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Hello, darlings, from Helena the Clown. I decided to tell you a thing that has happened to me. After that life changing night before Christmas, (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5) I decided to step down for a bit and just rest. Take a break. Sleep in my cozy coffin my Vampire sleep. Be a little lazy. Something normal, for both us the immortals and for mortals alike. Especially after all the ordeal of that night.
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I have to admit, when I had to write it all down, I kind of relieved it. And since it took me more to write it than to live it first hand, I had to return to it over and over, until my mind felt sour. But I needed to tell the story, it felt that I had to.
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The psychedelic rollercoaster of that night was an experiment of the SRI (Romanian secret service) alongside the CIA, as the agent I caught told me. Was the experiment successful for them? I do not know. Both me and Sophie, the lovely Elf I met that night, who was a collateral victim of it, waited to see any signs from those bastards. Especially since their weapons were able to give a huge power to demons over us. Nothing clear was seen, on the outside, but our souls were heavy on residue, like some thick goo on them, that needed time to wash away. Yet, signs of slow healing are visible, albeit slow.
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On the other hand, from time to time, I felt some mental ”breeze”. It felt like one of those attacks I experienced, the beginning of it, but dissipating fast. Some went harder than the rest. I talked to Sophie, it seems she had experienced those as well. The Buzz itself did not seem to get the proportions of that night so we can not tell if there are still some agents on us, or just some demons playing around, or our scars, or a combination of those. My ”gut feeling”, something I do not (mostly) rely upon, told me that, most likely, it was not a Human work. At least, not by agents or special drones, like that night.
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Christmas was peaceful, my first Christmas I celebrated as a Christian since I became a Vampire. My confessor, father George Baka, the exorcist, managed to give me Holy Communion, after hiding me close to the church, in order not to inflict panic on my presence there for his Human parishioners. My dear friend Ruxandra drove me in and out of the village in Ialomița county. As I was back in Bucharest and Ruxandra spent some time with her boyfriend, I met Sophie at night at the Circus Park a few days after, where it all ended, after finding a way to get Vampire magic and Elven magic to work together.
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Her parents were dead scared, they wanted to convince Sophie to leave Romania for the UK, in order to stay safe. It seems her mother was mostly afraid of the SRI, the descendent of the former communist political police, the Securitate, most of all. Sophie did not want to, since whatever happened in Romania could happen in the UK, hence the involvement of the CIA made it an international matter. And, besides, Sophie felt safer in here, where I resided and where so many Caterpillar Elves like her were, Elves she wanted to awake. She dressed up the whole time as a Christmas Elf (Yeah, some may say it was silly, but she enjoyed it.), even spoke to kids on Elves. Cannot blame her. She can have enough time in her immortal life to be a Full, ”serious” Elf.
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Indeed, something happened. If it didn„t, I would not be writing this now. Father George decided to perform Holy Liturgy on the night of January the first, which is the secular New Year, like he used to do in the years before, especially since January the first this year was on sunday. Most people would stay up, party and skip church that morning. So, he did it at night, so that at least some will come, then start to party a little. Most will not come.
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Ruxandra drove there, outside Bucharest, as usual. Since my presence would cause havoc, I was supposed to stay close by, not inside the church, with the people who will attend. Ruxandra asked me to help tune up her laptop, on which a fresh Linux installation was made. Since I knew Linux better than her, who is a lifelong Windows user, and her boyfriend was a Macbook type of guy, I decided to make myself useful a bit, before Holy Liturgy. Adrian came with us, still a bit uneasy about my presence in the car. We came out pretty early. I had the idea of going into the graveyard, where we used to spend time myself, Ruxandra and father George, in late summer and early autumn. Since both me and Ruxandra were supposed to take Holy Communion later that night, we needed to stop eating after midnight. After greeting father George, I decided to get to the graveyard, where there is a temporary plastic kiosk, somewhere near the corner of the graveyard. It was a pretty clean, countryside graveyard, nothing great or fancy.
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I was dressed in one of my black belle epoque dresses, with a matching hat, this time. For a Vampire like me, winter cold is far better tolerated than for mortals, but even ourselves have our own limits. Ruxandra came with her laptop, Adrian followed her. People were gathering at church, as Father George performed a Lity. Ruxandra wanted to stay with me but, as she was visibly disturbed by the cold, I told her to get inside. In fact, if it weren't for my friends and Father George, I would have stayed at home in Bucharest, alone, as I do not care too much for the secular New Year. In order to get things going, Ruxandra came with Adrian„s Macbook and we managed to set up a small network, using her phone as well, in order we would be able to get online. She stayed with me a bit, then went to the church for Lity, and let me mind my own doing.
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Yep, it was cold, even I found gloves useful. I spent decades in my grave, hibernating, but that was a special state, pretty different from the one when I am awake and active. I am pretty cold and harsh, but not that much not to feel the cold at all. I started installing and configuring some software from repositories into Ruxandra„s laptop. As night passed, kids around the village started to blow firecrackers and small fireworks on a large scale, it felt like war. I liked it, I admit it, the war flavor of it. I felt like going to them and playing along, but I could not, of course. They have not entered the graveyard, fortunately, although some firecrackers fell inside it. Poor dogs started to bark and howl of that noise.
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Meanwhile, I managed to install Tor Browser, to get on the Dark Web. You know, you can meet some real Vampires there, if you know where to look. At first, when I discovered it, in the months after waking up from my decades of hibernation, in July 2021, alongside things like creepypasta, the world felt far more interesting on the dark side then today. As you may imagine, it was hard to distinguish at first creepypasta from real things, I am sure sometimes it is harder even for someone who was born and lived in this age to do it. Fortunately, I grew more experienced on this pretty fast. No one I could talk to from those hidden online communities was logged in, as it seemed, so I decided to start digging up some things regarding the effects on infrasounds.
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Midnight came. I did not feel excited or anything, neither too sad. Perhaps just a little sad. Humans were having fun in the streets, explosions and stuff. Since the Holy Liturgy started, I stopped working on the laptop itself, and tried to listen to psaltical chants on Youtube. I admit I got bored fast, and went to my regular music. Earphones on maximum level, as I usually like to listen (I know, it is bad to do it for long.). I started to feel a little drowsy and sleepy. Probably something was at work at this point, as it was not normal for me (or my kind) to feel sleepy at night. At some point, I placed my head on the table and listened to the music with my eyes closed. My head was inside the hotspot, inside the wifi medium, but I did not realize it. I let myself drift into sleep, thinking that Ruxandra would wake me up.
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I do not know how, Youtube seems moody at times regarding the autoplay, on being turned on and off. I usually keep it off. As I was signed in with my Google account, it seems it started to play things as I was sleeping, random stuff. I went on for about an hour and a half.
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Eventually, I woke up. Some kind of ASMR or white noise clip was playing, a grey screen, looking a bit like static on an old black and white TV. The sound sounded a bit like that as well, but not exactly. I said something like ”ASMR Relaxing static for deep sleep”. I turned it off, as I was shaking sleepiness off from my mind. The outside was pretty silent, just some crackers from time to time. It was a feeling of things being a bit off. I do not know how to put it, the flavor of reality was off. A feeling that was a little familiar, since that night not too long ago. I was not too concerned, still, since it was not too strong, we have not noticed anything coming here. Indeed, a was a little troubled by this, but not as much as a mortal would have been, being alone, at night, in a graveyard. For me, it was a place and a time that I was in tune with. Perhaps, If I were Human, I would have had a better attitude in that situation. I started to say the Jesus Prayer a bit, and started to walk towards the church. As I was getting closer and felt better, I started to let my guard down and let my thoughts go loose.
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I do not know what is the clear border between a thought and an attitude. I am not a psychologist, just my own rambling here. I think some thoughts work at the edge between the conscious and the unconscious, since they manifest in attitudes, even if the conscious does not want to admit them. Those are not just some deep unconscious processes, they are closer to the surface, so to say. Indeed, before Adam and Eve fell, they had no unconscious part of their souls, after the fall they lost sight of a large part of themselves. Only those very spiritually advanced can truly become fully aware of themselves, and turn the whole unconscious into conscious. Of course, I am not one of them.
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Looking back at those moments, some things are blurry. I was not asleep, for sure, yet it felt a bit like a sleep-like state, the bizarreness of all. It seems some thoughts were moving from conscious to this semiconscious part, back and forth, not all at the same time. I was walking stiffer than I usually do (And I do walk pretty stiff usually.). There was something, I do not remember exactly how much I was aware of, I felt I needed to get closer to the church and away from the kiosk in the graveyard. I started to feel a bit, only a bit, like at the moments during that night, when I felt alone in the whole world. Not strong enough to have a strong attitude, it would have been better if the feeling was stronger.
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I got close to the church, lights were on, but it was silent, like empty. Familiar feeling, but not too intense. I looked back at the graves, something felt new. Unreal in a new way. All this was still faint, for now. I heard some noises on the other side of the graveyard. Then I had a thought that some kids may enter the graveyard and steal the laptops and rest. Something from my mind was saying to stop, not to go into the weird, unreal darkness from there. But I brushed it out, being too faint, unfortunately for me. I went back towards that place.
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As I would later find out, at this point, the Holy Liturgy was over, just a small snack for the people inside, Ruxandra was getting ready to come to me, outside, she just waited for the people to leave the church. She heard something outside, and felt my presence faintly. She decided to come out, to see if I had come too early. By the time she was out, I was already on my way back to the kiosk, she saw me from a distance. The sky was unusually dark on one side, and a feeling of a new unease was in the air. She started to go slowly towards the kiosk as well.
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I walked into the viscous air. Viscous, again. But I was like under anesthesia or on some drugs. Maybe my state was akin to sleepwalking? I was not sleepwalking, for sure, but it felt only a bit like it, if it makes sense. What came next, in the next minute (or minutes) happened on that semiconscious level. I was forcing myself to get into the viscous thing, I would not call it air. Things were like getting blacker, but not physically. I felt worse and worse as I was getting closer to the kiosk. But as I felt worse, a part of my mind fought to keep it semiconscious, not to become aware. Was something taking over me, at least a bit? I do not know. It was like I was heading to my doom, but I was so afraid to admit to myself, so I struggled to ignore that I was doing just that.
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The kiosk was in sight. Silence around me, a silence that seemed to stretch for miles. Or more. I was getting close to the kiosk, the alley went from the kiosk, and it crossed another alley near it, the kiosk was towards my left-front. Things got really black and, without knowing it, the blackness turned into something visible.
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I do not know how long it all took. One second, maybe a few? The alley was blocked by something that looked like some kind of black curtain, blocking the normal reality. It was a physical blackness, for sure, but it contained more than that. It had vertical folds in it, like a physical curtain. I could not say how large it was, sideways and up, it covered the full front of my eyes, I did not have the time to check my peripheral vision, and up it covered much of the clear sky. I knew it was something that came from hell, no doubt about it. I knew I had no chance of running away, as it was too close, too big and too powerful. I was at its mercy. My heart soon became overwhelmed, my mind was soon to follow. On my last moment of consciousness, I let myself to the Lord, as nothing else could be done, realistically speaking. I fused this in an iconic gesture of prosternation, semiconsciously. I let myself fall to my knees and stop my head from hitting the ground with my palms.
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At this time, Ruxandra noticed a black mist starting to gather like a small tower of mist. It was not thick, at least it appeared to her like this. As seconds passed, the mist grew thicker, while she noticed me stopping in my tracks, distantly, then the stars were not visible anymore and something she could not describe took over the sky. An emptiness. Yet, it seems all of it was less intense than for me, not just because of the distance, but some other reason. Perhaps her Human nature, or the fact that she was exposed to the things I have exposed to in the kiosk? Fear inside her started to escalate to panic.
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As I went on knees, I layed completely down, face down. The last thing I saw was that the lower edge of the curtain arose in a fold, on the ground and was sent towards me, covering me. I started screaming inside of my mind the Jesus Prayer, as Ruxandra lost it at this point and just screamed.
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That thing, whatever it was, started to take me in gradually, but in a matter of a second, the most, if it makes sense. It felt like being taken up from the ground, at the mercy of that. I kept saying the Jesus prayer, trying to hold on, albeit it was harder and harder. I was inside a bubble of demonic power, this meant no way I would be able not to lose it on my own. Kept saying the Jesus Prayer, as things were speeding up. Something in the back of my mind kept saying: ”Hold on just a little… Just a little…” So I did, I held onto the prayer. Then I do not remember. I think it was like slipping into sleep.
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Ruxandra was close to being broken, as she fell to her knees too. As I realized later on, after I talked to her, the first impulse was to run. But I was there, with that thing, and she refused to leave me there alone. Even if this was something she never experienced before, something of this magnitude. I can tell you, for a Human Ruxandra is pretty resilient to darkness. Many Humans, even grown men, just fail when they meet me. Just me, nothing stronger or darker. I never heard her scream of fear ever. Strong stock. So you can imagine at this point, at least loosely, how bad this was. But my friend stayed for me. Even if this could have been her doom. Even if all her instincts told her that was doom. Fortunately, she remembered not to look into the mist, after a few seconds, and that she needed to start the Jesus Prayer.
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In a few seconds, after letting the forehead to the ground and closing the eyes, she was into it as well. Starting to feel lifted, as things were going faster and faster. At some point, Ruxandra„s mind went blank as well.
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Fortunately, her screams were heard by father George and the rest who were still inside the church. He exited in a hurry, and people followed. They saw something tall and dark, that seemed to look a bit like a tornado, twisted in the middle. Father George started the exorcism formulas of Saint Basil the Great. Several people started to scream and ran away inside the church, some on the gate, into the street, as father George came bravely upon that, not looking at it. Adrian heard his voice going stronger and stronger as she went closer.
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As he came close to touching the blackness, it started to retreat. He persisted into going further, cursing the powers of hell, and the thing started to back out (Technically to back up). The darkness went up and fading, seeing me and Ruxandra on the ground, holding each other, our eyes being closed and whispering the Jesus Prayer faintly. He did not stop until the night was clear.
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He came close to us, gently touching our heads. Ruxandra gave a sigh and became silent. I opened my eyes and came to my senses. In a few seconds, my dear friend was awake as well. The night was back to its sweetness, the old graveyard as well, the place where I felt so cozy, like being caressed by a gentle ghost.
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We looked at father George, as things started to come back to me. Ruxandra held on to me, as she started to realize as well that it was over. We were protected, as our minds blacked out. We did not remember how we ended up hugged. I whispered to her: ”Praise The Lord. It is gone…” Then, after a few seconds of silence: ”Are you ok? Let's get up.” Father George gave us his strong smile: ”If you ok, let's hurry. We shall not let Christ wait for us. I think the best way now is to go to the side of the church (the south of the church), to calm down people who are still inside, as well as those who fled.”
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I got up, helped Ruxandra get up, got my clothes cleaned a bit, and waited for father George to call people back to the church. On a moment when the way was clear, we proceeded into the side and got to the altar side door.
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As father George tried to bring people back, me and Ruxandra looked at each other. She was still shaken when I asked: ”Are you ok, sis?” She gave a calm sigh: ”It seems so… I am surprisingly well, after all it just was…” ”I feel you on this… I am surprisingly unaffected. I am not well but, if I remember what just happened, I was supposed to be a mess.” ”Yeah, indeed…” ”We were protected, I think. No way could we have made it on our own and be so unscathed. We need to thank The Lord.” I gave her another hug. We waited then in silence for things to calm down, it took about 15 minutes.
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Father George came out of the side door to give us Holy Communion, the Body and Blood of our Lord. Ruxandra wanted to wait for me, instead of having Communion alongside the people in the church. After this moment, it felt like the last claw of that thing was gone, but it's leftovers remained, like scattered around. Yet, when Christ Himself comes to you, all those seem less than meek.
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After getting inside, father George tried to get the people to stay and finish eating, but many of them left early, and this made the rest go with them pretty fast. While this happened, we talked a little. Ruxandra started: ”Those Cones, this was one of those, isn't it?” ”Probably I can say that it was. It felt somewhat like them, but not exactly.” She started telling me how it felt for her, then I told her how it was for me. She went on: ”I want to look into what you were listening to on those earphones, while you were sleeping. YouTube history.” ”Do you want to go back to all that? Being Human, you are more feeble than me.” ”There is something going on. I want to get to the bottom of it.”
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Father George interrupted us: ”You just received The Lord and you are talking about His enemies? Come on, chill down and get inside.” White we ate, he did not allow us to speak too much of it. Then, he suggested we take a rest a bit, and sleep where he prepared for us. Then Adrian and father George collected all the devices from the kiosk and they were all shut down.
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The next day, after we were all home, Sophie and her family came to father George, to get the Exorcism formulas performed on them, since Sophie was the subject of the work of hell that night. According to the old custom, the Exorcism Formulas of Saint Basil are performed not just in case of necessity, but also during the day of his feast, January the first. Unfortunately, most priests do not perform this ritual on this day anymore.
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I met Odette, the mother of Sophie. We managed to get an interesting talk. But that is a story of in it„s own right. What I can tell you yet about her is that she was too a Caterpillar Elf.
