not go with Larisa to the trash, but did not even touch the delicacies that she brought him. He spent the whole day lying in the hole, with his head on his paws and staring dully in front of him.
But by evening, when there was no food left, hunger began to make itself felt. Thoughts of suicide disappeared somewhere; he wanted cheese, ham, grain, and most importantly more and more. At first he endured, trying to hide his cowardice, but then he could not stand it.
- Listen Laris, and there you have nothing left to gnaw? - he asked.
- No, I finished everything, you refused! - Answered Larisa, - But I think it's time to visit our headmistress's office. The working day is already over; no one will interfere with us.
Four mousetraps were waiting for them in the office, richly stuffed with cheese, sausage and even lard.
- Give me a pencil! Larisa asked.
Arthur climbed onto the table and brought a pencil. Larisa put it in a mousetrap and it snapped shut, breaking the back of the pencil.
- Well, now you can safely eat cheese! - She said.
While Larisa was fiddling with the next mousetrap, Lomov decided to look for food on his own, and very quickly found a saucer of flour in the corner behind the bedside table. True, the smell of flour was a little strange, but the hunger was so strong that he did not become picky.
- You're so funny! - Larisa giggled when she saw Arthur, - you have a white mustache, and the whole muzzle!
- Yes, I'm here ... I found flour ... - Lomov muttered and began to embarrassedly rub his muzzle with varnishes.
- Wait, are you eating flour? Larisa asked, and her gaze was filled with genuine horror.
- Yes, what wrong? - Arthur spoke slowly, involuntarily infected by her fear.
- I knew it! You could not be left alone for a second; you are like a small child! It's my entire fault!
- Wait a minute, explain plainly what happened?
- There is such an old way of killing rats and mice. Flour is mixed with alabaster and placed in a conspicuous place. Now you will be thirsty, the alabaster will mix with the water, the solution will immediately seize, and you will die a slow and painful death.
- What if you don't drink?
- Then you will die of dehydration. Not a very pleasant ending either.
Wait, you must be wrong! Maybe there was no alabaster in that flour? 'Cause I can't die, I'm so young!
- Okay, let's go; let's look at your flour! - Larissa sighed.
Lomov showed her the saucer; the rat carefully sniffed it and confidently sentenced:
- The smell of alabaster!
- And what will happen now?
- Now you're going begin to die!
- No, it can't be! After all, I have not even begun to truly live, only I was going to! And most importantly - for what?
- I don’t understand where all of a sudden such a thirst for life comes from? Just a few hours ago, you yourself wanted to die!
- I was a fool! And now I understand everything, I want to live! Live by anyone: a blind mole, a cockroach, a worm.
- Whoever you are, sooner or later you would still have to die. Or did you think you'd live forever?
- No, of course, - Arthur was embarrassed, - I just didn't expect everything to happen so quickly and ridiculously. I am not ready!
- Well, get ready, you still have time! I told you - you will go to die for a long time.
- Wait, Laris, it seems it has begun!
- What started?
- Well, what were you talking about. There is something going on inside of me. It feels like... I don't know what to say. It seems like everything is starting to turn to stone!
- I knew it! Well, go to look for your last shelter!
- What other shelter?
- The rat, when it feels that its end is near, leaves its relatives, looks for a secluded place and hides there.
- For what?
- Such is the law - everyone dies alone!
But I don't want to die alone! In fact, I just don't want to die! However, I think I've already said that.
- Of course he did! Come on; crawl away faster while you can still move your paws!
* * *
Arthur wandered for a long time through some basement passageways, crawled into holes, but could not find a quiet place anywhere. There was a rat smell everywhere, or even worse, a cat smell. Finally, he managed to find a seemingly suitable hole, he lay down on a pile of dirty rags, but as soon as he closed his eyes, some devils appeared and dragged him to hell.
"Put me down," he shouted, "I don't want to go to hell! For what? I didn't do anything wrong!"
In response, the devils grinned and were talking among themselves in an incomprehensible language. And when he began to struggle, they twisted his hands (now he had hands!) Behind his back.
But the worst began when they arrived at the place. The devils put a funnel down Arthur's throat and began pouring molten lead into him. However, maybe it was not lead, but silver, platinum, or some other white metal.
Then he vomited with this liquid metal, and then the funnel was inserted again, and everything started all over again. But this was not enough for the devils, and they began to pour the same metal into it only from the other side. His insides were swollen, and it seemed that they were about to burst. Unable to bear the torment, Arthur passed out.
And when he came to himself, he saw a girlish face of angelic beauty bending over him. And suddenly this angelic face approached him and dug into his lips with a passionate kiss.
"Maybe I'm in heaven!" thought Arthur.
- Stop overworking, Lariska, don't you see, he's already recovered! - A rather unpleasant female voice came from somewhere above.
Larisa pulled away and spat.
“I thought he would never recover!” she said, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
- Where I am? Arthur asked, looking around.
- Where, where, in Karaganda! - Answered the second girl and rolled up with a cheerful laugh, - You better tell us fool, why did you eat cement?
- Cement? So it was cement? – Delighted Arthur, - Definitely not alabaster?
- We have Tajiks doing repairs, - the girl explained, - there are bags of cement in the corridor, so you ate straight from the bag. Dzhamshut came running, complaining, if your patients eat our cement, how can we repair? You had to do a gastric lavage, and out of habit you almost go to hell! Well, Lariska noticed in time, you can say, she saved your life!
The nurses left (he guessed that they were nurses in white caps and gowns) and Lomov began to inspect the room. On the wall, framed under glass, he noticed a rather strange document. Arthur got out of bed, walked over and began to read.
“A reminder to the new arrivals.
Eight levels of hell.

1. Arbuda-naraka - hell of blisters. On a dark frozen valley, surrounded by cold mountains, there is a constant blizzard and snow storm. The inhabitants of this hell are naked and lonely, and their bodies are covered with blisters from the cold. The time spent in this hell is how long it will take to empty a barrel of sesame seeds, if one grain is taken every hundred years.
   
2. Nirarbuda-naraka - the hell of swelling blisters. This hell is even colder and the blisters swell and explode, leaving the bodies covered in blood and pus.
   
3. Atata-naraka - hell when shaking from the cold.
   
4. Hahava-naraka - the hell of weeping and groaning. When the victim moans from the cold.
   
5. Huhuva-naraka - the hell of chattering teeth. Terrible chills and chattering of teeth.
   
6. Utpala-naraka - the hell of the blue lotus, when the constant cold makes the whole skin turn blue like a lily.
   
7. Padma-naraka - lotus hell. A snowstorm covers the frozen body, leaving bloody wounds.
   
8. Mahapadma-naraka - the great lotus hell. The whole body cracks from the cold, and the internal organs also crack from the terrible frost.
   

Staying in each next level is 20 times longer than in the previous one.
After…"
What awaits the unfortunate then Lomov did not have time to find out - a doctor entered the ward. He felt his pulse, pulled his eyelids back, examined his tongue.
- Well, the patient, I see - your condition has stabilized, it's time for the procedures! - He said in a cheerful voice.
- What other procedures? Arthur asked suspiciously.
- Shock cryotherapy.
- What is this? Never heard of such a thing!
- No wonder, this is my own technique. It consists in the following: the patient is stripped naked and placed in a special chamber, cooled to an extremely low temperature...
- Wait, I can't be frozen, I can't stand the cold! My skin is covered with pimples and starts to beat like a fever!
- Get used to, a person gets used to everything. Moreover, you have eternity ahead of you!
Are you a doctor; are you out of your mind? What the hell is eternity? Are you going to freeze me forever? My heart can't take it, I'll just die!
- It's you who are crazy, - the doctor objected, - and now we will treat you!
- Do not treat me, doctor! Yes, I admit, I was sick, but now I am cured. Believe me, I'm healthy! I adequately perceive the reality around me! For God's sake, let me go!
- Would a healthy person eat cement? - The doctor grinned sarcastically.
The orderlies appeared - Lomov recognized in them the very devils who poured liquid metal into him.
They blindfolded the patient and led him through the endless hospital corridors. Then he was taken for a long time in an elevator, as it seemed to him down, and then again there were corridors.
* * *
- I can't be frozen, - just in case, Arthur warned, when the orderlies suddenly began to pull off his clothes, - I'm allergic to cold. I will die immediately!
- Not anymore! - The orderly assured, continuing to undress Lomov.
- In what sense? - Arthur didn't understand.
- In direct! You probably think you're in a psych ward?
- Yes of course! Where else can they bully people like that?
- Wow, "above the people"! - The orderly chuckled, - But just a few hours ago you considered yourself a rat!
- I was wrong! But now that I have realized my delusions, there is no need to keep me in your terrible hospital!
- I told you, this is not a hospital for you!
- What then?
- The ancient Greeks called this place Hades, the Muslims Sakar, the Buddhists - Naraka, the Christians - underworld or just Hell. Atheists believe that there is no such place at all. Remember that jerk on the tinted nine?
- Wait, what do you want to say? But I managed to jump back!
- As you can see, you didn’t have time! - The orderly grunted sarcastically, - You died before the arrival of the ambulance!
- How did I die? Wait, I'm… - Arthur tried to object, but suddenly he realized that he was talking to himself.
He tore off the bandage from his eyes and saw that he was standing completely alone, naked in the middle of an endless snowy plain, and the icy wind was beating his face, tearing tears from his eyes, which immediately hardened, turning into ice.
There was no strength to stand still, and he went at random, trembling all over and falling into the snow almost up to his knees...

Previous Chapter<
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While she was cooling off, Zekes scanned through the rest of the pictures. Many pictures were of her during her training and one interesting picture was of a thin woman dressed in layers of white clothing and a thick vein covered her face, except for her jaws which were made out of polished wood. She was sitting on top of a big wooden board that was carried around by four ladies in decorated clothing as the surrounding people bowed to her.
But the one that caught his eye the most was of her holding the hands of a little boy as he gently caressed a baby she was cradling.
“Are those your kids?” He asked politely.
“Huh?” The question caught her off guard. She brought the crystal panel closer to her eyes so that she could make out what he was referring to. “Ahh. That is my firstborn Tetku and the little one is Layla. I had forgotten how tiny were her hands back when she was a cure little thing. How would her tiny digits would reach for my hair like how earthworms reach for the surface during the rain. Then little Tektu would call out for me ‘Quaza, Quaza, I want to be carried too.’ Poor thing couldn’t even spell out my whole name. He would always get jealous of the attention I would give little Layla and would stump his foot around in protest till I patted him.”
It has only just now crossed his mind that even though he had been talking with her for a good while now, he still didn’t know his name.
“Quaza?” He subconsciously repeated.
“Ah right, I hadn’t properly introduced myself, since I don’t usually need to with customers. I am Quazela Ruminari, a pupil of the Mystic mother, a disciple of Kitsu-xan’s palm thread flow dance, and now a small-time merchant of whatever place that keeps my pocket furthest from devoidness of jinn for the month.”
Zekes considered that an introduction from him would also be in order.
“I am Zekes Zeller, a…” No title appropriate for him came to mind. “An aspiring strong person.” He replied in a serious tone.
“An aspiring strong person, really?” She chuckled. “Now that is a first. I am sure you will accomplish great endeavors worthy of many more titles of similar taste.” She joked.
Zekes took a moment to consider the appropriate reaction here and only after careful consideration, he replied with a smile full of innocence.
“Thanks.”
Quazela started wheezing from laughter when she saw how her words of sarcasm passed right over his head. Zekes still stood there dumbfounded wondering why she was laughing, which in return made her laugh more. He was really quite gullible, even for a kid.
“You really are something, kid.” She whipped the tears from her eyes. “To tell the truth, you somewhat remind me of my son Tektu when he was your age. Always such a show-off just like his father, talking about grand ambitions and accomplishing unfeasible deeds, but in truth, people couldn’t help but end up liking him for it.” She pleasantly thought back.
“Why did they like him? Did he end up doing the stuff he talked about?”
“I wouldn’t know since a few months after I had my daughter, he had to leave for the village of Oxobia to help his family escape from the Judic expansion. Half a year later I received a letter from him explaining how he was safely back with his family, but that they were reluctant to leave their home, so he was staying a bit more to convince them to change their mind. But only a few days later news came to us about the Oxobian massacre. Thousands of people dead at the hands of the Insurrection and that was the last I heard from him.”
Sympathy overwhelmed Zekes’ eyes as the Quaza recounted her unfortunate memory.
“But I am sure he still wouldn’t have accomplished any of the things that he said he would. Since that man was nothing but talk.” She criticized him in a nostalgic tone.
She let out a heartfelt sigh.
“It was a terrible thing what they did to those people. They were humble and very hospitable people. There used to be a common saying ‘Even a bastard can feel the warmth of a mother’s meal in the hospitality of an Oxobian’. They would give anything they had to anyone who was in need at no cost, but the Judians demanded from them the only thing they couldn’t forfeit, their identity. The world really did forget a unique way of kindness on that unfortunate day.”
“They seemed like good people. I am sorry about what happened to you and your husband.”
“Pay it no mind, kid. I made my peace with it a long time ago, even though the ache is never gone, you learn to grow into a more tolerant person because of it. Since at the end of the day, you have no other choice but to live on with it.”
As Zekes was about to mutter something he stopped. The old lady felt his hesitancy.
“Don’t fear to inquire, boy. I may look delicate, but my nerves are made of silk. And I know that you won’t ask anything out of malice. Go ahead, so that you may learn from me now rather than on your own, for then it would be too late.”
Her words of encouragement seemed to have reached him when she noticed that his gaze no longer shied away towards the floor.
“ So umm… if you were close to becoming one of the jaws, why did you stop?” The question finally came through. It was only natural to ask after the bombshell of finding out that she had quit despite how she loved to ramble about all the wonders of her birthplace and all the memories she seemed to have made there. “From the way you talk about Nami-Kuni and the arts, you seem to have loved it very much. If so, then why did you leave in the first place?”
Quazela took a deep breath, looking towards the sky as she plundered for a moment.
“Because I had wronged someone dear to me, which in turn has tormented my daughter. I was the vilest of the foulest. I had forsaken my responsibilities as a fortune weaver and as a mother. Though my daughter says she forgives me, I know I am underserving of any forgiveness. Who am I to request, let alone demand such a thing?”
“I think it is a stupid reason.” He ruthlessly interjected. ”If she said she forgives you, then you shouldn’t beat yourself up over it. I never got to know my mom, but I still miss her and sometimes I hate how she was not a part of my life, but my uncle told me that it is important to forgive mothers, even when they do something wrong because no matter what happens they always try their best for you.”
The way Zekes poured out his heart through his words without a thought strangely struck a string with the old lady. “You are too forgiving for your own good, kid. But maybe this time it is a good thing. I have lived too long through hardship that my sight has grown blind to see that forgiveness could be so easily earned in people’s hearts. The part of me that did died with my-“ She felt a knot in her through, as if the more she tried to speak the more her heart tightened her airway. She coughed and thrust her fist upon her chest.
“Quaza-“ But before he could cry out, she put her palm in front of him to make it clear that she was fine and then cleared her throat.
“I am sorry, the years weren’t kind on my throat. It may be hard to believe but in my youth, I would sing to myself for hours, but now I can barely get more than a prayer in before gasping for air.”
“That is not true. You speak a lot for someone as old as you.” Despite his good intentions, it was clear that Zekes wasn’t the best at formulating his words.
Her face grimaced at the kid’s poor choice of words. “You must be pretty popular with the ladies. I will try to take what you said as a compliment.”
She sighed even more as Zekes’ blunt expression gave it away that he didn’t entirely understand what she had meant, but then ultimately decided that he said something good as he responded with a dumbfounded smile.
“I think we have conversed enough for one day. I didn’t even notice how much time had passed since we started talking. It is almost noon by now. Even if you may not be very talented in fate weaving, you really know how to make an old lady put her guard down. Anyhow, I can feel your fortune is ready by how much heat the diffusion glass is giving off. Let’s not delay what you stayed for any further.”
“Now, before we continue any further, I must warn you that the blessing of the mystic mother does not tell falsehoods. As such, you may not like what you may find out. A wisdom that I have gotten to learn throughout the years is that an ignorant mind is more restless than one which knows of its own helplessness. So there is no shame in looking the other way if you choose to.”
“No way, old lady. I already waited long enough for this. Just show me already.”
“Hmph.” The haste with which he ignored her warning, only made her scoff. “Alright, but remember, you wanted this.” She raised her head at him as her hands nibbly unclothed the disk.
“Wow. I have never seen Beucara in the shape of neat little black lines before.” Zekes eyes glamoured at the simple shapes inside the glass disk.
“What are you on abou-“ Quazela’s stomach dropped the moment she looked down at Zekes’ fortune. A streak of sharp dark lines floated undisturbed in the diffusion glass. They all ran parallel to each other, marching endlessly into the infinite. It was a pattern that she had the misfortune of seeing only once before, one that took away her purpose. It was an omen of a fatal choice that was to come. One that people could rarely overcome. As a fortune weaver, it was no special occasion to end predicting the fortune of those at the brink of death, as the false hope of comfort was most appealingly to damned men, though none would be comforted with what they refused to believe but also begrudgingly knew or so she had gotten to learn.
But this was no diseased noble, nor a fleeing fool, she was reading the fortune of a child! It was practically a death sentence. The fortune itself was for a while thought to have meant certain doom because of how no one lived long enough to see their fortune change, that was until against all odds, a man somehow clung to life and overcame the invitation of death, but by the end of it, he was a very different person from who he had been, or so she had heard. As for who this man was, the one who told his fortune refused to disclose his identity, which put many minds to doubt the validity of such a claim, and our beliefs would have stayed the same if it wasn’t for the mystic mother who herself confirmed their statement.
She had already lost a child to such a dreadful fate. To lose another would be too much for her weak heart. But what could she do? Who was she to challenge the fates designed by a sacred-.
“So what does it say I will become like?” Zekes demanded as the wait irritated him.
Cold sweat dripped down the old woman’s forehead. “Ah … Y-yes, let's see what it says.” She took a deep breath to calm herself down and started chanting a prayer as she hovered her hands over the disk. Slowly, the perfectly cut lines dissipated back into a blob of gases, however, its color didn’t change back. Of course, all of this was unnecessary as she already knew what fate they told of. She only did it because she couldn’t stand the sight of that dreadful pattern, looking at it only made her curse herself more for being a fortune weaver.
Zekes waited patiently as his eyes pressured her into an answer. How could she tell such a young soul that soon enough it couldn’t make memories of youth, that it wouldn’t have the chance to experience a life that it burned to live through? No one with a good conscience would even dare to rob such a soul of what pleasure there was in what little life they had left. So why did feel so guilty the last time she did it?
But alas, she couldn’t help but make the same mistake once more.
“Ah, it is all clear to me now.” She delayed time by building up the suspense. “Your worth … it has been judged in the eyes of the mystic mother and she has determined … that though you are ambitious, what you seek shall come to you in time, but for now, you must rest and store strength and experience joy for what life is worth as to prepare for hardships that come your way.”
Zekes slowly blinked with his wide googly eyes. Quaza hoped that this could clench the clueless boy’s curiosity and that would be the end of that.
“I knew this was all a sham.” His gaze dropped quickly.
“Wha- it is not. You better watch what you say about the sacred arts, boy, lest you wanna disrespect the mystic lady.”
“You say that yet the fortune you gave me was so vague that it sounded more like general life advice.”
“GAH!” She was taken aback by his perceptive reaction. From the way he acted before she had taken him to be very gullible, but it seems that he had a keen eye, especially when it was least fortunate for her. Yet she still wanted to spare him from worrying about the inevitable. “You really can’t help being a handful all the time. I wish I could tell you more about your fate but this is all I have to work with. Sometimes, the fortune is vague due to one having infinite potential. If it were to guess how you will tread, then it would limit your growth to that one path.” She desperately tried to convince him.
Zekes stroke his chin as he gave her words some thought.
“Makes … sense I guess.” He lit up, letting Quaza breathe out a sigh of relief.
“So I will become powerful?
“Have you not been-“ Her frail hands stroke the tabletop. She put her finger on the bridge of her nose to relax. “Yes, boy. You shall become strong, but only if you are patient and spend what time you have left enjoying your life.”
“What time I have left?” Zekes cocked his head to the side from confusion.
“The time you have left til you become powerful, that is what I meant.” She hastily corrected her misshape before she let out a hesitant laugh.
Zekes still wondered how he would end up so strong if he barely needed to do anything, but at least now he was sure that it would happen. Perhaps that would allow him to return to his uncle sooner.
“Thanks, lady.”
“Yea, yea. Nice of you to go around thanking people for distinguishing fires that you started.” She mocked him as she lowered the crystal disk into a bucket of water next to her.
“I do really mean it though.” His brow furrowed. He had not been used to being mocked this much before and took it as if she really didn’t like him.
“I am just jesting ya, kid. You outta learn how to joke if you wanna get along other people.”
“But how does making fun of someone makes them want to be your friend?”
“I mean … if someone …” She wanted to guide this poor innocent soul, but her patience and energy were running short. “I suppose the best way to understand is for you to experience it yourself.”
“Alright…” Though he had forfeited, it was clear to her that doubt still lingered in Zekes’ mind, the kind that filled you with shame for admitting your naiveness.
“I can see that today has taken a toll on you, boy. If you still feel like all of this was for naught, then let me leave you with a parting gift.”
“Really? … I mean thank you … no I mean no. Uncle told me not to take things from strangers.”
“Oh come on, boy. Don’t you think we are more than just strangers by now? You made this poor lady pour her heart out for you for gods’ sake. But also would a stranger give you a gift as valuable as a functional blessed necklace?” She argued before pulling out a string necklace with a teardrop-shaped glass attached to it, enveloped in a swirling cast of metal.
“Come forward, let me put it on you.” She held it open with her hands.
Zekes was hesitant at first, but considering how kind Quaza has been to him the whole time, he had no reason to refuse.
“There you go. See if you like it.”
Zekes held the teardrop in his hand to inspect it.
“It is quite nice.”
“It does more than just being quite nice. Wrap your hand around it and try to squeeze some Beucara into it.”
The moment he focused on the crystal a faint light shimmered between his palm. As he opened his hand, the crystal faintly shined in a glamorous light.
“That one has been blessed by an actual Aurasis, the proof is in it working.”
“This one only?” He questioned as he looked around at the other ornaments laid out on the table.
She indicated to Zekes to come closer.
“Well, you see. My other ones were also blessed by an Aurasis, but they were blessed with properties that don’t really work on them. For example, this one here was blessed with accelerated healing, but a metal bracelet is not a living thing, so there is no way for it to heal. People have this misconception that when you bless an object with something, the blessing will also transfer to its holder. But your necklace was blessed with the ability to shine, that is why when it feels your Beucara, it reacts with it and activates the dormant blessing.” She proudly gave him a thumbs up.
“So are all the other ornaments a scam?”
“Call it what you want. But I sell what I advertise. Some people don’t even bother getting through the trouble of getting them blessed. Know that, even if my bracelets don’t provide agonizing souls accelerated healing, it does give them the peace of mind that there is something with them that could help them.”
“That is one twisted way to make sense of it, but I think I can understand how it can be a good thing.”
“As long as no harm is inflicted, people should help themselves to whatever they wanna buy.”
His attention was once again on the crystal he had cupped his hands around it to see how bright it shined. Its size was deceptively small for how bright it shined. He estimated that it would at least let him see where he was stepping even during a moonless night.
“Are .. are you sure you wanna give this to me? I mean it must be pretty valuable seeing how it works in front of you.” He was hesitant to ask at first for fear of her changing her mind, but the thought of him taking away something potentially quite valuable from her would have made him feel even more guilty if he didn’t try to give it back.
“Oh please, that piece of junk has been sitting in my bag for the last 2 times I returned to Nami-Kuni. I would rather have you rid me of it than have to carry it around 2 more times before throwing it away.”
The way the crystal was shaped reminded him of how droplets of water that were left stranded on blades of grass after a rainstorm refracted the light of sunrise into a tiny rainbow. Even he could appreciate its simplistic beauty.
“Thank you very much, old lady- I mean Miss Quaza.” The way he said it so sincerely was different from how he talked before and managed to ease off Quazela.
“Think nothing of it, kid.” She scratched the back of her neck, feeling a bit flustered. “Just make sure to pass off the act of kindness when you get the chance. The world only gives back to those who take little for themselves. Now get going and don’t make me repeat myself again.”
“I will try my best. Thank you for letting me be in your care” He jumped down his stool.
“Anytime, kid. If you happen to need to buy some ornaments, you know where to find me. Though, I can’t promise you any discounts.”
Her words didn’t land on deaf ears, but Zekes was too preoccupied with the excitement of showing Rafik his new necklace to respond back to her.
The busy streets felt strangely quiet to Quaza once she was once again all by herself. As she relaxed her shoulders, her eyes couldn’t help but wander towards the diffusing glass that she had sunken into the bucket of water. The cloud of dark matter slowly dispensed into the water before quickly decaying.
Her brows frowned at the thought of that kind-hearted boy having to meet his end in due time, she hoped that he would at least experience a bit of the youth kids were entitled to before that time would come. This is why she doesn’t wanna do fate weaving anymore, she never wanted to spread sorrow through her work, but it was her duty to speak the truth. And the moment she decided to read a kid’s fate, she was greeted back with open arms by a grim reminder. This must be fate’s way of mocking her.
“Old lady,” A familiar voice boomed so unexpectedly that it broke her train of thought. It was Zekes who had barely walked more than a few stalls distance away.”Please make up with your daughter by the next time we meet.”
“You fool of a child; do you want the whole bazaar to hear you?!?!.” She angrily cried out. “Fine, but you better not forget about me by then.”
Zekes lifted up the necklace between his finger. “I won’t as long as I have go-“
The warm farewell was cut short as Zekes’ arm suddenly dropped down. It may have been just a moment, but by pure chance, his eyes saw a figure looming in the alley behind the old lady’s shack. He could barely make out their face under their dark hood, but the bit he could make out looked just like his uncle’s face. But how could that make any sense? Rafik had told him that he had gone on some sort of trip, he would have surely accompanied them if this was where he had to come. So it couldn’t be him … no, it had to be him, he was sure of it. There was no way he could mistake someone else for his uncle. Perhaps he regretted leaving him with Rafik and had come for him. Yes, that had to be it.
“Kid?” Quazela waved a worried hand.
The figure suddenly withdrew back into the darkness from where it came. Zekes instinctively walked forwards.
“Wait, uncle. Don’t leave me.”
His feet began picking up pace and in just a moment he quickly sprinted past the old lady.
“Stop for a moment, kid. Don’t go running into there alone. You will get kidnapped.” She shouted, but he had gone into the alley before she could even finish her warning.
“What could that rascal be up to now?”
A grim thought crossed her mind as she remembered the fortune she had just told.
“No way, but it is so soon.” She mumbled to herself.
The boy was marching to his own grave. Of course, she had no proof that he would end up in harm’s way at this very moment. But she felt something that was more than just worry by the look on his face when he ran. She could not just overlook it, even if there was only a slim chance that his fate could be resolved this soon.
She rushed towards the alley.
“Kid, you will die if you don’t come back.” She desperately cried out but it was too late as she couldn’t even see him anymore. Thoughts races through her head as she considered what she could do, but before she could decide two cloaked figures rushed past her into the dark alley.
“Hey, stop you two.” She reached out her hand. There was no way for her to catch up to them, they had disappeared into the darkness in the blink of an eye.
They were going after Zekes. They were gonna kill him. She had to call the guards before his time ran out. He won’t let another boy die due to her hesitation.
“Guards, guards. Please help. Someone is gonna die. Help me, please.” She cried out into the busy street.
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Previous Chapter<
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Footnote: I must apologize for the wide time gap between the release of this chapter and the previous one. At first, I had intended for this to be a short chapter, but a little bit into it, I realized how much future build up I could make here, but in return I had to put more work into it and give the characters a more natural conversation. I also got busy with university which slowed me down significantly, though this might not chance soon, I will try to post new chapters more frequently. I have so many more stories, ideas and concepts I still wanna share with you all. But from here on out, things will be getting a lot more dark. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy Quazela rambling her old ass off. Thank you for you continued support.<3

Originally posted to wendigo
Illinois
This was about 5-7 years ago I'm 20 now. My mother is a vet and we have a vet clinic at the edge of town. Big town roughly 100,000 however when I say edge of town I mean cornfields for 30mi plus to the west and 5mi to the north with intermittent forestry in that area I went with my mother to check on an overnight dog that was recovering extensive treatment however there was a small pug 9-15 lbs also there over night so I offer to take the dog out to do his business and save my mom one more chore the back of the clinic faces a grass covered pond/marsh it dries up from time to time but the grass is 3-4 ft tall I don't remember if it was late winter or early spring or even early fall but no snow and grass was tall so my guess was early fall the front of the clinic faces/next to a road and other commercial buildings like a menards and some office however the back of the building like I said is very undeveloped there were some left over cookies in the clinic so me being a kid grabs one and am munching on it as I wait for puggy wuggy to do his thing I am not super fond of sweets so I get halfway through the cookie and decided I've had enough and I remember the night having a vaugly eerie felling there are flood lights on the back of the clinic though so good lighting and I didn't see anything and brush it off as Midwestern night feeling creepy not uncommon if you're from the Midwest I'm sure you can agree but it was quiet more so than normally the pond is full of sounds frogs insects most of the time but like I said it wasnt summer or spring so I brush that off as well but I had lost interest in my cookie and decide I will throw it into the grass for small critters to have a good snack so I launch this half cookie into the grass maybe 15 yards max I don't have a great arm and it's a half a cookie so nothing super far away it lands in a taller thicket of grass towards the east (twords the menards next door) and from the west (ie butt fuck nothing land) I hear and see somthing roughly the size of a deer or person take off as soon as my cookie lands heading straight for it I know deer I live in the country I am well versed in local wildlife and I know how deer move but this thing moved like a person except it was as pale as paper and had no fur at all I can still see it's spine pushing against it's skin no arch to flat to arch like you get with a quadrapedal animal pulling with it's front legs but instead like a ape or person hunched it's sine never straightening like it was niches over running in an inhuman way on two legs all I saw was the shiny semi reflective skin of its back obout 2 feet of it stopping at where the neck or shoulders would have started and it had no large shoulder blades like a deer or dog or any quadraped but instead had a narrow chest like a sight hound or deer but bipedal with ball and socket shoulders not to mention deer don't run to things you threw in the grass they are skitish the second that cookie landed both me and the dog stop cold I have never been Frozen by fear but I was then and we just watched it for 2-5 seconds as it ran from one end of the grass to my cookie where it disappeared and I heard it run away from me after getting or investigating the cookie once I couldn't hear I immediately decided I was going back inside the dog however was fixed and took a small tug of the leash to convince but that was it. If you know small dogs they are obnoxious and overly brave barking at everything they don't know but this dog never made a peep and as soon as it realized I wanted to leave was in complete agreeance I am not one for the paranormal or religion but this was somthing I could never explain I know deer and this thing was no albino hairless deer it was somthing else and the wendigo is all I can think of with it's emaciated body and pale white skin I'm starting to think the natives had a reason for their stories I can still remember that night in perfect detail it it still raises the hair on my neck
Sorry for the terrible grammar and all the punctuation errors I just want to get this story out their

This was about 5-7 years ago I'm 20 now. My mother is a vet and we have a vet clinic at the edge of town. Big town roughly 100,000 however when I say edge of town I mean cornfields for 30mi plus to the west and 5mi to the north with intermittent forestry in that area I went with my mother to check on an overnight dog that was recovering extensive treatment however there was a small pug 9-15 lbs also there over night so I offer to take the dog out to do his business and save my mom one more chore the back of the clinic faces a grass covered pond/marsh it dries up from time to time but the grass is 3-4 ft tall I don't remember if it was late winter or early spring or even early fall but no snow and grass was tall so my guess was early fall the front of the clinic faces/next to a road and other commercial buildings like a menards and some office however the back of the building like I said is very undeveloped there were some left over cookies in the clinic so me being a kid grabs one and am munching on it as I wait for puggy wuggy to do his thing I am not super fond of sweets so I get halfway through the cookie and decided I've had enough and I remember the night having a vaugly eerie felling there are flood lights on the back of the clinic though so good lighting and I didn't see anything and brush it off as Midwestern night feeling creepy not uncommon if you're from the Midwest I'm sure you can agree but it was quiet more so than normally the pond is full of sounds frogs insects most of the time but like I said it wasnt summer or spring so I brush that off as well but I had lost interest in my cookie and decide I will throw it into the grass for small critters to have a good snack so I launch this half cookie into the grass maybe 15 yards max I don't have a great arm and it's a half a cookie so nothing super far away it lands in a taller thicket of grass towards the east (twords the menards next door) and from the west (ie butt fuck nothing land) I hear and see somthing roughly the size of a deer or person take off as soon as my cookie lands heading straight for it I know deer I live in the country I am well versed in local wildlife and I know how deer move but this thing moved like a person except it was as pale as paper and had no fur at all I can still see it's spine pushing against it's skin no arch to flat to arch like you get with a quadrapedal animal pulling with it's front legs but instead like a ape or person hunched it's sine never straightening like it was niches over running in an inhuman way on two legs all I saw was the shiny semi reflective skin of its back obout 2 feet of it stopping at where the neck or shoulders would have started and it had no large shoulder blades like a deer or dog or any quadraped but instead had a narrow chest like a sight hound or deer but bipedal with ball and socket shoulders not to mention deer don't run to things you threw in the grass they are skitish the second that cookie landed both me and the dog stop cold I have never been Frozen by fear but I was then and we just watched it for 2-5 seconds as it ran from one end of the grass to my cookie where it disappeared and I heard it run away from me after getting or investigating the cookie once I couldn't hear I immediately decided I was going back inside the dog however was fixed and took a small tug of the leash to convince but that was it. If you know small dogs they are obnoxious and overly brave barking at everything they don't know but this dog never made a peep and as soon as it realized I wanted to leave was in complete agreeance I am not one for the paranormal or religion but this was somthing I could never explain I know deer and this thing was no albino hairless deer it was somthing else and the wendigo is all I can think of with it's emaciated body and pale white skin I'm starting to think the natives had a reason for their stories I can still remember that night in perfect detail it it still raises the hair on my neck
Sorry for the terrible grammar and all the punctuation errors I just want to get this story out their

Author's Note:
Reddit was having issues when I posted the last chapter, so just in case anyone missed it, the previous chapter (197) starts here.
Also, the next chapter will come out a week from now, on June 5th.
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Two Days Later
"AMBUSH!"
Rob's eyes snapped open. Panicked shouts were resounding from outside his tent. The first notion that popped into his sleep-addled mind was relief, as an ambush was preferable to the nightmare he'd been having. That sentiment lasted until a distant explosion obliterated the final remnants of his drowsiness, sending him and Keira sprinting out of their tent with weapons in hand.
Chaos awaited them outside. People weren't quite running around like chickens with their heads cut off, but it was close. While the coalition had known that a night attack was possible and prepared themselves accordingly, no one was ever truly ready to be assaulted with spells and Skills as they frolicked through dreamland. Arrows peppered the ground at their feet, the majority landing harmlessly away, although Rob spotted a few soldiers with fresh wounds seeping blood.
He spared a passing glance for the numerous banners the coalition had erected across their campsite. Each one was raised twenty feet high, decorated with lights in order to glow in the dark, and marked with wartime symbols indicating a desire to engage in peaceful negotiations. The Harpies answered by filling the banners with arrow holes and setting many of them on fire. Diplomacy's plan had been doomed from the start.
Kicking his brain into high gear, Rob activated Quick Thinking and sent Messages checking on Riardin's Rangers. His eyes traveled up towards the night sky, seeing a canvas of pure darkness broken up by stars and moonlight. It must have been the dead of midnight or close to it. Arrows were impossible to see coming before they'd already hit the ground, and the only indication of Harpies flying above were the shadows blotting out the stars every so often.
Thankfully, the coalition had planned for this. As if on cue, multiple orbs of brilliant light shot upwards, mages from each faction contributing to the effort. The orbs hung in the sky like floating lighthouses, banishing enough darkness to allow Rob to see what he was dealing with.
A resigned expletive slipped out of his mouth. There had to be at least four hundred of the fuckers up there, maybe five hundred, swarming like a colony of feathered bees. It was the worst-case scenario of what the coalition envisioned – Elnaril sending the maximum number of Harpies he could realistically field without leaving the capital undefended.
How am I supposed to fight them? Rob wondered, asking himself a recurring question that he'd never been able to answer. They can't kill me with piddly arrows and long-range spells, but my allies aren't so durable. Somehow I doubt they'll listen if I tell them to stop being cowards and come fight me in melee range.
All thoughts of attacking were swept aside when the Harpies began dropping a very different projectile towards the coalition base camp. Rob opened and closed his mouth several times, shock suffusing every cell in his body. He recalled the explosion that had awoken him, the moment now disturbingly re-contextualized.
The Harpies were airdropping crates of Firebombs.
"THAT'S COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT, YOU LITTLE SHITS!" Rob summoned his own crate from his Bound Items, tore open the cover, and grabbed a Firebomb in each hand. He activated Bulk Up for extra Strength and hurled Firebombs towards the falling crates with the best baseball throws he could muster. One, two, three, four, five, six – the crate's supply rapidly depleted as Rob threw again and again, trying to intercept as many payloads as possible, Keira following his lead. They were joined by coalition archer support, arrows sniping at crates that were out of reach.
Dozens of roaring explosions lit up the sky. While some of the crates had gotten through, most were turned to dust before they could hit the ground, reducing the Harpies' shock-and-awe tactic to an impromptu fireworks display.
Throwing Proficiency Level Increased! 6 → 7
Throwing Proficiency Level Increased! 7 → 8
"THAT'S RIGHT!" Rob whooped. "LEAVE THE KABOOMS TO THE EXPERTS!" He paused, then turned to Keira, looking abashed. "Um...was this my fault? Are they actually copying me?" Please don't tell me I accidentally advanced warfare by a century.
"We can ruminate on that later," Keira answered, skillfully dodging the question. "For now, we should focus on retaliating by any means available."
No sooner had the words left her mouth than a glowing yellow projectile shot up into the sky. Orn'tol's Chain Arrow nicked a Harpy on the edge of their wing – which was all it needed to begin the process. A tenth of a second later, the arrow veered to the right and struck a different Harpy in their stomach. It ripped out and through the other side, taking another ninety-degree turn to spear an unsuspecting Harpy in the back. And so it went, chaining from target-to-target with ruthless efficiency. By the end, twenty Harpies had been struck, eight of them falling out of the sky, unmoving.
Rob saluted the display. "Yeah, I don't have any ranged attacks on that level. I think we'd be better-off guarding the people who do."
They rushed over to where the Fiend mages resided, discovering the group huddled under cover, besieged by a stream of arrows and spells hammering down around them. Rob sent off a quick Message to Vul'to, then jumped in front of an icicle spell that would have gored a Fiend through her neck. "Sup."
"Lord Roy!" The Fiend's jubilation froze when she saw the icicle sticking out of Rob's shoulder. "Are–"
"No time for chitchat. If I cover you, can you fire back?"
After some thought, the mages nodded. Rob gave them a thumbs-up with his left hand and deflected an arrow with his right. He turned his full attention to the projectile storm raining from above, calculating which ones he'd be able to block and which ones he'd need to take on the chin.
The next few minutes became a blur of activity. Arrow. Skill. Arrow. Spell. Spell. Skill. Arrow. Arrow. It never ended. His slow walk towards Harpy Settlement #4 was proving to be an invaluable experience, because he wasn't sure if he could've kept up now without already knowing how to handle a barrage of small projectiles. Even Keira was struggling; while Danger Sense told her where she needed to move, it was reaching a point where she physically couldn't execute the motions fast enough. Rob would've expected the Harpies to lay off once they noticed that he was there to play defense, but if anything, they were attacking more fiercely than before.
Almost as if they held a grudge against him or something.
Outwardly, he was projecting the supreme confidence of a Leader. Inwardly, he was honestly starting to get a bit worried. While he'd only taken about 300 HP of damage, a different resource was beginning to wane: his Stamina. Quick Thinking consumed 3 Stamina for every second it was active. That combined with his constant movement was...tiring. He'd activated Second Wind to restore 35% of his Stamina, but unlike his Vitality-based abilities, this one had a cooldown of 24 hours. In a couple minutes, he might actually need to ask for a short break.
Was that the end of the world? No. Was it embarrassing? Potentially. Leaders weren't supposed to ask for breaks. At least, he thought they weren't. Elatrans could be weird about what constituted a good Leader. Rob was still figuring out when he was supposed to act like an invulnerable pillar versus when he was allowed to be a real person. I miss when I didn't have to care about this sort of thing.
His reputation was saved by Vul'to's timely arrival. The Soul Guardian burst onto the scene in a mad dash, skid to a halt, took a stance, activated Auto-Guard, and proceeded to swat away the Harpies' projectiles as if they were no more than gnats. "I will protect the mages from here on out," he calmly stated. Vul'to's movements flowed like water, his voice showing no sign of exertion as he spoke. "Put your efforts towards an offensive strike."
Rob suppressed a relieved sigh as he deactivated Quick Thinking. "For the record, when our Party inevitably complains about my risk-taking later, I'm going to say that both you and Keira signed off on a Rob Plan."
"You can't be serious," Keira blurted out, panting heavily as she rested. "Our enemies are in the sky. What scheme could you have possibly concocted that would put you at risk?"
Rob hesitated. He was distinctly aware of the mages listening in as they fired spells, devoting a portion of their brainpower to gathering gossip material. Anything he said here would reflect on his status as Leader. That included overly-casual speech and devising schemes that by all rights should get him a one-way ticket to the loony bin.
Then he remembered that allies were dying around him, and he stopped caring so much about what other people thought.
"My usual method for dealing with mobile enemies is Rampage spam," he began to explain. "That isn't viable here. I'd run out of MP long before I reached their altitude, and even if I somehow made it, what then? I can't dodge mid-air. They'd turn me into a pincushion. So here's what I was thinking..."
His explanation was brief. By the time he'd finished, the mages were staring at him with eyes wide as saucers. Keira merely nodded. "Very well. I'll accept it."
"No complaints?"
"You left yourself an escape route. That already makes this plan safer than most." She turned away, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's go find Malika. If I'm not mistaken, she'll be at Orn'tol's side."
It wasn't hard to locate her. They only needed to trace the empowered spells blasting upwards like rocket launchers. Rob did a rough headcount of the Harpies' numbers, estimating that, despite their ambush, the battle wasn't going well for them. Over forty had been felled by Malika's spells, Orn'tol's arrows, and the other coalition mages and archers. The Dwarven riflemen were also putting in work, gunshots echoing as Harpies were struck by blindingly fast projectiles they'd come entirely unprepared for, their race inducted into a new era of war with a baptism of lead and gunpowder.
Conversely, Rob would bet his life savings that not even fifteen coalition members had perished. While he didn't have any proof of this, he knew from experience that basic arrows and mediocre spells lost striking power when fired from a long range. And unlike the Harpies' army consisting of everyone-they-could-get, the coalition soldiers were the elite of each territory. They were tougher, stronger, and had access to superior healing magic. In this instance, quality trumped quantity.
Especially when the quality was so lopsided. As Rob ran, he saw a lightning spear shoot up towards the sky and explode into a ball of electricity, frying a dozen Harpies in an instant. Moments later, the surrounding air seemed to dry out, like a heat wave passing through, as moisture was collected into a towering plume of water. Once it was ready, the plume burst upwards and casually washed away another dozen Harpies as if they were drowned rats.
Sylpeiros and Cyraeneus. Ambush or no ambush, long range or close range – didn't matter. Leaders were terrifying in every scenario.
Rob found Malika and Orn'tol in good spirits. The siblings had a whole squad of Vanguards protecting them, like a pair of pint-sized siege cannons with ground support. "Rob!" Malika exclaimed, the instant she saw him. "MP Potions! Forthwith!"
In a flash of blue mana, he produced three Potions from Spatial Storage. "Your humble servant is here," he remarked, in a tone drier than the air.
"Only three Potions? Bah! Give me more!"
"Your humble servant has no wish to deal with an Archmage with a hangover."
Grumbling, she grabbed the Potions and chugged them like a frat boy on spring break. Rob rated her chugging prowess at a solid 7 out of 10, judging that – while she'd grown considerably – there was still room for improvement.
"Should..." Orn'tol started to say something, then thought better of it. Rob could guess what he was thinking. The boy was worried that they weren't being properly respectful of the situation, joking around in the middle of a warzone where allies were suffering. He'd likely come to the same conclusion as Rob: that letting Malika keep her morale up was more important. "Are we winning?" he instead asked.
"Easily," Rob affirmed. That was never in doubt. It would've taken something going catastrophically wrong for them to be in danger of losing. In reality, today's battle was just another leg in the extended marathon that the coalition was running. Rather than obsessing over a transient victory that was all but guaranteed, they needed to minimize casualties so that taking the Harpy capital was a feasible prospect. That meant being careful, guarding their back lines, and only attacking when it was safe.
Oh, and crushing the Harpies so that they wised up and retreated.
"I am...concerned," Orn'tol admitted. "The Harpies should have been aware of our strength. Yet by the end of this night, unless they soon retreat, their losses will mount in the hundreds. Why waste so much life?"
Rob narrowed his eyes at the sky. "Couple possibilities. Elnaril could be screwing around. Blights think that wasting life is absolutely hilarious. He is part Leader, though, so I can't imagine he'd be quite that frivolous with his resources. With that in mind, I don't think the Harpies are going to fight to the last man – they probably came here intending to thin our numbers and skedaddle. Severe losses would prevent us from being able to seize the capital. Their initial Firebomb barrage could've potentially done that on its own."
"And it failed."
"Sure did. Now they're stuck trying to do it the old-fashioned way." Rob shrugged. "They might have a backup plan. If so, we'll handle it, no worries." He faced Malika. "Speaking of plans, I've got one. Do you mind holding onto some MP for me?"
She opened her mouth to respond – then froze, her head turning sideways. Rob followed Malika's gaze towards the Gellin encampment, his brow furrowing at what he saw. All thirty Gellin were exiting their tents in near-perfect unison. They reminded Rob of a collection of wind-up animatronics, with movements that weren't entirely synchronized and robotic, yet also weren't dissimilar enough to appear fully lifelike. As the Gellin drifted forward, moonlight mixed with the light emanating from the mages' sun orbs, bathing them in an almost ethereal glow.
A small shiver crept up Rob's spine. He didn't know why, but something about the situation was giving him the heebie-jeebies. Maybe it was because he'd never seen a Gellin awake at this hour before. He'd gone on more than one midnight walk to clear his head after a bout of nightmares, and while he'd met the occasional Fiend, Dwarf, Elf, or Merfolk, the Gellin were always sequestered in their tents.
His shiver crawled up to the back of his neck, making its little hairs stand on end as a thrum of mana built within the Gellin. Even Rob's meager Sense Mana could feel it. Thirty Gellin had joined into three Mage Circles, linking their power, creating...something. A force. An aura. It lacked physical form, yet felt no less threatening than one of Sylpeiros' lightning spears.
The space above them seemed to shimmer, as if viewed through a lightly-smudged eyeglass. Virtually invisible if you weren't paying close attention.
Or if you were flying hundreds of feet in the air.
The Harpies didn't try to avoid it. They didn't even know it was there. Lightning spears and plumes of water were obvious. Flashy. The Gellins' something simply wafted upwards, like rising heat, until it reached the sky and engulfed a multitude of Harpies in a devouring fog.
Piercing screams cut through the din of warfare.
The affected Harpies reacted in different ways. Some went still as statues. Some writhed as if electrocuted. Some began attacking invisible enemies. But regardless of how they reacted, they all fell, and they all screamed.
Rob covered his ears. It was the worst sound he'd heard since Elnaril laughed at him through a Message Crystal. The battlefield didn't completely grind to a halt, but it definitely slowed, with both the attackers and defenders needing to process what the fuck just happened.
"Was that Mind Magic?" Malika whispered, her bravado gone and vanished.
"It appears so," Keira quietly answered.
"I...did not know it could do that."
"Neither did I."
After shaking his head to reset his thoughts, Rob stepped back from everyone, ensuring that he was out of their line of sight. Much as he wanted to take a breather, he couldn't. The Harpies were reeling – this was a perfect opportunity to execute his plan.
He just needed to finish the prepwork. Hefting his longsword, Rob turned it around and pointed it at his heart.
And paused.
My hands are shivering, he realized. Why are my hands shivering? I've done this before. He willed his hands to stay still, nearly snarling when they failed to cooperate. This is a waste of time. Don't be a fucking bitch, Rob. Just lie back and think of England.
Stab.
Stab.
Stab.
Lifesurge.
Living Bomb ready.
Rob used Spatial Storage to switch his clothes for an unbloodied ensemble, then tapped Malika on her shoulder. "Do you have enough MP for a big wind spell?"
She blinked, jolted out of her reverie. "Oh. Um, yes. Why?"
He told her of his plan. A broad grin split across her face, transitioning into an excited cackle. "You're a madman. Let's do that straight away."
As Malika charged her spell, Rob attached a Waymark point to the ground, then summoned the Dwarven Sheet Metal from his Bound Items. Keira, Orn'tol, and the Vanguards spread out to give them some space. The Vanguards were looking on in awe; Rob could only hope that they'd enjoy the show.
"We have to time this just right," he told Malika. "Fire the spell on three. Understand?" She nodded so hard that she probably gave herself whiplash. Rob placed his longsword in Storage, holding the Sheet Metal with both hands.
"One." Malika held onto her spell, ready to unleash the fury of an Archmage with a cause.
"Two." Rob leaped into the air, positioning the Sheet Metal under his feet like a surfboard.
"Three!"
A miniaturized tornado slammed into the Sheet Metal, propelling Rob up, up, and away. He lost his balance pretty much immediately, tumbling onto the Sheet as wind pressure buffeted him without mercy. His ascent skyward was so sudden and so jarring that he was actually surprised when he came face-to-face with a Harpy. The two of them exchanged bewildered stares. Rob felt tempted to say a variant of one of the classics, like 'You come here often?'
Then he remembered why he was there.
This was it. No going back. Justified or necessary or otherwise, once he activated Living Bomb, he will have spilled Harpy blood on Harpy soil. There was a sense of finality to it that almost made him hesitate.
Almost.
"I wish you'd stayed home," Rob muttered. The Harpy's survival instincts kicked in, his wings flapping in a hurry, yet it was already too late. You couldn't outrun a thought.
Living Bomb.
The world became obscured by flame, heat, and noise. Rob wasn't sure how many Harpies he'd caught in the blast radius, but the EXP infusing his soul informed him that it was more than a few. Without waiting, he cast Rampage to push himself out of the Bomb's center, then Waymarked to safety so that the Harpies couldn't take revenge after the Bomb faded. The Rampage movement was a necessity; he wasn't taking any chances that using Waymark while in the middle of the Bomb might somehow bring it back with him.
His feet now on solid ground, Rob was treated to an awe-inspiring spectacle. A colossal sphere of fire hung above, like the core of an angry sun, its surface twisting with unbridled energy. The sound it emitted was one long, continuous, ear-splitting explosion, as if the Bomb was a sentient creature noisily lamenting the ones who'd escaped its grasp. This was the first time Rob had seen his Skill from an outside perspective, and in that instant, he truly understood why it was so effective at shattering morale.
As it did now. Living Bomb rapidly faded, but by then the Harpies were already in retreat. The one-two punch of the Gellins' mind attack and a giant fuckoff explosion had doubled their casualties in a matter of seconds. Even if that combo hadn't broken their spirits, not withdrawing at this point would be tantamount to suicide.
Rob allowed his shoulders to relax as a collective sigh of relief passed through the coalition. Their battle was over. Victory was – Wait, what's up with that guy?
Relief gave way to confusion as they noticed a figure in the distance sprinting towards them. It was an...Elf? One of Sylpeiros' Scouts? As everyone watched, the Elf in question passed straight under the fleeing Harpies, neither faction looking at each other as they traveled in opposite directions. The sight was borderline surreal, adding another obstacle to the emotional gamut that Rob was still running. Maybe I can go to bed and pretend I didn't see anything.
Plausible deniability was taken from him a moment later, when the Elf got within range of the coalition's Heightened Senses and started bellowing at the top of his longs. "MONSTERS! PACK OF MONSTERS AND BEASTS! LEVEL 50 AND ABOVE!"
His declaration just left them more confused. There was no such thing as a pack of high-Leveled monsters roaming the surface of Elatra. At first Rob thought that a Dungeon had grown for too long and was beginning to overflow, but the truth ended up being far stranger.
"About...thirty...monsters and animals," the Elf Scout wheezed, once he'd gotten close and could speak in full sentences. "Coming this way. Some are...natural-born. Beasts who've lived for centuries. Others are monsters. Used Identify. Think they...were plucked from Dungeons."
Everyone glanced at Sylpeiros, an unspoken message in their eyes: "He's your Scout. You sort out this mess." The Seneschal put on a deep scowl, somehow managing to direct it at over a dozen people simultaneously. Once he was sure they'd received the full force of his ire, he composed his features and turned towards the exhausted Scout.
"While I don't doubt your words, what you've described is nonsensical. Setting aside how such an eclectic group of creatures was brought together...monsters and natural-born animals are hardly allies. They'd rip each other to pieces under normal circumstances. Animals from differing species would be at odds as well."
"I am merely reporting what I've seen. In one such example, I witnessed an enormous bat flying alongside a misshapen creature of mana that could only have been spawned within the depths of a high-Level Dungeon."
"Are the animals infected?" Rob asked. "This sort of thing happened back when The Village of Ixatan Forest was invaded. Animals got possessed by the Blight."
The Scout paused, searching through his memories – or rather, his log of system notifications. "Yes. An 'Infected' Status Effect appeared when I Identified the animals. Until you provided context, I was unaware of what that implied."
As Sylpeiros continued speaking with the Scout, Rob stopped to think, constructing a timeline of events. This pack of high-Level creatures couldn't have been assembled on short notice. It must've been years in the making, Elnaril searching Harpy territory with a fine-tooth comb, scooping up wildlife and plundering Dungeons.
Rob resisted the urge to shake his fist at the sky. When Kismet warned him that Elnaril had 'strong creatures' to use, it would've been nice to have some extra fucking details. Vague omnipotent asshole.
Anyway. Elnaril corrals his Pokemon, then prepares to ambush the coalition along with his Harpies. Except...the timing went wrong. Or maybe the position? Controlling that many powerful creatures couldn't be easy. Like attempting to drive thirty cars at the same time. It was probably why the coalition hadn't been ambushed until now – Elnaril was waiting for them to get closer. Regardless, the plan was likely supposed to be the Harpies attacking in tandem with the monsters...but the bombing run largely failed, and the monsters were late to the party.
Rob grimaced as he realized how much of the coalition's victory came down to blind luck. Elnaril's plan was unsuccessful due to logistical issues on his side, not because of any stratagem on the coalition's part. If the Harpies had successfully used their pets as distractions, unloading crates of Firebombs while high-Level creatures ran amok through the battlefield...
The coalition still would have won. But their casualties would've been enormous. Enough to make invading the capital untenable.
Everyone else came to the same conclusion as they listened to the Scout's tale. Sylpeiros remained silent for a time, looking more pensive than someone might expect from a Leader who'd just prevailed in battle. "We shall discuss areas of improvement at a later date," he said, sighing. "How long until the monsters arrive?"
"Roughly four minutes."
Sylpeiros drummed his fingers on his thigh. "While we could swarm the monsters with superior numbers, the vast majority of our soldiers are unsuited for combating enemies over Level 50. The monster will fall, but not before inflicting casualties. Instead, I propose that myself, Cyraeneus, and Riardin's Rangers go forth and hold the line. The rest of our soldiers will defend base camp, kept out of harm's way, firing projectiles at whichever beasts draw near."
He frowned. "Even so, thirty monsters above Level 50 aren't so easily repelled. They may be able to fly, or have carapaces that blunt conventional attacks. It would be best if the entire lot focuses on our group, but some will choose to bypass the front line in favor of assaulting the coalition base camp. Casualties are inevitable."
"No. They aren't."
Rob stepped forward, walking in the direction the Scout had come from. A familiar swell of anticipation built within him. "Counter-proposal. I go. Alone. You all stay and deal with whoever slips past."
Numerous opposing voices exploded in unison. Rob countered them with an explosion of his own, summoning a crate of Firebombs and chucking it into the distance. The faint BOOM bought him a moment of stunned silence.
"No bullshitting," he said, fixing them with an intent gaze. "You want to minimize casualties? This is how we do it. Base camp will be vulnerable without high-Level people to protect it. Hell, some of you might die if you try to 'hold the line' in the middle of an open field. It only takes one screwup to get your head bitten off, and the monsters outnumber us. But me?"
With a flourish, Rob summoned his longsword and activated Step of the Wind. "They. Can't. Kill. Me."
He was off before anyone could raise another protest. None of them followed, perhaps sensing something in his voice indicating that it would be a bad idea. Just as well – Rob would've physically thrown back anyone who tried.
No one else needed to risk their lives today.
It only took him three minutes of running at full speed to locate the monster stampede. They were impossible to miss; a menagerie of oversized animals and abominations with the strength to depopulate a city. For almost anyone else in Elatra, the sight would have filled them with the dread of someone who knew their death was imminent, and that they could do nothing to stop the reaper's scythe from swinging.
Rob waved. The monsters screeched when they saw him, letting out a symphony that could be graciously described as hideous. Music to my ears. Out of curiosity, he cast Identify on the first one in line to die.
Name: Lord of the CavesLevel: 57Race: Blighted BatStatus Effects: Infected, ThirstyDescription: An existence well above Ixatan's Lord of the Forest that nearly killed you three times over. Gee, I wonder what happens now that you're 70 Levels higher and with pent-up resentment towards big beasties? Play nice, Rob, or you'll break your toys.
"Sorry, but breaking them is the fun part." Inwardly, Rob sent thanks to Elnaril for delivering him a herd of acceptable targets to use as living stress balls. After the unpleasantness of being forced to kill his first non-Blighted Harpies, this was a golden opportunity to let loose – and he was going to make damn good use of it.
The monsters drew closer. Any second now, the carnage would commence. Elation and certainty mingled within him, letting him know that he was in his element. He emptied his mind of worries, soaking in the view. There were no war strategies, allied casualties, or moral quandaries to concern himself with.
Just him, and his prey.
Rampage. Rob flew upwards towards the Lord of the Caves. It was a freakish behemoth of a bat, its head as large as a man's body. The creature sank its fangs into Rob's torso, biting down as if four longswords were piercing through him, vital organs shredded to confetti.
637 Piercing Damage Sustained!
It tickled. Rob completed his swing, landing a direct hit on the Lord's head. He didn't activate any additional offensive abilities, because he didn't need to. Blood for Blood increased his damage based on his missing HP. Rampage highly increased the damage of his next attack. Headsman increased his damage by 25% when attacking an enemy's head. Bone Breaker doubled the damage he dealt to an enemy's bone structure.
With all those passive effects stacking onto each other, the bat's neck was almost severed in one clean stroke. Thanks to Lifesteal, Rob immediately recovered most of his lost HP, like nothing had ever happened. Despite the bat's head hanging by threads, it stubbornly clung to life for a few moments longer – but only a few.
Swordsmanship Level Increased! 9 → 10
One down. Plenty to go. Rob pivoted to the next-closest monster, a gargantuan bear that reminded him of an Ixatan beast that had caved his chest in, once upon a time. Emboldened by nostalgia, he put a bit more oomph into his next attack, stacking Rampage, Power Slash, and Imbue Vitality.
The bear's outer hide was abnormally tough, similar to a Vanguard's armor. That mattered up until the point Rob broke the skin, after which Imbue Vitality's quadruple damage effect savaged the beast from within, its insides reduced to crimson mush.
Level Increased! 84 → 85
5 Stat Points Gained!
BERSERKER Level Increased! 82 → 83
An apelike creature with distended arms leaped ahead of the rest of the pack, enormous hands wrapping around Rob before he could dodge. It let out a warbling bellow, squeezing down with enough pressure to bend steel. Rob's bones, durable as they were, started to crack.
Vitamin D(efense) Level Increased! 10 → 11
Cute. He flicked on the Flames of Vengeance, azure fire covering his body. A grin spread over Rob's face as the beast shrieked and let go. "No, no, we were having a moment. Don't hide from your emotions." Rampaging forward, he jumped on the ape's head and gave it a big ole' hug. The shrieks intensified, mighty fists pounding at his body, fracturing more bones in a desperate attempt to dislodge him.
It was all for naught. The ape's struggles slowed, then ceased, its brain cooked from the inside like spaghetti in a microwave.
Pyromania Level Increased! 2 → 3
The next one on the chopping block was an honest-to-god giant spider. Rob shivered as he summoned a crate of Firebombs and promptly Riardin Special'd the skittering menace into the hereafter. Arachnophobia's 300% damage bonus against spiders combined with Pyromania's 30% fire damage bonus – well, 40% now – meant that it lasted about two seconds before crumbling like a pile of chitinous kindling.
Good riddance. Monsters and abominations were one thing. Spiders...ugh.
Rob checked back the way he'd come from, narrowing his eyes when he saw that a couple monsters had skirted past him while he dealt with their friends. He chased after something that must've been birthed in a Dungeon on a bender, its body comprised of flying limbs and harsh edges that hurt to look at if he stared for too long.
The floating Picasso painting in monster form suddenly whirled around, aiming multiple sharpened points at Rob's head, neck, eyes, heart, and liver. It was a phenomenally well-executed attack that would have been the envy of any Combat Class user.
Unfortunately, Picasso had chosen the one target in the world that could turn lethality into a detriment. With a thought, Rob deactivated all of his defensive Skills, then activated Dauntless Reprisal, reflecting the damage of five grievous blows back onto the creature. It collapsed into itself, twitching on the ground, silently pleading for mercy as a longsword ended its suffering.
Swordsmanship Level Increased! 10 → 11
As Rob reactivated his defensive Skills and chose his next target, something in the monsters' attitudes shifted. Several of them went from stampeding ahead to turning towards him on a dime. Their movements were stiff and jerky, as if puppeteered by an unseen force.
"Hi Elnaril!" Rob twirled his longsword. "Hope you don't mind me Old Yeller-ing your pets here. I'm sad to say that you didn't train them prop–"
The creatures pounced in unison. Claws and fangs savaged Rob's from head to toe, tearing off limbs and pulling apart flesh. A good chunk of his body mass disappeared in seconds.
Platelet Party Level Increased! 20 → 21
1021 Combined Damage Sustained!
"Wow, that's a lot of damage." Rob grinned, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. "On an unrelated note, guess what Skill just came off cooldown?"
BOOM.
Level Increased! 85 → 86
5 Stat Points Gained!
BERSERKER Level Increased! 83 → 84
BERSERKER Level Increased! 84 → 85
Rob stood in the center of a crater. Living Bomb had ripped the ground open like scooping ice cream. He was once again back to full health, Lifesteal having converted 50% of the damage he'd dealt into HP.
And he'd dealt a lot of damage.
"It's like I said," he whispered, to nothing in particular. "They can't kill me. When I put my mind to it, I'm a better monster than they could ever hope to be."
The thought didn't distress him like it would have back home on Earth. It wasn't so bad, being a monster to monsters. Kept his friends alive, put food on the table...there were worse careers, he supposed.
Rob jumped out of the crater, searching for new targets. Living Bomb wasn't nearly large enough to take out all of them at once. He set his eyes on a fleeing wyvern and gave chase. As the gap closed, he checked his available Skills, and oh would you look at that, Imbue Vitality was off cooldown now.
Swordsmanship Level Increased! 11→ 12
One monster fell. Then another. Then another. Rob alternated his Skills, rotating between whatever abilities were available.
Swordsmanship Level Increased! 12→ 13
More creatures tried ganging up on him. It didn't work.
Platelet Party Level Increased! 21 → 22
Headsman! 4 → 5
He sliced and cut and Firebombed everything in his path.
Pyromania Level Increased! 3 → 4
Until eventually...
Level Increased! 86 → 87
5 Stat Points Gained!
BERSERKER Level Increased! 85 → 86
There was nothing left.
Rob found himself surrounded by a pile of mangled corpses. He tried counting to see if he could reach thirty, then gave up. Too many mixed-up body parts. It was likely that a couple monsters had gotten past him, so he'd just have to hope for the best.
His prayers were answered when he arrived back at base camp. A wide smile split across Rob's face as he counted a mere six monster corpses littered around the outskirts. They hadn't even gotten close. Most importantly, there wasn't a single allied corpse anywhere in sight.
Zero casualties.
Everyone was staring at him with various looks on their faces. Rob didn't bother trying to decipher all of them. They could think whatever they wanted to think – results were what mattered. The coalition may have lost some soldiers in the Harpy attack, but from the monster stampede?
Zero goddamn casualties.
Rob took a bow, then went straight for his tent. He wasn't going to find a better note to sleep on than this. His consciousness faded the moment he closed his eyes.
And the nightmares didn't dare to come for him.
​
--
​
Changes, Character Sheet, Skill List
Thanks for reading!