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Adrian, on his own, checked the YouTube history of the device, there were some weird things in there. Some of the clips appeared to be deleted, the last one was not. It became clear that they were taken down one by one. He woke up later the day before Ruxandra did, in a sleep paralysis experience.
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I checked my Youtube account history as well. I dared not to listen to those still there. In case any of you shall ask for the link to those on DM, as I am sure many would want to, I will not share it, as I do not want to be responsible for what would happen.
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There are, still, some things I would share with you, perhaps I shall do it, if I shall have the energy. There were some rough months for me. There are many things that can get you down in this world, not all are supernatural, many are just mundane crap that could bring down even a strong Vampire or Elf. But I shall try my best.
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Take care of you and your loved ones. See you soon.
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I blow you a kiss (not a bite),
​
Helena

Protests, drought, fatalism, recession, and the spread of infectious diseases. Just another week on our dying planet.
Last Week in Collapse: March 26-April 1, 2023
This is Last Week in Collapse, a weekly newsletter bringing together some of the most important, timely, helpful, depressing, ironic, stunning, or otherwise must-see moments in Collapse.
This is the 66th newsletter. You can find the March 19-25 edition here if you missed it last week. These newsletters are also on Substack if you want them sent to your email inbox.
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The U.S. government is auctioning off a colossal section in the Gulf of Mexico for oil drilling. The parcel totals 73.3M acres—just under the size of Italy’s landmass, or the Philippines. Explore the full map here or here.
Southeastern Europe is facing a dry, dry summer. A year of constant record-breaking will not slow down soon. (Can you believe we are already 25%+ through 2023?) Drought is getting so bad in Spain that group prayers for rain have begun. Spain is also seeing wildfires.
North Africa is suffering from drought too, and it’s affecting their crops. El Niño is heating up the Pacific Ocean already, and forecast to become more severe as the year drags on. Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, is feeling the strain of drought.
Once a sustainable producer of grains, Pakistan (due to drought and debt and overpopulation, etc.) is now unable to produce enough grain to sustain its own people. Government distributions of flour have caused deadly stampedes and injuries to the desperate & hungry people.
2,000 elderly Swiss women are taking Switzerland to court, the European Court of Human Rights, to be precise. They are seeking a binding judgment that climate change is putting their health and lives at risk.
After 8,000 gallons of chemicals (190 barrels) spilt in a tributary of the Delaware River, Philadelphia officials say the water is safe to drink.
Berlin voters narrowly voted to obligate their city to achieve carbon neutrality by 2030—but the vote lacked the overall votes necessary to become law. So the climate effort failed. Germany’s economy is contracting and hundreds of thousands of workers went on a one-day strike on Monday.
Private jet use has hit record highs, far surpassing the pre-pandemic figures. Meanwhile, South Korean researchers may have found a method to transform CO2 from the air into a kind of polyester. The study claims that the electricity-intensive process can be easily scaled up.
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Amnesty International released a 412-page report on the state of human rights in the world today. Spoiler: it’s really bad. You can download it in 46 languages. The document is organized by countries, so you can skip to a particular nation and read about its indicators of Collapse.
68 Central/South American migrants, en route to the U.S., were locked in a holding facility in northern Mexico when several started a mattress fire after they learned that they would be deported. Empathy from the guards was lacking, and nothing was done to prevent the suffocation and fire; 38 of the men died.
78% of Americans believe the next generation will have it worse than they do, according to a WSJ poll. The other 22% are fools. U.S. bond markets are in a tough spot, too. The other questions in the poll reveal a damning picture of the American Dream. 27% believe community involvement is very important, while 43% believe money is very important.
Argentina’s currency—the Argentine Peso (the official rate is 1 USD = 208 ARP, but the black market rate is closer to 1 USD = 380 ARP)—has been downgraded from a C rating to CCC, in advance of an “imminent default” of government bonds. Faith in the government’s ability to stabilize its currency is gone—it’s not just the banks that have lost the people’s trust.
China is encountering concerning levels of debt that are forcing governments to find new sources of money. Yet despite China’s structural economic flaws (poor age demographics, corrupt real estate sector, political influences on markets), some economists think China is a safe investment in a turbulent global economy. Last week, China made its first ever purchase of LNG using Chinese Yuan. And China warned the US against hosting Taiwan’s President for a visit.
The IMF says that the stability in the world economy is shaking while growth slows, trust fallout from SVB lingers, and interest rates rise. Central banks are allegedly being called upon to do more—but the situation may be beyond institutional control. What is a bank if not a collection of other people’s debts?
The UK has hit record levels of household debt: £2 Trillion. Meanwhile the ECB (European Central Bank) is warning that shadow banking may lead to the current next economic crisis. “The nonbank {shadow} sector involves firms which are engaged in bank-like activities, but are neither registered nor regulated as banks. These include the likes of funds, insurance firms, venture capitalists and currency exchanges.”
Protests, which are sometimes becoming riots, are continuing in France. This weekly observation gives an interesting summary of the situation. You can watch some footage here, or here, or here. What begins as a protest for one issue can quickly become co-opted by other forces, or organically grow into something larger than itself. Thousands of police and 10 helicopters were deployed in western France to stop protestors trying to obstruct the construction of several reservoirs for agriculture.
Iranian special forces are training to handle new protests; whether their violence can overcome the political grievances remains to be seen. Teachers, many of whom have reportedly not been paid, are allegedly joining the protests. We seldom hear about the situation in Iran these days—is this because the protest movement is dwindling, or something else?
In another silenced conflict, Myanmar, last week the ruling party dissolved a number of opposing political parties, most notable the NLD, the party of Aung San Suu Kyi, who tried to move Myanmar away from military rule. She was eventually removed in a 2021 coup which precipitated Myanmar’s current phase of Civil War.
The runner-up in Kenya’s 2022 election—the 78-year old, Raila Odinga, ran unsuccessfully for President five times—is calling for twice-a-week protests that began two weeks ago. Two protestors have been shot dead in the escalating protests so far, which have given cover for looters and anti-government vandals.
Israel’s embattled PM is temporarily holding back his judicial reform bill after massive protests flexed their opposition. Israel said they totally weren’t intimidated by the US into holding back from the proposed law, which has become a symbol for the struggle of Israel’s identity.
In Senegal, the trial of opposition leader Ousmane Sonko is set to begin—and the people are protesting. The government allegedly wants to block Sonko from running in 2024, accusing Sonko of stirring up the masses to avoid prosecution.
Donald Trump has not (yet) been arrested—but he has been indicted on a number of charges relating to Stormy Daniels and campaign finance law, fraud, etc. Trump said, “this Witch-Hunt will backfire massively on Joe Biden,” and he could be right; however, pro-Trump protests have not yet materialized. Trump is allegedly talking to his advisors about (if he is elected again) going to War in Mexico, something that happened not long before the first American Civil War.
Bakhmut continues to hold out against the Russians. Tanks are arriving in Ukraine and this phase of the War turned 400 days old a few days ago. Russia is believed to be planning another wave of mobilizations to recruit 400,000 men to be sacrificed for nothing. Russia is also becoming more popular in the developing world from a combination of self-interest, anti-western sentiment, and Russian disinformation. The War drags on, and victory, whatever that is, remains far away.
The War in Yemen turned 8 years old several days ago, and peace hinges on a fragile ceasefire. It is believed that the Houthi rebels (backed by Iran, in opposition to the Saudi-backed government) will restart an offensive if a deal cannot be secured. It is always easier to break something than to build it back up.
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Northern China is expected to see more sandstorms as desertification continues. Thailand is seeing blistering heat waves in some areas above 40 ° C (104 °F); Laos set a new record for March.
Several major cities in Tunisia are cutting off water at night as their drought grows more severe. The water rations are expected to continue through the summer—and perhaps beyond. Nigeria is also suffering from water scarcity.
The ICJ (International Court of Justice) is going to give an advisory opinion on climate change and states’ responsibilities surrounding its damage. Some people believe the opinion (if it is favorable to climate activists) will galvanize action—when it is released sometime within the next two years. Others, who have witnessed the quiet IPCC coverage, catastrophic flooding and wildfires, COPout climate conferences pass without fanfare, and the not-so-gradual expansion of extraction companies into delicate ecosystems accelerate…are not so optimistic.
The “full volume” IPCC synthesis report has still not been released yet. But don’t hold your breath; corporate interests supposedly watered down the language and inserted pages of carbon-removal copium, scrubbing the text of many references to fossil fuels and industrial agriculture.
A study from Functional Ecology about plants in the Sonoran Desert indicated that climate-stressed plants are moving to higher elevations—but they are not thriving at the mountaintops.
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A bipartisan supermajority of U.S. Senators, 68-23 voted to end the COVID emergency early—and President Biden has indicated he will sign it, ending the state of emergency about 5 weeks ahead of schedule. With about 1,125,000 confirmed COVID deaths, the United States still leads the world in COVID-19 fatalities. (If you search “COVID India” or COVID {country name}” on Google, you will no longer see the Our World in Data charts appear.) India is currently facing the highest confirmed case numbers in 6 months. Brazil recorded its 700,000th COVID death last week, the country with the second-most COVID deaths.
A small town in Burundi has detected 3 strange deaths from a mystery illness with similar symptoms to Ebola and Marburg. However, both those diseases were ruled out. The disease, whatever it is, killed within 24 hours. Two weeks ago, Burundi saw polio reappear after 30+ years. Polio was also detected again in New York state, after several months of dormancy.
Marburg was detected in Equatorial Guinea’s largest city, while cholera spreads across southern Africa untraceably.
A woman in southern China tested positive for H3N8, a different version of bird flu. She is the third human case in recent history, after two other people in China tested positive last year. A variant of H3N8 killed a million people in the 1889-1890 pandemic.
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Things to watch next week include:
↠ The International Academy of Astronauts is holding its annual Planetary Defense Conference next week to discuss the potential of meteor impacts on earth, and how the human race should respond to unlikely threats from space (impacts, Carrington Events, etc). I, however, believe our Collapse will come is coming from within.
Select comments/threads from the subreddit last week suggest:
-The United States may soon pass the most comprehensive security surveillance legislation since the Patriot Act …ever. This thread on the proposed law, ostensibly intended to regulate TikTok, cites large parts of the bill that are concerning, to say the least. This debacle also reveals how difficult it can be to combat modern hybrid War(s).
-A 2.7 °C temperature increase will devastate India, according to this thread exploring the future of the future-most-populated nation on earth. A few years ago, someone made CollapseIndia to explore Collapse in an explicitly Indian context; the subreddit has never broken 800 subscribers.
-Thawing permafrost is going to be a really big pollution problem, according to this post from BiosphereCollapse. You can read the full study here, from Nature Communications.
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Looking to shed some of my gear and collect some wishlist items for personal collection.
Wishlist: Bos Js WPJS FCJS Responders Outfit Minus Helmet
Fixers: • Jug-50c-15v • AA-50H-25LvC • AA-25ffr-15fr • AA-E-15c • AA-E-90 • TS-E-90 • V-E-90 • Fur-Aim-25LvC • Fur-Rap-25LvC • Fur-Ffr-15c • I-50crit-15v • I-50H-25LvC
Railways: • Q-25ffr-15c • Gour-E-25LvC • AA-50H-25LvC • Jug-ffr-15c • TS-50c-15Fr Misc Weapons: • Assassins-50c-15c EPR Flamer • AA-50c-50break • Med-E-25LvC LMG • V2525 LMG • AA-25Stand-90 Chainsaw • I-FSS-40PA Chainsaw • Stalk-50c-15c Auto Pipe • Gour-50c-15v Submachine Gun
Armor (Non-PA) • Uny/1P/Cav Urban RL • LS/Rad/Cav Urban LL • Noc/Limb/Explosion Urban RA • Noc/Explosion/AWR Urban RL • OE/Rad/AWR FSA CP • OE/Cryo/Sent Urban Urban RA • Uny/Rad/Sent Urban RA • Uny/Rad/Fall Wood LA • Weightless/Explosion/Sent Combat CP • Weightless/Explosion/ Cav Heavy Metal RA
PA Pieces: • AutoStim/EDWWR T-45 RL • Bol/Explosion/WWR T-45 LA
PA Set: • H: Oe/7led/wwr 4/5 left arm is Oe/1i/5frost Ultracite
Apparel: • Full Pink Asylum • Full Brown Asylum • Buffoon Mask • Demon Mask • Deathclaw Mask X2
Plans: • Bottle Plush • Camo Backpack • Croc Backpack • Gorilla Backpack • Cricket Tube • Floor Safe • Grim Reaper Vault Cutout • Insurgent Plan Set(Hat and Outfit) • Large Ultracite Shard • Meat Pile • Nuka Girl Rug x4 • Red Truck Ceiling Light x3 • SBQ Plushie • Scorched Tube • Sheriff's Hat • Sitting Gorilla x4 • Standing Gorilla x4 • Snallygaster Plushie • Tattered Curtains x4 • Titan Plushie x2 • Vintage Watercooler • WV State Bird Rug • Wall Mounted fan x4 • Wanted Poster • Wendigo Tube x3 • Yao Guai Tube • Antibiotics(Plan) x4 • Berry Mentats • Nuka Dark

Warning: I'm longwinded, so please be ready for a journey.
Last week I regaled Reddit with the story of how my vice principal (VP) tried to ban calculators from the SAT. Her rival in this debacle was our then math teacher (MT), who was VP's primary antagonist that year. As I stated in my last story, VP targets a new teacher each year, whom she fashions into the "big baddy" of her personal shonen.
You'd probably expect that VP, having no qualifications to be an administrator, would target teachers who are more qualified than she is. This was rarely the case. Our principal (P) strives to surround herself with lackeys who parrot her every word. What use does P have with silly old "qualifications" when she has VP, whose nose is so deep in P's butt she can smell P's liver?
No, you're more than likely going to be the new target if you are equally as blonde and blue-eyed as VP, or if you are a local black woman. The former is a threat to VP because P's eye may stray from VP as she becomes enamored with another blonde, blue-eyed gal -- especially if she's younger than VP. If you're the latter, you're a walking PTSD trigger from VP's experience with MT.
I was thinking about making this a single post, but my coworkers and I got to talking, and I think it would be better if I served this dish in smaller portions. So, I'll start at the beginning with Pt. 1:
When MT first arrived, she and VP were thick as thieves. MT had miraculously fallen out of the sky shortly after an accusation of racism against the then junior-high school math teacher. Veteran coworkers have confirmed that these accusations were definitely warranted, but this teacher was P's daughter-in-law, so even though parents complained about her discriminating against black students, P couldn't get rid of her. VP put an ad out online for a co-teacher, and MT arrived within days - in the middle of April.
This should have been a red flag. How many qualified teachers are just ready to start work tomorrow in the middle of the spring term? In my country, hardly any. The island is too small, so to avoid angering former employers you'll have to interact with at church or at the next festival, you stick with your crappy job until June. Some of my coworkers wondered if MT had been fired from the private school she'd been working at prior to her interview (which we'll call ABC High). But P was convinced that MT was A1 sauce. You see, P has a "gift". P believes that God has blessed her with an iron-clad intuition nestled deep in an iron-clad tummy. This means that, according to P, she can tell if someone is good based on whether or not her gut growls. I kid you not, the woman waits for her belly to tell her if she should hire you. The fact that P doesn't eat anything more than two boiled eggs and an apple a day is in no way related to her belly rumblings, of course. I often wonder if she'd have hired me had she not scheduled my interview to take place before lunchtime...
MT must have gotten an interview before P's daily eggs as well because she got the job before she left campus the day of her first interview and started work the very next morning. P didn't bother to check MT's credentials (keep that in mind for later in this saga). Why would P need to? MT was articulate. MT was poised. P's belly was growling like a horny honey badger, and there was just no way anyone who made P's belly growl as hard as MT did could possibly be lying to her, right?
Right?
What really won P over was the fact that MT was local. There weren't many of those around campus before me and my cohort showed up, and I'm sure when we leave, P will replace us with her usual fare - bored expatriate housewives (whom we call "Kimmies") from the neighboring gated community. For years, P had employed as teachers the uncertified, inexperienced, sometimes illegal wine-Os whose kids attended the school. Some believe this is because Kimmies are relatively cheap - and they are. I've worked with a couple of Kimmies who lasted no more than a year, and these ladies just want something to do during the day while their husbands work real jobs as executives at the local resorts and hotels. The "pocket change" of $40k/annum is just a bonus. Others believe it's because P uses Kimmies as free marketing. Nothing draws in white expat parents like sweet, young, ditzy white housewives. I know half the reason P hired me is that I'm whiter than marshmallow fluff (though it's "a pity" I'm local).