I've always been fascinated by vision. Despite being by far the richest and most detailed sense we have available to us, it's something many of us take for granted. The spectacular range of colors we can perceive paired with the extremely fine resolution of the human eye allow us to paint works of art onto the canvas of our environment at each moment of the day. When I came to university, I wanted to see even more deeply into the world of human vision. Looking back, I wish I'd never thought about it at all.
After a year of basic requirements, and another year of diving into the neurobiology of the eye, I managed to convince one of my professors to take me on as a student in his lab. He works on building a retinal prosthesis, an artificial retina used to help restore vision to people with retinal damage or disease. The technology is still in its infancy, but will lay the groundwork for full visual restoration one day. To be honest, both myself and my professor knew I was underqualified for the position. But he had enough faith in my technical capabilities and drive to give me a project of my own. I have some experience making VR games, silly little projects that went pretty much nowhere but taught me how to use the technology. My professor realized that I could leverage my game-making abilities and the VR technology to solve one of our lab's problems. You see, implanting a microchip into the human retina is no easy task, and nobody really knows the best place to implant it. My first thought was to just put it right in the middle of the eye, in the fovea, where we have the most highly detailed vision. I used to believe that was the only part of human vision that mattered. The only part that could ever tell me anything useful. What a fool.
My professor knew better. It turns out that the fovea is the most detailed part of the eye because it has the densest cluster of sensory inputs, and with our current level of technology we just are not capable of creating a microchip with small enough electrodes to get any meaningful output in such a dense region. We knew we had to implant the chip off center, in the periphery, for it to do any good at all. It was my job to figure out exactly where in the periphery would be the most effective trade off between usable vision and usable microchip. To this end, the lab purchased a relatively cheap eye tracker designed for VR, which still ended up costing several thousand dollars. The lab has a VR room at the very back, a small, windowless box with not much more than a table, a chair, and an old HTC Vive Pro. There is one window embedded into the door itself, a tall, thin slit of reinforced glass that offers the only connection to the outside world. This was where I spent most of my summer days, alternating between writing code and sticking my head into a clunky headset. The experiment was pretty simple: use the eye tracker to find out where I'm looking in VR, and then block out my entire vision except for a small square in the periphery.
It's a real pain in the ass to do anything using just your peripheral vision. Reading a simple sentence becomes a minutes-long ordeal where you have to scan letter by letter, hoping you get them all right and that you don't miss any. What is very clearly a grayscale picture of a panda quickly becomes a blurry gorilla, or maybe a dog, or maybe even a motorcycle. My eyes would start to feel strained after just a few minutes of the experiment, and would be exhausted by the time a full hour had passed. To be honest, I was relieved when my stint in the lab ended at the end of last summer and I needed to focus on my classes again. I don't have a lot of regrets in life, and I think perhaps that's because I haven't done a lot in life. I've spent most of my time desperately pursuing achievements to fill this… hole inside myself. I worked on project after project, things that I didn't care much about but that I thought would make me an interesting person, worth the space I take up. I spent many of my days in the lab wishing I were anywhere else, participating in the world and having fun instead of wasting away in a tiny windowless cubicle. And yet, some part of me just couldn't let go. I had spent so much time on this project, an entire summer! Giving up would make me a failure. I couldn't just let that effort go to waste. God, if only I hadn't been such a fucking idiot.
Anyway, that brings us to today. After another year of classes, summer is finally back, and I'm back in the stifling, beige VR prison that I now call home. With a surge of motivation that can only come from taking a break, I was ready to attack this experiment again and get some science done! After several hours of sifting through my old spaghetti code, and a half hour of testing the rig on myself, my eyes predictably became sore and exhausted, so I took off the headset for a rest. As I lay back in my chair, rubbing my temples, I saw something unexpected in my periphery. Someone was standing right outside the door, looking at me through the thin, vertical window. That was already quite odd, as the VR room pretty much lives in the backrooms of the lab. None of my labmates would make the trek down several corridors of storage rooms and empty offices to get to the VR room without a reason. Yet something in my intuition was screaming a warning, telling me that whoever was out there was certainly not one of my labmates. In an instant, my eyes flicked away from my computer screen and onto the window. It's a motion called a saccade, where human eyes flick around from point to point. They usually take between 20 and 50 milliseconds to perform, and what's especially interesting about them is that our brains actually do not process any visual input while they are happening. This was unfortunate for me, because by the time my eyes came to rest on the window, the grinning face was gone.
I figured my eyes must just be playing tricks on me. I've spent so much time in VR that they probably just want me to go outside and look at some grass. But after another set of trials, my tired eyes again told me there was someone staring at me through the window, a twisted grin on their face. My heart skipped another beat as my eyes instinctively flicked to the window yet again. Nothing. I got up and moved slowly to the window, moving my head to the left, then to the right to get a view of the entire corridor. Totally empty, as expected. And yet, something inside me was still screaming that this was wrong. My stomach writhed and flipped, my heart beating out of my chest. I had seen the face twice now, and I know from my many hours of VR trials that the periphery is blurry, but it doesn't lie. My fear turned to anger as I thought of the possibility of one of my labmates pulling a prank on me, probably trying to give me shit for being out of the lab all year. I wrote a quick, snippy message to the lab slack, saying "Hey yall, if anyone is outside the VR room right now, please stop grinning at me, I'm trying to get work done." Satisfied I had publicly shamed the prankster into submission, I pulled the headset back over my eyes to begin another round of trials.
I began another trial. One of the experiments I've designed uses randomly selected snippets of newspaper text, and places them in the little viewing box for the subject to try and read as best they can. It's a difficult task, but after many hours I've gotten pretty good at it. I began the trial, speaking out each word as I sounded it out. "G… giv… give. M.. e? Me, yeah. Yo… you… your. E… eye… eyes… w- what the FUCK?" With a shriek, I ripped the headset off of my face and threw it onto the desk. My breaths came in bursts as an overwhelming fear gripped a cold hand around my chest. What newspaper would have THAT chilling demand? An article about a psychotic murderer? I quickly clicked onto the desktop view of the virtual environment, and took a peek behind the curtain to see the full text of the article. The same phrase, repeated dozens of times, took up the whole screen. "Give me your eyes give me your eyes give me your eyes give me your eyes GIVE ME YOUR EYES!"
My whole body was rigid. Even my heart had stopped. I slowly raised my eyes from the screen. Instead of looking directly at the window, I slowly inched my view to the left until I could see the window in my peripheral vision. Every microsaccade brought me a new stab of fear as the window slowly entered the very edge of my periphery. My heart sank as I registered a smear of red and white floating at the bottom of the glass. Every instinct screamed at me to look, to foveate on the face and get as much detail as possible about this threat, but I resisted the urge. After so many hours reading words and identifying animals in my peripheral vision, I knew I didn't have to look at the face in order to see it. I moved my eyes slightly closer to the window, bringing the face a few degrees closer to my fovea until I could make out the details. What I saw made my blood run cold.
The face was completely skinless. Red and pulpy, dripping and oozing onto the floor, it bore a demented grin of sharp, skewed teeth. The eyes were pure white orbs, glistening sightlessly with desire. They were slightly offset from where eyes should be, not enough to be completely skewed but just enough to be noticeably uncomfortable. I couldn't see anything below the neck, but at this point I didn't have to. I banished the face from the window with a flick of my eyes, and with inhuman speed I hurled my body towards the door and pulled, flinging it open, ready to sprint the hell out of this building and never look back.
The door opened to nothing but more beige wall.
In shock, I collapsed to my knees, momentarily unable to register what I was seeing. Numbly, I closed the door again. The window still looked out into an empty corridor. A flicker of hope was quickly squelched as I pulled the door open to again see the same stretch of wall. I let go of the handle, allowing the door to swing shut. This time, the window showed nothing but pure darkness.
Just then, I heard a tinny ping from my phone. It was my labmate Jessica, sending a reply to my slack message. It read, "Umm, what are you talking about? It's Sunday, nobody is in lab today. Except you I suppose. Why don't you go take a break?"
I'm not ashamed to admit that I spent a while in a state of panic, hyperventilating on the thinly carpeted floor. This couldn't be happening. It defied explanation. Everything has a rational, scientific explanation! Yet the darkness outside the window… and the skinless face… the chilling demand for me to give it my eyes… This was really happening. I wasn't on any kind of drugs, prescription or otherwise. I have no history of hallucination under any circumstances. Yet the wall blocking my exit was solid as rock.
At least, it was solid as rock. Until I saw a bulge appear in my peripheral vision. It was the outline of the face, upside down and grinning, pushing out of the wall like someone pressing their face against a canvas tent. I let loose another shriek and pushed myself into the desk behind me. As I looked at the face pressing through the beige surface, it slowly pulled back into the wall, leaving a flat surface once more. But in my periphery, two more faces bulged, wriggling and grinning. My choked sobs almost made me miss the subtle scraping from behind me, but a moment later the desk I had been resting against pushed me over. I frantically turned, my eyes flicking between the faces pulling back into the wall and the desk, now blocking the door by several inches. I heard another scraping sound behind me. Still on my knees, I spun awkwardly to see the far wall. It took me a moment to notice, but the electrical outlet in the corner of the room was now half buried in the wall. I struggled to my feet, ready to try the door again in a vain hope of escape, only to bump my head against the ceiling. No matter where I turned, faces sprouted from the walls beside me and scraping could be heard from behind me. The desk where I'd spent so many hours focused on my code now cracked and crumpled as the wall behind it closed in.
I let out a wail, knowing my time had come. The faces all around me undulated in and out of the walls, pressing close to me, reaching for my quivering limbs, hungry for my frantic eyes. Their psychotic smirks seemed to widen with every sound of distress. One of them opened its mouth, tearing a hole through the wallpaper and letting a fleshy, red growth spurt noisily into the room. I tried to move away from it, but by now there wasn't really anywhere to move to. My back pressed against another disgusting face, which opened its mouth and wrapped a fleshy, slimy tendril around my chest. I heard distorted laughter echoing through the now cramped space.
In a moment of clarity, I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app. Setting it on selfie mode allowed me to put the wall behind me into my field of vision. Now, all 6 surfaces around me are in view. The scraping stopped, but by now it's too late. There's barely any room to move in here. The door is almost completely covered by the walls and ceiling. I think the handle got buried in the walls somewhere, I can't even try to open it. I can barely turn my body around. I can see the faces pressing in from the walls in my periphery. The fleshy tendrils growing from their mouths have wrapped around my legs and torso and won't stop squeezing. They keep trying to work their way onto my face, into my eye sockets, but I keep brushing them back. The stink of urine and fear is overwhelming, but I know if I pass out I won't have a chance to wake up again. A part of me wants to just let go. I've minimized my camera app and left it in the corner of my phone while I type this post. I've taken several photos of this situation. It's not easy to see what's happening because of how cramped it is, but hopefully you can get the gist. I called 911 a while ago but it didn't go through. I'm not sure what I would tell the dispatcher even if it did. I messaged the lab building manager on slack for help, but he messaged me back a few minutes later saying that the VR room was empty and asked me what I meant when I said I was trapped. I tried to explain but he thinks I'm pulling a prank. Nobody in my lab can help me, perhaps only people who would be willing to believe my story can do anything for me now.
Please, someone come help me. I don't want to die like this. I have so much to do, so much to see. I can't bear the thought of missing out on so much fun in life, only to have my chance at freedom stolen away from me just before I graduate and finish this project that I never should have taken on. I'm begging you, if you happen to live close by, come to the neuro building, room 140, and save me from this nightmare.
And make sure you pay damn close attention to what's happening in your peripheral vision. It just might save your life.

This is SO funny, I am reposting it and will repost it every once in a while.
From:
https://www.reddit.com/tifu/comments/2vdwtw/tifu_by_drinking_an_entire_bottle_of_louisiana/

I have had a number of job interviews recently that went poorly and did not result in securing employment.
I started to think I needed to do something during an interview to really stand out, be impressive, unique, and highly memorable. I thought it could be risky, but might work out.
I came up with the following idea: After concluding the interview, after the hand shakes, etc, when leaving the room stop, turn around, and say "There's one more thing you need to know about me."
Then pull out a bottle of hot sauce, down the entire bottle, slam it onto the ground and say "I can handle the heat." Nod confidently, leave the room.
Boom.
I imagined that they would be really impressed and wowed by such a performance.
Well it didn't pan out like I thought it would. It was only a small bottle of hot sauce, I figured it would be no big deal to actually do. I should have tested at home first, but I didn't.
I was nervous as a bitch-ass during the interview, but I was determined to follow through with the plan.
So I started exactly as described above. I was leaving, I turned around, maybe not with as much swagger as I'd imagined in my head, and I declared "There's one more thing you need to know about me."
I pulled out the hot sauce bottle, almost dropped it, and started to open the bottle. In my head it was all one quick confident motion, like an electric Indiana Jones, but instead I fumbled around and had a tough time getting it open. It felt like a nightmarish eternity but was probably only about 20 seconds. Enough time for one of the interviewers to ask me what I was doing.
I didn't answer directly. Instead, after I got the bottle open, I repeated "There's one more thing you need to know about me." (But stuttering.)
Then I guzzled down the entire bottle of hot sauce. I instantly regretted it. My mouth and throat felt like lava was swirling around inside me. I immediately started to gag and loudly cough, I was crying involuntarily. Tears hardcore streaming down my face. I was sweating like a terrible fool.
I desperately tried to scream "I can handle the heat" but just kept coughing before I could get anything out.
The interviewers were all standing up looking at me in horror and confusion.
A few seconds before I threw up all over the floor I knew it would happen, but I tried to hold it back. I couldn't.
I threw up all over the floor. It hurt as much on the way out as it did on the way in, if not more so. The vomit felt like flaming barbed wire shredding its way through my neck.
I should mention a disturbing amount of fiery mucus was also leaking out of my nose uncontrollably.
After I finished throwing up I could not bear to look at the interviewers. I hoarsely mumbled an apology and started to stumble as quickly as possible out the door.
I have never been more shamed in my life.
I didn't get the job.

Hey I have a Dean Dime Blackbolt I’m refinishing and I don’t like the v shaped headstock, is there a 6-in line neck that fits in the socket I could replace it with?

In hindsight, I should have listened to the kill-bill alarm bells in my head when eight-year-old Cassie announced she and her cabin mates were going to skip out on camp activities and play Operation instead.
Though it’s not like I didn’t have things on my mind. Seven counsellors had gone missing—along with our head counsellor who was supposed to be taking care of us.
It started out fairly normal. I mean, one or two counselors wasn’t bad, right?
Lily and Joey had been drowning in sexual tension for a while, so nobody was surprised when they sneaked into the woods for what I could only guess was the most uncomfortable sex ever. But then they didn’t come back.
Teddy and Yuri went to look for them, and then they too also disappeared. It was almost like a wild animal was lying in wait for another unsuspecting teenager to cross its path.
With six of us left, I was definitely freaking out.
I wasn’t expecting summer camp to be like this. I did consider working in my local Sephora, but mom had a preference—and whether I was eighteen years old or not, she was getting her way. So, it was goodbye civilization, and hello Canadian wilderness.
There were fifteen kids queued up in front of me for lunch, and I was having a hard time keeping that optimistic Camp Redwood smile.
I couldn’t help constantly counting how many hours it had been since the latest disappearance, Connor.
He was supposed to be helping with getting the emergency generator going, after the electricity sizzled out.
The boy was gone an hour later. This was happening fast. Whatever was going on with the counsellors was burning through all of us. Would it happen to me?
I had seen so many TV shows and movies set in a summer camp where every camper and counsellor was doomed to die in the grossest way possible. Was that going to happen to us?
I tightened my grip around the stupid ladle I had found myself stirring, a giant pot of chocolate syrup. Watching watery chocolate drip from the edge, I felt nauseous. Of all the summer camp’s mom had to send me to, it had to be the one with vanishing counsellors and zero adult authority. Which meant we were the authority. Twelve teenagers who came to relax and babysit a bunch of little kids before college.
We had to put on brave faces and pretend everything was absolutely fine—and we weren’t all terrified out of our fucking minds.
At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Harry offering piggybacks to a bunch of little kids, with one of the littles, Eleanor, wrapping her arms around his neck and squealing.
From the look on the boy’s face, he wanted to stop. It was hard to keep a façade when reality was becoming harder and harder to bear. Abandoning his hat completely, Harry was dripping with sweat, trying to twist his lips into the Camp Redwood grin. But looking closer, as he galloped across the cabin with Eleanor holding on for dear life, the guy was ready to collapse. I didn’t blame him.
Entertaining the kids was supposed to be Teddy’s assignment—and he was who knows where. I had taken over lunch duties for Lily, who had joined the long list of the missing.
Harry was supposed to be joining the search party for the missing councellors, but had ended up becoming the little’s personal punching bag.
When I first met him, Harry Carlisle had been the kid who sat on the side-lines and offered sarcastic remarks and crude jokes. Now, he had been reduced to a playground ride the kids pretended didn’t have an off switch.
He had enjoyed maybe the first two rides to raise morale, but now I could see the strain in his eyes. “Ow!” Harry winced when the little girl’s fingers prodded at his eyes. “Hey! Eleanor, not my eyes!” He was dangerously close to toppling over, though managed to catch his footing, ordering all of them off of his back. “Horse Rides are over!” He cupped his mouth, shouting across the cabin when a group of kids surrounded him with equally terrifying faces. Harry backed away and threw his hands up. “Come on, guys, my back isn’t built for all of you!”
“Horsey!” The kids shouted back in a cacophony of giggles.
It was 10 against one.
Against two, if I got involved. Which wasn’t going to happen. There was no way I was putting effort into play-fighting a bunch of eight-year-olds. Harry shot me a hopeful look, though I pretended not to see, busying myself with slightly burned nuggets.
Running his fingers through thick strands of sandy colored hair, Harry pulled a face when a little girl, Phoebe, was brave enough to step forward.
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing the front of his counsellor shirt practically glued to him. The temperature still hadn’t let up, and it was heading towards 8PM. Night-time, I thought dizzily. It was almost bedtime, and still no adults. “I refuse to surrender,” He told her. “Phoebe, I am not joking around when I’m saying my back is hurting. We’ve been playing horsey’s for two hours.”
“So?”
“So!” Harry couldn’t yell or hiss, or swear at them. That was a big no-no with kids.
However, I could see he was coming close to breaking that rule. “Because I’m tired,” he said through a Camp Redwood grin, which was quickly twitching into a grimace.
I think all of us had given up with the fake enthusiasm when our colleagues started to vanish. Now, we were just shells of our former happy selves. “And… uh… did you know that if you ride a horsey at this time, the ghosts will come and get you?”
When a boy opened his mouth, his eyes widening with fright, Harry realized his mistake.
“I mean the nice ghosts! Yeah! The uh, the nice ghosts who haunt..I mean play in these woods? It’s a well-known Camp Redwood legend that ghosts don’t like horse rides. In fact,” his lips curved into a devilish smile now he had several faces staring at him. The kids dropped onto the ground to listen, their hands clasped in their laps. This was the quietest they had been all day. I could understand though. Harry had taken the reins around the campfire telling ghost stories for three nights in a row, and the guy was a damn good storyteller.
With every eye on him, Harry lowered his voice into a whisper. “Do you guys want to know what they do?”
The kids nodded with wide eyes.
“They sneak into unsuspecting cabin’s…”
“Harry.”
Rowan’s voice came from outside in a warning. The window was open, and the guy was standing watch to see if any counsellors came back. Since the only adult had disappeared, he had been appointed leader—and the guy was taking himself a little too seriously.
His warning was valid though. Sometimes Harry’s ghost stories were a little too scary for little kids, who’s Imaginations tended to run wild—especially at night. Olive, my cabin-mate, had to give up her bed for a little girl who was convinced Harry’s depiction of Slenderman, “The tree boy” was going to sneak into her bed and turn her into an apple seed.
“Did I say sneak into cabin’s? I meant dance around the woods…” Harry corrected himself. “And they look for their next unsuspecting victim…”
“Harry!”
“Friend.” Harry swallowed his words when a little boy’s eyes went wide. “I mean they are looking for a friend! So, the point of my story is…”
“Horsey rides get us new friends?” Phoebe wasn’t buying it. I could tell from the slight arch of her brow and her widening smile.
The girl shook dark curls out of her face, smirking. I think it was her pleading eyes which won him over. Because, with a sigh which definitely wasn’t joking around, the guy dropped onto his knees and practically spat at her to climb on his back—and she did, plonking one sparkling shoe on top of the boy’s spine with enough force to send him onto his stomach. I might have been imagining it, but since when were these littles so outlandishly spiteful?
The little girl was grinning. Not because she could ride her “horsey” but because Harry looked like he was going to either wring her neck, or wring his own. Mom had a “talk” before I started here, and she made sure to tell me that if adult authority is nowhere to be seen, little kids will start to act out.
I could definitely call it acting out, but I had spent all day with her several days earlier playing with dolls and having a teddy bear picnic when she admitted she didn’t want to swim in the lake with the other kids. Phoebe had been shy and only spoke to me through her teddy bear, so what had changed?
Could the lack of adults really be scaring the kids that much?
“Miss Josie?”
I wasn’t paying attention, half noticing some kids had just helped themselves, piling chicken nuggets and cookies on plastic plates and hurrying to their seats like I couldn’t see them.
Blinking away brain fog, I found myself face to face with Eli, who was probably my favorite camper.
You’re not supposed to have personal preferences when working with little kids, because your opinions could upset them.
However, it was incredibly hard not to like Eli.
Hiding behind a mop of brown curls, the boy was one of the more vocal kids in the group. Eli said he wanted to be an inventor when he was older, and he wanted to make robots. The kid had asked me if I wanted to see his robot collection, but I was too busy with setting up camp activities. Standing in front of me and clutching his tray, the boy was frowning.
“Josie, I just saw some kids steal chicken nuggets.”
I shrugged, shovelling a large portion on his tray. “Well, you can have some extra too.”
Eli’s smile wasn’t as big as usual. “Where’s Teddy?”
I pretended to be oblivious, hastily adding more nuggets to his tray as if I could keep his mouth shut with extra food. “He’ll be back soon! Teddy is just playing in the woods.”
“No, he’s not.”
At first, I thought I’d heard the boy wrong. The kid wasn’t looking at me, counting his nuggets as usual with the prongs of his plastic fork.
I leaned forward with my best smile. “I’m sorry, what was that, Eli?”
The kid lifted his head with a wide grin. “Can I borrow a knife, Josie?”
“Why do you need a knife?”
Leaning forward, the boy shrugged. “There’s a squirrel caught in a trap,” he said. “I want to put it out of its misery, Miss Josie. It’s in a lot of pain.”
That was… dark.
“Well, I can’t give you a knife…” I trailed off, my gaze finding Harry and the growing line of kids awaiting a horse-ride. “But! How about you go and ask Harry for a piggy-back ride?” I pointed to myself with a forced grin. “I’ll save the squirrel!” And when the boy’s eyes filled with tears and he shook his head, I reached out, grasped his hand, and squeezed it as tight as I could. “Eli, we don’t need to do that, okay? I’m sure the squirrel can be saved and I’ll make sure to take it to the vet, okay?”
“But what if it doesn’t need saving?”
I squeezed tighter. “I’ll save it, Eli. I promise.”
Eli didn’t look convinced, but he nodded with a grumble. “Okay.” He said, before twisting around and joining the other kids torturing Harry. Immediately, I left my station—whether Rowan liked it or not—and headed outside to look for this supposedly dying squirrel. That was something we didn’t need. The sky was darkening when I made it into the woods, cotton candy clouds blurring through the thick canopy of trees. Eli said it was near the sign pointing towards the lake. Though I couldn’t see anything. Odd. That thought retracted in my head, however, when I stepped forward, and a squelching sound cut through the silence of my own heavy breaths mixing with insect chitters and nightlife buzzing above me and beneath me. The wet sounding squelch twisted my gut, and when I stared down at the ground, I didn't know what I was expecting.
A squashed squirrel, perhaps? In Eli’s words, the poor thing had been on the edge of death. Though, when I was thinking about it, there were no animal traps around camp. That was basic health and safety. So, what the fuck was I looking at? The bottom of my shoe was caked in dried blood, but it was the thing which was stamped into the dirt which sent my heart into my throat. It looked like an eye.
But looking closer as I lowered myself to the ground, I glimpsed something metallic, something glistening around the pupil. I picked up a stick and prodded it, though the thing didn’t move. It was definitely an eye—the eye of some kind of animal, judging from the pigmentation and the color of the iris.
But it was the metallic pieces around the eye which was throwing me off. Part of a trap, maybe? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that a poor critter had been ripped apart, and a wild bear had dropped its dinner near the camp—and the metal encasing its eye was most likely pieces of trap.
Peering closer, though, I glimpsed silver slithers in what appeared to be the destroyed nerve caked to my shoe. After scraping most of it off, I caught glistening pieces of blood stained metal catching the late-setting sun. This time, I pinched a piece between my forefinger and thumb. It didn’t look like a bear-trap. The metal itself wasn’t serrated or old. In fact, it was new.
Which begged the question: What was this thing?
Whatever it was, it had started converting what looked like a critter’s eye, before stopping. Was it a virus? When that thought slammed into me, I fell back with a hiss, swiping my hands on my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I almost jumped out of my skin, diving to my feet.
Carmel was standing behind me, grasping what looked like her sixth or seventh coffee. The girl had been running to and from the coffee machine all day, and I had been silently counting how much caffeine she was consuming. Carmel had been a well put together and fairly popular girl when camp started. She immediately had everyone following her beck and call, all of the boy’s (and girl’s) following her around.
Carmel wasn't straight. She made that clear on the bus to camp, announcing she wasn’t interested in guy’s, and that she had a girlfriend back home. Still though, the guy’s still followed her because... well, she was pretty.
Carmel was my bunk-mate and had woken me up on three separate occasions at 6am to go through the exact same hair and makeup routine. Now though, there was no sign of makeup or even that she had brushed her hair.
Instead of its usual tidy blonde ponytail, Carmel’s curls were tied into raggedy pigtails with ribbons I was sure she had stolen from a camper’s doll. I think what was keeping her going was coffee.
Carmel regarded me with too-wide eyes and a Camp Redwood smile we all knew was fake. She was grasping onto her coffee cup for dear life. “Josie!” she jumped when I jumped, which almost made me laugh. “Rowan’s having an emergency meeting in his cabin,” she said.
“So, whatever you’re doing can wait.”
Her gaze flicked to the ground. “What… are you doing?”
For a brief moment, I considered telling Carmel I may have found what looked like a virus which turned flesh and blood to metal—before I remembered her reaction when a spider had crept into our cabin.
Whatever this thing was, keeping it a secret for now was probably what was best. Making sure I was standing on the thing, I shrugged. “I was looking for the others.”
Carmel cocked her head, before resting her coffee on the ground. “In the dirt?”
“Footprints, Carmel.”
The girl looked confused before shaking her head. “Okay, whatever. Tell the others I’ll be there in a sec, I just need to make sure the kids are okay. We’re putting a movie on for them in the lunch hall, so that will hopefully distract them for maybe two hours.”
I nodded. “Did anyone find a phone?”
“Not with signal.”
“Carmel.” I had to fight back the urge to yell at her to keep her voice down. Kids were curious, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some littles peeking into our conversation. “You’re okay.” I said softly.
“I mean, we’re not okay, because yes, things are very.. screwed up right now, but we need to be… optimistic.” I exhaled out a breath, searching for eyes in the dark. I tried to smile, tried to keep up that Camp Redwood façade we were all held hostage by until the last day of camp (According to rule 5 in the Camp Redwood counsellor handbook, all counsellors must retain a smile and a positive attitude. If any counselor is caught making a frowny face, or spreading what we call “unhappiness” we will be forced to send the counselor home).
At this point, I didn’t give a fuck—but part of me didn’t want to scare the little kids.
“No, Josie.” The girl grasped hold of my shoulders with a grin rivalling the joker. “I am so sick of being told to keep smiling, because what is that doing? Three of my cabin-mates are missing! I’m the one left, and Rowan and co expect me to keep up this act? We are fucked!"
She cupped her mouth. “F. U. C. K. E. D. We have zero adults, an unexplainable loss of power every few hours which makes no sense in the middle of nowhere—I mean what the fuck is out there which is sucking that much power, huh? There is no explanation! There should be an explanation. I should be able to think, “oh, yeah! That’s why! But no. Things are happening, and I don’t know why they’re happening. Rowan is trying to force us to act like things are okay —but in reality? He is shitting himself, Josie! We are ALL shitting ourselves!”
I took a step back, keeping hold of her hand. Carmel was trembling, her hands clammy and slimy entangled in mine. “He's just trying to keep the kids from freaking out."
She groaned, tears glistening in her eyes. “Okay, yeah! I’m blaming them because they keep acting like everything is okay—”
“Everything IS okay.” I turned to her with what I hoped was a reassuring smile—knowing damn well about the thing I’d found in the dirt. If that thing could spread, it would have a field day in an enclosed space like a summer camp.
I noticed my own hands which had been touching the thing making contact with Carmel, and dropped my hands, inwardly squirming.
If that thing was a virus, I was already fucked.
Maybe Carmel too.
If it was fast acting, it could explain the counsellor disappearances. I was already putting together a plan in my head as we headed back to the main cabin. We had to put together a search party. Some of us would stay with the kids, while a small group would venture into the woods to try and look for traces of the missing. If I was right, we would find a horror scene in the woods, and yes, that would be the time to panic.
If I was wrong, however, there was still hope.
“Are we going to be okay?”
Carmel’s voice sliced into my thoughts, and I took a moment to drink in the camp around us.
Usually, when the sky was turning twilight, it would be bustling with campers and counselors toasting marshmallows on the fire and gathering around to fall asleep to Harry’s ghost stories. Carmel would be knelt with a bunch of kids, watching a YouTube video they had all insisted on her watching, while Rowan would be hiding behind his book with his knees to his chest, his gaze glued to every page he flicked through, ignoring everyone.
Teddy, making funny faces for kids who were scared, and Connor, handing out plates of burgers and hot dogs. I remembered feeling safe and at home, cosy around the flickering orange of the fire as chatter turned to laughter and white-noise in my head. After the kids went back to their cabins, the group of us would resume positions around the fire, but this time it was more… intimate. With Allison in her cabin, we kind of ignored her rules all together.
Making out happened, because of course it did. Beers stolen from Allison’s mini fridge and raging hormones, as well as late-night skinny dipping in the lake did that. Couples went off into the woods, and we all felt completely comfortable and at home with each other.
Looking around at that moment, I felt sick to my stomach. That feeling was gone.
The feeling of family and familiarity and friendship. What I was looking at now was that same log we had all sat on, now turned on its side—hot dog buns and candy wrappers littering the ground. It was a ghost camp.
I could still see Connor’s jacket slung on the ground, and Lili’s bright pink ray bans sitting on a beer can. Because there were no adults to yell at us to clean up after ourselves. I was frowning at the skeleton of the fire when Carmel nudged me. “Hey.” Her voice was shaking slightly. “Josie? You didn’t answer my question.” Carmel wanted me to be the voice of reason, and I wasn’t that. I was just as scared as her.
There was only so much I could sugar-coat, and I gave up doing that after the third counsellor disappeared. All I could offer her was forced optimism.
“Yes.” I said. “Just keep the kids busy, alright?”
“Right.”
When I was twisting around and power-walking to Rowan’s cabin, I shouted over my shoulder, “Give them some of those animal crackers!”
“What animal crackers?”
I turned to elaborate, but Carmel was gone.
When I finally got to Rowan’s cabin, I was sweating through my shirt, and had an idea of what I was going to tell the others. It was… a thing. Which could be considered a disease or a virus—so it was vital that we split into two groups; half of us would search for the others, while the others would look for anything to get in contact with the outside world. An emergency landline, laptop, or cell phone.
I did have one problem, which was lack of evidence. All which was left from the thing I’d found was stuck to my foot. The rest of it was buried in the dirt. It was too dark to search for it, and we would be wasting time doing so.
All of that was in my mind and tangled on my tongue, one single string of incomprehensible gibberish I wasn’t even sure was English, when I stepped into Rowan’s cabin, where four sets of eyes met mine. Olive, cross legged on the floor with her arms folded, Harry, pacing up and down with a brand new bruise blooming under his eye, courtesy of Eleanor almost poking his eyes out—and Rowan himself sitting on top bunk, his legs swinging off of the side.
The guy wasn’t built to be our leader, originally being the laziest of our group, opting for sitting in a tree with a book, rather than helping set up camp activities. Yet he had become our default guy in charge because he so happened to be wearing the head counsellor hat when Allison disappeared. Admittedly, it suited him, the bright red of the cap contrasted his dark curls under a late setting sun through the back window, setting strands of straying hair on fire.
The hat was a little too big for his head, though, slipping over his eyes.
Rowan looked like a divorced father of two, dark circles bruising his eyes, and a very “dad-like” scowl curling on his lips.
With a clipboard pressed to his chest, and a pen he was chewing on, the boy resembled a grown man who had just caught his daughter coming in after curfew. “Josie.” Spitting the pen’s lid out of his mouth, he scribbled something down. I had no doubt he was tracking my attendance for these stupid crisis meetings. His eyes were wild, scanning me for answers. “Where the fuck is Carmel?”
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it with my arms folded. “So, we can swear now?”
“Yes.” Rowan rolled his eyes. “There are no kids here, so go crazy,” he pointed at me with the pen. “Carmel. Where is she?”
“Keeping the kids busy,” Callan’s muffled voice came from the bottom bunk. I could barely see the guy lying on his stomach, his face stuffed into a pillow. “It was my idea to play Shrek for them, but the little shits said they haven’t seen it,” the boy lifted his head, his lips carved into a scowl. “I’m sorry, am I tripping? Everyone’s seen Shrek! Do these kids expect the Minecraft movie?”
“They don’t like that, either,” Harry stopped pacing the cabin. “Eleanor looked at me like I was crazy when I asked if she liked it."
“Fortnite, too.” Olive said, a cushion pressed to her chest. “I suggested playing it a few days ago, and like, zero kids knew what it was.”
“Six counsellors are missing,” Rowan raised his voice over the other’s chatter. “And you’re questioning what games they like?” His eyes found mine once more. “So, Carmel is with the kids? You’re absolutely sure of it?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I just saw her five minutes ago.”
“Great.” Rowan said, sarcastically. “I’m sure she won’t go missing under mysterious circumstances.”
“Stop.” Olive shot him a glare, throwing a cushion in his face. “I told you. They’re probably lost—- or maybe they went to get help?”
“We’ve all been trained to know every inch of these woods,” Rowan catapulted the cushion right back at her. “They’re not lost.”
“Well, where are they?!” Callan sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. I had never seen the guy looked this vulnerable. “Allison made sense. She probably had other duties, and left us to look after the kids. But six counselors? All of them disappearing—- our phone signal completely cutting out, electricity cutting off, not once, but twice? What is even sucking all of our power?”
“I got the emergency generator working,” Olive raised her arm. “Connor and I managed it before…” she trailed off.
“Before Connor disappeared.” Callan finished for her. “And before him, it was Joey, Lily, Mira, Yuri, Noah, and Teddy. Which isn’t a fucking coincidence,” he shot Rowan a look, who glared down at his lap. I could tell the boy didn’t want to lead all of us, come up with plans and answer questions we desperately needed answering. His job was to look after us, as well as the littles, and so far, he was doing a pretty good job. I could tell by his expression that he thought the opposite, but he had managed to keep the kids from finding out about something as sinister as someone actively kidnapping counsellors.
He made sure they were fed, entertained, and safe watching a movie—while we were scared for our lives. Rowan was keeping up the façade no matter how scared he was. The boy dropped his head into his lap with a sigh. It looked like he might fall asleep before he slammed the clipboard into his face to wake himself up.
Nobody wanted to admit what Callan was saying, but we were all definitely thinking it. “This was planned.” Callan continued.
“Someone out here is fucking with us, very clearly trying to freak us out. Now they've got six of us. ” He spread out his arms. “How long until one of the littles gets taken, huh? A bunch of 18 year olds aren’t going to satisfy them, so what about when they start taking campers? We are in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere with a serial kidnapper on the loose, and did we really just leave fifteen kids in the care of a girl who thought Australia was in England?”
“In Carmel’s defence, she was black-out drunk when she said that,” Olive murmured.
“Voice down!” Rowan hissed. “Do you want to scare them?!” His gaze flicked to me. “Did you do a headcount during dinner?”
I nodded. “Fifteen kids all accounted for. Ten are in the lunch hall, and five girls are in Cassie’s cabin playing Operation.”
“All day?” Olive spoke up. “Weren’t they playing that this morning? I tried to get into their cabin to give them breakfast, but they just shooed me away and locked the door.”
“Fuck.” Rowan ran his fingers down his face. “Alright, I’ll go and see what’s going on with them. Knowing Cassie and her friends, they’re probably zonked out on stolen candy. When all of the kids are accounted for in the lunch cabin, we gather outside.”
I swallowed, speaking up. “I actually wanted to talk to you guys about something.”
Rowan lifted his head, jutting the edge of the clipboard into his chin. “Go on…”
“I found something?” I pulled a face. “I mean, think I’ve found something?”
I wasn't sure how to explain to a dwindling group of exhausted teenagers that there may be something even more terrifying than potential kidnappers out there. Four blank faces started back at me, and Rowan leaned forward with a frown. “Like, in general? Josie, we don’t have time to go foraging.”
“You could call it a lead,” I said. “But I need your eyes to find it.”
“Uh-huh. But what is it?”
Thinking back to what exactly I had seen, I had no idea how to describe it. “It’s better if I just… showed you.”
Rowan looked sceptical, but nodded. “Alright. Josie comes with me. We’ll check out Allison’s cabin again to look for an emergency line, and you can show me whatever this ‘thing’ is you’ve found. Then we’ll escort Cassie and the other girl’s to the lunch cabin. Every camper needs an escort from now on. The rest of you? Act normal. If the kids see you freaking out, they will also freak out—and we need to keep up morale.” The boy pointed to Olive. “Olive, you sit in with the kids and look after them. Callan, check out the emergency generator. Harry, the kids see you as a playground ride, so use that to your advantage. Offer them horse rides if they’re scared. And with the ghost stories, it’s making it worse. Give them piggybacks.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
Rowan cleared his throat. “We all keep up appearances. If the others turn up, after getting high or… I don’t know, having an orgy in the woods—- I will fucking kill them.” The way he smiled through his teeth, jumping off the bunk, his toes primed like a wild animal, I knew he wasn’t joking. If this was a well-constructed prank the other counselors were playing, I had no doubt Rowan would rip them apart for leaving him as a reluctant leader. To my surprise, the others wandered off with their tasks.
I watched Rowan lift up his pillow and pull out a pack of animal crackers, ripping open the bag and pouring the contents into his mouth. He caught my eye, crunching through mini animal crackers. “I didn’t have lunch,” he said through a mouthful.
I couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief as we headed across camp, Rowan in front of me, while I lagged behind.
“So, what’s the plan?” I caught up to him, almost tripping over a log.
The guy didn’t turn around. “I am completely winging it,” he said through a choked laugh. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I’m honest? I just want to go home, dude. I haven’t looked after this many kids in my life, and if I have to smile one more time as a little brat, I am going to fucking lose my mind.” He heaved out a breath. “I am making this up as I go along.”
I laughed that time. “That’s… comforting.”
“Yeah?” He turned to shoot me a grin. “Well, rest assured I am just about as scared—if not more scared than you,” as we stopped in front of Cassie’s cabin, his gaze found mine. “Is it me…” he said softly, “Or does the lunch cabin seem quiet.”
He was right. The windows were dark when they should have been illuminated by the TV screen. Instead of answering, I stepped in front of him, grasping hold of the cabin door. “Cassie?” I knocked three times. “Girl’s, are you okay in there? It’s Josie and Rowan.” I tried the door, and it slid open. Shooting a look at the boy behind me, I turned back to the door. “We’re coming in, okay?”
“Wait!”
Cassie squeaked from inside. “But he’s not finished!”
Ignoring the coil of dread unravelling in my gut, I forced the door open and stepped into unusually milky white light which flooded the cabin. The first thing I saw was eight-year-old Cassie, sitting cross legged with her back to me. She was sitting in a circle with the other girls, no doubt playing their game.
When I stepped closer, however, I noticed something pooling across the wooden floor. It must have been juice or water that they had spilled. I took another step, but this time, clammy fingers wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. Rowan didn't speak, but his eyes were elsewhere. Initially, they had been drinking in the cabin before they found oblivion entirely. I heard his breath start to accelerate, his grip tightening on my wrist.
I had half a mind to pull away, before I saw the body shaped carcass the girls were sitting around. In the dim light of the cabin, it used to be a person. Teddy. I could still see parts of an identity, freckled cheeks and eyes which were still open, still staring at the sky.
But that was where the similarities to the missing counsellor ended. The thing which used to be Teddy was more of a shell, a scooped out thing resembling a human body. What sent me stumbling backwards, my mouth open in a silent scream, was the almost surgical efficiency of each organ's removal, like it really was a game of operation. His heart, lungs, and intestines were in one pile-- while his brain was cupped between little Cassie's bloody hands— and when my gaze found the little girl, Nina, hiding behind dark curly hair, I was seeing what looked like a toy robot’s head in her hands. In my head, I was thinking about the eye with the metallic pieces glittering around its pupil, and something turned in my gut.
Did I find a human eye?
I was staring at the crevice inside the boy's skull, and the boxes of surgical equipment piled on the girl's bunks, when Rowan finally pulled me back, and I was stumbling straight onto my ass. "We need to go." Rowan spoke through a croak. Cassie’s words rattled in my head. Teddy, I thought.
Teddy wasn’t finished.
"Josie. Get up. Now!" My head was spinning, and I was sure I'd thrown up. I didn’t even realize we had managed to stumble from the girl’s cabin before cool air grazed my face, tickling my cheeks. Something wet and warm, and lumpy was spattering the front of my shirt.
Before I could coerce words, the boy was pulling me to my feet, and I was seeing stars in my eyes, blinking brightly. When the two of us started forwards in a run, Rowan stopped abruptly. I followed his gaze to find several kids surrounding his cabin, where Harry, Olive and Callan were. Maybe I was hallucinating, but Eleanor and Phoebe, both of whom wielding weapons where I had no idea where they had gotten them—looked… taller? Rowan didn’t waste time, dragging me back. “Allison’s cabin.” He spoke in cry which became a sob, pulling me across camp, stumbling over rocky ground.
“We need a phone. Fuck, we need a phone. We need a phone.” Rowan was struggling to stand, occasionally bending over and choking up dust.
“They were playing Operation."
Literal operation.
“But they’re just kids!” I choked out.
Little kids, who had surgically removed every organ inside Teddy’s body.
Little kids, who were hunting the other counsellors down, and would surely be coming for us.
Allison’s cabin was thankfully further into the woods. When we were safe inside and Rowan was locking the door, I dry heaved several times, unable to get the sight of glistening gore splattering the cabin floor from my mind. “Josie.” Rowan was already tearing apart the cabin. “Work with me here, okay? We don’t… we don’t have fucking time to freak out, or to barf—we need to help. Now.” Rowan was almost in tears, and when he hit the ground on his knees, I took over. I searched Allison’s desk first. Nothing of importance, just documents and invoices. Digging through her draw, there was still nothing. We were running out of time.
Abandoning the desk, I went through her suitcase and bags. When I was crawling under her bed to try and find a weapon, Rowan hissed out. “Wait.” When I turned to him, he was still kneeling, but his foot was clamping down on a loose plank. The guy didn’t hesitate, pulling at the loose plank, which, to my confusion, revealed what looked to me like a trap door.
Rowan turned to me. “You’re kidding.”
I could only stare at the trap door revealing stone steps. He peered down, his voice echoing. “Allison has a fucking secret bunker?”
His lips curved into a surprisingly childish grin which took me off guard. “Oh, wow, that’s so cooooool!”
Lifting my head at the sound of loud squealing, I glimpsed a group of littles led by Eleanor stalking towards us. Eleanor had a hostage. Harry. And with the way she was sticking the blade of a scary looking knife to his throat, I figured she meant business.
Their height difference was almost comical. The eighteen year old guy had to hunch over so the little girl could successfully keep him prisoner. Behind them in the trees, I could see something illuminating the dark, an electric blue light bathing their faces.
So, that was there the power was going.
But what the fuck were these eight-year-old’s doing?
“Josie!” Rowan hissed from down below. He had already climbed down.
I joined him, struggling down the stone steps, before replacing the loose plank. If these kids were as smart as I thought, it wouldn’t take them long to realize the loose plank—also a trap door. Allison’s bunker was more of a control room. There were multiple screens lit up, a chair in front of a working MacBook. The phone-line was cut. But that didn’t make sense.
The kids were unaware of the bunker, so who cut the phone lines? Rowan was on the laptop, struggling to get through the password protection, so I turned my attention to piles of cardboard boxes.
When I opened them, I found myself staring at animal crackers.
There were hundreds of them, packed on top of each other. Looking further, digging through the boxes, I found a piece of old crumpled paper which looked ancient.
REGARDING PROJECT SPEARHEAD SUBJECTS:
PLEASE DO NOT INGEST UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. IF MULTIPLE SUBJECTS INGEST, PLEASE USE SELF DESTRUCT.
ONLY USE IN CASES SUCH AS IMMINENT DESTRUCTION TO THE PLANET/THREAT OF NUCLEAR WAR.
(PLEASE CONTACT FAMILIES IN ADVANCE. MAKE SURE TO INGEST WITH WATER TO AVOID NEUROLOGICAL SYMPTOMS SUCH AS PSYCHOSIS, EXTREME VIOLENCE. PLEASE APPROACH SUBJECTS WITH CAUTION.
Something ice cold slithered down my spine.
Abandoning the boxes, I searched through a cabinet filled with files which were crumbling apart from age. I picked one at random and flicked through it.
Eleanor Summer’s.
Sex: Female.
DOB: 08/05/1977.
Initially, I thought I was reading the dates wrong. But then, with my heart in my throat, I was grasping for other files.
Eli Evermore.
Sex: Male.
'DOB: 08/03/1979.
“Rowan.” I managed to get out through a breath.
“Mm?”
“They’re not children.”
The boy rubbed his eyes, frowning. His eyes were half lidded, almost confused. “Huh?”
“Eleanor.” I whispered. “Is forty five years old.”
He nodded slowly, turning back to the laptop. “How do you spell… documents? I’m looking for digital versions but I can’t find any.”
“You don’t know how to spell documents?”
“It’s been a hard day.” The boy whined, tipping his head back and blowing a raspberry.
Whatever I was going to say was choked in the back of my throat, when a loud bang sounded from above, the sounds of childish giggling coming through the floorboards. But the laughter didn’t sound like little kids. No, it sounded like teenager’s who were acting like little kids. I stared at the boxes of animal crackers, and then at the file confirming Eleanor’s real age.
My own words shuddered through me, and I remembered finding Teddy’s dismembered carcass in Cassie’s cabin. When I had caught her gaze, the little girl didn’t look scared, and somehow, her fingers wrapped around the scalpel looked just right.
Like the little bitch knew exactly what she was doing.
“Helloooo?” Harry’s voice was a hysterical giggle. “Olly, Olly, Oxen freeee!”
“Are you in heeeeeeere?” Carmel joined in. I could hear their footsteps above, dancing across the room.
Clamping my hand over my mouth, I dragged my knees to my chest and prayed they weren’t smart enough to figure out we were right underneath them.
Knowing the truth about them, though? I wasn’t counting on it.
….
That was an hour ago.
We’re still stuck down here, and I can get a connection here—thank god. For some reason, Alison has blocked all social media. We need help. We’re at Camp Redwood, and these kids ARE NOT KIDS.
Whatever Project Spearhead is was designed to keep them here.
The phone-line is cut so we can’t get help from whoever was helping Allison. I am counting on you guys.
Get us out of here!