Besides the fact that the Kimmies weren't teaching the students diddly-squat, P's preference for white foreign teachers was starting to wear thin on parents, and when P's daughter-in-law blatantly began curry-favoring white students over black students, P thought for sure that the best way to appease her clients was to bring in a local teacher, and it did. The students loved her classes, which she held outside in the fresh air, sometimes in the grass. Parents were impressed with her chameleonic nature - code-switching at the drop of a hat; being able to chat with parents about dance-hall artists like Vybz Kartel and Spice. VP praised MT for having "saved the school". She was so thankful that she demoted her daughter-in-law to the elementary department and gave MT a full-time position as the senior high-school math teacher. But I knew something P didn't.
You see, when I applied to the school, I wasn't the only teacher from my prior institution (XYZ School) itching to find new employment. P asked me during my interview if I knew any science teachers who were looking for a place that September, and so I passed the offer to a science/math teacher (ST) with whom I was very close. ST was Nigerian, but she'd been working in my country for several years. In fact, just before she'd transferred to my institution at that time, she'd been teaching at ABC High. She'd probably worked with MT.
"Who?"
ST, who had pictures proving she'd worked at ABC High, had never heard of MT. Thinking MT must have started her tenure at ABC High right after ST had transferred to XYZ, ST called her old coworkers to hopefully make a connection with MT and get P's belly growling. But all of ST's former coworkers said:
"Who?"
No one at ABC High had ever heard of MT. So, why would MT lie about having worked there -- especially when the island is so small and people can easily vet that info? We'll save that story for later...
Now, ST didn't reveal MT's lie to P. I think ST wanted to keep that juicy detail as leverage against MT. The problem was that ST had her interview with P right after lunch, so P's belly didn't growl at ST. And even though ST had degrees and teachers' qualifications verified by our ministry of education, there was something P didn't trust about ST, so ST didn't get the job.
The distrust, it seems, came from VP and MT. MT, who was VP's best good friend, questioned ST's skills after reading ST's mock lesson plan. She'd told VP that ST's math was incorrect and that the science was outdated -- a connection MT disgustingly drew to her Nigerian education. VP, ever a xenophobe, convinced P that ST was not a good fit for the school.
Now, you may be wondering how I know this. Well, MT told me personally.
During new-teacher orientation week, I went to MT's room (which was just two doors down from mine) for some tape. We were supposed to be setting up our rooms -- you know, putting up posters and setting up our desks and chairs. However, MT was too busy to do any of that. When I entered her room, her windows and door were vibrating from the loud bass of a subwoofer on her desk. There MT was, penning a song to an afro-beats rhythm. My uncle was a dance-hall deejay for most of my childhood, so it takes a lot for a song to scandalize me, but what MT was telling her unnamed lover to do to her mouth was nastier than any Kartel song, and Kartel literally tells you how he's going to "breed up your belly"...
Of course, when she realized who I was, MT had to explain why ST didn't get the job as her counterpart in junior high school. She told me how VP had "misunderstood" her assessment of ST. It was VP who didn't want ST around. ST was more qualified that VP, MT told me, and so she couldn't have that competition around, especially not a qualified black woman. VP, MT told me, was so racist and conniving. I was shocked by MT's description of VP. It's not that I hadn't already begun to peg VP as a bigot; it was that I'd only just seen MT and VP keekeeing together in a staff meeting an hour before. I let MT go on with her lie, and the whole time I wondered what the fuck I'd gotten myself into.
But Proverbs (or Oscar Wilde) says that no good deed goes unpunished. ST was the only teacher who'd applied for the junior-high-school science/math position other than a Russian whose work permit wouldn't be ready until November, and so September came and there was no teacher in the classroom with grades 7-9. Now, one of the ways VP got her place of power was by convincing P that she could teach any subject, so when there was no teacher to teach grades 7-9, P made VP do it until the Russian guy could make it into the country. MT didn't know it at the time, but there is one thing you don't want to do to VP, and that is inconvenience her. The most inconvenient thing for VP is to teach, so for a week, VP stewed in her anger at having to teach this class until November, and as she stewed, she began to realize that the reason she was now forced back into the classroom she'd worked so hard to get out of was...MT.
So, how did the showdown between VP and MT begin? Legend has it that on the first day of the school year when kids came back to campus, there were no chairs in MT's classroom. She hadn't noticed the week before since she'd been too busy recording her latest song, so her homeroom students had nowhere to sit. Since she had a class full of boys, MT decided to make use of them by having them grab some chairs from the storage shed across campus. But MT had the propensity to wear stilts for heels, and 15-year-old boys are like the Energizer bunny on diesel, so she'd quickly fallen behind the class on their way to the shed. Unfortunately for MT, VP happened to be lurking around campus aimlessly, as incompetent snakes tend to do. When VP saw the boys seemingly unattended, she accosted them. She demanded they stop "loitering" and return to their homeroom immediately. She told the boys that no good teacher would just let them run about like headless chickens. Then, she scuttled back to her office to send a mass email to all teachers reprimanding whoever it was that allowed their students to run amuck.
(VP and P are notorious for sending passive-aggressive emails like this - passive in that they never call names and instead aggressively chastise everyone for something they didn't do because you should know if they are reprimanding you or not.)
Then, VP reminded us that good teachers can control their students without having to send them outside to blow off steam.
And that's how Armageddon started.

Rows and rows of corn rustled in the early autumn breeze, eleven year old me danced around the farm. Glancing down at my hands, my eleven year old hands had replaced mine. The brief escape from my masters wouldn’t last long, dogs barked in the distance. Smoothing out my white sweater, my dark denim skirt fluttered in the breeze. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I still needed more time. Sprinting into the corn, stalks smacked my face. Horror rounded my eyes, heavy paws crashed behind me. Skidding to a stop, my faceless master held me down, allowing the dogs to bite me. Tortured screams burst from my lips, their teeth sinking into my legs and arms.
“I’ll teach you not to run, Swallow!” His deep voice barked ferociously, the heel of his boot pushing my face into the dirt. “You belong to us! Boys, let’s go home. You have to walk home to get bites stitched up. See you if you make it.” Ditching me to bleed out, the sunshine changed to moonlight. Dirt covered up my hands, my body protesting as I struggled to my feet. Limping out of the field, an eleven year old boy with ruby eyes popped up in front of me. Running his hand through his onyx hair, he adjusted his top hat. Taking my hand, my eyes couldn’t leave his pinstripe suit.
“You won’t remember this but we will meet in the future. Hold on for a bit longer.” He promised lovingly, kissing my forehead. “I am going to heal you and you will keep marching forward. I am going to leave you with this.” Kissing my lips passionately, a bright light healed my wounds. The light died down, the boy was gone. I could run but where would I go? Home wasn’t an option, my hands crossing. Sinking to my knees, my fingers traced the layers of bruises and cuts on my skin. Pain was all I knew, the harsh whip of harmful words tearing me down by the day. Wiping away my tears, storm clouds brewed over my head. Time passed, the corn dying and growing in speed motion. Glancing down at them, my regular hands had returned. Eleven year old me walked out of the cornfield, her arms folded across her chest.
“Wake up and stop wallowing in the past!” She spat at me, her bare feet marching up to me. “Don’t be such a pathetic loser.” Inky blackness dyed her eyes, her form shifting to a glitching shadow. Clawed hands reached out to me, my clammy fingers playing with the hem of my blouse. Snapping his fingers, a force woke me up.
Jerking awake, the field of corn swayed in front of me. Patting my body, my usual outfit covered my body. My chest tightened, every breath shortening. Pale moonlight bathed the endless sea of corn, involuntary tears slid down my cheeks. Demy, I needed Demy. Struggling to stand, barking in the distance sent me ten feet in the air. Cupping my ears, a happy mutt ran up to me. His shaggy brown fur was matted with mud, a tag shining in the moonlight. Taking deep breaths, my heart rate settled down. Crouching down to his level, an address greeting me. Shifting through my magic boots, soft leather grazed my fingers. Pulling it out, the dog sat still while I struggled toclick it on. Walking him onto the street, storm clouds brewed over my head. A familiar energy sent chills up my spine, his tail wagging at an unassuming house. The canary colonial loomed over me, one light flickered in the window. The dog went berserk, his barks echoing in the night. Pointing the nose to the shadowy treeline, the glitching shadow figure stepped out of the shadows. Undoing the leash, a pat on his butt sent him back into the house.
“Let’s take this somewhere else. You called me and kidnapped a dog to get me to you.” I growled through a wall of tears, fighting the impending anxiety attack. “I want to fight you away from people. No deserves the chaos you can bring.” A sly grin danced across his lips, wicked laughter rumbling in his throat. Snapping his fingers, the home faded to the torched remains of the training facilities. The memory of me burning it down when I was eleven haunted my mind, the screams of the dying people broke me down in seconds. Collapsing to my knees, vomit flew up my throat. Circling me, his slow claps sank me deeper into my guilt.
“I was born here because of your sins. I am the combination of all the souls you killed that day. We want you dead. You don’t deserve happiness.” He barked bitterly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “You have to pay for your sins. There is no way you can have the fruit of a good life after what you did.” It had been an accident, my foot knocking down a candle on flammable chemicals the moment I fell in. Shaking my head, my body rocked back and forth.
“It was an accident!” I blurted out desperately, ripping his arms off of me. “I accidentally knocked over a candle and the flames landed into a vat of chemicals. I tried to warn everybody and you didn’t listen. You thought I was lying. It was your boss who said to let it all burn. Yell at him.” Ripping my head back, his mouth opened up. Ashes flowed into my throat, a coughing fit taking over. The dry material tasted horrendous, nausea wracking my body.
“Do you mind leaving my little Swallow alone?” Demy called out from the shadows, his gun aimed for the shadows head. “Hell of a trick you played there, buddy. Pulling somebody through their dreams. What do you have to say about yourself?” Cocking his brow, fury seethed in his eyes. The shadow refused to let me go, my past literally holding me back. Coughing up the rest of the ash, a stinger extended from his wrists. Pressing it into my neck, my vision blurred. Every cell in me wanted to die, the guilt eating away at my soul. So many screams rang in my ear, the crackling of a fire stealing me away from my current reality. Tears welled up in my eyes, my composure slipping away.
“Our only pathway to Heaven is to kill her so we can move on.” He hissed evilly, pushing it through my neck. “Your little swallow will soon be dead.” Ripping it out, blood poured down my neck. A cry from Demy snapped me back to reality, his bullet whizzing by my head. Mouthing a healing spell, the wound sealed shut. Jumping to my feet, the shadow popped up behind me. Jamming my elbow into his chest, he cried out. Clapping my hands, the three of us stood in the cornfield. The bad part is that we were separated, Demy’s voice calling out to me. Panic gripped me at the silence around me, knowing the next victim.
“Be quiet or he will find you!” I shouted over hooting owls, an idea coming to mind. Digging around with my boot, my fingers curled around my staff. Fire seemed out of the option, my mind moving to air. Slamming the tip of my staff on the loose dirt, a blast of air shot me closer to the moon. Scanning the field for Demy, the shadow and him were battling. Aiming my feet for the space in between them, a cloud of dirt obscured my clumsy landing. Confidence faded to horror, the shadow bursting into flames. Shoving Demy out of the way, his flaming hand grasped my arm. The smell of burning flesh nauseated me, the tip of my scythe slammed into his guts. Loosening his grip, his arm touched a stalk of corn. A steady stream of curse words flowed freely from my lips, the flames spreading with an alarming speed. The heat warmed up my cheeks, my angry burn screaming in protest.
“Rain from Hell, Shower us with the gift of water.” I chanted confidently, storm clouds thundering to life. Heavy raindrops crashed to the top of my head, a defiant grin spreading across my determined face. The flames died out before they hit the nearest home, black stalks smoking into the sky. The shadow stumbled back, my swift kicks knocking them to the ground. Pinning him down with my heel, the tip of my staff pressed into his neck. Extending his stinger, a shrill scream matched the next rumble of thunder as he jammed it into my leg. Unable to move my heel, ravens cawed behind me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, Demy’s massive blade of his scythe stabbing us both. The shadow creature seized, his body decaying to dust. Copper poisoned my taste buds, inky blood staining my teeth. Wheezing, he ripped out from my stomach. Blood painted my blouse, his scythe swinging towards my neck. Blocking his attack with my staff, tears stained my cheeks. The wound refused to heal, my tone growing shakier by the second.
“Demy! Stop it!” I pleaded desperately, his scythe smashing into my staff. “Remember when you visited me when I was eleven! I know you lied about watching me a year ago. You have been watching me my whole life. You know everything about me and you chose to keep that a secret. I am not even freaked out by it. I need you to come back so I can marry you.” His hard expression softened, my staff splashing in the mud. Lowering his scythe, black smoke curled off of my palms. Helping him tuck it into his hat, the ravens flew back into his top hat. Our hair clung to his face, his shattered expression falling on my wound. Shivering in the rain, he guided my head to his neck.
“I am so sorry that I hurt!” He sobbed into my ear, my fangs extending over my lips. “Drink what you need to heal.” Sinking my teeth into his neck, his arms held me like his life depended on it. Drinking my fill, his eyes refused to meet mine. The rain hid his tears, my trembling hands placing his hat on head. A bright light sealed my wound shut, a wave of relief washing over me. Sobs shook our bodies, the two of us shivering. Cupping his face, my lips kissed him feverishly.
“Now it is my turn.” I wept softly with a quiet smile, his shame filled eyes not leaving my loving gaze. “I may have forgotten that day but your words kept me going. You didn’t do anything wrong, you simply lost control. Weapons can devour you if you aren’t careful. I can heal. Wounds end, my heart would break if you weren’t by my side. Please stay by my side.” Pressing his forehead against mine, his slender hand cupped my cheek. Taking a couple of deep breaths, a slight fear still haunted his eyes. The crunching of my calf bone fusing back together stole the moment, a fit of laughter bursting from our lips.
“I don’t really have a choice.” He teased blithely, his crooked grin melting my heart. “Je t’aime plus que le monde.” Understanding French, my heart fluttered. Scooping up my staff, it shrank back down. Tucking it into my boot, my hand took his. Dragging him out of the destroyed cornfield, the rain slowed to a stop. Tugging him along, his arm kept the branches from his scratching his face. Taking a couple of turns, his breath hitched at the sea of red and oranges spreading underneath the steely gray cliff. Sitting down on the edge, my head rested against his shoulder.
“This is where I always hid from them to get away from my masters before I burned the building down. I always had a place to go.” I commented serenely, his hand cupping mine. “I accidentally set the fire that day. The guilt eats at me everyday. What can I say?” Leaves rustled behind me, the hollow steps of my fellow co-workers boots weren’t that far behind. Pushing him off the cliff, my finger ripped out my staff. Gears whirred, the staff bending at a forty-five degree angle. A mix of golden and scarlet feathers burst from the metal frame, a metal bar coming down. Gripping the metal bar, I pulled myself up. Demy hung on for dear life, my slender fingers stealing his gun. Ripping it from his pocket, the gun hissed upon my touch. Crossing my legs, the scope helped me get a line of three them. Alarm widened my eyes, a helicopter floating up behind me. Leaning back, my aim quivered on the engine that I built. Undoing the safety, a quick yank of the trigger sent a bullet towards the gas tank. Flying up close to the open door, simple white masked assassins greeted me. Perfect, they were ranked lower than me. Evil laughter rumbled in my throat, a quick round leaving steaming bullet holes in the center of their forehead. Stealing their guns, the pilot shot a few rounds into my chest. The bullets made their way up my throat, the pilot soon realizing their mistake. Flicking a bullet in his direction, his body collapsed into a heap. The other assassins leapt off the cliff, metallic wings keeping them from falling to their death. Tucking Demy’s gun back into his pocket, only a few more seconds remained before the helicopter explosion would kill us both. Laying all the way back, my body was verticle to the ground. Counting the seconds, it would take one bullet to kill my enemies in one action. Lining the bullets into my fingers, my hand curled into the ready position. Three, two, one! Flicking my wrist, the velocity of my strength put a bit of heat on the bullets. Swinging myself underneath, Demy helped me steer us away from the impending explosion. A thunderous boom released a wild wind, the orange flames lighting up the sky. Control slipped away from us, the device crashing into a bed of branches. Blood and guts rained down with metal pieces, a blast of ice from my trembling palm putting out the flaming pieces before they touched the dry trees. Smiling warmly to myself, my staff clicked back to normal. Examining her for damage, nothing could be seen.
“That was a close one.” Demy laughed softly, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s find an open circle to draw us a way home.” Lowering ourselves down, our feet touched the packed down dirt. Pausing for a moment, it felt like a car had hit me. The emotional strife had caught up to me, a mental break down was sure to hit me later. Right now, we had to get home. Scrunching my nose up in disgust, blood and rain had soaked me to my bones. Another set of clothes was ruined, my thoughts beginning to run insanely in my mind. The motion of him placing me on his back stole me from my random train of thoughts.