First of all I want to thank everyone in this sub because all the tips and tricks were so useful to make my first trip the perfect trip to WDW! Never used Genie+, so I guess I was very lucky with crowds levels and timings to go to the rides, but also it helped that we did always rope drope to end everyday (yes, my feet hate me by now). This was a very special trip as we were celebrating our wedding anniversary and my birthday.
Hold on, this is going to be long!
Day 1 (05/21) MK - I still can’t believe how my first day was such a perfect day. The crowds were low and I was able to ride everything I wanted to and this includes 7DMT (as a huge Snow White fan I loved it), Big Thunder (10/10!), Space Mountain (my neck hated it), Tron (such a shame is so short), Pirates, Haunted Mansion and even things that were not on my must do list such as Jungle Cruise, small world, Peter Pan, Under the Sea and all the other small rides and also Monsters’ Laugh Floor and Phillarmagic. The end of the day was really fun because after HEA we rode AstroOrbiter and was great to see everything illuminated from the top, a great experience!
We were so so lucky, when we arrived 7DMT had been down and got open just as we reached the line so it was a breeze! A perfect day for the start of the best trip ever! Also I have to confess I cried a lot at Happily Ever After, even more because it was exactly one of the things I was celebrating in this trip, our wedding anniversary :)
Day 2 (05/22) HS - Another day of luck, I waited so little to RotR and did everything I wanted to less Hollywood Tower. The only ride were I waited like hell and the wait time was not accurate at all was Slinky, plus the heat was hitting hard and I was feeling really awful so I guess it didn’t help also. We did RoTR (just WOW), Millenium Falcon, Slinky, Toy Story Mania (much funnier that Buzz Lightyear at MK), MMRR (still singing “nothing can stop us noooow” until today), Alien Saucers, Star Tours and spent plenty of time at Galaxy’s Edge immersed on the theming. We went to Oga’s Cantina by the end of the day (incredible experience), followed by Savi’s Lightsaber Workshop and by then it was already dark and rainning a lot which made it even more amazing, we felt that we were really sneaking to something secret, it was 10/10!
Day 3 (05/23) AK - I never thought this park would be so beautiful! This is by far the one with an overall best theming. We did the Safari early in the morning as I seen suggested a lot of times and animals were very active. Rode Everest twice, I loved it! It’s such a dynamic coaster, even when you already know what’s going to happen. We also did River Rapids, Dinosaur (a bit shaky this one), Naavi River (THAT animatronic tho!!) and FoP (sad that the 3D is already so messed up, it took away a bit of the immersion), also we did the Gorilla trek but it started to rain A LOT at the end of the day so we left earlier than we wanted to but we already did everything we wanted to.
Day 4 (05/24) MK - back to Magic Kingdom we repeated out favorite ones - 7DMT, Big Thunder (more than once!), Tron, Space Mountain, Pirates - and hopped on the train 2 times (I had to give a treat to my feet), went to Tiki Room, my husband insisted to go to Carousel of Progress and spent the rest of the day singing the song. It started to rain a lot but we didn’t give up and I have to say that riding Big Thunder while raining is such a fun experience! We lost a lot of time because of the rain, lots of rides started to close down because of thunder but we tried to make it the best. Closed the night with a shopping spree and once again I cried because MK means so much to me, all that magic that was my world when I was a child, seeing all the charactets who were my “friends” bak then it was very emotional to me and when I said goodbye to MK I cried a lot.
Day (05/25) EPCOT - this was the big celebration day! My wedding anniversary and my birthday! Wore my buttons with pride and got a huge surprise with Epcot! That park is great! My husband also loved it! We did Cosmic Rewind (one of the best coasters ever! I was a bit dizzy after it but worth it!), Test Track, Mission Space (both missions), Ratatouille (sooooo cool), Soarin’ (it was so cool, never thought I’d like this so much)and here comes the magic: we really wanted to do to Space 220 but we couldn’t grab a reservation. I installed an app to get notifications when there was an open spot but everytime I received one and tried to make a reservation it wasn’t available. We had no hope but that morning, while with my phone in hand I received the notification, and went right to MDE app and we did! The perfect birthday present! So around 4.30pm we closed the day for our Space 220 reservation (amazing experience, the food is not all that but the experience…worth every penny) and after we went to our other reservation: Biergarten. The food was amazing, a shame I couldn’t eat more because we didn’t plan to do Space 220 before but we tasted a bit of everything we wanted, the show is really cool, kids were dancing, people were singing and I was gifted a birthday cupcake with a candle :D
It was this day that we figured out: we need to come back. We always thought this was a once in a lifetime experience because we come from the other side of the Atlantic and this is a very expensive trip for us. But this worths the effort and we liked Epcot so much that it was like the spark for it.
Day 06 (05/26) HS - my stamina was getting low, but I was so happy for this trip! We repeated everything we did on the first day, the park was crowded but we managed it well with the waiting times. I was so happy that I even agreed to go on Tower of Terror (I went to the one at DLParis and I hated. I hated this one as well but the group we went with was so fun that made it a bit better). My husband spent all day talking about next year’s trip and while in lines planning the days (I always do the planning but he’s really hyped to go back). The end of the day couldn’t have been better with Fantasmic. Guess who cried again? My husband even took a photo of my crying potato face, it was very emotional, seeing all the characters while saying goodbye to this magical world!
If you stayed until here thanks for reading! We are now planning to go next year and also go to Universal Studios and Kennedy Space Center, so if everything goes for the best, next year I’ll have a new trip report for you!
Now I need to come back down to earth, have a great life and stay magical everyone!

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 in 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 nearby 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, making 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.

Having fought through a vanilla WoW ship for a new quest, I came to realize how few cramped spaces there are in modern retail. A lot of structures are now very open rooms and rarely splinter off into separate smaller rooms. Caves, too, seem to be quite gaping - and never too deep or spindling.
I know the smaller spaces of old aren't great for the camera, some classes might have trouble with them, and that sometimes enemies have trouble with them (an enemy did go flee upstairs to attack me through the ceiling on that boat), but there's also something perilous about them that I miss. You have to be careful entering and leaving them if you don't want to pull too many enemies, and you can sometimes drop into situations you didn't expect just by turning the corner. Add in patrolling units and you get a sense that you might bite off more than you can chew.
The closest I've seen to a cramped space in DF are the descending structures like the one filled with choking dust on the Forbidden Reach, but in comparison to old buildings those halls are rather spacious. Am I crazy for missing tight-nit little inn rooms or dangerous hallways within splintering forts?

The Future is Officially Canceled.
Dee had read articles like this before. He couldn’t remember if the future had ever been officially canceled. But it had been canceled. Unofficially, perhaps. Hence the need to do it officially.
He skimmed the first few paragraphs …the slow cancellation of the future… …pop culture is eating itself… …imitators are imitating an imitation… The ‘slow cancellation’ theory was first flung around in the early twenty first century, on the hypothesis that if you played 1970s music to someone in the 1950s, it would blow their freaking mind. And if you played music from the 1990s to someone in the 1970s, their mind would be equally blown. But if you played music from the ‘10s to someone in the 1990s it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch. In fact, that person may even think they had heard some of it before. The same thing with music from the ‘30s to someone in the ‘10s or music from now to someone in the ‘30s. That person might conceivably think they were even listening to music from a previous decade. Pop culture had referenced itself so many times over, it was now just a copy of a copy of a copy. Degrading every time.
Dee looked down at the article's credit, Dennis Bagley, Editorial AI Operator. He knew it, AI. No wonder it read so familiar. He looked up at the various awards on his top shelf. Dee knew he was different. Better. His AI operating skills were the thing of accolades. The thing of applause. Just last week he and his AI processor picked up Gold in Effectology for their Just Poo It campaign for Charmin. And Silver in Originology for their The Ketchup In The Rye commercial for Pepsi-Heinz, about a young guy who gets kicked out of school and stays out all night trying to find a bottle of ketchup. He looked down at his processor and beamed. Its glowing red light beamed back at him.
They didn’t just stumble into that kind of effectiveness. Campaigns didn’t even get greenlit unless they scored ninety or above on the Effectology meter. He and his AI were usually hitting ninety twos or ninety threes, even a ninety five for Here’s To The Lazy Ones for Caspar mattresses. That campaign killed.
But Dee held himself to that higher calling, Originology. The metrics of original ideas. Sure, the AI did most of the work but Dee was able to tweak his processor to go way beyond the requisite twenty five percent Originology score. Together they were nailing figures in the forties, sometimes even peaking into the fifties. Scores that were head and shoulders above the rest of the department.
That’s how he could afford the sweet ‘18 Jordans Reissues on his feet. He curled his luxe Loewe headphone cable through his fingers and wrapped it around his neck like a scarf. He scoffed at a time when people didn’t think they needed a headphone cable. And imagined having nothing to twirl while listening to reinterpreted rock, nothing to wind around his fingers while he fed the processor. How many headphones must have been lost forever, just because they weren’t plugged in? Like everything else in pop culture, what went around came around, and, relatively recently, headphone cables had come back hard as the status symbol. Today, you didn’t just have to have a cable to be considered cool, you had to have the cable. It had to be thick as a rope, plated with rare metals, and covered in a fancy leather sheath from a chic brand like Gucci or Loewe.
Dee beamed as he thought of all the cool historical cultural knowledge he had amassed. Not just advertising history like the dweebs in the cubicles around him, but film history, fashion history, art history, music history. If it happened in culture, he knew about it. And he used it. That’s how he scored so high on the Originology meter. It made him feel almost like a real writer. Though he would never say that out loud. He imagined being like the old timers, upstairs. The un.ai.ded human writers, that clients would pay a serious premium for. Then he wouldn’t have to work on ketchup and toilet roll. He could have a crack at the big dogs, like Googlesoft, United American Airlines or DoritosLocosTacoBell. For now though, he’d have to stick with clients more becoming of his position. This morning’s task was to create a campaign for Pepsi-Crest. A toothpaste. Not super interesting. But he knew how to spice it up. Instead of letting his AI go back through decades of toothpaste ads just to pump out tired old crap like the It Cleans Your Face While it Cleans Your Teeth campaign that Mike Bey pitched last week, Dee mixed in a little fast food inspo from one of his favorite eras and found himself at the highly original and equally effective Where’s the Teeth? campaign. He was stunned by his own brilliance. He patted his processor and imagined it congratulating him back, then he programmed it to write an epic fifteen second anthem film and a suite of six second pre-roll spots, then sent it off to the CG department to render in time to air that night. Dee’s colleagues often asked him how he and his processor were so good at what they did. How their campaigns always scored so highly in both Effectology and Originology. They all used the same machine learning. It’s what the agency sold itself on. Never wanting to sound aloof; even though he was, or like he was tooting his own horn; even though he often did, he would merely say, “I like to pepper a bit of non advertising data in there. A little hint of me.” It was enough to provoke gasps and even make his colleagues take a step back or two, they had all been programmed to do just one task, feed the machine with advertising data. They couldn’t fathom diverging. “The AI should be enough,” was the general understanding. “The machine has better knowledge of advertising history than we do,” and “knows the ins and outs of Effectology better than we ever could.” It’s even been “scientifically programmed to exceed all expectation of Originology.” Dee couldn’t be swayed by any of the standard reactions. He would just smile, and casually amble off. Knowing full well he was beating the machine. He was a rebel in his own right. That afternoon, his section boss leaned over his cubicle. “Hullo Tara.” “Keep it formal please, colleague,” she scolded, “call me Antino. What do you look so ruddy chuffed about anyway?” “I just came up with a brilliant campaign for a very dull toothpaste. You’ll see it on The Comedy Central Reruns Channel tonight.” “Yes, well, an upstairs project is running behind and they’re calling on us down here to pull together some inspo decks, help jostle something loose in those tired old brains.” “Wouldn’t that make them not human-made? What are their clients paying all that money for?” “Loopholes, colleague, loopholes. As long as one of them humans writes the final line, it doesn’t matter how much AI they used to get there. “ “I could do that. I could do better than that. Did I tell you about my toothpaste campaign?” “Yes you did. Twice now. Must be good.” “It is.” “Well, here’s your chance for a peek into the real writer life. I’m deprioritizing your regular workload and prioritizing this inspo creation.” “Yeahhh!” Dee punched the air and freeze framed like he saw in an old movie. “The brief is for Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM. It’s a car. The Fiat Maserati Jeep Dodge RAM Unica. Like a fancy off-roader, you know what I mean? They wanna sell it to people in cities who don’t drive. More of a status symbol, you know what I mean? Like park it in front of your house so people will know you could go off-roading if you wanted to. Audience archetype is Moms. You getting this?” Dee finally broke his freeze frame but his mind was already whirring. “Yeah, I got it.” “Alright then. Bon chance.” Dee jumped into action, flipped up his AI processor’s screen and started cross referencing old Land Rover ads with The Rock movies, some Nora Ephron classics, Michelle Rodriguez’s character from all twenty eight Fast & Furious movies; even the fully CGI’d ones, the scene from Mrs Doubtfire when she’s playing the broomstick like a guitar, some Bikini Kill records, a memory of his own Mom making him wait in the car while she went shopping at Bergdorfs, a bunch of cool off-roading stuff from Top Gear and a painting of a car he’d always loved by Robert Bechtle. The machine spat out fifteen possible campaign inspo starters and Dee ran-walked them to the inspo courier in the office atrium. Before the day ended, a synthetic orchestra sounded through the building, \Pah pahhh, pah pa pah pa pah pahhh** and the employees were called into the atrium. Office meeting. As Dee strolled in, he caught the rare sight of the last few human copywriters lined up around the balcony above them. They applauded the downstairs employees, theatrically, motioning with their claps as they walked in and took seats, stood awkwardly or otherwise congregated.
There was a dramatic hush before one of the last true human copywriters finally spoke. “Great inspo. Thanks.” Wow. Each word, each letter, worth its weight in gold. That's probably why they used so few, thought Dee. “Yeah, really really good stuff.” Said another. “AI did this?” Said a third as she held the sheets of inspo out. “Some of the best inspo I’ve ever seen in all of my career.” Coughed the oldest and most regal sounding.
Dee squinted and peered up at them. Was that his inspo deck they were flashing around? Was this whole elaborate ceremony all to celebrate his AI operating? He didn’t know whether to be chuffed or anxious. Did they know he was cheating the system? Did they care? These are some of the last true human copywriters in history. They have, and are encouraged to have, the unique thought. Their work isn’t judged on how similar-without-being-exactly-the-same it is to existing campaigns. It’s judged on how different, how breakthrough, how stand out it is.
“It was me!” Dee blurted out. Quite uncharacteristically. He was usually so cool with the compliments. So coy with the recognition. His whole angle required it.
The other AI operators standing around him took their requisite step back, though this time it was less in awe, more in disgust. The air in the room stiffened. AI had ruled his department, and most of the industry, for so long that people didn’t speak up anymore. They just quietly fed the machine. And the machine took all the glory. Dee felt instant ostracism from the colleagues he had worked alongside for most of his career. He immediately questioned his outburst and retracted his ownership claim, knowing that his inspo deck would have been one of many.
“Some of it, at least. My AI, I mean. Processor.” He said. Sheepish this time. Back in his place.
The last few human copywriters smiled, nodded, bowed, gave final congratulations to all from high up on their balcony and then shuffled away in single file. All but one, Sir Coughing-Most-Regal. He slowly made his way down the grand staircase, into the atrium. A man leaving behind his usual pomp and circumstance, bringing his rare ability of unique thought into a crowd of imitation suppliers. As he reached the bottom step, he lost all of his royal air and seemed suddenly so vulnerable, walking among the regular folk. Most of Dee’s colleagues had already left, gone back to their metal masters, but Dee stayed. He knew this old man was coming to see him. He thought he might be in for a dressing down but he hoped it would be the opposite. He manifested that this titan of singular thought, the rare, unique idea, was coming to congratulate him.
“Freedkin.” The old man shoved out his hand. “Pleasure.” Dee shook it. “You say you programmed this inspo deck, yes?” He flapped the pages around. “Yes.” “Ruddy good work, let me tell you.” “Thank you.” “In all my years, since this artificial thinking thing came in, I’ve never read anything so good. Inspired me all over. I’ve been positively bursting with ideas since.” “Thank… you.” “AI wrote this you say?” “Yes.” “Ruddy good for AI. Never read anything so ruddy good. And you processed it?” “Yes.” “What’s your name son?” “Dee.” “Dee what?” “Palmer.” “Pleasure to meet you, Palmer. How much did you… influence it, the AI?” “How do you mean, sir?” “Call me Freedkin.” “How do you mean, Freedkin?” “I mean… how much of it is yours and how much is the machine’s?” Dee didn’t answer. He was looking for the angle. This old man surely didn’t value what AI does. He’s one of the last bastions of actual human creation. What was he getting at? Freedkin reoriented his question. “Mostly the machine or mostly you?” Dee thought he might have a kindred spirit here, in front of him, for the first time. He was going to take a risk. Recognizing a willingness to open up, Freedkin leaned in and spoke quietly. “Did you write this inspo or did the machine?” “I wrote it.” Dee postured. “All.” “Thought so. Good job. Our secret.” Freedkin winked. “Jolly good.” The next day, as he fed his AI little snippets of unexpected data, Dee noticed a hush come over his floor. The usual keyboard click, clack and grumble of inter-colleague banter were dead silent. All that was left was the processors’ harmonic hum. He lifted himself from his expensive ergonomic office chair and peered over his cubicle wall, spying across the sea of operators that made up the AI.ded Creativity department. A hunched figure at the opposite end of the bullpen sauntered from operator to operator, swilling a cup of coffee, looking in at each workstation. Giving a “hello” here, a nod there, even the odd salute. It was Freedkin. A real writer. Down here with the machine feeders. The other operators seemed afraid to go near him. Worried they might infect him with their inability. Dee had never seen a real writer in the operators’ bullpen. Freedkin, already old by industry standards, looked positively ancient in these surroundings. A sepia photograph in a technicolor world. Dee watched him, wondering if he should call out. He felt bound by social etiquette to not foist another outburst onto his peers. So he just watched, for a number of minutes, until Freedkin was close enough that his old eyes could make out Dee’s visage.
“Palmer!” Bingo. The two sat in Dee’s cubicle. Freedkin in the expensive office chair, as was fitting, and Dee on the wooden footstool. “For a short time we all worked from home. At the start of my career. For a short time.” “Everyone?” “Most. Not everyone, I suppose. But it was the thing to do. Was deemed more productive. Until it wasn’t. Then when this thing became the norm,” he tapped on Dee’s tiny AI processor, its red light glowed, “there was a sort of an office renaissance. I remember the bigwigs back then didn’t really want us using AI for ideas. Like it was giving in to the machine. We slowly got called back to the agency so they could keep an eye on our output. Keep it human, I suppose. That’s when the separation happened. In the end, the agency had to start using artificial thinking to keep up with demand. What are you lot churning out these days? Three campaigns a day? Four? We used to get a whole week to come up with one idea. After a while, of course, it got squeezed down to a couple of days. To the point where we needed the machine to keep up. Not long after, the bigwigs realized they could actually charge more off of the ‘human’ written stuff. Anyway, enough of the history lesson, what.” “It’s very interesting.” “Yes well, what I really came down here for,” Freedkin paused and looked around, “was some of that… good… inspo.” “I hear ya.” Dee poised his fingers over his keyboard and looked into the air like he was about to write something un.ai.ded, cocksure in his posture. “What’s this one about then?” “Watches. For Googlesoft. ‘Time,’ I was thinking, means so much, yet so little. Where does it all go? You know? How do we make more of it? Watches are time machines. See?” Dee’s posture sank. He thought of all that, by himself? No machine? He suddenly felt very ineffective. Unoriginal. He saw only the red glow from his little AI processor, staring back at him. Taking all the credit. He imagined it laughing with his colleagues in a bar while he sat at the other end of the table, ignored. He imagined it accepting awards by itself. He felt weak. He felt useless without it. It just glowed. “It kind of flows better… when I’m alone.” Dee nervously mumbled. “Right. Don’t say another word. Right you are. ‘Time.’ Remember. Where does it all go? Ok, I go. Ta-ta for now.
Dee looked down at his processor, apologetically. He quietly admonished himself before it until he felt forgiven. Then he typed in a weak initial prompt, all he could muster, write an advertising campaign about time.
The AI spat back a perfectly crafted campaign idea, line and film execution almost faster than Dee hit enter. The Best Things Come To Bros Who Wait. Dee immediately recognized it as a Guinness Surfers imitation. Tick followed tock followed tick followed tock. Its Effectology score clocked in well into the nineties. But its Originology score barely scraped by, just making it into ‘passable.’ Dee silently sneered at his surrounding coworkers. Any one of them would submit this as is and call it a day. It’d be rendered in minutes, deals made with celebrities’ CG likenesses under the hour, a revered AI voiceover and stunning synthetic music that would leave audiences lining up for these passively useful timepieces. But that wasn’t enough for Dee. That’s why he was who he was, goddamnit. Why Freedkin came to him. Him! Not Buton or Deytoro or Heckering. Him!
He added more detail to his prompt. Meaning of time. How to get time back. Time Machine. Back in time. Michael J Fox. Einstein (dog). Time Bandits. Timecop. Van Damme. Kyle Reece. Time displacement. Uhhh huhhh this felt good again. This was working. Dee and his processor were back in sync. As though they were one. Of course, as far as Freedkin knew, they were one. As Dee typed away, he imagined him and his AI coming together. Two heads. Better than one. He lost himself in his prompting and pictured his processor sitting on his shoulder, a second head, right there, next to his own. A tiny, metal appendage. Sleek, gray, with its glowing red light. And, for some reason, it was growing a little mustache. Dee and the mustached machine were completely lost in their work over the next few days. They hardly wrote any of their own campaigns. It was all inspo, inspo, inspo for Freedkin. The good stuff though, Viking Space Cruises, 1900 Tequila, Acne Studios. Each time, Dee and his processor were pretty much writing the entire thing. Freedkin hardly needed to change them at all. Just put his old world tone all over it. Add all of his extra words and ‘personality.’ Dee’s two heads were coming up with the best campaigns in the agency. And no one knew it. Except Freedkin. By now, his second head felt almost as big as his first. He could see it in his periphery. When he looked to the left, it looked back at him. It smiled sometimes. And that little freaking mustache was starting to freak Dee out. That night, Freedkin invited Dee for a couple of drinks with the other real human writers at the fanciest DoritosLocosTacoBell on the Westside. They didn’t even have to wait in line. Dee marveled at the size of the place, the expansiveness. It was packed. They were led through by the greeter to a private table at the back with a leather rope around it. He sat on the edge of the booth as the others ordered various flavors of Gatorade-aritas. When it got to Dee, he said he would have the same as Freedkin, which turned out to be a Frost Glacier Cherry-arita, the classiest -arita of all.
The writers’ conversation was mesmerizing. Every word that came out of their mouths was a unique thought. An opinion. A point of view. Dee tried to join in by recounting the narrative of various movies he had seen. The more obscure the better, attempting to interact at their level. While telling the story of Mick Jackson’s Threads to Bigelo, he could feel her searching for a point of view or an opinion in what he was saying, but he couldn’t stir one. If only he had his processor right now. Its red light glowed comfortingly in his mind. He missed it. Slowly, the other writers left. Dee couldn’t help but think he had something to do with it. He was feeling so inadequate by the time everyone but Freedkin had gone that he just sat quietly and half-smiled at him. Both of them were five or six Gatorade-aritas deep, slumped in their private booth. “Do you like what you do?” Asked Freedkin. “I love it.” “Do you really?” “I don’t know.” “I hate what I do. But I’m good at it. Do you want to know the secret, Palmer? The secret to what we do?” Dee couldn’t do anything but smile a little bigger to communicate his response. Freedkin paused for dramatic effect. “If you love advertising, you shouldn’t work in advertising.” Did Dee love advertising? He didn’t even know. He knew he knew advertising. “You think your audience loves advertising? You think they want to see your tribute to that Googlesoft spot that was an imitation of an Apple spot that was inspired by a Brett Morgen film? No! They just want to see the Brett Morgen film! They don’t want to see your thing at all!” Dee slumped further down. “But if you’re lucky,” Freedkin continued, “if you’re really lucky, and you show them something they’ve never seen before, because you hate advertising too and you just wanted to make something that made you feel something, if they feel that same feeling, you’ve got gold. But you can only get to gold by summoning all of your experiences outside of advertising. You can’t just try to make the Nike of pimple commercials. You have to make the Palmer of pimple commercials. Do you see? That’s the problem with your AI. Your machine.”
The red light flashed again in Dee’s mind. Awakened by Freedkin’s heresy.
“The best AI will ever do is just show you a better version of something you’ve seen before. They call that effective? The numbers can say whatever they want them to, all they’re really doing is pasting wallpaper on top of wallpaper on top of wallpaper. Until eventually the audience ignores it completely. But you’re different Palmer. You and I are different. Different is what sells. I had a word with Simmons up on six. She’s agreed to give you a trial period on the human floor. At my behest. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell her you were already thinking for yourself. I just told her you had the potential to. You start tomorrow. Trial period. Tonight was about the other humans meeting you. I can’t tell you that they’re not skeptical. But they’re open to it. For me. What do you think?” Dee was nervous. He got off the elevator at the operators’ bullpen without even thinking about it. He walked all the way to the atrium and up the grand staircase to the human writers’ floor, instead of getting back on the elevator. He took each step steadily, taking it all in. He felt like a tourist. Like he was borrowing an identity. He imagined he was a young Freedkin and tried to put a confident stride in his step. It didn’t work. He put his hand in his pocket and felt for his AI processor. His second head. Mustached. He couldn’t turn it on because, as everyone knew, AI wasn’t allowed upstairs, in case the agency got audited. The cost consultants would be all over a human writing department that used artificial ideation. They’d be shut down. At the very least, they would lose their Un.AI.ded AI.dvertising license. The only reason for charging such a premium. Dee ran his hand along the balcony rail. He’d only ever seen it from downstairs, from the non-human thinkers’ floor. He walked from the balcony to the human writer’s work area. It was the exact opposite of what he was used to. No sea of cubicles. No click clack. No mechanized productivity. No hum. Just couches, writing desks and quiet.
“Morning.” Whistled Freedkin. “How are we?” “We?” “You.” “Wish I hadn’t drunk so much.” “Ohh, I know. Think of it as an initiation. Nothing wrong with it. Takes your mind off the job. Stops you from thinking for a minute. You need that after everything you’ve been pumping out. All that gold, that is.” “Right.” “Right. Well. Set yourself up wherever you like. First brief is for Coca-Cola. A new water! The freshest water they’ve ever sold, so they say. Tap Clear” Dee wandered over to a small writing desk and put his touchscreen down. He unraveled his headphone cable and felt for his processor in his pocket. When he found it, he rubbed it like a lamp, wishing for a genie. A couple of human writers who’d been deep in concentration when he first walked in, had been disturbed by his arrival. He didn’t recognize them from last night. They glared at him as he set himself up. He smiled in their general direction. They continued to glare. “Big Jim.” Whispered Freedkin. “Him and his team have been here three days straight, on a pitch. Don’t worry about them. They’re just under tremendous stress. This human work really takes it out of you, you know? ” Dee turned and sat with his back to them. He powered up his touchscreen and put his headphones on, draping his Loewe headphone cable around his neck and shoulders. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard, expecting ideas to come. Nothing. He skimmed the brief. Still nothing. He read the brief. Not a thing. A few of the other writers strolled in. Dee watched them find a workspace, sit down, start writing. One of them even used a pen! Dee loved this whole lifestyle. Turn up for work whenever, spout genius, have lunch, sell some billion dollar ideas, have a cocktail. The thought of it all spurred him on. He hovered his fingers over his keyboard again and braced himself for the idea flow. Nothing came. Nothing. All morning. His mind was blank. It felt like it was getting blanker. He couldn’t believe it. Even half thoughts were swimming away from him. Impossible to catch. Even just individual words. Gone. By the afternoon Dee was starting to freak out. He felt like an imposter. “Freedkin,” he hissed, “I can’t think. I can’t come up with anything.” “It takes time, my boy. Days. I told you, before we used to even have weeks…” “But my brain’s not working at all. It won’t… generate… anything.” “Relax your brain. Relax yourself.” “But Freedkin… Freedkin,” he hissed again, “I didn’t write any of that stuff. It was AI. All of it. No… I mean… I helped… but it wasn’t all me.” “Ok… hold on… boy… be careful. That kind of talk will get you killed around here. Try and make it to the end of the day. Try just writing some things down. Some thoughts. Some words. And if you still feel the same tomorrow, I’ll let the brass know it wasn’t for you. No harm.” Dee’s eyes hardened. “Do you hear me, Palmer?” Dee rubbed his temples. “Listen, this affects both of us. Yes, you, but also me… for recommending you. I’ll be out… Think!” Freedkin distanced himself. Hoping it would quell the panic. Dee stared at nothing for as long as he could. An hour, at most. Just stared. No thoughts came. No words. A blank screen. So he slipped his hand in his pocket, held his AI processor warmly, and turned it on. Instantly, an alarm sounded. “What's going on here, Freedkin?” Skewered Big Jim. “Is this your kid? What’s the big idea? Is he working for the machines? What is he…trying to infiltrate us? I can’t have this. I’ve got a family. I can’t be out of a job.” “It’s just a misunderstanding, Jim. He’ll be leaving now.” “No he won’t. Get back here, kid.” Big Jim grabbed at Dee’s shirt. Dee squirmed and tried to push him away. Big Jim got a hand on his neck instead, as some of the other writers tried to grab his arms. Dee instinctively swung his fists around. He got one of the writers, Bigelo, square in the eye. She roared “He’s blinded me!” Big Jim picked him up by his neck. Dee choked. He grabbed his touchscreen and swung it. The edge caught Big Jim on the side of the head. Big Jim dropped him and screamed. Freedkin put a hand on Big Jim’s shoulder. Big Jim swung his fist around and slammed it into Freedkin’s nose. Dee tried to slip away but Big Jim, raging, grabbed his headphone cable and dragged him back, winding the cable around his neck to try and hold on to him with it. The other writers stepped back as Dee kicked around in a panic. He got one of the writers in the stomach and another in the back. The headphone cable slipped out of Big Jim’s hands. Dee reached out for anything he could grab onto. He found a desk leg and pulled himself away from the melee as the gang of writers got him by his feet. They pulled off his Jordans and he crawled away as fast as he could, out of the writers’ area and onto the balcony. The writers caught up with him. He swung the few punches he could muster. He cracked one writer on the cheekbone as another reached for his headphone cable, wrapping it around the balcony rail to stop him from getting even further away. Big Jim steamed in, bleeding from his head, and slammed into Dee, launching him into the air with his sheer force. Dee reached for the rail but it slipped under him as he toppled over into the open atrium, between the floors. He felt a snap as the headphone cable went taut around his neck. A colleague standing in the atrium shrieked. Dee kicked his legs and wriggled about, trying to slip out. He clawed his hands around the cable and tried to loosen it but it just got tighter and tighter. He looked up to see the human writers peering down. Not helping. He could feel his consciousness slipping away. He looked to his left to see his second head staring straight back at him. As he hung, he could feel the metal head growing, exponentially, until it popped off, hit the ground and shattered. Shiny gray liquid metal spilled all over the floor and splashed up the walls. Its red light glowing all over as the metal spread around the room. Once it had flooded the entire atrium it enveloped Dee’s mind. And he was gone. The agency left his body hanging there for two days. They blamed it on a lack of janitorial availability. Everything in the office was automated, and cutting down a dead body wasn’t something their sanitation robots had been programmed to do. But, deep down, everyone knew that it was a message. That they should stay in the roles they had been assigned. So they did. So they wouldn’t end up like Dee.