“Let me take care of the rest while you get some rest. You did do most of the work after all.” He assured me with a playful wink, my head resting against his back. Branches crunched underneath his boots, his lips brushing against the tops of my hands. His clothing was just as torn as mine, my fingers tracing every shred. A shiver ran up his spine the moment I kissed the back of his neck. The moon traded shifts with the early morning sun, his endless hike resulting in an empty circle bathed in the orange rays of dawn. Setting me down the center, his hand danced in circles. The usual symbols stared back up at me, his knife guiding across my palm. Squeezing my hand until a shining pool of blood reflected our filthy faces, he guided my hand around. Dropping a pile piece of his ledger book from home, flames devoured the paper. A rush of air circled us, the woods of New Hampshire faded away to our bedroom. Still cupping my palm, his hungry eyes couldn’t stray from the fresh blood. Offering him my palm, his fangs sank into the tender flesh. Old Man Dallas poked his head in, his hand covering up his nose.
“I will have dinner ready in an hour. Get cleaned up and make yourselves presentable.” He twanged with his rich accent, smoothing out his staple white suit. “We have a job prospect coming tonight and she pays well. I will lend you one of my wife’s dresses from the fifties. You will probably just poof yourself a suit. Chop chop, my little beignets. We have a business to grow.” Setting a couple of dresses on the bed, Demy motioned for me to get cleaned up. Sprinting into the bathroom, the quick shower invigorated me. Drying myself off, a black and white polka dot swing dress hung on the door. Pulling it over my head, Demy poked his head in. Zipping it up for me, his slender fingers styled my hair into an intricate bun. Spinning me around, he kissed my forehead. Dusting off his clean suit, he adjusted my collar. One should feel shame but pride swelled in my eyes. Pulling a liquid liner out of his pocket, one simple flick on either side gave me a perfect cat’s eye. Clutching me close to his chest, he offered me my boots. Sliding my feet into them, his arm hooked around my elbow. Guiding me downstairs, his body stiffened at an elderly lady sitting to the left of Old Man Dallas. Her fucshia pink silk dress hugged her petite body, her wrinkles telling a twisted tale. Cloudy eyes followed my every move, her silvery blue hair rested in a perfect bun.
“I am Madame Seshunio, your next client and forever client if you do well.” She introduced herself with her nose up in the air, sliding over a card. “I came to drop off the order. As for my place to stay for the entirety of the job, Old Man Dallas offered me a room. In fact, I would like your room. I heard it is the second biggest. Perhaps you can sleep up in the attic.” My brows furrowed, Old Man Dallas’ stern gaze shut down my initial reaction. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tame Demy.
“I am not sleeping where they tortured those poor souls, Madame Sesheunio.” He snapped hotly, pulling out a chair for me. “We will sleep in the living room. Do not touch any of my things or I will place a curse on you. Do you understand.” Helping me sit down, an anxious maid brought out plates of steak and potatoes. Her gnarly hands cupped mine, mixed emotions flashing on her face. Tears stained her cheeks, a look of rage poisoning the softness of the sadness. Falling back, a look of horror plastered itself into my brain.
“You shouldn’t be alive.” She stuttered nervously, her shaking hands unable to pick up her fork. “So much tragedy courses through your veins, your mental state sure to bring you down. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, the Mad Hatter will marry the Swallow. Many children are dancing around you, their laughter filling the air.” A warm smile sweetened her features, Demy nudging my shoulders.
“I like you, Swallow.” She admitted freely, her eyes falling on Demy. “You tamed the Mad Hatter with a collar around your neck. You really must be something.” Cutting his steak, Demy’s words nearly made me choke on my spit.
“You did live here as a young lady when I showed up. You seem to be doing well yourself. How are the grandchildren?” He asked sincerely, bowing in her direction. “You did get me in trouble. You were like the sister I never had. How could I forget about the times we nearly gave him a heart attack?” Scanning the card, my eyes bulged at the reward for completing the job. My face fell at the job and its magnitude. Clearing out a sea of demons was the last thing I wanted to do, a long sigh escaping my lips. Why couldn’t I ever get a fucking break?

Memories of last night made me blush, the tension had been released. Demy leaning on his elbow as I tugged on my boots, his sly grin showing his pride from our fiery night of passion. Adjusting the ruffles on my blouse, his strong arms yanked me back onto the bed. The tension had faded between us, our satisfaction matching eotherach .
“Let’s play today.” He pleaded with big puppy dog eyes, a light smile dawning on my lips. “I had so much fun last night.” A golden envelope slid under the door, Demy’s fingers snapping. The envelope landed in his palm, a long exhale escaped his lips. The sounds of New Orleans came to life, jazz music filled the air. My weekend with my uncle had been lovely, but the noise and chaos of New Orleans felt like home or did Demy feel like home? Sinking deeper into my train of thought, a hungry kiss brought me back. Time stopped, my heart skipping a beat. Climbing on top of my lap, his hand plopping his hat on top of my head. What brought this on?
“We have a local job today.” He announced with unfiltered joy, lifting my chin up with his finger. “How about a date after?” A black ball of light blinded us, hairy legs grabbing me. Crying out for help, the monster whisked me away to another dimension. Throwing me on a giant web, chills shot up my spine. My face paled, horror widening my eyes. Struggling against sticky white silk, the silk vibrated. A shrill scream burst from my trembling lips the moment tiny spiders crawled over me, a man with six hairy legs trailing behind his tall slender body sauntered across the ceiling. His large abdomen bounced up and down, clammy sweat drenching my skin. A vibrant green suit hugged his seven foot seven frame, inky black eyes glistened underneath a fluff of neon green hair. His violet lips curled into a wicked grin, a long piece of silk glistened in the flickering light. Lowering his body, his face was centimeters from mine. Long fangs hung over his lips, a bright green venom dripped down the fangs. Clicking them together, his tongue licked his lips as they retracted into a row of clean teeth. Cupping my chin, his cold hand moved my face.
“How ugly!” He scoffed haughtily, licking my cheek. “You will make a most delectable meal.” Focusing on his ash gray skin, a stinger extended from his wrists. The venom dripped down the tip, the foul liquid burning my cheek. Healing up as fast as it burned me, frustration raged in his eyes. A defiant grin danced across my determined face, my tongue spitting out the spiders attempting to get into my mouth. Cringing at the sensation of tiny legs tickling my tongue, he snapped my head to face him.
“Poison doesn’t affect me.” I bragged jovially, my confidence coming back. “Nice try. I guess you will just have to eat me.” Low hisses slithered out of his mouth, his legs spinning a web around my squirming body. My eyebrow twitched irritably, my fingers snapping quietly. My staff floated into my palm, my enemy not noticing. Shoving it up my sleeve, a quiet groan escaped my lips at the fact my shirt was going to be destroyed. Allowing him to wrap me in a cocoon, the goal was to get him to relax his damn security. The sticky silk clung to my skin, his pets crawling up my leg. Couldn’t he just leave already! Gross, this fucking sucked. Shaking off my nerves, scarlet flames torched his webs, a rush of heat blowing his webs around. Glancing around, several cocoons surrounded me. Panic gripped my mind, the flames second from reaching them. Switching elements, golden ice crept up the web. Black smoke curled out of the small hole above me, a familiar energy perking up my spirits. Demy shot the web, his bullet smashing our enemy’s complicated design. Crashing to the cold neon green floor, dummies rained down around us. The wood smashed to bits, screams echoing down the hall. An icy breeze nipped my shoulder, my eyes falling on my tattered shirt. Black lace peeked out, Demy shooting a quick glance. Rolling my eyes, my shaft shifted to dual scythes. A drop of his venom hovered over his head, my body smashing into his. My skin hissed for a moment, my clothes melting away. Stifling a scream of venomous rage, Demy placed his coat over my shoulders. Embarrassment colored my cheeks, a nervous smile twitched on my lips.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He teased playfully, helping me up. “We need to cut out his fangs or remove them somehow.” An idea rang out in my head, my hands cupping his. The screams shattered the touching moment, a rock flipping in my stomach. Dread poisoned my mind, his lips kissed me hungrily. Guiding his fangs to my neck, his fangs sank into my skin. Enough blood would make him immune to the venom, my free hand fending off his legs with my scythe. Sparks drifted aimlessly, his exoskeleton proving to be tougher than I thought. Leaning his head back, he stole his hat back. Reaching into his hat, the energy shifted. My blood prevented him from going fully insane, a sly grin curling on his lips. Black energy swirled around him, his ravens cawing behind him.
“Poison, you are going to die today. Nobody kidnaps my swallow.” He threatened darkly, spinning his scythe over her head. “Are you ready to play?” Tossing me his hat, he mouthed the order to rescue the people. Placing it on my head, it was time to listen to his orders. Sprinting down the tunnel, my scythes sliced through the webs with ease. People dropped to the cold rock, families embracing each other. A low humming noise echoed in my ears, a black gem floated in a ball of pale green energy. Demy ran down the tunnels, his scythe hanging limply by his side. Sweat drenched his skin, inky streaks stained his cheeks. Poison crawled along the ceiling, an electrical shock at one touch knocked me back.
“He keeps regenerating.” He huffed, leaning on his knees. “We need a new plan.” Catching his breath, the corner of his lip curled into a crooked smirk. Swinging the tip of his scythe into the ball, he knocked me to the icy rock. Energy built up, a wave knocked Poison back into the tunnel. Frightened eyes quivered in the shadows, panic gripping my mind. The black gem whizzed over my head, Demy catching it. Tossing it back to me, flames roared to life on my palm. The glistening surface cracked, shrill shrieks threatened to burst my eardrums. Poison charged at us, cracks lining his smooth skin. A devilish grin lit up my face, the gem shattering into pieces with a single squeeze of my palm. The dimension quaked violently, a sharp bang sent blood and guts raining over us. Groaning bitterly, neither of us were pleased to be wearing guts. The dimensions faded to the cemetery, the families all resting in confusion. Tossing him his head back, Demy spun it in his palm. Demy tossed his hat up in the air, his scythe and pets all flying back in. Dumping out a steaming pile of guts, an agitated snarl twitched on his lips. Snapping his fingers, the poor families disappeared. Confusion dawned on my face, so many questions rested on the tip of my tongue.
“Where did they all go?” I stammered nervously, sweeping a couple of organs off of my shoulder. “Are they going to be safe?” Crouching down to my level, he attempted to wipe the blood off of my cheek. Kissing my forehead, his strong arms pulled me in for a desperate embrace.
“They were sent back to their beds. What they experienced will simply seem like a nightmare.” He explained calmly, his trembling body showing how scared he was for me. “I thought I lost you. Thank goodness you are okay.” A sharp clear of a throat captured our attention, Riot sauntering up to us. A simple wave of his hand knocked Demy into the wall of the nearby mausoleum. His other hand reached for me, my hand slapping it away. Demy lay limply at the base of the wall, the wet grass tickling his face.
“What are the odds that your great grandmother was my worst enemy?” He mused playfully, the ground cracking underneath his iridescent snake boots. “Apparently, I messed with the wrong broad “ Jumping to my feet, my staff shrank back to its original form. My power flickered out, wicked laughter rumbled in his throat. His fist swung towards my face, my palm catching the punch. Silent tears stained my cheeks, my hand shattering. Kicking his chest, a tree crashed down upon his impact. His strength tripled mine, the chances of survival dwindling. His body smashed into mine, most of my bones creaking with protest. Kicking him off of me, he flew up into the sky. The bones in my hand clicked back into place, my fist slamming into his jaw. Sending him back into the air, the heel of his boot shattered my jaw. Curling my fingers around his ankle, the ground splitting the moment I threw him down. Clicking my jaw back into place, Demy stirred awake. A swift yank ripped down to his level, the back of his arm clutching the small of my waist. Fright widened my eyes, my porcelain skin beginning to decay. Immense pain jolted my body, ungodly screams escaping my lips.
“I see my daughter’s strength is impeccable but you can still decay away like the rest of us.” He taunted cruelly, my tears soaking his light green velvet suit. “Prepare for your fin-” A bullet whizzed by our heads, a fuming Demy peeled me off of him. Kicking him in the face repeatedly, he held me close to his hips. Bending over, he picked him up by his collar.
“What’s your fucking problem!” He roared thunderously, my father poking his finger together. “What kind of a father beats his daughter! She came back into your life and you want to kill her. Are you sure you didn’t just want to kill her mother? Now that I can understand.” An apologetic smile dimmed his features, glowing symbols lined every inch of his skin.
“I am under a curse for a few murders I committed in the real world in the middle ages. Unfortunately, my master refuses to let me go. Yes, I am the king of the demons or his demons but seriously I am over this.” He spewed faster than I could register all of his words, my mind racing through the myriad of options. “I need the blood of my first born to alleviate the rest of my damn curse. I used to have more symbols on my skin. I will admit to letting that banshee possess your mother. Let’s just say she was a waste of space.” Squirming out of Demy’s arms, I offered my arm to him.
“Shut up and bite it.” I urged kindly, Demy taking a step back. “Then I want you to take on my curse so you can’t kill me. All I have to do is drink yours and the curse I bestow upon you what can’t be undone. Are you willing to take that on? Are you willing to atone upon your sins and kill your boss, the true king of demons?” Defiance burned in his eyes, my other hand cupping his arm.
“I, Scarlet Everton the Sparrow, curse you to a life of servitude.” I chanted confidently, hovering my fangs over his arm. “Now take a bite if you agree to take it on and live a life of freedom! Freedom will be yours if you kill him for me. The terms aren’t that difficult. Hell, I will even make you a king of sorts.” Malice glinted in my eyes, his fangs hovering over my arm.
“Wait a minute!” He barked bitterly, ripping his arm away. “I am fine as I a-” Pinning him down, he struggled under my swelling strength. Banging his head against the ground repeatedly, fury boiled in my veins. Blood soaked his hair, his claws dug into my arm. What the hell was he fucking doing?
“You aren’t fine!” I reprimanded him venomously, letting his head crash back down. “I am offering you a path into the light and a chance to have a relationship with me. What could go wrong?” Flashing him a bright grin, his claws retracted. Pulling my arm close to his fangs, his arm hovered in front of my fangs. Sinking our fangs into each other’s arms, the symbols burned away. The rotten taste of his blood poisoned my taste buds, both of us struggling to swallow our gulps. A swallow flew onto his neck, the inky image settling on his shoulder. Releasing each other from our bites, the union had been formed. Animals stopped singing their nightly ballads, the stillness frightening us all. Our faces paled, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. The onyx version of my staff rested in his palm, the silver bat glistening in the moonlight. Tiny bats fluttered around him, ruby eyes glowed underneath his torn hood. Storm clouds thundered to life, lightning bathing the scene in a bright white light. Heavy raindrops crashed to the tops of our head, my hair soon sticking to the sides of my face. A golden glow bathed my staff, the ominous figure marching towards us. His ash gray robes fluttered in the breeze, my death glare falling on my quivering father.
“Riot, it’s time to repay your debt.” A deep voice thundered, a row of blood stained fangs greeting me. “You must be the wee little swallow I keep hearing about. You could join my team and take over the world. However, swallows always tend to want to fly free.” Riot stirred underneath me, his pleading eyes begging for me to stop as I leapt to my feet. Raising my staff in the attack position, my silver waves blew behind me.
“I can’t have you hurting my father. He may be a dick but I think we can fix things.” I proclaimed proudly, wicked laughter bursting from my lips. “Family is something to be cherished. There is one clear difference between us. The swallow gets to see the sun while you must hide in the shadows. Tell me how it feels to not have anything to live for.” Circling him, his fingers curled around the center of his staff. A metallic clang matched the next bolt of lighting, two straight silver blades glinted menacingly. A flurry of feathers swirled around me, my shaft shifting into dual scythes. Charging at me, our blades clashed violently. Leaping into the air, his blade catching my foot. Demy cried out, another simple wave sending him back. Using the angle to my advantage, my wrists flicked the scythes in the other direction. Pushing off of his back, a single swing sliced off his arms. Jumping off the mausoleum, dismay dimmed my eyes at the sight of his arms growing back. A bolt of lightning captured my attention, both of his swords whistled in my direction. A strangled gasp tumbled from my lips, one of his blades quivered in my stomach. A steady stream of curse words rang out, my trembling hands ripping it out. The damn blade burnt the surface of my palm, the black smoke curling into the sky. Tossing it to the side, my body crashed into a tight ball. An inky pool spread underneath me, copper poisoned my taste buds. Coughing up an unnatural amount of blood, my quivering fingers gripped my scythes’ handles. Struggling to my feet, tears stained my cheeks. Wiping them away, warm intestines struggled to stay in place. Dropping my scythe’s, both of my hands held it all in. Damn it! This hurt like hell. The corner of my lips curled into a snarl, a river of inky blackness cascaded through my fingers. Crawling over to a black iron nail resting in the ground, Demy stirred awake. Tossing it up into the air, Riot skidded past us. Kicking the nail into the sea of grass, a blast of energy shot me up in the air as the hooded figure snapped his fingers. Holding in my innards, every part of my body ached with every roll down the hill. Rolling into the nearest head stone, panic gripped my face. Demy rushed over, his voice fading in and out.
“Little swallow, you need to hang on.” He begged through a wall of tears, my old man shoving him out of the way. Cutting his palm, his blood poured into my wound. Taking a deep breath, his lips moved a mile a minute. The wound sealed shut, only a faint scar remaining. Shock rounded his eyes at my warm embrace, his arms hanging limply by his side. Shock changed to confusion, his mind seeming to be officially broken.