credit to u/SpacePaladin15 for the world of NOP
this one was really fun to write =)
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Memory transcription subject: “Teach,” UN Expeditionary Forces
Date [standardized human time]: September 29, 2136 (two days after the invasion of the Gojid Cradle)
The notion had sprang unbidden to my mind. And far be it from me to deprive my new companions of it.
“Now that you mention it… we had actually had an idea for that, but it wasn’t really feasible at the time.”
Rich and Kazeth both cocked their heads in unison. I almost laughed at that.
“UN dropships are equipped to support extended campaigns. So, they have supplies on them. You know, guns, ammo, other equipment. Rations. And we,” I said theatrically. “Know where one is.”
Rich’s brow furrowed in confusion, before shooting back up in understanding. “Oh!” He said, turning in his seat to look out towards the downed ship out in the fields. What was at one point going to get off this fucked-up planet. “Hmm. You sure any of the supplies survived that? It seems kind of…” He trailed off.
“Well, that was half of the problem. I have no idea how much of the supplies in there survived, if any at all.”
“Mmm.”
“What was the other half of the problem?” Kazeth asked, staring out towards the still-smoking black spot out in the distance of the field.
“It’s far. It’s… hold on.” I snapped up my marksman’s rifle from the floor, and tucked into a kneeling position, pointing the scope out towards the wreckage. I held my breath to help steady the thing, waiting for the rangefinder readout on the scope’s hud to stabilize. “It’s about… three kilometers out.” I hefted the rifle back into a carrying position and stood back up. “Doesn’t sound that bad. But the problem is, or was, that it was just us two. We can’t leave the gojid undefended for that long, walking all the way out there. The raids start fast,” I said, snapping my fingers for emphasis as my other hand set the rifle back down in its resting place. “Only takes a couple minutes’ lapse and they’re gone. Plus, the time spent poking through it, loading up a cart… We decided we wouldn’t risk it until we absolutely had to. But now with you two here…”
“Why not just take a car out there? There’s gotta be cars around here.”
“You’d think, huh? Nah, they don’t really have cars like we do. You notice the streets here aren’t really driveable? And, kind of hard to tell now, since the place is pretty fucked up, but a lot of these roofs are flat, and reinforced, so that the automated shuttles can land on them. And look,” I pointed out in the other direction, tracing my finger slowly across the terrain. “High-speed rail line. That’s where most of their supplies were coming in. Obviously that’s not working now, given, you know, the invasion.” I turned back to the other two and gave a short shrug. “No cars here. Only car around is uhh… the one you guys showed up in. That I killed.”
Rich shook his head slightly, as if clearing it. “Huh.”
“What’d you think of that grouping though? Pretty good right?”
“Yeah, ya really killed the shit out of our truck, man. Well, wait, then how come there’s a road leading in?”
I shrugged again. “Guess it’s more for outsiders coming in, and not for the people here. It’s just different here, I guess, no one told us anything about it, we’re figuring it out ourselves.” A second thought sprang to mind, as I was thinking about how different the Cradle was from Earth. “Hey… how come you know so much about earth, Kazeth?”
The alien’s tail twitched a bit. “You think me the only arxur to bear a fascination with humanity? No, we have all been watching very closely. Especially the higher up the command structure you go. Humanity wandering onto the galactic stage is the most interesting thing to happen to all of us, Betterment and Federation both, in two-hundred years. The future is balanced in your hands.”
“What do you mean?”
“The logistics of galactic warfare have enforced a status quo. The Federation’s fleets are larger than ours, but they cannot risk direct attack. To do so would be to leave their core systems vulnerable. Instead, their fleets are relegated to a rotating defense. They move as a herd, protecting one sector at a time, relegating us to never more than small raids against their undefended sectors. And the Dominion cannot launch a full-scale attack, or we would risk utter annihilation. It is a careful balance, in which neither side ever has the upper hand… and humanity is poised to upset it.”
It was all clicking together in my head. “That’s why they’re so scared of us! They think we might pick the other side!”
“Precisely. The panic is evident right here, on this very ground. The Gojid think you a threat. That is why you invaded preemptively, yes?”
“Yeah, but, ya still haven’t explained exactly how you know all of this, though.” Rich piped up.
“Yeahhh…” I said accusingly. “You’ve been spying on us, haven’t ya, mate?”
The Arxur rolled her shoulders dismissively. “Yes. On you and the Federation both. Our FTL communication technology far surpasses the Federation’s, as it must. It is our lifeblood. It is how we know which sectors are unguarded. And is it not unreasonable to expect that we would turn our ears towards Earth as well? The Dominion still has not decided whether to treat humanity as a threat or a potential ally.”
“You sneaky bastards,” I said, half-jokingly.
“You would do the same.”
I would have been perturbed, had I not been too occupied with curiosity. Spying? That’s for the UN to care about. I had more pressing curiosities. “So, what do the Arxur think of what they’ve learned about us?”
“As a whole? It is difficult to say. I think that we are… divided. The Arxur know that Earth is thriving and free, in a way that they aren’t. But they also see that you ally with the prey races, and that you find us loathsome. It is hard not to perceive this as a rejection, a statement of enmity. But those higher up the chain possess a clearer picture; truth trickles down, after all. They see that you are eager to share Earth’s bounty, and that the Federation rejects it. Because of course they would. The natural order is an abomination in their eyes, and they would sooner see Earth ‘cleansed’ than they would share it.” She paused, her head tilted slightly to the side. She looked at me, though her eyes flicked around evasively. “I know for a fact that some of the senior leadership in Betterment still hope that humanity would share it with us instead, and that they are willing to gamble our future on that… hope.”
“But you haven’t even tried to contact us. At least, not as far as I’m aware.”
“It is only a matter of time, now. But no, At the moment, such an attempt would be in defiance of Betterment. Officially, we are still taking the position that we are superior, and that you are closer to prey than to allies.”
“Sounds like the ‘official position’ isn’t all that universal then, huh? And among the higher-ups, no less.”
Kazeth flashed her fangs. “Indeed. I have been around for a long time, under Betterment. I’ve silenced my fair share of dissent, and yet… I have never seen the cracks show like this. It is… different. This time, it is coming from the top, instead of the bottom. You’ve proven a rather different picture of reality, turned everything on its head. It’s all changed, since you’ve walked on stage.”
Rich scratched at his chin, looking deep in thought. “Hm,” he stated, finally.
“Hm,” I agreed.
“What?” Kazeth asked, shifting her head quizzically.
“Nothing,” Rich responded. “It’s just… interesting. It’s, well, It suddenly hits me, that we are learning as much about you now, as you might have learned about us with your whole time spying. Our first picture of the Arxur was, umm, simple. Not much nuance.”
Kazeth hummed in acceptance, and I couldn’t help but agree. I opened my mouth to empathize, but instead, another curious thought hijacked it. “Y’know, that’s the second time you’ve used a theater analogy, now. Is that translating correctly?”
“It is.”
“So you have theater? And other arts?”
She slowly turned her head to fix me with a stare, which I felt myself withering under. Of course they have art. They are a sapient, intelligent species, I admonished myself over the stupid question. You are a teacher -- you should know better.
Kazeth, once she had finished letting me drown myself in the awkwardness of my own making, answered patiently, “Yes. We do. Although, they are mostly propaganda. I remember as a hatchling, when our educators would show films in our classes, and we would be --”
Rich stood up abruptly, face screwed up in concentration. Then I heard it too.
He looked over to me, consternation etched into his features. “I hear ships.”
Realization dawned, and horror settled. “Raid! Shit-fuck!” I scrambled for the radio. “Priya! It’s another raid!”
“Copy!” Her voice came through the radio. “Get set up. And send Rich down!”
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The arxur raid came swiftly, as they always did. Rich had barely scooped up his rifle and started the dash down the stairs, as the dropships came screaming to a halt above the edges of the town. There were three of them. Three teams. They quickly descended their ropes down to the ground, four to five in each party. I watched them through my scope, tracking them. They grouped together, stalking through the streets with their heads low and shoulders hunched, sniffing at the doors and windows. Kazeth stayed beside me, similarly hunched. The scales on her crest and shoulders puffing up as her eyes bore towards the hunters, and her nostrils twitched. She might not have been able to see them clearly at this distance, but…
“I have their scent; they will have ours as well. They will move towards us.”
“I know.” I tried to rein in the hammering of my heart. Focus. Concentrate. Steady. Breathe. I pulled the rifle tighter under my prone body. The shooter is calm and collected. The hunters were still too far away, and unknowingly ducking my angle between the buildings. Not yet. I thumbed the radio. “Westernmost street. I count somewhere between twelve and fifteen.”
“Copy.”
“Copy.” Rich had been linked in to our comms.
I had to force myself to keep breathing, to keep thinking. To keep the panic at bay. I didn’t know how many more raids I -- No! Stay here.
I kept my scope on the hunters, but watched the two lonely forms of Priya and Rich hustle down the western street to meet them. They picked out a defensible spot. Through the scope, I watched the hunters turn their snouts in their direction, one by one. They dropped low, prowling towards them. Hunting.
“They smell you. Incoming.”
“Conserve your ammo, Rich.” Priya’s voice came across the channel, the staticky garble failing to conceal her icy urgency. “We don’t have enough for a firefight. We can’t fight them man-to-man. Force them to come to us, leave their cover -- let Teach take care of ‘em as much as you can.”
“Understood.”
The hunters rushed down the street, driven by their noses. The first walked fully into my sights. I waited for more to enter my view, to capitalize on their vulnerability. I exhaled a long, shaky breath as each one drew closer to my companions. I resisted until I could wait no longer.
I fired. The recoil slammed into my shoulder. The lead arxur went down.
I fired again. The second went down. Disarray as the rest ducked and scrambled.
Again. A third went down. Some went for cover, but a few others rushed forward; they fell under Rich and Priya’s crossfire.
The less impulsive ones who sought cover were better off -- but they hadn’t yet figured out where exactly to take it. I spied a reptilian head just out of cover.
Another down. Now they’d figured me out. They shifted their positions, taking care to block my line of sight. Their guns fired, a dull, repetitive thumping from my vantage point. Both sides were pinned down now.
The hunters had brought tactics of their own; I watched as two split off to take a flanking route down an alley. “Rich, watch the alley on your three. Two incoming.”
Rich adjusted his position to turn the attempted flank into an ambush. The flanking arxur crept along the alley, unaware that their presence was known. The reptiles could smell him, but he could hear them. They were no match, and fell under the ambush. The attack foiled, Rich returned to his previous cover, reloading as he went. I knew they had only a few magazines each. They were running low. And the bulk of the arxur forces remained, pressuring their positions through superior numbers and ammo count.
Except for… “Four just broke off for another flank!” I called out. “They’re wide… very wide!” Too wide. My blood chilled as I pieced it together. “They’re making for the eastern street, heading towards the gojid!”
I could only cover one attack. Priya knew it instantly. “Get on them!”
“I can’t! I won’t be able to cover you!”
“I don’t care!” She shrieked over the mic. “They’re going for the gojid, get on them!”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t abandon--
“TEACH! GET THE FUCK ON THEM, NOW!”
I couldn’t do it. Not to her. Not after… everything.
“TEACH, Y--” Her words were cut off as a pair of arxur rushed them. The first of the pair fell to my shot, but the other was too fast for me to line up a second shot. It rounded the corner, exchanging fire with Priya. It went down, leaving her the victor, still standing. She clutched the top of her shoulder, near her neck, and sank back against the wall. Not lethal, but… it very nearly was. If I hadn’t shot the first… My breathing grew ragged, panicky. I said nothing.
I couldn’t… I couldn’t…
“Teach. Please. Please don’t do this to me…”
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself. I still couldn’t do it. There wasn’t a force in the world that could shift my aim elsewhere. The scope blurred as tears tugged at the edges of my vision. The weight of what I was leaving the gojid to. It was an impossible choice. The panic engulfed me completely, now. I despaired of it ever letting go again.
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Memory transcription subject: Kazeth, Arxur defector
Date [standardized human time]: September 29, 2136 (two days after the invasion of the Gojid Cradle)
I could sense the mounting distress incapacitating the human. I had suspected he was no true soldier, but still… I found myself… uncomfortable, in a way that I didn’t truly understand.
“Send me,” I said, once again surprising myself. Some bizarre urgency compelled me.
Teach startled, snapping his head towards me. I think he had forgotten my presence. He quickly shifted back to the scope. I thought him still too distressed to respond.
“Send me. I will handle them.”
“You-- your leg is broken.”
“Arxur heal faster than humans,” I lied.
He paused, gulping a few short breaths. “Okay.” His panic seemed to abate, his breathing slowing, his focus seeming more purposeful. “Okay,” he said again, voice more normal.
I nodded, and turned to head down the stairs.
“Wait!”
I turned back. He let loose a few rapid shots, buying himself enough time to produce his sidearm. He quickly manipulated its mechanisms with practiced swiftness before holding it aloft. I hobbled over to take it.
“It’s all set. Just point, and pull the trigger. Eighteen shots. Small caliber, so, only effective at short ranges, and won’t do much to armor. But it’s better than nothing.”
I took the gun, holding it for a moment almost reverently. I thought back to Rich’s refusal to let me take a weapon for myself, days ago. It seemed so long ago, now.
“And… and take the radio too.” He gestured towards Rich’s pack without taking his eyes off his scope. I remembered Rich collecting a spare radio from his fallen comrades, after he had stopped me from taking one of their weapons. I dug through the pack for the radio, and clipped it onto my harness.
I hurtled down the stairs with haste, filled with some kind of growing momentum that I did not understand. I did not even know why I offered to go. I was confident I could handle them, but, it was still four against one, and I was still injured -- a fact that made itself all the more apparent with each step out of the building. I limped painfully on two-and-a-half limbs, the gun clutched awkwardly in my grip. Why did I want to do this? Was it a sense of debt? Loyalty? Attachment? Was it to the humans? The gojid?
There was little time to ponder. My path was set. I had the hunters’ scent, as well as the gojids’. It was their deaths or mine.
There would be little utility in attempting an ambush through hiding. They would smell me as much as I would smell them. No, my ambush must be one of guile. I limped up the center of the street, keeping Teach’s sidearm tucked behind the shadow of my forelimb. It would be awkward to use. Arxur preferred heavy weapons that could be held against the chest or lower torso, with recoil that directed downwards -- it was more favorable for our physiology to counter recoil by pulling upwards. The tiny size presented an issue as well. The grip was simply too small, and the trigger guard barely admitted my claw. But… for all its awkwardness, it had one major benefit: it was concealable. And Arxur rarely used sidearms. I would carry the advantage of surprise.
The hunters rushed into my street, having clearly sensed me already. They stalked towards me, weapons drawn, nares opening and closing as they calculated their surroundings. Their target was just behind me, around the corner. A room full of helpless gojid, some I could tell already bleeding. It would be a tantalizing prize to the hunters.
The four of them drew to a stop wordlessly. A leader presented himself from among them, stepping forward and addressing me. “You stink of human.”
“I was their prisoner. Your distraction has allowed me to free myself.”
He stepped further forward, turning his head to face me directly. A bold challenge. “You let them capture you? Let them tend your wounds? And now you stand between me and my prize?” His eyes widened in barely contained bloodlust.
A plan began to coalesce in my head. “Your prize, junior hunter?”
He hunched over forwards onto four limbs, his scales rising. His gun scraped along the ground, nearly forgotten in his crazed aggression. Exactly what I wanted. I flexed my scales to match. He circled me, slavering jaws splitting open with a hiss. I matched his rotation, careful to keep the gun still hidden.
The others let their weapons lower as well, their focus torn between me and their gojid prey.
The leader was gaunt and thin and wiry. Were I not wounded, I would scarcely have considered him a threat. I finalized my grip on my weapon in anticipation. I waited for him to lunge, but he didn’t. The others seemed to drift towards the gojid, as we circled around each other. I was rapidly losing control of the situation. My opponent seemed more than content to draw this out. His tail twitched, eyes flicking back and forth to my wounded leg, almost hungrily -- he was savoring this.
“Back down, runt,” I hissed, attempting to goad him.
The deranged smile widened. “You do look well fed,” he countered easily, reveling in his sudden dominance. “Humans treat you well? Or the other way around?”
I growled hatefully.
That was all the confirmation he needed. He crowed exultingly, addressing his comrades. “Surilz, Arshag, get to work. Leave this traitor to us.”
The two turned and loped away towards the gojid. The time to act was now.
I lunged towards my opponent. His focus snapped back to me, and he launched into his own lunge to meet me. We clashed, my arm keeping his gnashing teeth at bay, my foot stomping his gun down to the ground before he could lift it. He was surprisingly stronger than he looked, the weight of his lunge pushing me back onto my wounded leg. Searing pain lanced up the broken limb. I staggered backwards, and my arm buckled. His jaw seized the opportunity and closed the gap, clamping down on my shoulder. I roared in rage and pain.
But this would work too. I brought the gun up to his lower torso, pushing it into his scales just below the armor. I pulled the trigger as rapidly as I could, until he went limp. I pushed him off of me, his face etched with a last look of surprise as he crumpled into the dirt.
His companion hissed in surprise, and raised his own weapon -- but too slowly; I was already firing, again and again, until the gun clicked uselessly. I did not possess nearly the accuracy that the humans did, but it didn’t matter. Enough had found their mark, and he had crumpled as well.
I turned to pursue the other two, tossing the now-useless gun to the ground so I could move faster. They’d disappeared behind the corner. My shoulder burned in agony, dripping red, and my leg was now lamed even worse than it was before. But rage and fury bore me forwards, hobbling desperately through the pain.
I had to stop them. I did not understand why… but onwards was I driven.
I would be their hunter. I would be their death. I was needed.
I rounded the corner to see the two arxur just entering the building. A cry went up from the gojid inside. Some force compelled me even faster, bidding me ignore the pain.
I reached the now-open doorway. One was deep inside, stalking forward and menacing the gojid, savoring the hunt’s end. The other, nearer to me, turned. He tried to raise his weapon, but I was already upon him. We grappled, each vying for control of his weapon. But some strength I didn’t know surged through me. The other hunter, hearing our commotion, turned and aimed. She delayed, with no clear shot on me -- and that was enough time.
I roared, and with all my strength, turned my opponent's own weapon on his companion, and forced the trigger down. The stream of bullets slashed through the arxur, and into the floor as control of the weapon was eventually wrested back. The burning fury grew, as the thought that there could be collateral damage dawned.
I ripped the weapon from his grasp. It clattered across the floor.
“Traitor…” the hunter gasped out, flailing desperately against my iron grip.
A bloody haze filled my vision. My grip tightened.
One of his claws found some purchase against my scales. He ripped towards himself, tearing scales from their sockets and rending flesh. It did not hurt. I was beyond that, now.
I slammed him into a nearby wall. He grunted, but only dug his claws in deeper.
I slammed him into the wall again.
And again.
And again.
Until finally his claw was shaken loose. Dazed, he feebly grasped at my arms. I drew up to my full height, the pain in my leg be damned, and hurled him bodily out into the street.
He collapsed into the dust. I gave him no respite, and pursued him. I fell atop him, raining an onslaught of vicious slashes upon him. The fury did not abate. The haze did not lift. Not until he was dead.
I stood up, hunched and staggering, taking great ragged breaths. I turned around. Inside the building, the herd of gojid huddled together, staring out at me, the terror written across all their faces. They flinched as I turned. I stumbled to the door, my wounds now making themselves excruciatingly known. The gojid shrank back and flinched with every lumbering step I took towards them.
I reached the doorway, and stopped, staring out over them. The last dying gasp of my rage birthed one final thought: I could slaughter them all now -- blame the hunters and rid us all of this liability, this distraction.
But, as quick as the thought came, so too did the other side of me. No, that was not what I wanted. No, I think… I think that I had wanted the opposite. To protect them. To have a use, to be wanted, to fight for a purpose of pride instead of one of guilt. Was that what had driven me forward, against these hunters? Something must have.
The rest of the fury burned out, replaced with ash. I felt my grasp of myself slipping away, perhaps some culmination of my time spent among the humans. Something was different. I was different.
…though, of course, the gojid shared none of this revelation with me. They stared helplessly in total fear, their spines raised and bloodied against one another. This, I found, hurt more than the pains of the flesh that wracked my body.
I sighed, and pulled shut the door. There was little else I could do for them.
I grabbed the radio from my harness. “This is Kazeth. The gojid are safe, but… they saw me.”
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Hello, I play Disc Priest and have been Rival 1 for the past 2 seasons in arenas. All through LFG, no voice chat or coms for the most part. Didn’t take it too seriously after getting the Elite TMog set (which was my end-goal at the time). This season for the first time I have been trying to put together a team to play 3s with regularly, I have one teammate so far and we talk on coms while playing and gameplay seems a lot better.
My question is - is it a realistic goal to push from ~1850exp to glad this season? My reasoning was basically if I put in enough time with a set team of two other dedicated players from now early in the season then by the end we might be able to get glad. Anyone else have any experience trying to make a big jump like this within one season (~6 months)?
Edit: Thanks for response so far, just to make things a little more clear- I have been 1850xp in arenas (not SS) for 2 seasons now. I haven’t been dedicated or really put a lot of effort into improving (queueing with randoms maybe 1-2 sessions a week). This season I am playing with a dedicated team and playing a lot more, getting arena games in almost every day of the week.
Edit 2: Again thank you for the responses. It’s worth saying I never really tried to push past Rival the past two seasons, in SL S4 I made a big push about halfway through the season and as soon as I hit Rival I just stopped playing WoW in general for a while due to other commitments. DF S1 I hit it in the first couple months then kinda fell off to play other games. Didn’t know if being more dedicated and sticking to WoW throughout a full season could make the big difference was pretty much the point of this post. Thanks again.

Some hours later, the colony’s power was back on as everything had mostly been cleaned up. Everyone was still a little shaken, especially as heavily armed soldiers patrolled through the halls, however now Khan was holding a meeting in the multipurpose room. Uzi, Thad, N and V were in the audience as the MTF team stood to the side with Red. Clef and Shaw were standing on the stage next to Khan.
Khan went to the mic on top of a stage before he spoke. “Hello everyone, as you know things have been…. Well you know. Anyways because our lovely colony is currently being cleaned and patrolled by our…. Hold on.” Khan then pulled out a piece of paper and read it aloud. “Benevolent benefactors…. Huh.”
Jane looked towards Aron who was smiling. “Did you give him a script?” Jane said.
“Yep. Best decision I ever made.” Aron replied. Jane rolled her eyes.
“Hmmm…. Pass the mic to Clef…. OH right sorry.” Khan said as he looked at the paper and gave Clef the mic.
“So what me and the foundation have decided is that now you will all be sent on a nice campaign trip to one of the few woods that isn’t infested with 939 instances…. Mostly. Just keep out of the nearby caves and ignore the voices and you’ll be fine. Anyway we already have the jeeps set up, mostly because the bus you were using is actually an instance of scp 2086…. I personally don’t know how any of you are still alive. Damn thing killed twelve men.” Clef said as he handed the mic to Shaw.
“Howdy everybody!” Shaw started in an enthusiastic voice. He waited for the crowd to say something as everyone stayed silent. “Ok…. We’ll Clef told you what you're doing, however I wanted to add something! The brave MTF at Alpha 1 will be your councilors! Mostly because they're the only ones qualified to deal with the things in there but hey that’s not important! Anyway back to the point, your councilors will be alpha 1 like I said, however because we don’t have enough people volunteering, N and V have graciously decided to step up!”
“WHAT!” V said as she stood up. “I NEVER AGREED TO THIS!”
“You're right! You didn’t! I made the decision for you!” Shaw said.
“Ummm…. Mr Shaw, I also didn’t get news of this.” N said as he raised his hand.
“It’s ok! You don't even have to do anything! I already made your outfits!!!!” Shaw said enthusiastically as he held out two camp uniforms.
“He got them from a couple of skeletons by the way, so if you feel wet while in them just know it’s because said skeletons were inside a 939.” Clef said.
“THAT'S NOT IMPORTANT!” Shaw yelled. “Just have fun! Now get on those buses people! Yaaaaaaa! This is gonna be so much fun for you, aren't you excited?!?”
“Not at all.” Uzi said.
“Same here, this whole camp thing seems a little too excessive.” Red replied.
“Did I mention there’s a reward for whoever keeps the most WD’s alive- I mean uhhh…. Happy?” Shaw said.
“What kind of reward are we talking about….” V said as she sat back down.
“Ahhh…. You know…. Stuff.” Shaw said with a smile.
“A ton of motor oil.” Clef said. “For humans a ton of cash.”
“OH COME ON! STOP SPOILING THE SURPRISE!” Shaw yelled.
“So wait…. Why motor oil?” Cole asked as he turned to Gram.
“Motor oil is, In simple terms, beer for MD’s and WD’s. Highly intoxicating.” Gram replied.
“Huh, no wonder V is suddenly all for this.” Aron said. “She probably drinks a lot of it I bet.”
“Hey! I heard that!” V said from the audience. “Just so you know I’ve only drank it once! It was pretty sweet…. Wait, that reminds me…. Where is that other drone…. Fennec?” V looked around.
“She’s in the truck, she called the one with N in it and refuses to leave it until he gets on for some reason. No one can get her out so we’re rolling with it.” Jane replied.
“H-Hey, can I speak?” Thad said.
“Yes you can. Do you have a question?” Shaw said.
“Uh ya. What's 939?” Thad said.
“Oh golly I was hoping you would say that!” Shaw said now practically beaming.
“Dammit what have you done?!?” Clef said, annoyed. “Now we're gonna be here for thirty minutes….”
A half hour later, and everyone had packed their things and we’re going into one of the trucks, it was the middle of the night, the trucks had open canopies above them. The trucks were also colored black with the foundation logo on their sides. They were driven by one of the MTF, or N and V. When N got into his truck Fennec was already in the passenger side.
“Hellllloooo!” Fennec said enthusiastically. “We’re going camping!!!!”
“Yes we are! I’m a little nervous. I've never camped before….” N said as he put his hands on the steering wheel. “Or maybe it’s because I’ve never driven anything before….”
Meanwhile Uzi got on her truck with Thad and a couple more WD’s. However Lizzy was also on board.
“Wait…. Aren’t you supposed to be in the prison sector?” Thad said as he looked at Lizzy.
“She was let out for good behavior, and proving that she wasn’t a threat.” Jane said over the integrated intercom as she was about to drive the truck.
“We’ll…. Don’t try anything. Got it.” Uzi said, trying to intimidate Lizzy.
“I know.” Lizzy said as she set her backpack beside her.
“So is everyone ready?” Jane said as she spoke over the intercom.
“Yea. We’re ready.” Uzi said with a sigh as she tried to get comfortable.
“Then off we go.” Jane replied.
Red was in her own truck with a bunch of WD’s, Aron and Cole were driving it. The trucks had already started on the road. Gram was also in the back doing something on his tablet.
“So…. Cards?” Red said as she pulled out a deck of cards.
“Yea!” One WD said.
“Ohh! Are we doing Uno or Go fish?” A female WD piped up.
“I'll call first!” Another said.
“Slow down guys, geez, anyway it's Uno, I have enough cards for everyone so let’s get started!” Red said as she started to pass out the cards to the delight of the WD’s.
As the trucks drove through the harsh night of copper 9. Snow blew all around the trucks as curious WD’s peaked and saw the many sights of the planet.
Uzi’s truck saw a group of 745’s as Jane had called them, they were watching the truck from a building. As the truck went past,
One WD said. “Wow! Why do their heads glow like that?”
“They glow because their heads are bioluminescent, on earth it was to mimic the headlights of a car before ramming a person off the road and most likely eating them. However there is some evidence they just hunt for sport.” Jane said over the intercom.
“Cool!” Another WD, said.
On N, V, and Fennec’s truck they were barely keeping steady as V was squished between N and Fennec.
“Just keep your eyes on the road and drive ok?” V said, sighing.
“I-I know! I think…. Hold on, I got this!” N said.
“I believe in you!” Fennec said.
As N drove, the truck ran over tons of small hills, it even went into the air a couple times. However all was good as they finally made it to the outskirts of the city and into a smoother road.
After a long time of driving, all the trucks finally made it to the woods. Uzi was sleeping on Thad’s shoulder as everyone else in her truck was also sound asleep. Until suddenly a gunshot awoke all of them. As Uzi grabbed her railgun and looked widely, the other WD’s ducked for cover. However Uzi heard laughter behind her, looking behind herself to see Jane wielding a smoking pistol.
“UGH BITE ME!” Uzi said in annoyance as she got off the truck, the other now wide awake WD’s did the same. “What? It was funny!” Jane said, still chuckling to herself.
Meanwhile the WD’s in N, V, and Fennec’s truck were already awake and shaken, they got off as quickly as possible as N had managed to drive into a tree. He got off holding his head as V got off and slapped him.
“KEEP YOUR EYES ON THE ROAD!” V yelled.
“Hey! Don’t yell at him like that! He was trying his best!” Fennec replied to V.
“Ya, his best to kill us!” V said.
“Hmph! Let’s go N she obviously doesn’t want us here!” Fennec said as she forcefully grabbed N’s wrist, V followed them anyway as she rolled her eyes.
Meanwhile Red had gotten off her truck laughing and joking with a female WD named Rebecca.
“Oh man I can’t believe you beat me!” Red said as she looked at Rebecca.
“Yea, I’m pretty good at cards.” She replied. “Oh also, just so you know this is my boyfriend!” Rebecca then pulled a male WD with sunglasses closer to her. He waved at Red.
“Aww you are so cute together!” Red said.
“Thanks!” Darren replied as Rebecca smiled.
“Hey, before we go our separate ways, I just wanted to say that if you need to go outside the camp for some ‘alone time’ I’ll be happy to help.” Red said with a wink before she left with a smile.
After five minutes, all the WDs, Red, Jane, Aron, Cole, and Gram had gathered in front of the lodges waiting and wondering wherever the MDs had walked off to while the wind and snow blew around them and the snow slightly building up on everyone’s clothes as they stood there.
“So uhhh, do we just start or….” Aron said.
“No, we have to wait for them. Orders from Shaw, we have to make sure everyone is here.” Jane replied. Red was considering pulling out one of the sets of cards again when suddenly three figures slammed down onto the ground in front of everyone, wings out along with their blades extended. It was N, V and Fennec, they were wearing camping uniforms Shaw had given them. They turned around to look at everyone, the yellow MD > “Jesus, could any of you be more threatening?!?” Red said.
“It was Fennec's idea.” V said.
“Welcome campers! Let’s sound off!” Said N as he looked up at everyone. “One, two….” N started as he counted the WD’s.
All the WD’s looked terrified. As none of them spoke. Suddenly V turned her right hand into a SMG and was about to shoot one of the WD’s, however before she could, Red tackled the WD down and out of the way of the bullet.
“WOAH WHAT THE FUCK!” Yelled Aron as he starred at V.
“…. What? I was just getting their attention.” V said as she looked around everyone.
“THAT'S how you get attention from people?!?” Red said as she stood up.
“…. Yes?….” V shrugged in confusion.
“Listen, I’m trying to get that prize alright? Just don’t go killing WD’s everywhere you look. Ok?” Red said.
“Jeez ok.” V said, rolling her eyes.
Every WD was stunned, however V just pointed her MP5SD at them again and without hesitation they all stood at full attention and said. “Present!”
“Ok! Great! That’s everyone! We have tons of activities planned! So don’t go sneaking off to investigate stuff!” N said as he slowly looked at Uzi a little.
“Also, you REALLY shouldn’t go out, trust me. The 939’s out here can and will eat you.” Aron said, stepping in front of the crowd. “As long as you don’t go out by yourself or listen to the voices at night you’ll be fine.”
“Wait, you didn’t clear them out?” Red said as she looked at Aron.
“We tried, lost an entire squad to one of them. So now we just decided to hand out rules…. It’s simple, just don’t go outside…. At all…. I’m serious, you will die a horrible drawn out death.” Aron said as he stared at all the WD’s.
All the WD’s stood still. However then Thad and Lizzie came from the crowd and stood with N, V and Fennec.
“See, if those two are going with them, you can trust them as well! Sorta. Actually never mind, that's a horrible idea.” Cole said.
After a long and drawn out ten minutes of getting everyone organized. Jane, Aron, Cole, Gram, N, and V had their groups, Fennec was never assigned one so she went with N’s group.
Meanwhile Uzi was going by herself, she had a backpack with her as she went off into the woods, as she walked the snowy paths, trees surrounding her with the night sky above her. Suddenly she looked to her right to see a pack of 745’s were starting to surround her, Uzi however simply waved her hand at them as the strange symbol that marked her powers surrounded her hand. Suddenly the 745’s became much more calm as they all left as Uzi went back to walking. Continuing to walk through the Forest each footstep leaving a mark in the snow and a crunch from each one as well as the noise of wind blowing snow through the trees. Then Uzi noticed something odd. A pair of red glowing eyes were staring at her from the darkness. As she looked back to confirm their existence they were gone. Uzi shivered and seemed to disregard the sighting as she went towards the cabin.
As Uzi walked, the campgrounds were doing surprisingly fine, each cabin held one of the councilors doing a ‘fun’ activity with their group of WD’s.
Inside one was Jane’s group. Jane held her sniper rifle and had set up a makeshift shooting range, Jane was seemingly demonstrating something by hitting every target with a perfect headshot. Each target was a paper cut out of a silhouette with a Anderson robotics logo on its head.
“Ok so, does anyone else want to try their hand?” Jane said as her rifle smoked.
“Every WD in her group stayed silent before one raised their hand, it was Darren.
“You can do this!” Rebecca said.
Darren smiled as he took the rifle from Jane. He steadied himself and fired, however instead of hitting a target like he hoped. He instead fired the rifle directly out of his hands into the air. Jane caught the rifle mid air and shook her head as every other WD laughed. Darren quietly went back embarrassed.
Cole’s group was also inside their cabin, however, instead of doing any activities. Cole just sat in a chair at the corner.
“So…. What do we do?” One WD said.
“Hell if I know. I'm a soldier not a counselor, you know what screw this i'm going on patrol. You just do whatever you want.” Cole said as he got up and walked out with his shotgun.
As soon as Cole left, his cabin went into anarchy as every WD got up and started doing, as Cole said, whatever.
In Grams cabin the WD’s were disgusted to see a dead 745 flop down onto a table in the middle of the room.
“Today, we will be dissecting this 745 instance. Freshly killed by Jane when we got here. I’ll pass out the scalpels soon enough, make sure to get its organs and lay them out beside the body. Work as a team.” Gram said.
The WD’s looked at the body with disgust.
“If I can get sick…. Then I’m getting sick….” One WD said.
In Aron’s cabin it was something out of a boot camp. WD’s held up wooden sticks as they marched around the cabin, Aron walked around them yelling orders.
“Come on! Pick up the pace, green eyes! When I’m finished with you, you’ll all be considered foundation recruits! Be glad I haven't set up the course, yet!” Aron said.
“Y-Yes sir!” The WD’s said in perfect unison.
In N, V and Fennec's cabin. Which Red was also a part of. Red was exhausted and annoyed.
“Please…. STOP TRYING TO KILL THEM!” Red yelled at V.
“It’s the only way they’ll learn.” V replied.
“LIKE HELL! Sometimes I wonder why I even snuck on the truck…. I’m not even supposed to be here….” Red said.
“Wait, you weren't?” Fennec said before stumbling. “Then why are you here anyway?”
“Maybe it’s because she wanted to have fun! Like us! Right guys!” N said as he looked at the WD’s hiding in the corner, their eyes trained on V in fear.
“No, it’s because I snuck on. I was supposed to help out with repairs but hey, screw that. Connor managed to get me on board the trucks without much trouble.” Red replied.
“Wait, Connor? I haven’t heard from him in a long time.” V said, suddenly interested.
“Ya actually what has he been doing?” N said.
“Nothing really, he’s been in the back of the ship working on a pet project of his. I have no idea what that is but he says it’s too important to really say anything about it.” Red replied, shrugging.
“Huh, neat!” N said.
Meanwhile Fennec was in the corner with the WD’s, the WD’s looked terrified of her. Fennec then reached into her shirt to pull something out, as the WD’s prepared for the worst, Fennec then pulled out a green lizard-like animal, it looked two meters long from head to tail. It also had a long, thin body with eight pairs of narrow limbs. It looked to have compound eyes. It didn’t seem to mind as Fennec got it out of her coat as she held it in her arms.
“Hey Fennec, wait…. What’s that!” V yelled in surprise as she turned towards Fennec.
“Oh, I found him a couple years ago! I like him so I keep in my coat and let him rest there. He doesn’t seem to mind.” Fennec said.
“Huh, it looks kind of cute!” N said as he got closer. The WD’s also did the same in curiosity.
“You know, with the things I’ve seen, this is pretty normal. Somehow.” Red said as she shrugged.
N got closer to the green lizard thing, it then liked his visor. N backed his head away a little in shock. However he then giggled and said. “I like this thing. Can I hold him?”
“Sure!” Fennec said. “Anything for you!”
N then took the lizard from Fennec and held it in his arms as it liked his visor again to N’s delight, even V was intrigued by it even if her face didn’t show it.
Uzi however was dealing with things no man could explain. She was inside an abandoned cabin deeper in the woods. As she looked around, it was seemingly empty. There were little robotic bugs running around, doing things such as running away every time Uzi walked over.
Uzi rolled her eyes as she used her abilities to raise a flashlight above her head and turn it on. As she looked around everything looked mostly the same. Suddenly a noise from deeper inside the cabin suddenly resonated. Uzi switched her light to where the noise came from, as she watched. She suddenly saw a glimpse of what looked like a hand going back inside a corner. Uzi suddenly got startled and her flashlight dropped. As she caught it she heard another noise that sounded like a scream from outside. Uzi slowly went to the window and looked out of it.
However, it was just everyone else on the frozen lake, even though it was frozen Uzi could still see everyone one the ice messing around, some of the groups even had boats on the ice.
“This is…. Very underwhelming….” Red said as she was in a boat on the ice with N.
“We'll have to do something! Plus this is very cool!” N said as he went to the front of the boat and stood on it.
“And this is very cool!!” Fennec said as she sat on the back of the boat, the lizard keeping the WD’s happy as they played with it.
On N’s boat there were some more WD’s who were seemingly having fun, rowing the boat along the ice with oar’s. V’s boat also came up to N’s, her boat had a different strategy of doing things. V’s boat had her WD group holding it up. V along with Lizzie was on the top of it.
“Sabotage my minions! Plan X!” V yelled as one of the WD’s below her boat kicked N’s boat off course.
“As the WD’s in N’s boat started to rock. Rebecca suddenly said. “I-I can’t swim!” As she was about to fall onto the ice.
“…. It’s ice.” Red said as she looked at Rebecca. “You can’t swim on ice….” Red sounded a mix of disappointed and confused.
“Oh…. Right.” Rebecca said as she stedied herself on the boat. A little embarrassed.
“I should have never gone on this trip….” Red said to herself as she sighed.
Meanwhile V’s boat was starting to get ahead, however Red simply rolled her eyes and threw a coin she had in her pocket in front of V's boat. The WD holding it up in the front saw the coin and immediately went to pick it up.
“Ohhhh shiny!” He said as he bent down. However then the entire boat lost balance and fell.
V immediately used her wings to float above the crash as she rolled her eyes and looked at Red. Red had a smug expression on her face.
Then suddenly from the right came Aron’s boat, it was painted fully black with a white foundation insignia on its sides. The WD’s now wore wooden helmets, also painted black with the foundation insignia on them.
“I love working for the council!” Aron yelled from the front of the boat as the WD’s rowed with expert precision.
“I love working for the council!” The WD’s yelled back, also in perfect precision.
“Lets me know just who I am!” Aron said again.
“Let’s me know just who I am!” The WD’s said, repeating after Aron.
As Aron’s group passed N, and V’s groups they could only watch as they rowed their boat with military accuracy.
“Did you train them to be soldier’s or something?” V asked Aron as she flew closer.
“Your goddamn right! I’ve trained these WD’s to be soldier’s! When I get back I’ll be leading the first team of WD soldier’s the foundation has ever seen! Now repeat after me maggots!” Aron yelled back to his WD’s as he started the song over again.
All of a sudden, from behind Aron came a noise of what sounded like a car. As Aron turned around to the WD’s he saw Grams boat, it was not really a boat anymore.
Grams boat was now fully fitted with tires and all of the like. It was fully made and fully operational. It was more car than boat.
“Hello Aron.” Gram said as his car-boat passed Aron’s astonished group. N, Fennec and even V watched in awe as Grams' boat practically started to zoom around them in circles.
“H-How?!?” V said.
“Simple, intelligence.” Gram replied.
“Wait…. Where’s Cole?” N said as he looked around.
“Back at the bank of the river. They're still setting up.” Lizzy said with a chuckle as she pointed all the way to the bank, where Cole was trying his best to make his boat.
“It turns out anarchy isn’t a way to run something like that.” Lizzy said.
Meanwhile Uzi watched from the cabin window. Suddenly her face had the symbol of her powers for a split second on her right eye. The window shattered, Uzi immediately backed away, her visor showing a caution sign as she did so.
Uzi’s caution sign then had the words, ‘high heat’ on it as Uzi put down her backpack and looked inside. Inside it was a WD arm, as Uzi looked at the arm she was hyperventilating
Then all of a sudden an all too familiar voice came from behind Uzi.
“Uzi doorman, such a surprise seeing you here.” It said from behind her.
“W-Who-“ Uzi started as she turned around, however was shocked to see not N, V or anyone else. She saw Klen standing behind her, his hands in his coat as his eyes glowed a sickly red.
“Y-You!” Uzi said as she held out her hand with the symbol on it to fight Klen. However Klen just shook his head.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, heretic.” Klen said as he looked behind Uzi.
Uzi looked behind her to see what looked like a horde of fleshy abominations, they looked like they were once human, they all looked at Uzi. They made horrific noises as their flesh had seemingly been torn off. There was no sign of any kind of skin on any of their bodies.
“What do you want?” Uzi said as she looked back to Klen with some hints of fear.
“No no. It’s what you want my dear Uzi. For I have these that may interest you.” Klen then put his hand to its palm as he held it out, suddenly some tentacles came from the ground making a sizable hole, they rose holding up a WD corpse, the tentacles threw it aside as they went back down into the hole in the ground and pulled out three papers.
“This poor WD died alone, it’s a shame. I don’t even remember killing her. However she did write these. Read them, Uzi doorman.” Klen said as the tentacles passed the papers to Uzi.
The papers looked like drawings of a madman, however one of them was a paper from Anderson robotics. Uzi read it carefully and saw it was a notice of some kind. However there was another thing on it written in oil that said. ‘Lights from below’
Uzi turned it around to see a finger from something, perhaps a MD. Uzi took it off and studied it before Klen laughed.
“Enjoy your reading? heretic?” Klen said with a smile.
“Bite me!” Uzi said, looking at Klen with anger.
“Well that is no way to treat an old friend? Well I’ll have to punish you!” Klen said with a sneer.
Uzi started to prepare for the worst as she backed away from both Klen and his flesh creatures.
“Don't worry, I won’t do it myself, for that deed has already been taken. It will arrive shortly. Now Uzi, I hope to see your body in the snow, begging for mercy from yaldabaoth. However, you shall gain none!” Klen said with yet another sneer. Suddenly he and all his flesh creatures sunk into the ground, disappearing from view. As Uzi stared in disbelief at what just happened. She didn’t notice Doll behind her, watching her. Suddenly Doll disappeared before Uzi could even notice.
Then Uzi was suddenly knocked back by something plowing through the wall, knocking Uzi back into the front wall as she turned herself around to see what had happened.
In front of Uzi was a robot of some kind, it was bulky and had two Miniguns for its arms, its shoulders had what looked like small middle silos and it had large legs. As Uzi stared at this robot, it stared back at her with its head being a yellow light camera. Its head was mounted between its shoulder missile silos. Its shoulders had a strange logo Uzi had never seen before. They had the globe of earth colored a light blue on them with the words ‘Protection, Concealment, survival, education, destruction.’ In a circle around the blue globe.
“Absolute solver detected, calculating.” The robot said as it stared at Uzi. “Threat to sapient life if allowed to live. 70%. Course of action…. TERMINATION.” Its eye then glowed a menacing red.
“OH SH-“ Uzi was about to yell when suddenly the robot activated some kind of thrusters and charged at Uzi directly, Uzi reacted fast and activated her powers once again to make a shield with a large version of that symbol blocking in front of her.
However, that did almost nothing as the robot simply charged into the shield, knocking Uzi through the wall of the cabin. Uzi was knocked some ways away from the cabin as she got up from the snow, spitting some out and holding her head as she got up, she looked around and saw trees for miles and the cabin the distance, she must've been hit a mile away from it. Then she noticed the robot was already on its way surprisingly fast, in just a few short moments it was already in front of her.
Uzi immediately used her powers to try to directly target it. However when she tried her visor simply flashed a message. ‘Warning, cannot target.’
“Oh you have to be kidding me-“ Uzi said as suddenly the robot started to fire its miniguns at Uzi without any sense of remorse or emotion.
Uzi immediately used her powers to make a shield around herself as she fled behind a large boulder nearby. The robot started to slowly march to the other side of the boulder as it continued pelting it with its miniguns, slowly destroying Uzi’s cover.
As Uzi tried to think and started to panic, she looked around and saw a large tree nearby, Uzi had an idea. Uzi immediately used her powers to target the tree and with some effort managed to uproot it. As it floated Uzi was surprised even with herself, it was the largest thing she had lifted and she was doing it with ease like it was a metal pipe.
Uzi had no time to think as the robot finally got to the other side and started to fire on Uzi, however she thought quickly and threw the tree at the robot, it knocked it off balance and even somewhat dented it. However other than that it was unaffected.
Uzi immediately put her shield up just in time for the robot to start pelting her with bullets again as it walked closer to her. Suddenly it stopped to Uzi’s surprise. Instead its missile silos then fired what seemed like at least twenty small missiles at Uzi that looked like they were going around the shield.
Uzi immediately panicked and started to try to target the missiles with her other hand. Spikes came from the ground and pre-exploded almost every missile a safe distance away from Uzi, however a couple of them were going straight at Uzi, she was forced to tank them with her shield which immediately broke it and sent Uzi a few feet backwards. The robot wasted no time in firing again, as the bullets were about to hit Uzi she felt fear and panic for her life. Just then she started to fly in the air to dodge the bullets and started to fly away.
Uzi was surprised that she just did that, however she had no time to think as she looked behind herself and saw the robot also flying directly after her, worst of all it was aiming its miniguns and preparing to fire.
“DAMMIT, GO AWAY!” Uzi yelled as she uprooted multiple trees in the area and flung them at the robot, it was knocked down to the ground and, however that did little to stop it from going in the air again, however this time it must’ve put its thrusters to full because it flew faster than Uzi and charged directly into her like a charging bull.
As Uzi was flung out of the air even further away. She was knocked so far she made it to another building, this one was larger and made of actual concrete. It had a sign at the front that said ‘Visitor center’ but Uzi could care less at this moment.
As Uzi fled into the building landed outside and fired its missiles at Uzi to chase her within the building. As Uzi ran through the walls, making sure to knock things down behind her to stop the missiles. They kept coming expertly dodging whatever she threw at them. Then one of the missiles accidentally ran into a pillar as Uzi went around a corner fast into a large open area with a lot of support pillars. Its explosion took out the last few missiles as well as the tower. However it gave Uzi an idea as she looked at the building now shaking from it. Uzi started to smile.
As the robot came into a large open area with all the pillars, it looked around for Uzi and didn’t see her. It seemed confused as it looked again and scanned the area.
“Hey! You! I’m over here!” Uzi yelled as she came out from a pillar and waved her hands with a smirk. The robot didn’t hesitate as it fired its miniguns at her. Uzi however just ran back to the pillar and stayed behind it as the robot destroyed it with the hail of bullets. Then she moved into the next, and the next, and the next.
Uzi’s smile grew larger as more pillars started to fall and the building started to slowly crumble. Then she went behind one of the few pillar’s remaining as the robot fired at it, just as Uzi had hoped.
As the pillar was destroyed, it was the straw that broke the camel's back as all the other pillars started to collapse from the weight of the building practically falling on top of them.
Uzi immediately flew out of the building as fast as she could, the robot was about to follow when the building collapsed on top of it. Outside, Uzi barely made it. She looked behind herself, and after a few seconds of silence.
“HELL YA! I JUST DID THAT! THAT WAS ME!” Uzi yelled as she celebrated.
Just as Uzi was about to go back with a smile on her face. The robot started to slowly crawl from the rubble unnoticed, it was heavily damaged, wires were poking out as one of its arms was gone, it’s legs were missing and dents were all over its body.
“T-TTT-TT-TT-TTERMINATE.” It said as it glitched and sparked.
Uzi turned around just in time to see it just as it fired everything it had at Uzi, its minigun fired one last salvo as it fired whatever missiles it had left. Uzi could barely react In time as she set up her shield. However some bullets made it through and pierced her body, spilling oil on the snow as the missiles hit it and flung Uzi a few feet back as more bullets went into her. As Uzi laid on the ground now seemingly dead. The robot’s eye turned back to yellow.
“M-MM-MMMISSION CCCCCCC-CCCOMPLET. REEEETURRNING TO BASE.” It said as it started to crawl in a direction slowly.
However, Uzi's body started to change. She grew large black organic wings as she screamed in pure rage, the robot turned back confused. Standing over it was Uzi, but that was impossible, its calculations had said nothing could survive a salvo like that.
Uzi stared at the robot with uncaring eyes as her visor turned into a purple >< symbol. She immediately grabbed the robot's head and with strength she should’ve never had. She ripped it off, killing the robot instantly. She then flew back with her wings to the camp.
Meanwhile back at the camp everyone had finished the activities and were back in their cabins, surprising everyone had stayed alive. Mostly thanks to Red’s constant vigilance.
“I. Hate. You.” Red said exhausted as she looked at V.
V shrugged and said. “What? I was only doing what I know.”
“We’ll I had a great time!” Fennec said.
“Same here!” N said as he looked around.
“However I keep counting everyone and yet I don’t see Uzi…. Hmmm…. Wonder where she went?” N said as he looked around.
Meanwhile Rebbeca and Darren were going into the woods, Red had told them this path would lead them to a secluded place free of 939 or 745’s where they could make out peacefully.
“Wow, that Red girl sure knows her stuff.” Darren said as they made it to a small log house.
“I know right?!? She’s my new bestie hands down. Anyway, let's not waste anymore time.”
As they went inside it looked strange. There were some kind of black things on the walls and a flashlight on the ground. As Rebbeca went to pick it up. She suddenly felt a presence from above her. As she and Darren looked above themselves they saw what looked to be Uzi, however she had black organic wings and even a black organic tail that seemed to be alive as it had a face and jaws.
As Rebbeca and Darren starred in absolute horror at Uzi’s new form. Uzi was seemingly about to pounce and kill them, when suddenly a roar was heard from the opposite side of the room. Uzi, Darren and Rebbeca looked over and saw a creature, it looked quadrupedal and had a frog-like stance. It was blood red and had spikes running along its back, its snout was like an alligator and it seemed to have no eyes.
It looked at Uzi and roared again as it swiped in a show of force at Uzi. Uzi put her attention away from Darren and Rebbeca as they fled and instead towards this new foe. Uzi chuckled as it started to charge.
Meanwhile back at camp, N was recounting everyone, not only that but strangest of all was that now the MTF were gone as well.
“You're really bad at this….” V said.
“N-Now hold on! I…. Uhhh…. I can fix this!” N said, now panicking a bit.
Red rolled her eyes and said. “This is why I never should’ve come….”
Suddenly Darren and Rebbeca came running from over a nearby hill and through the trees, they were seemingly running from something.
“Hey guys? What’s wrong? Run into a 939?” Red said confused as she went up first to meet the exhausted pair.
“I-It’s Uzi! She’s gone feral!” Rebbeca said out of breath.
“Oh Uzi would never go feral! That’s crazy talk from a crazy girl!” Fennec said as she patted Rebbeca on the head.
“I-It’s true! She tried to eat us!” Darren replied.
“No slow done, I’m sure Uzi was just trying to scare you-“ N started before being cut off by a head of a 939 suddenly dropping from the sky right next to them as its blood sprayed everywhere.
Suddenly Uzi came flying down with blood on her lips as she crashed on the head, spilling its brains and gore everywhere.
“We’ll…. That’s new-“ Red said before suddenly being flung away by Uzi’s power’s.
N was also about to say something when he was suddenly flung away by Uzi.
Fennec was about to say something but as she saw Uzi her eyes widened into Ovals, and starting to shake and hyperventilate again as she fell onto her knees and then got magically tossed aside like the others.
V however was faster and charged directly. At Uzi, however, just as she was about to stab her. Uzi’s tail grabbed V and flung her deeper into the woods, Uzi flew after her. Uzi cut off V’s right arm and then used her powers to push her into a tree. V tried to shoot Uzi but Uzi just forced her hand up and the missile V shot missed horribly. Uzi then threw V to the ground and was about to stab her with her own syringe tail. When suddenly N came and grabbed Uzi by her coat along with Red who put her sword to Uzi’s neck, Fennec was also there helping V up.
“Woah, easy there.” N said, trying to calm down Uzi. However she just used her powers to hit Red with a nearby tree and stabbed N’s hand with V’s syringe.
“Ow, ok up we go!” N said as he tossed Uzi into the air above the very clouds.
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!” Red yelled as she got back up.
“No idea, but we’re trying to fix it.” V said as she regenerated herself.
Fennec said nothing as she lay on the ground curling her arms into her knees still shaking, repeating to herself no over and over again. Almost like she had seen this before.
“Ya…. I’ll go talk to her. Be right back!” N said as he flew up as well.
“…. Where’s those MTF when you need them?” Red said, sitting down next to V.
“I know, it’s infuriating sometimes.” V said, agreeing with Red.
Meanwhile the MTF team watched from a watchtower as Jane pressed a button on her radio and spoke into it.
“It’s happening, send everybody in, heavy and medium vehicles recommend and out down reality anchors. We got her.” Jane said as they started to go down from their watchtower.
From just outside the woods a large force of MTF operatives, tanks, APC’s, helicopters, and even some jets overhead started to move into the woods with utmost haste.
After some time with Red and V successfully making a snowman, N and Uzi suddenly crashed back down and crushed the snowman.
“God Dammit!” Red said, annoyed.
“Oh come on! That took us a few seconds to set up!” V said also annoyed.
“MY SNOWMANNN NOOOOO!” Fennec said as she started to cry a bit.
N was now holding Uzi who had lost her wings and tail.
“Accent was a bad idea anyway….” Uzi said as N was still holding her.
“N…. I’m also sorry….” Uzi said to N.
“Ehhh, not like you killed anyone! Except that 939…. But does that really count as anyone?” N said, looking at Red.
“Maybe, I don’t know I’m not a foundation researcher, why are you looking at me?!?” Red said.
“Hey, is it safe to come out now?” Rebbeca said as she came out from behind a tree. A lot of other WD’s did the same, some were hiding in the snow while others were literally in the trees.
“Wow, that was…. AWESOME! I’d like to see that again with my besties.” Lizzy said as she came out.
“Hey guys! I have returned with a bunch of snacks! As it turns out I left them in the trucks!…. What did I miss?” Thad said as he came out of the woods holding a load of chips and drinks.
Suddenly lights flashed on Uzi, N, V and Fennec as helicopters circled above. MTF ran out of APC’s as they charged into the area, with their guns all pointed to Uzi, their flashlights nearly blinding. Some of them even set up strange machines that glowed red and pulsated with red light.
Jane and the other MTF also came out from the crowd of MTF now gathering around and focusing on Uzi.
“Uzi, N, V, Red, and F. by order of the 05 council. You are all being detained for having abilities that can and will harm the people and things around you. Surrender yourselves or we will be forced to fire!” Jane said.
Uzi, N, V, Red, and Fennec looked around at the force of MTF and vehicles around them, the sound of helicopters above them and jet fighters circling like vultures above them.
“BITE ME!!!” Uzi yelled as she stared at Jane in anger and betrayal.