“I tried to kill you, yet you still stand up for me?” He stammered nervously, shoving me off. “I have been nothing but a dick to you. I murdered your mother and I still don’t care.” Shrugging my shoulders, a bright smile spread cheek to cheek. Struggling to find the words, he needed to have his second chance at life.
“Look at it from my perspective. I have a parent again. We can work out all of the kinks. I have to believe you can’t be that bad. You did just save me after all.” I assured him calmly, his nerves fraying further. “I am going to repeat this to you. I love you. So let’s cause a riot together.” Strands of his hair fell in front of his face, his clawed hand reaching for me. Cupping his hand, Demy rolled his eyes.
“You want to cause a riot with me?” He asked with a nervous grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have never heard anyone say that to me. You do know that I murdered a shit ton of people, right? I was a knight to a corrupt king, and killed without any remorse. I kept telling myself it was just an order. So many people died because of me.” Grasping his shoulder, my sins rolled off of my tongue.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned. I was an assassin before this and a damn good one. I think I was a little too good at it.” I admitted sheepishly, his expression softening. “I killed thousands of men but never the women and children. I set them up with my salary. Apparently you didn’t do the same but you can start saving people. I will have to smooth things over with the ghosts. Perhaps I can burn their favorite scents to please them or put on a show that they like. Their taste is something else.” Demy rolled his eyes, my old man hugging me awkwardly. Scarlet colored his cheeks, the embarrassment was simply adorable. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, a small smile twitched on his lips.
“Don’t break yourself by trying to smile. We can work up to that too.” I teased lightly, letting him go. “Let’s go home.” Jumping to my feet, my hand hovered in front of his face. Accepting it cautiously, one yank brought him to his feet. Hooking my elbow in his, Demy tossed me my staff. Blowing him a kiss, Demy winked back at me. Smiling gently to myself, a new part of my journey was about to begin.

First/Prev
The first explosion came an hour before dawn.
It was the right time for an attack; everybody knew that. The guards are tired, most people are asleep, and those who hear something suspicious but aren't close enough to know it's an attack will find any excuse for a few more minutes' sleep. The attackers are wired up and ready, their eyes used to the dark, while anyone who was sitting around the fire will be night-blind.
This was common wisdom to the San, something they assumed everybody knew, but it may well have been thousands of years since the Sovereign Residence on Noepe saw attack. Those who saw the explosion still didn't see the attack—that had begun half an hour before.
Three groups had crept carefully through the grounds, taking advantage of the cover. A few irritating sling stones from a building across the plaza had gotten the larger animals up and roaring, batting at the bars of their cages to call attention and cover sounds, and from the sides the groups came in.
Showers of spears and slingstones took care of the guards, slingstones dealt with the sensors, and the San flowed over the wall as silently as they could manage. The guards were alert as they could be, but the San and the Kel both had hunted the forests and the mountains of home, hunted among hyenas and lions and wolves that hunted back, hunted the chamois and the ibex that could hear a misplaced foot with ease.
By the time a volley of laser fire dealt with the gate guards and knocked many off the walls, the invasion was already well under way and the guards knew it. Two of the groups—about three dozen each, one lead by Logog and one by Barab, circled the grounds, with slingers breaking every sensor they could find. A massive sortie from the building itself flowed into the courtyard, and after a single volley of spears the attackers retreated. Given the chance they might have been able to ambush the defenders, but there were too many, and they were not foolish. They kept their ranks together, rifles ready, and when a spear flew from the dark a dozen rifles centered on its source and three dozen more peppered laser fire all around it. The costs were heavy, especially since they brought no dogs. As lights came on they went out again, smashed by stones, but when the sun came up in the West the warriors retreated, four groups of thirty slipping back over the walls as other soldiers rushed to man them, getting clear before the air vehicles could get overhead and spot them. Explosions rocked the air, and other eggs fell inside the walls and short of them, spewing smoke and chaff.
At the walls, the battle did not go well. Some dozen of the San were killed and three or four times that many wounded, and aside from those picked off the walls the defenders suffered nothing. The gate guards were not all killed, and they managed to close the gate well before the San could run the gauntlet of plasma bolters and Klokin guns to reach it. The shields protecting the walls held up easily under barrages of exploding eggs, and before long the San retreated, then scattered, fleeing a thousand different directions into a thousand different areas of the city. Three or four dozen were seen immediately after in bars or restaurants, but the rest were quietly moving North, out of the city by a hundred different methods. Some even took trains back to Shangshen, where they could pick up the vehicles just in case.
Nobody really noticed the two dozen men and women who found their way in through a maintenance door.
The soldiers weren't truly so careless as to leave one open. The poor maintenance worker who opened it for them was now soundly tied and gagged. Higa had wanted to leave the woman there, but Mogan had let her see his spare knife, set it on one side of the storage room, and then carried her gently to the other side. She would be able to wiggle back to his knife and cut herself loose, but by the time she did they would be finished and dead or finished and gone.
Half of them brought pistols, including Mogan, but hoped not to use them. The 'pop' of expanding steam and burning impurities would be an instant giveaway that something was wrong, much less the sound of whatever a laser hit, and so they each walked with a spear nocked, eyes constantly moving.
Ellisan used her wristpad to map where they had been, but that didn't precisely tell them where they were going, and the moved slowly.
“Use your noses,” Mogan whispered. “This is a luxury place, yes?”
The walls were testament to that, covered in precious metals, beautiful woods and stones, with paintings and decorations. It seemed each room had a floor in a different style of wood or stone, and soft light kept everything illuminated.
“If we find where the food is cooked, where she eats it won't be far. They won't risk the food getting cool or warm from distance, right? Food and cleaning chemicals.”
It wasn't a bad idea, but that wasn't how they found the Governess. Two guards came around a corner, and whipped up their rifles, but it was too late. One of them managed an ineffectual shot into the floor before four spears hit him; the other didn't even get that before four slammed through him.
Even so, one shot was more noise than they wanted, and everybody froze, listening. Ellisan's eyes brightened, and she whispered.
“Wind.”
Nobody spoke—perhaps straining to hear it themselves, perhaps waiting for her to explain.
“I hear it—wind going through... not branches—columns or rails, I guess.”
Mogan nodded. “Balconies.”
“Someplace you could look out at all your subjects,” Higa agreed.
“Maybe,” Mogan said, but it was all they had, and so they decided on going up. Someone suggested that after the attack Governess Shenya would be buried somewhere, in the most fortified part of the building, but Mogan knew better. They were rabble—anybody who didn't have a higher station than her was—and Shenya would not move for rabble, no matter the wisdom or necessity.
From what they could see the building was six stories high—presumably if they found stairs or a ramp it would go all the way up, but they had to find it first, and so they got moving again.
When they finally found the stairs, they found the second story even more opulent than the first. Mogan was certain that the walls of entire rooms were coated in precious metals, and one window big enough for him to stand up in was filled not with glass but entirely with gemstones.
It seemed that the second floor was better guarded, but Mogan presumed that there just weren't as many maintenance areas that didn't need so many guards. Whatever the reason or the implications, one guard managed a shout before whistling spears silenced him, and three more guards sprinted down the hallway into an ambush. It was more luck than they had a right to, and Mogan couldn't help thinking it could not last forever. He was right.
After the next three guards were downed and their rifles appropriated, there were a few tense moments of silence. The bodies downstairs had been stashed behind furniture, but there was no time to properly hide them, nor to clean up the bloodstains, and they couldn't go much longer before they were found. Worse, they didn't see any visual devices but had no idea what might be seeing them.
The San advanced, appropriating the guards' rifles as they searched for another stairway leading upwards. They snuck past walls entirely lined with exotic furs, displays of animal teeth and walls made of thin strips of tusk, others coated with material that looked like the inside of a clamshell. They saw no other guards, and Mogan found himself shaking his head. It made no sense.
And then, quite suddenly, it made perfect sense. Two walls slid almost instantly into the ceiling, revealing two dozen men and women with leveled laser rifles on each side. The officer, blue uniform decorated with gold braid and pistol in hand, smiled widely.
“You were looking for the governess, yes? Well, put down your weapons and we'll take you to her!”
The pistol leveled at Mogan's head. “Now, please.”
Two dozen warriors of the San walked up the staircase. They were disarmed and surrounded, but couldn't help feeling slightly amused. Walking up four flights of stairs had barely changed their breathing, while the Sylfa guarding them needed to catch their breath.
Mogan had muttered to them to keep quiet, and to wait for his signal. He suspected that a few of them had managed to hide weapons, even if just a knife or two, and now was not the time for them. If he remembered Shenya rightly, they were indeed being taken to her. There were few things that Shenya did well, but she knew how to hate. That, she was quite good at, and from what Mogan had seen here on Noepe the years had not brought her kindness. He would just have to hope they hadn't brought her wisdom either.
Mogan walked a little ahead, keeping the pace up, as they walked past yet more disgusting opulence. Holos coated these walls, and between them occasional sculptures of actual paintings. There was no rhythm to what would be next, and Mogan realized that the sculptures and paintings had been made when holos were still available,simply to use the style. Nonetheless, the story they told was impressive.
The first showed Noepe as it doubtless was when first discovered, with desert and thin forest, and heavy ice-caps. There was not as much ice on Noepe as he had seen in the orbit of his home planet, but quite a bit more than there was currently.
Various works showed the efforts taken to change the planet. Machines were set to deliberately warm the air, causing the ice to retreat as resorts were built at the oceans. When the water began to rise, ships simply carried it off planet. Soil was treated where plains were wanted so that forests could not grow, water pumped into the deserts, the thinner trees replaced with others from different planets.
The first governor—or perhaps the Sovereign at the time--was represented in different styles, gesturing imperiously as forests were cleared simply to replant them. There were hunts, then massive hunts where soldiers shot animals by the hundreds and left them to rot, before other creatures were introduced. Machines were made to scour the seas for dangerous fish or those that interfered with the best sport.
The poachers were represented as well, ragged and dirty men and women dragging down noble-looking creatures and tearing at them. One rather well-painted hanging depicted a battle, where men and women charged, brandishing their own fingernails, at phalanxes of disciplined gunners. The painting was ancient, quite possibly older than anything in the Moon Lake cave, but clearly Shenya's treatment of those who would kill the game reserved to the Sovereign was not entirely unique.
More opulent hunts followed, at least one of which featured a hunter, likely the Sovereign himself, at the aiming reticule of a plasma bolter, killing beasts that looked like those Mogan had seen on New Klon but twice as large.
There were two rebellions and three revolts featured in these murals. In each, the rebels were dirty and ragged, and when warfare was depicted it was always ragged mobs of rebels versus disciplined blocks of Sylfa. Even those in the trees were somehow all side-by-side in neat rows. The only time the enemies of the Sovereignty appeared in neat rows was in executions, and there were many of those.
They also, he noticed, had no Sylfa. Most of the poachers he had met were Sylfa, but all of the poachers, the rebels, and the revolters were entirely Anthata, Shawing, Mantu, and some of the other more common species.
There was little or no time to observe details, as the small group swept up the wide hallways into a spacious room. There were six columns, but Mogan suspected they were less from necessity and more to give the room the open-forest feel popular among Sylfa. The ceiling was high enough that a Mantu probably could not touch it, and they were greeted by the sound of a shoshir sliding from its scabbard.
Mogan knew the sound. For that matter, he knew the shoshir. He knew the woman as well.
The years may not have granted Shenya El' Esh wisdom or kindness, but they had certainly granted her beauty. She had been a stunning young woman when he saw her before, some sixteen years ago, but she had grown, rounded in all the right places. Sylfa tended to be thinner than humans, and she still was—except for her chest, where surgery had been involved—but the curves were undeniable. He heard more than one of those behind him gasp.
“I am going to kill each and every one of you.” She pointed the shoshir at Mogan. The L-shaped handle fit the two hands on her right side easily, and it didn't tremble. Mogan knew the blade well. Long ago, he had taken it from the assassin Fhlynn and had it given to her, but she had hated him before that. She had held him in contempt from the first moment she saw him, but when Fhlynn said something mocking and pointed at him, she had turned to look. Mogan had seen the man's other hands, one covering her drink from her view, the other pouring something from a small vial into it. She had likely hated him from the moment he knocked over the drink, spilling it across the table and her clothes.
“Surely you've had time to replace that dress by now, Shenya.”
“It's not about the dress, Mogan. It's not even about Ellisan, although you know she's illegal. And the one with the scar on his chin and the burn over his eye, that must be Higa—I just might send your head back to Burjit.”
She smirked as they stared. Ellisan mouthed a word, a name, but Mogan put it aside. That was something he didn't want to deal with at the moment.”
“You know I was saving your life that day.”
“Don't lie to me, Mogan. It's really not a good look for your last moments.”
“Fhlynn was an assassin, Ellisan. That's why he came here after me. He chased us a long way and we got away from him, and then I chased him, and he didn't do so well.”
“Enough of that!” Her beautiful lips twisted in a snarl. “Where is Shett?”
“Yil Shett? I don't know, but I'd like to see him again.”
“I told you not to lie to me, animal. I know that traitor has had it in for me, and ever since he defected I've been plagued with one problem after another! I want to know where he is, so I can send him the holos. He humiliated me when he had the power and I didn't, but that's not how it is anymore!”
“What did he do, Shenya, turn you down? I thought your hips had a little extra wiggle in them when you brought his drink.....”
That had been sixteen years ago, and he truly did suspect it, but he didn't expect it to hit a nerve so well. Shenya stabbed the end of the shoshir into the floor, probably damaging something priceless while she was at it.
“How dare you!? Do you not understand your life is in my hands!? I control the Sovereignty—me! I would let you escape, just so I could watch billions of soldiers hunt you down, if I didn't want the pleasure of killing you myself.”
A tiny bit of spittle flew from her mouth as she shouted, and her face had turned a shade of dark blue that was a little bit alarming.
“I have the power now! Me! You took my man away from me, but now you're in my hands, and I'm going to take everything away from you, including that half-animal!”
Mogan's hands tightened as if he could feel her throat in them, but with a great effort he kept his voice calm. “Your man was weak, Shenya. Do you think you're the Sovereign himself?”
“Even better!” Mogan was pretty sure he saw the shoshir sink a little into the floor as she leaned on it. “Fhlynn wasn't good enough for what I wanted, but the Sovereign is! And he does what I say! When I say you're an enemy of the entire Sovereignty, it happens!”
All four hands rested on the hilt and she leaned forward. It was nice for the view, but every muscle was tense as she snarled. “I spoke, and I leaned against his arm, and I had all the information about you that anybody knew. I spoke, and I just trailed my hands across his shoulders, and Shirfa was named a hero of the Sovereignty! I spoke, and I wiggled my ass in some stupid lacy thing he likes, and the reports naming your species non-sapient were given the Sovereign seal of approval—disputing a single word of it used to mean pissing off a Yil, but now it's an instant death sentence to even look for evidence against it--all the efforts of those idiots Hyeshi and Schlo trying to change it were wasted!”
Mogan grunted, but she was grinning now. At least, her mouth formed a parody of a smile, while her eyes burned with hate. “I want you to know it before you die, Mogan! I made it happen! I spoke, and I touched him, and no university in the Sovereignty would publish from either of them! I spoke, and I put my mouth on him, and your whore was abandoned on some worthless wilderness planet that won't see another sapient being for another hundred---”
She was already screaming, or almost, but now her scream turned into something shocked and stuttering as Mogan extended his left hand.
Some of the warriors of the San had seen him do this once before. They had believed that he commanded lightning itself, and it had helped to cement his reputation as one blessed by the spirits. Now they knew that the hand was mechanical, and they could assume that the bolt of electricity that shot from it was also mechanical, but it was no less impressive.
The Animal Person that he had struck nearly a decade ago had literally flown several yards back. One of the assassins here on Noepe, some sixteen years ago, had been knocked down. Shenya didn't, perhaps because the sword stabbed into the floor was an anchor. All four hands clamped down on the handle and electricity crackled and sparked all along the long, flowing blade of gold-titanium alloy as she convulsed, smoke rising from her hands and from her face as her hair smoked, and then a moment later she did leave the ground, landing in a heap some three or four meters away.
An ugly death, but an excellent signal. There was a beep that Mogan recognized, and then Higa threw one of Burjit's eggs. Two others had managed to hide knives before they were seen—and the rest had to go unarmed.
They were not defenseless in this. Everyone wrestled as a youngster, learning how to manage their weight and the weight of another, and while matches weren't supposed to cause harm beyond an occasional bruise, it was easy to tell how things could be worse.
In truth, the Sylfa had it easier than some others. One man simply grabbed a soldier by the waist, lifted him off his feet, and dropped him. Against a human, this was a good way to break a hip or back and perhaps start a blood feud, but the Sylfa simply didn't fall. It made sense that a species conditioned for climbing couldn't simply be dropped and instead held easily to his attacker, but the man was shot twice before he could react. He fell forward, whether by design in his last moments or by lucky accident, pinning the thinner Sylfa beneath his corpse.
Another threw a Sylfa with a rolling hiplock, and a third stomped on the soldier's head as he landed, while a fourth grabbed his rifle.
Higa's explosive went off. Mogan didn't know whether he'd intended to be sure of Shenya or not, but he could see her body twitch as shrapnel struck it, and half a dozen soldiers fell.
Mogan himself was never truly unarmed. Another bolt of electricity struck a soldier who was trying to take aim, and then he slammed a fist harder than steel into a blue-green face. Blood flowed as the guard staggered back, his face a cratered ruin, and then lasers flew as Ellisan grabbed the man's rifle and fired it as fast as she could. Not every shot hit, not even most, but some did.
But Ellisan wasn't the only one firing. As skilled as the San might have been, they were outnumbered two to one, and they were unarmed, and nobody fights a battle like that without taking losses. Half a dozen men fell in the first few seconds, and perhaps half-again that many of the soldiers, while the others sought cover behind couches and overturned tables.
“Cover!” Higa threw one more egg, then found something to duck behind himself. Alarms began to sound, and he made two hand gestures, hunting signals that were often used so that they wouldn't alert game. One indicated he was out of ammunition, another that they needed to pull back. Lasers flashed back and forth as the San backed up with stolen rifles, and Ellisan, bless her, managed to grab one of the bags that had held their own confiscated weapons.
When they reached the doors and took stock, the results of their battle weren't pretty. Everyone was wounded to some degree, and of the twenty-five people who went into that room only eleven made it out. It was a note of sick humor that at least now the bag Ellisan had grabbed had enough weapons for everyone.
“We're not going to fight our way down, Mogan.” Higa panted, holding his side. He hissed as Mogan sprayed in the sealant. “This was a good day, my friend.”
“And it's not done yet. We're not going down. There will be flyers on the roof, and Ellisan can fly anything.”
Ellisan was trying not to scream, holding the cauterized stump where her lower left hand once was. “And then where?”
“....I don't know.”

I know I know .. we can't (under any circumstances) contact a seller. But what would you do?
I ordered this product
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BW8N9VNT
Looks like a cool power washer wand. (Look at product photos) - it looks like I can hold off a regiment of the Russian army with this thing.
Then of course it arrives, and well, .. to be kind - I have 10 times better flow pressure in the men's room.
The product page tries to innoculate themselves by saying that it is highly dependent on the water pressure from your garden hose. Sure. But all I have to do is swap and put my $4 spray handle on the garden hose it's 20x stronger. Thus ... I MUST be doing something wrong.
I mean - it can;t be this bad. I thought I read the product page thoroughly before ordering. All I need is my garden hose and I can power wash ny car and 2nd floor windows. This thing couldn't even threaten my wife's azaleas.
So I really want to ask the seller - did I niavely by this without understanding that I needed some other kind of special hose or equipment? In other vine product dilemmas like this, I could always ask a customer-customer question on the page, but in this case, I'm the first one.
I'd rather not leave a 2 or 3 star review if this is just my not understanding the product.
Comments? Advice?

“A Maid’s Diary,” Chapter 5
by c.w. cobblestone
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Dear Diary,
It’s been several days since my last entry. The family is running me ragged and there’s been no time to write. Luckily, I finished before midnight tonight, so I finally have a few minutes to myself before I have to crash.
This schedule is ridiculous, but that’s the least of my problems. Not only does my workload keep increasing, but I’m being treated worse than ever. Since Mike gave the girls permission to hit me, they’ve become drunk with power, often slapping me for no reason. Especially Olivia. Usually, Kelsey is just bitchy and demanding, and will only hit me if I’ve done something wrong, whereas her impish younger sister invents reasons to punish me, like the other night when she gave me one across the chops at dinner because she said the tater tots on her plate weren’t lined up properly. But I don’t have to even do anything wrong; Olivia will sometimes just slap me out of the blue and say “that’s for nothing,” emulating her father.
While I never had any authority over Kelsey and Olivia even before their real dad moved in and became head of our household, I nonetheless can tell the girls are thrilled to be allowed to slap the shit out of their sissy of a stepfather any time they feel like it.
Mike encourages it. So does Jen. Just last night, when Kelsey complained about a smudge on the heel one of her shoes, my wife told her, “I’d smack the bitch if I was you.” Kelsey obliged. After her stinging backhand, I stood before the family holding back tears as Olivia pointed at me cackling and Jen called me a pathetic little faggot. Meanwhile, Mike sat back proudly surveying the evil he’s fomented in our home.
I constantly fantasize about running as far away as I can from these terrible people and leaving this madness behind. While I never had what you’d call a loving, supportive family, my situation at home has turned into a nightmare since Mike showed up. Jennifer no longer resembles the woman I married, and Kelsey and Olivia have become like spawns of the devil. More and more, I’m beginning to wonder if that isn’t literally true. It’s as if Satan himself is sleeping in my bed, exerting his dark influence on Jen and the girls, encouraging them to abuse me in the most unthinkable ways.
My treatment has become so bad, Mike told his daughters the other day that they should keep our household dynamic a secret from everyone but their most trusted friends. Although I will be coming out at the wedding as the family maid, Mike said he doesn’t want people knowing everything that happens in the privacy of our home. That’s because folks would probably alert the authorities if they knew the kind of abuse that goes on in our dysfunctional domicile.
But the police wouldn’t be able to do anything because it’s all consensual. I hate myself for it, but it’s true. I just can’t say no to the prick, even when obeying him means destroying myself.
When I went to the County Center on my lunch hour last week to drop off the divorce papers and formally file to have my name changed, I stood outside the building entrance for several minutes, completely paralyzed. I somehow sensed that if I went through with Mike’s demand and changed my name to Buffy Jameson, the loss of my former self would be more than symbolic; it would mark the literal death of Lester Edwin Bradford — not exactly the manliest man in the world, but at least a man.
Of course, I ended up doing it. I had tears in my eyes, and the clerk asked if I was okay, but I filed the paperwork like a good little sissy bitch. Nobody twisted my arm. Sure, Mike has twisted my brain, but legally speaking I’m acting under my own free will. Everything that happens to me is completely my fault because I could walk away anytime but choose to stay. Why, I don’t know. I’ve racked my brain and agonized over the matter, but I can’t understand this hold Mike has over me. It’s not just me, though. He has that effect on everyone. And he’s turned them all against me, just because the evil sonofabitch thinks it’s funny to ruin my life.
Work has become a welcome escape. By now, everyone at the bank has gotten used to me dressing as a woman, and while it’s still highly embarrassing for me, I’m able to tune it out for the most part. I go straight to my desk in the morning, sit in a nice, soft chair, and try to concentrate on stock trends for 8 hours.
No matter how deeply I dive into the NYSE and NADAQ tables, though, it’s always in the back of my mind that when quitting time comes, a veritable house of horrors awaits me.
In a nutshell, my life really sucks right now. All I can do is go to sleep and hope that when I wake up, this will all have been just a dream.
​
​
Dear Diary,
Two thugs harassed me after work today while I was walking back to my car. They started following me about a quarter-mile out of downtown. I tried to walk faster but they quickly caught up.
“What’s your hurry, sweet-cheeks?” one of the men asked. “I want to be your boyfriend.”
“I like how your ass looks in that dress,” the other one said.
“Come on, bitch, you know you want it,” the first sleazeball added. “You trannies are all the same.”
“Yeah, you’re all sluts who like guys with big dicks, and we both got huge ones.” The man flashed a crooked-toothed grin. “Wanna see?”
I was scared to death and quickened my pace to a near trot, not an easy task in heels. The two men stayed with me, grabbing my ass and making lewd comments the entire time, until finally, thankfully, I reached my car. The brutes slammed their fists on my hood and screamed obscenities at me as I peeled away.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and gripping the steering wheel proved difficult. During the ride home, I debated whether to tell Mike what had happened. There was no real need for him to know, but he has me so brainwashed I’m scared to keep anything from him.
In the end, I gave in and told my master about my encounter with the two ruffians. Big mistake. He thought the whole thing was hilarious.
“You were probably shaking your ass at them, you sissy whore,” he crowed, and I was glad Jen and the girls weren’t there to witness this latest embarrassment.
Since no one was around to provide an audience, Mike left me alone to tidy up the house. I later found out through his telephone conversation that Jen and the girls were out looking at wedding dresses.
My heart was in the gutter while I cleaned, knowing that Jen and the girls were out shopping to find a dress so my wife could look beautiful on her wedding day. I’m trying to put Jen’s happiness first, and she’s made it clear that she’s thrilled to be marrying the only man she’s ever loved, but it’s impossible. The vision of my beautiful, soon-to-be-ex-bride exchanging vows with Mike brings tears to my eyes and makes me want to puke.
As I tidied up a house that is no longer mine, clad in high heels and an outlandishly short slave dress that doesn’t cover my ruffled panties, topped by a faggoty cap and apron, I didn’t think my mood could get any worse.
It got much worse.
I was cleaning the toilet when my master rushed into the bathroom unzipping his pants. “Move, sissy!” he yelled.
As I started to back away, he grabbed my shoulder. “Hang on a sec. Turn around and bend over the toilet with your face up.”
I obeyed, leaning uncomfortably backward so that the rear of my head was inside the bowl. I knew what was coming as he whipped out his dick with a sneer.
“Open wide and say ah,” he said an instant before the yellow stream started burning my eyes. I opened my mouth, instantly tasting his bitter urine, which overflowed my mouth, running down my forehead and soaking my hair.
“Say ah, goddamn it,” Mike growled.
“Aggggggghhh,” I gargled, choking from his stream of pee, which elicited a chuckle from my tormentor.
It was the longest 60 seconds of my life. When Mike finally finished urinating, he shook the last few drops on my face before zipping back up.
“I just gave you a present, bitch What do you say?”
“T-thank you sir.”
“You’re welcome, now clean yourself up,” he said over his shoulder as he strolled out of the bathroom. “I don’t want my maid smelling like piss.”
Crying my poor little eyes out, I ran to my basement shower and washed that piss right out of my hair. After changing to a new frock, I cleaned the upstairs bathroom where Mike had missed the toilet and made a mess, and then got on with the rest of my housework with my spirits about as low as they’d ever been.
Of course, in the Jameson household things can always get shittier. And they did.
Jen and the girls returned at about 8, and I was surprised to see them accompanied by the Henderson family. Leigh Henderson has been Jen’s best friend for years; her daughters Carmen and Peyton are Kelsey and Olivia’s age, and the four girls are like sisters, having known each other since kindergarten.
Jen proudly introduced her new man to the Hendersons.
“You can trust them,” my wife told Mike. “You know … about Buffy.”
Mike grinned at Leigh and her daughters. “Nice to meet you all. So, you guys know about our little maid?”
“Jen told us some stuff,” a starry-eyed Leigh said, clearly under Mike’s influence only seconds after being introduced to him. Her giggling daughters were similarly entranced.
Mike snapped his fingers. “Sissy! Get over here.”
I rushed to the spot in front of him.
“How long have these beautiful ladies been in our home, Buffy?”
“Um, sir … a few minutes, sir.”
“Then, why don’t they all have cold drinks in their hands? Why don’t I have a beer? Are you not the maid around here?”
“Uh, yes, sir.” I glanced around at the five smirking females who were all enraptured by Mike’s display of power.
Mike shook his head at our guests. “I’m sorry, ladies. We still have a lot of training to do with little Buffy here.”
Jen scowled. “And still the sissy stands there without asking everyone what they want to drink!”
“Ooh, that deserves a slap!” Olivia piped in. She turned to her friends. “Which one of you wants to do the honors?”
“Why not let ‘em both smack the stupid sissy?” Jen suggested.
Everyone thought that was a capital idea.
Carmen went first, and she wasn’t shy about rearing back and slapping the taste out of my mouth. Not to be outdone, her little sister pinched my cheeks with one hand while striking me several times on the nose with the other.
I’ve known the Henderson family since the girls were babies, and because Jen, Kelsey and Olivia had always treated me with disdain, their friends had followed suit. But after falling under Mike’s spell, they were becoming outright cruel, and taking great delight in my humiliation. Mike has that effect on people.
I scurried to fill drink orders when my punishment was over. After everyone was set, Mike showed off in front of company by making me get on all fours to serve as his footstool while he held court.
I remained stock-still, eavesdropping on the conversation.
“Carmen says Buffy should be the flower girl instead of the ring-bearer,” Kelsey said. “That’s usually for little boys.”
“I thought about that,” Jen said. “I just don’t know any little boys who could do it, so I figured Buffy could do both.”
“Tommy could do it,” Peyton said, referring to her little brother. “He’d love to. When we told him about your wedding, he kept saying how he wanted to put on a tuxedo and be the ring-bearer because his friend at school was.”
Jen shrugged. “Shit, I don’t care, that solves the problem. What do you think, hon?”
“I think flower girl for Buffy would be more appropriate.” Mike tapped his foot on my back. “Hear that, sissy? Change in plans.”
“Yessir,” I said, trying to remain still.
“You guys can help us find an outfit for Buffy to wear,” Olivia told her friends, who giggled at the prospect.
I knelt there listening to Mike regale everyone with stories about the time he dodged terrorists in Afghanistan, or when he hid from the Russian police by burying himself in a Siberian snowbank. It sounded like bullshit to me, although my master has an air of mystery about him, and nobody knows exactly what he did during the 15 years he was out of Jen and the girls’ lives. Nobody asks. He’s always cagy about his past, and Jennifer doesn't push him for details. For all I know, he could’ve been some kind of spy. Maybe he still is.
By the time the Hendersons left our house, they’d fallen completely under Mike’s spell, just like everyone else. And I didn’t like the way Leigh had openly flirted with my master — or how Jen seemed to be egging her on. The girls picked up on it, too, and Carmen teased her mom about having a crush on Mike. Leigh threw it right back at them, insisting that they, too, were smitten by him. Meanwhile, Mike relaxed with his feet on my back, drinking in the open, cringeworthy adulation.
I want to hate Mike. But if I’m being completely honest, I envy the sonofabitch. How I wish I could be more like him.
Instead, I’m … this. A downtrodden pansy.
​
​
Dear Diary,
Well, add another hardship to the growing list. Tonight, Mike came home with a little box and told me it was a present for me. I knew that didn’t portend anything good, and I was correct. Inside the box was a spiked cock cage.
“Jen says how you like to play with your little dick,” Mike told me in front of the whole family. “That stops immediately.”
I opened the box and gasped. The girls giggled.
“Put it on,” Mike said.
I cleared my throat. “Um … you mean right here?”
“No, dumbass, do it in Niagara Falls.” He scoffed. “Yeah, do it right here.”
I dropped my drawers and absorbed the taunts from Kelsey and Olivia.
Olivia pointed at my exposed penis. “Ewwwww, it looks like a worm.”
“Ugh, what a disgusting little loser,” Kelsey added.
I actually felt relieved when I clamped the cage onto my dick, because it was no longer exposed. With my head bowed, I handed over the key to Mike and pulled up my pants.
“Say good-bye to cumming,” Mike said, making me blush talking about sex in front of the girls. Despite all that had happened, they were still my stepdaughters, and I feel uncomfortable discussing such topics with them.
Not that Mike gives a shit. The man has no morals whatsoever.
So, now, I can’t even touch my own penis, and I have to ask Mike’s permission to take this fucking contraption off once a week to wash.
It’s damn near impossible to get to sleep wearing this thing, but I need to try. I’ve got a long day ahead of me tomorrow.
Ugh.
​
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Dear Diary,
Mike told me I have to compose a speech to read out loud during the wedding reception. I’ve just finished writing it, and will run it by my master tomorrow for his approval. It’s going to kill me to have to stand up in front of everyone and read this, but because I have no free will when it comes to the man who’s ruining my life, I know I’ll end up making a fool of myself — and lying my ass off in the process. The speech was written to absolve Mike and the family of any blame for how far I’ve fallen, and it makes my horrifying sissy maid lifestyle seem almost idyllic. That’s exactly how Mike wants it.
I’ll copy the speech here for future reference, although it’ll probably be etched into my brain for as long as I live.
“First of all, I’d like to thank everyone for being here tonight to share in this union of two wonderful people. I’m sure a lot of you were shocked at the ceremony when I came out as a five-year-old flower girl, but I’m pansexual, and earlier today, that’s how I identified. As you can see, I’ve changed clothes and now I identify as a maid. I’ll be your server tonight, because this is my wedding present to Jennifer and Mike; I told them they didn’t have to worry about hiring waitstaff because I’ll take care of it myself. It’s a small thank-you for all they’ve done for me. And, believe me, they’ve done a lot. They’ve both been wonderful about supporting my transition to womanhood. After I came out as trans and asked Jen for a divorce, I begged her to let me stay with the family as a woman, so I could be something like a live-in aunt to the girls, who, by the way, have also been awesome and supportive. I didn’t see the reason why my family should have to break up just so I could live my true self. I’m the one who turned our lives upside down, and they didn’t deserve any more instability by having me move out. And frankly, I love my family dearly, and didn’t want to move. Jennifer was kind enough to grant my request and let me stay. Then, when Mike came into the picture, he couldn’t have been more understanding and sympathetic. Not every guy would be so open-minded about this situation, but Mike has been great. While Jen does have feelings for me, I always knew her one true love was Michael, the father of her two beautiful daughters. So, now, they’re married and restarting their family, and I’m proud to announce that I will be staying on and serving them as their maid. This is something I not only want, but consider a great honor. I feel this is the best way I can serve my family moving forward, and Mike, Jen and the girls are all happy with the arrangement. So, I hope you’ll all be happy for us, too, while you eat, drink and be merry — and don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything, because it’s my honor to serve.”
Every stinking, rotten word is a goddamn lie. I come off looking like some pathetic sap, while Mike, Jen and the girls are all the good guys for being so understanding of my transition after I laid my sexual preference on them out of nowhere.
No! I don’t want any of this! It’s all Mike’s doing!!
That’s the speech I want to make: “Help! Somebody call the fucking police! An evil man has taken over my home and brainwashed everyone! He made me come out as transgender. He made me change my name! I don’t want to do this! I hate wearing fucking dresses!! I hate being a woman!! Help!!!!”
Yeah, right. That’ll never happen. Mike DOES have me brainwashed.
I guess I’m fucked. Oh, well. Good night.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
It feels like it’s already been weeks since Mila was forced to fight to the death. I can’t tell time here anymore. I just sleep when I need to with no sense of time. At first it messed with my head for a while and I think I went a little insane for a moment, but once you realize that you don’t need it because you don’t need a schedule anymore. It can make you a lot more focused on the now. Gunter has been staying with Mila and barely stays in his own room anymore. We don’t know if she got the previous tenants room or she got hers upgraded since she won the battle against Níðhöggr, but Mila’s room is an entire mountain range. Gunter has been cultivating at the base of the mountains and taking care of Mila. He really loved her cherry blossom trees and spider lilies. I stayed with them for a few days and loved it too after a while. Mila chose a cave in the mountains that she said would work best for her recovery.
Mila’s biology works like a snake’s in a tank and can grow as big as her surroundings. Due to her limited space and food supply in her room that she was sealed in, she was small compared to her full potential. Her new demon noh mask was hard to get used to, but I kind of like it now. It looks pretty bad ass with the horns and tusks. The human skin color it chose wouldn’t be my first choice however. Her new dark red exoskeleton definitely makes up for that though. She doesn’t look anything like the Mila we first met, but we love her no matter how she looks. Pushed to her limits she could wrap an entire mountain if she wanted to or be as small as several inches.
Gunter as well has impressed me. For a small 5 foot something man he’s pretty fast and strong. On his own he can track up the 7,000 foot mountains to get to Mila and back in a little under an hour. I’ve gone with him a few times. We’d track normally and talk for a few hours and he’ll either carry me with him, which still takes him a few hours, or just do the rest alone. Jim, Jon, Siete and her many children visit too. We have meetings to discuss the plan while the kids play in Gunter’s forest that he filled with insects and fruit groves. Gunter also spent a few hours building me a cabin with one of his picks. It was actually really good and the furniture that he built is extremely comfortable.
We went over some ideas and shared what all of us can do during our meeting. I feel like an average Joe sitting among superheroes when I heard what just their species alone can do, plus Gunter, Mila and Jim have some unique talents. When they asked what I can do I decided to lighten the mood by doing the removable thumb trick. No one thought it was funny and we waisted almost an hour explaining to Gunter it wasn’t real. He still thinks I can remove my limbs at will, but choose not to. First thing we needed to do was find Baba Yaga. The Host’s hive mind knows of Klaus and has some memories of him, but we have no idea where he is or if he has a room. Baba Yaga might have some insight and Gunter thinks she should be our main priority. I still think there’s more to what he’s willing to tell us.
Gunter says she was never a tenant as far as he knows and knew her way before he lived here. She practices the arts of the witches, enchantresses, sorceresses and necromancers to name a few. She also spends most of her time in her cabin. Her and her cabin are similar to Withorp and the complex as in wherever it is, she is. If her cabin is somehow either inside or trapped in The Pandemonium Complex then maybe we can find it. Gunter knows what her door looks like if they happen to come across it, but Gunter can’t just run around the complex wildly. One he might catch unwanted attention and none of us know how big this place is if we just search everywhere. Siete said she can send her children, but it’ll take an unknown amount of time for them to come back and tell her what every door looks like and who knows if it’ll still be there by the time they get there. She does have another idea though.
Her hive mind is strong when the spiders are many, but even stronger when there’s less. With less it’ll be like she can see through every one of her children at once. She definitely hates the idea, but it may be our only one. We gave them the best days of their lives as best we could. A few days after that meeting Siete showed up at the cabin Gunter built without The Host and with her children riding on her. There looked to be about 500-600 left from her thousands. We didn’t ask or pry what she had to do, so we carried on with our plan. Siete told us she can also connect us to The Host hive if we wanted to so we can all at least instantly communicate with each other. We won’t have visuals like her, but we can hear her thoughts immediately like a walkie talkie. To be honest I think we all agreed out of respect. She killed her own children for our sake, the least we could do is be there for her.
The smallest spiders from her cluster with long thin legs crawled up each of us and as much as we hated it. We had to let them crawl into our ear canal. We all shuddered hard and tried our best to let them do their job. I can’t speak for the others, but imagine a wild tickle in your ear that sounds like wind blowing hard directly in. Suddenly an intense pain in my ear drum started making it ring loud and hard. Once the ringing started to fade I kept hearing a beautiful woman’s voice saying, hello, softly over and over again. I looked over at Siete, who was standing on the dining room table and asked if that was her. She bounced a little while I could hear that voice saying yes happily. Even Jon had to comment how beautiful she sounded. Definitely a mother’s voice if I’ve ever heard one, which made us hate what we had to make her do so much more.
We played around with our new voiceless communication and had to tune it to not hear every thought. Didn’t think that would be a problem until all of us could hear Jon’s intrusive thoughts while he was staring at Jim. Ever seen a hulking big green apeman turn bright red? It is hilarious, but now I have images in my head that I’m afraid will never go away. Since Siete is now also without The Host she needs a new spot. We decided to keep her under Gunter’s cornucopia. We enjoyed our last day of peace, but now we had to start our search. Siete sent out her children and we listened intently to her kids updates of anything out of the ordinary. Gunter and Siete focused to show Siete what door they’re looking for. So far no door, but we heard a couple of interesting sightings.
The Wisps are back at their pranks again, little light fairies that can cast visual illusions that have been tricking tenants into entering unlocked rooms. Gulp, the bottomless traveling portal, ate the zombie horde, thankfully now I won’t get cramped in the elevator again when they were up to 13 zombies. Her was seen consuming that shape shifting lizardman who loved pretending to be politicians, near my room and tried desperately holding on to a door with chains. Girin and Kuba, the giant black bear forest spirit are fighting in the hallway near Gunter’s room because neither would move so the other could pass again. Adrenepae, the wife of Apollo who ate his heart, looks like she finally can control her avatar of fire form now and is roaming the hallways.Tate the warlock is stalking Beta, the techno organic virus, who has a new female host body; weird little creep. What caught our attention the most was the new tenant that entered the lobby.
He was a darker skinned man with long dreads that had metal links. He wore a long green coat with a satchel. The big headphones and reflective sunglasses were also a nice touch. Me, Jim and Jon went to the lobby to see. We are pretty nosy and we might as well kill some time people watching. Us breaking routine and avoiding Winthorp might also cause suspicion. We have people checking in all the time, but this guy was different as the complex was seemingly treating him as a long time tenant. The lobby works like a one way mirror and with new potential tenants it hides us and the current theme of the lobby before they get approved. I’ve only seen it a few times, but when someone new enters, to us they’re surrounded by a clear cube that limits what they can see when they’re inside. While inside they can only see what the complex wants them to see and nothing as far as I know can enter or leave this pocket dimension box.
With this man however there is no box. The complex didn’t feel the need to hide us or his surroundings for some odd reason. He was ignoring it all though as if he’s been here. He even walked right past Agatha & Mrs. Donahue, seemingly two old ladies that are always playing chess in the lobby and try speaking with anyone in a gentle neighborly tone. You must never speak to them however. They are a Lich and a Fae, but not a nice one like Gunter. The longer you talk to them the more they ruin and steal your life. I was lucky enough to have Jim & Jon stop me before I could reply to their hellos, their friendly faces immediately turned to anger when their meal was not taking the bait. The man paid them no mind and walked right past when they tried waving him down. He was speaking to Winthorp who also was paying the man special attention.
He kept referring to him as they and them when speaking. Winthorp also was standing at full attention before the man walked up. I’ve never seen him so eager to greet a potential new tenant. When it came down to signing the leger he did so without saying a word, but when he finished Winthorp said all new tenants must sign. We didn’t understand at first, when suddenly the man held out his arm and pulled up his sleeve. His arm was covered in a mix of branded and ink tattoos of symbols I’ve never seen before. His closed right palm began to glow a color I’ve never seen before and probably was never meant to be seen by human eyes. He opened his palm and a flash bright enough to blind half the lobby engulfed the room. When we looked back after shielding our eyes there was now a woman with him.
She had turquoise colored skin, long black hair, a beautiful purple choli that had modern accessories and a satchel bag that matched the man’s. She also signed the ledger and was greeted with as much enthusiasm the man was getting by Winthorp. I asked Jim and Jon if they knew who or what they were, but they had no idea. I then asked my internal host Siente if she’s seeing this. A familiar ringing began in my ear and I could hear her voice once again. This had her curiosity immediately when the first words I heard are, interesting. Siente has no knowledge of the man, but the woman is theorized to be a djinn and an old one at that. Siente said that physical djinns are extremely rare and are the most powerful kind, but what caught Siente’s attention was that she wasn’t bound.
Djinns are normally adorned with bright jewelry to symbolize that they are bound to the human world and must obey the law of the bound djinns when on the mortal plain. This djinn was somehow free and in full control which can normally only be done if wished to be free by the master. They also usually leave once freed to return to the realm of the untamed elements, like a fish running back to water. Once checked in we saw Winthorp provide them with what looked like a metal jewelry box that the man put in his satchel. They started walking towards the elevator when I decided to introduce myself. The man stopped first and raised his brow behind those shades, but the djinn stood between us and signaled me to halt with her outstretched arm. Or at least that’s what I thought.
I was thrown backwards by an unseen force, but was luckily caught by Jim. Jon stood in front and began to growl hard in anger. Jon’s size began to increase steadily with his rage and the air around us began getting hotter. I saw his gray fur begin to tense with his flex of dominance and I yelled for him to calm down. Jim put me down and rested his hand on Jon’s shoulder. Jon began to almost instantly relax. Jim stepped in front and apologized, but the woman held her hand back up as a warning to not approach. The man this time relaxed her by resting his hand on the top of her forearm. She looked surprised and shocked by this. The man walked up to Jim, took off his glasses and moved his headphones to around his neck. He looked Jim up and down like he was inspecting him. The man’s eyes were a bright mix of blue and green.
The man asked what tribe he is from and Jim answered. The 13th Wukong of the Nán Providence, but has been Omega ranked in the Tauá-Miri clan for a few decades now. He then looked over to Jon and asked him. Jon only replied with, nikto, and both Jon and the man averted their gaze when the man apologized. The man then looked towards me and apologized for his girlfriend's defensive behavior. We shook hands and greeted each other properly. The man’s name was Oddo and his girlfriend was Desiree. She still watched me with hard suspicious looks while we talked. The man asked me what I was. I told him I’m just human, he stared for a while. He then looked me up and down like he did with Jim and asked how long I’ve lived here. I was honest and told him it felt like years now, but I have no idea. He then berated me with questions I didn’t really understand like, what’s my faction, who’s my totem, who do I embody and when/where is my birth place. I answered as best I could and was only given looks of suspicion in return.
At the end of my interrogation he simply stated, So you’re…a basic mortal human? I could only reply with an embarrassing, yea. Oddo seemed surprised and turned toward Desiree who gave him an equal amount of confusion. He then bluntly asked how am I even alive or even sane in this place. I just shrugged and replied honestly, no fucking idea. I’ve never heard so much laughter since I’ve been here. Oddo, Desiree, Jim and Jon all teared up from laughter. Oddo dabbed me and pulled me in for a hug while still chuckling. It was so weird to have a normal person interaction in such a long time. I then asked about him. He was Oddo and then proceeded to give me such a long list of either titles, ranks and/or alignments to the point where we stood there for about 10 minutes before he finished. At heart though he was human, for the most part.
He introduced Desiree and told us that they met when she was sealed away in a decanter on a sunken ship that Oddo was excavating years ago and have been together ever since. He confirmed that she was a djinn like Siete said and that she was the last of the Jinn of Origin. One of the most powerful djinns. I only know their kind from the story of Aladdin and asked if that’s the kind they meant. I was given looks of confusion and had to explain the story more. There were some similarities and also that she had to grant him 3 desires into creation for her freedom originally, but only did one. Her freedom. Oddo and Desiree were together for 5 years without him ever making a wish. Instead he got to know her and enjoyed her company. They fell in love 2 years in and when they decided to be together forever he made a choice to make it her choice. He desired for her to be free.
Their lives weren’t easy however. They were hunted by men who knew of Desiree and her power. They’ve been on the run for years and wanted to be with others like themselves. Oddo hates humans and Desiree matched that hatred. I asked, then why are you even giving me the time of day now. He just replied with, you’re…different. I didn’t know if that was an insult or compliment. I told them I didn’t want to hold them up any longer and it was a pleasure to meet them. They began walking away towards the elevator while Jim and Jon collaborated their feelings on the couple. I was just happy to finally meet another human here, even if we’re clearly not cut from the same cloth. Siente began speaking again in my head and told me we need to leave the lobby now. She said not to look, but Winthorp has not taken his eyes off of us and he doesn’t look happy.
I told Jim and Jon that we should go check on Mila so as to not cause suspicion on our leave. They agreed and gave a slight nod to confirm. We began walking away when Winthorp called out to me and asked me to come over. I told him maybe later and that we’re going to check on our friend. I turned to leave only to turn to see Winthorp in front of me. We were somehow sitting in a small room I’ve never seen before. It looked like the old school integration rooms you see in black and white detective movies. This wasn’t good. Winthorp had a serious look and looked directly into my soul with those impossibly bright blue eyes. He then lightened up and asked how I’m liking my stay here so far. I told him it was good and then was asked why I’m keeping secrets then. My blood ran cold and I told him everyone has secrets.
He laughed and said that was a good answer, but then suddenly switched to bad cop. He slammed his hand in front of me and asked why we have been spying then. Sweat began dripping down my face. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He switched to good cop and rubbed my cheek. He asked in a light tone if I think he’s stupid. I told him no and then he grabbed my face to look into his. He told me he doesn’t read minds, but he has ways of getting information. He then cupped his hand over my ear and I felt an intense pain with a loud white noise. He held the hair on my head so I couldn't move with his opposite hand and opened his other palm before me. The spider Siete put in my ear was standing in his palm. He asked again if I think he’s stupid. I told him no and the spider began floating. Her legs stretched out and one popped off. He made it so I could hear her scream.
I told him to stop and he asked again if I think he’s stupid. I yelled no again and he pulled out another from the spider. She was a child and I could hear her cry and scream in pain. He asked a third time and I switched my answer to hopefully get a better result. I said yes and then he set her on fire. A flame that burned, but didn’t cause fatal harm. A flame of pure pain and torture. Her screams were loud and filled with sadness and confusion. I begged him to stop, but he kept asking that same question over and over until she had no legs left. He then threw the burning legless spider in the corner. Her screams stopped when she had two legs left. I knew she was alive, but just broken in mind now. I told him I just wanted to leave and he grinned.
Honesty, is that so hard? Those words sent shivers down my spine. I told myself I can’t break. He asked what we were doing and I told him that I’m just trying to find a way out. The grin went back to a scowl. He touched his finger tip to mine and my right middle finger he touched began to burn. At first it dried up slowly and turned black. Then white and then began turning to dust from the tip down to the knuckle. He told me he doesn’t like torturing his tenants. He just wants us to live happily and comfortably. Winthorp then asked why I would want to leave. I have nothing out there and he knows that. I replied with a simple, fuck you.
He sighed in annoyance. I suddenly was completely frozen in place and was unmovable. He grabbed my left arm and began twisting. First my wrist snapped, then slowly up my forearm began breaking. After that he pushed my elbow opposite to where it’s supposed to bend and caused a compound fracture. I was then unfrozen and immediately cried out in pain. Winthorp grabbed the back of my neck so I could sit straight up and squeezed lightly. He told me he knows I’m up to something and to just tell him. If I tell him all this will be over, but I’d be putting my friends in danger worse than this. I answered with, you’re insane. He threw my head forward and it bounced off the table in front of me. I held my face with both hands and realized my arms are normal again.
Winthorp then grabbed the back of my head with his open palm gripping the back of my skull. He told me to spill my guts. Before I could say anything I started projectile vomiting hard. At first it was what I ate, then bile, blood and after my organs began coming out of my mouth as if I was still throwing them up. Every organ was ejected out of my mouth and he made sure I could feel it all. Every time I would start passing out from the pain he’d jerk my head and bring me back. My tongue was next to be forced out and then my teeth one by one uprooted themselves to join the rest on the table and floor. My skin began to melt off my flesh with my nose and ears. My skeleton from my neck down also decided to leave. It moved on its own and forced its way out and through my muscle tissue like it was trapped. Lastly he made my eyes pop out to view it all. This was nothing compared to when he made it all do it again in reverse and even slower.
Ever felt your skeleton crawl back into your flesh? I do. He made sure the nerves felt it all and that I wouldn’t lose consciousness for even a moment while my body slowly and painfully repaired itself. Once I was fully repaired he asked again what me and my friends were doing. I told him it was only me. He sat back in front of me and stared long and hard. I was shaking with fear as to what he was planning to do next. He reached out his index finger, placed it in the center of my forehead and pushed hard. When I turned back up I was no longer in the interrogation room. I was in my room. My childhood room. I looked down and saw my pajamas I haven’t worn since I was 6 years old. I felt wet and warm in my bed and began crying loudly. My parents entered my room to console me and told me I must’ve had a nightmare. I tried telling them about The Pandemonium Complex and Winthorp, but was too broken to explain and just babbled on like the crying child I was now.
They told me it was okay and that I could sleep in their room tonight. A few years went by and The Pandemonium Complex was nothing more than just a memory of a bad dream. When I was 9 I came back home from school to see my front door was open. I entered slowly and saw that my house was a wreck. Like a tornado or wild beast came through. I called out to my parents and siblings, but no one answered. I went to the hallway and saw a blood trail leading into each room. I passed my siblings rooms first and only saw blood leading to their closed closets. I was too afraid to open them. I went to my parents room and saw they were torn apart. Looks of horror were frozen on their faces. I heard something behind me coming from my siblings' rooms.
I ran to my parents window. I unlocked it and jumped out leaving my backpack behind. This isn’t right. I ran to the neighbors house and they called the police. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that. Then my grandparents. All met the same fate as my household. I was placed in foster care at 13. I began questioning my memories and what’s happening. None of this seemed right. At 14 I was adopted into an abusive household. My adopted mother only beat and yelled at me. My adopted father was worse and did unspeakable things. I ran away at the age of 16 and was homeless for a year. I then met the love of my life. Tanisha, she was perfect. Kind, loving, empathetic and an all around good person. We were together for 2 years before I met my best friend, Tate.
They helped me get back on track and made my past seem like a bad memory. I was 26 now and was married with 3 loving children. My best friend Tate had a family of his own and we were raising our kids together. Life was perfect. Then one day I came home from work. My front door was open and I knew it was over. I entered my home. My children were torn apart and thrown around my living room like ragdolls. I went into our room and saw that it was torn apart, but Tanisha wasn’t there. I ran out when I heard a familiar noise coming from the living room. I jumped out my window and started running towards Tate’s house. I kept trying to call my wife’s phone nonstop. No answer. When I got to Tate’s house I saw that his door was also open. I ran inside to see the same scene happen to his children.
I ran into Tate’s room and found him and…my wife. She must’ve tried running here when she found our kids, I thought. A small red light caught my attention in the debris. A camera that was recording. I played the tape back to see what happened. My wife was cheating on me with Tate. The camera was filled with different videos from long before today. I started the video from today to my dismay. They were in the middle of it when screams could be heard from the living room. I was so focused on what was going to happen that I didn’t notice the presence behind me. A scream broke the silence before I could see what entered the room and I turned to see Sarah, Tate’s wife screaming with horror at me. I tried calming her down and explain, but she had the police behind her already. I was arrested and was found guilty for murder.
They thought I killed them all because I found out they were cheating and also pinned the past murders on me since whatever kept happening is following me. I was thrown into a dark cold prison to live out my days in a hole. My days consisted of starving, being beaten and cold. I wanted to die. The death sentence was banned since I was a child, so all I could do was wait for death. One day, when I had given up, a few guards entered my room. I won’t say what happened, but it ended with them beating me nonstop until I couldn’t fight back. They didn’t stop beating me and when I was finally getting my wish of death I was sitting in a chair. I was in a small room with a man sitting across from me. A small bellhop wearing a straw boat hat. Winthorp. All my memories came flooding back. Memories of the past and now mixed and formed back into my hellish life.
Winthorp asked me again what we were planning. I looked him dead in the eye and just answered, I will kill you. A grin formed on his face again and he leaned in. How? He asked plain and simply. I knew I said too much again and just went silent. I don’t know how long I was there for. He made me live other hellish lives and tortured me over and over again in ways that would make the devil himself want to die. I never said another word. I could tell he was getting frustrated and was losing his cool. His methods started becoming sloppy and desperate. One of the benefits of being a basic mortal human is that we die very easily, so you could do whatever to us, but in the end they start getting very similar and I learned to get used to it. Once he realized he wasn’t getting anything out of me he threw me back into my room in the complex. I was thrown hard through the air and saw my furniture fly past me before I hit my wall hard. That’s when I just broke and just cried for hours.
I just needed to release. What I didn’t notice was Gunter was on the couch the whole time. He sat silently and just let me break. I think he knew I just needed to let it all out. I don’t know if he knew what I just went through, but he just started getting some fruit ready for me to eat when I’m ready. The small spider crawled out of my sleeve and ran to Siete under Gunter’s cornucopia. I slept for an unknown amount of time, but my body definitely needed it. When I woke up, I ate and Gunter asked me if I wanted to talk. I just asked how long I had been gone. He said Jim, Jon and I left just a few minutes before I was suddenly flying through my room from out of nowhere. He asked more directly as to what happened. I didn’t give him all the details, but now my mind is set. Winthorp and The Pandemonium Complex need to die.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
It feels like it’s already been weeks since Mila was forced to fight to the death. I can’t tell time here anymore. I just sleep when I need to with no sense of time. At first it messed with my head for a while and I think I went a little insane for a moment, but once you realize that you don’t need it because you don’t need a schedule anymore. It can make you a lot more focused on the now. Gunter has been staying with Mila and barely stays in his own room anymore. We don’t know if she got the previous tenants room or she got hers upgraded since she won the battle against Níðhöggr, but Mila’s room is an entire mountain range. Gunter has been cultivating at the base of the mountains and taking care of Mila. He really loved her cherry blossom trees and spider lilies. I stayed with them for a few days and loved it too after a while. Mila chose a cave in the mountains that she said would work best for her recovery.
Mila’s biology works like a snake’s in a tank and can grow as big as her surroundings. Due to her limited space and food supply in her room that she was sealed in, she was small compared to her full potential. Her new demon noh mask was hard to get used to, but I kind of like it now. It looks pretty bad ass with the horns and tusks. The human skin color it chose wouldn’t be my first choice however. Her new dark red exoskeleton definitely makes up for that though. She doesn’t look anything like the Mila we first met, but we love her no matter how she looks. Pushed to her limits she could wrap an entire mountain if she wanted to or be as small as several inches.
Gunter as well has impressed me. For a small 5 foot something man he’s pretty fast and strong. On his own he can track up the 7,000 foot mountains to get to Mila and back in a little under an hour. I’ve gone with him a few times. We’d track normally and talk for a few hours and he’ll either carry me with him, which still takes him a few hours, or just do the rest alone. Jim, Jon, Siete and her many children visit too. We have meetings to discuss the plan while the kids play in Gunter’s forest that he filled with insects and fruit groves. Gunter also spent a few hours building me a cabin with one of his picks. It was actually really good and the furniture that he built is extremely comfortable.
We went over some ideas and shared what all of us can do during our meeting. I feel like an average Joe sitting among superheroes when I heard what just their species alone can do, plus Gunter, Mila and Jim have some unique talents. When they asked what I can do I decided to lighten the mood by doing the removable thumb trick. No one thought it was funny and we waisted almost an hour explaining to Gunter it wasn’t real. He still thinks I can remove my limbs at will, but choose not to. First thing we needed to do was find Baba Yaga. The Host’s hive mind knows of Klaus and has some memories of him, but we have no idea where he is or if he has a room. Baba Yaga might have some insight and Gunter thinks she should be our main priority. I still think there’s more to what he’s willing to tell us.
Gunter says she was never a tenant as far as he knows and knew her way before he lived here. She practices the arts of the witches, enchantresses, sorceresses and necromancers to name a few. She also spends most of her time in her cabin. Her and her cabin are similar to Withorp and the complex as in wherever it is, she is. If her cabin is somehow either inside or trapped in The Pandemonium Complex then maybe we can find it. Gunter knows what her door looks like if they happen to come across it, but Gunter can’t just run around the complex wildly. One he might catch unwanted attention and none of us know how big this place is if we just search everywhere. Siete said she can send her children, but it’ll take an unknown amount of time for them to come back and tell her what every door looks like and who knows if it’ll still be there by the time they get there. She does have another idea though.
Her hive mind is strong when the spiders are many, but even stronger when there’s less. With less it’ll be like she can see through every one of her children at once. She definitely hates the idea, but it may be our only one. We gave them the best days of their lives as best we could. A few days after that meeting Siete showed up at the cabin Gunter built without The Host and with her children riding on her. There looked to be about 500-600 left from her thousands. We didn’t ask or pry what she had to do, so we carried on with our plan. Siete told us she can also connect us to The Host hive if we wanted to so we can all at least instantly communicate with each other. We won’t have visuals like her, but we can hear her thoughts immediately like a walkie talkie. To be honest I think we all agreed out of respect. She killed her own children for our sake, the least we could do is be there for her.
The smallest spiders from her cluster with long thin legs crawled up each of us and as much as we hated it. We had to let them crawl into our ear canal. We all shuddered hard and tried our best to let them do their job. I can’t speak for the others, but imagine a wild tickle in your ear that sounds like wind blowing hard directly in. Suddenly an intense pain in my ear drum started making it ring loud and hard. Once the ringing started to fade I kept hearing a beautiful woman’s voice saying, hello, softly over and over again. I looked over at Siete, who was standing on the dining room table and asked if that was her. She bounced a little while I could hear that voice saying yes happily. Even Jon had to comment how beautiful she sounded. Definitely a mother’s voice if I’ve ever heard one, which made us hate what we had to make her do so much more.
We played around with our new voiceless communication and had to tune it to not hear every thought. Didn’t think that would be a problem until all of us could hear Jon’s intrusive thoughts while he was staring at Jim. Ever seen a hulking big green apeman turn bright red? It is hilarious, but now I have images in my head that I’m afraid will never go away. Since Siete is now also without The Host she needs a new spot. We decided to keep her under Gunter’s cornucopia. We enjoyed our last day of peace, but now we had to start our search. Siete sent out her children and we listened intently to her kids updates of anything out of the ordinary. Gunter and Siete focused to show Siete what door they’re looking for. So far no door, but we heard a couple of interesting sightings.
The Wisps are back at their pranks again, little light fairies that can cast visual illusions that have been tricking tenants into entering unlocked rooms. Gulp, the bottomless traveling portal, ate the zombie horde, thankfully now I won’t get cramped in the elevator again when they were up to 13 zombies. Her was seen consuming that shape shifting lizardman who loved pretending to be politicians, near my room and tried desperately holding on to a door with chains. Girin and Kuba, the giant black bear forest spirit are fighting in the hallway near Gunter’s room because neither would move so the other could pass again. Adrenepae, the wife of Apollo who ate his heart, looks like she finally can control her avatar of fire form now and is roaming the hallways.Tate the warlock is stalking Beta, the techno organic virus, who has a new female host body; weird little creep. What caught our attention the most was the new tenant that entered the lobby.
He was a darker skinned man with long dreads that had metal links. He wore a long green coat with a satchel. The big headphones and reflective sunglasses were also a nice touch. Me, Jim and Jon went to the lobby to see. We are pretty nosy and we might as well kill some time people watching. Us breaking routine and avoiding Winthorp might also cause suspicion. We have people checking in all the time, but this guy was different as the complex was seemingly treating him as a long time tenant. The lobby works like a one way mirror and with new potential tenants it hides us and the current theme of the lobby before they get approved. I’ve only seen it a few times, but when someone new enters, to us they’re surrounded by a clear cube that limits what they can see when they’re inside. While inside they can only see what the complex wants them to see and nothing as far as I know can enter or leave this pocket dimension box.
With this man however there is no box. The complex didn’t feel the need to hide us or his surroundings for some odd reason. He was ignoring it all though as if he’s been here. He even walked right past Agatha & Mrs. Donahue, seemingly two old ladies that are always playing chess in the lobby and try speaking with anyone in a gentle neighborly tone. You must never speak to them however. They are a Lich and a Fae, but not a nice one like Gunter. The longer you talk to them the more they ruin and steal your life. I was lucky enough to have Jim & Jon stop me before I could reply to their hellos, their friendly faces immediately turned to anger when their meal was not taking the bait. The man paid them no mind and walked right past when they tried waving him down. He was speaking to Winthorp who also was paying the man special attention.
He kept referring to him as they and them when speaking. Winthorp also was standing at full attention before the man walked up. I’ve never seen him so eager to greet a potential new tenant. When it came down to signing the leger he did so without saying a word, but when he finished Winthorp said all new tenants must sign. We didn’t understand at first, when suddenly the man held out his arm and pulled up his sleeve. His arm was covered in a mix of branded and ink tattoos of symbols I’ve never seen before. His closed right palm began to glow a color I’ve never seen before and probably was never meant to be seen by human eyes. He opened his palm and a flash bright enough to blind half the lobby engulfed the room. When we looked back after shielding our eyes there was now a woman with him.
She had turquoise colored skin, long black hair, a beautiful purple choli that had modern accessories and a satchel bag that matched the man’s. She also signed the ledger and was greeted with as much enthusiasm the man was getting by Winthorp. I asked Jim and Jon if they knew who or what they were, but they had no idea. I then asked my internal host Siente if she’s seeing this. A familiar ringing began in my ear and I could hear her voice once again. This had her curiosity immediately when the first words I heard are, interesting. Siente has no knowledge of the man, but the woman is theorized to be a djinn and an old one at that. Siente said that physical djinns are extremely rare and are the most powerful kind, but what caught Siente’s attention was that she wasn’t bound.
Djinns are normally adorned with bright jewelry to symbolize that they are bound to the human world and must obey the law of the bound djinns when on the mortal plain. This djinn was somehow free and in full control which can normally only be done if wished to be free by the master. They also usually leave once freed to return to the realm of the untamed elements, like a fish running back to water. Once checked in we saw Winthorp provide them with what looked like a metal jewelry box that the man put in his satchel. They started walking towards the elevator when I decided to introduce myself. The man stopped first and raised his brow behind those shades, but the djinn stood between us and signaled me to halt with her outstretched arm. Or at least that’s what I thought.
I was thrown backwards by an unseen force, but was luckily caught by Jim. Jon stood in front and began to growl hard in anger. Jon’s size began to increase steadily with his rage and the air around us began getting hotter. I saw his gray fur begin to tense with his flex of dominance and I yelled for him to calm down. Jim put me down and rested his hand on Jon’s shoulder. Jon began to almost instantly relax. Jim stepped in front and apologized, but the woman held her hand back up as a warning to not approach. The man this time relaxed her by resting his hand on the top of her forearm. She looked surprised and shocked by this. The man walked up to Jim, took off his glasses and moved his headphones to around his neck. He looked Jim up and down like he was inspecting him. The man’s eyes were a bright mix of blue and green.
The man asked what tribe he is from and Jim answered. The 13th Wukong of the Nán Providence, but has been Omega ranked in the Tauá-Miri clan for a few decades now. He then looked over to Jon and asked him. Jon only replied with, nikto, and both Jon and the man averted their gaze when the man apologized. The man then looked towards me and apologized for his girlfriend's defensive behavior. We shook hands and greeted each other properly. The man’s name was Oddo and his girlfriend was Desiree. She still watched me with hard suspicious looks while we talked. The man asked me what I was. I told him I’m just human, he stared for a while. He then looked me up and down like he did with Jim and asked how long I’ve lived here. I was honest and told him it felt like years now, but I have no idea. He then berated me with questions I didn’t really understand like, what’s my faction, who’s my totem, who do I embody and when/where is my birth place. I answered as best I could and was only given looks of suspicion in return.
At the end of my interrogation he simply stated, So you’re…a basic mortal human? I could only reply with an embarrassing, yea. Oddo seemed surprised and turned toward Desiree who gave him an equal amount of confusion. He then bluntly asked how am I even alive or even sane in this place. I just shrugged and replied honestly, no fucking idea. I’ve never heard so much laughter since I’ve been here. Oddo, Desiree, Jim and Jon all teared up from laughter. Oddo dabbed me and pulled me in for a hug while still chuckling. It was so weird to have a normal person interaction in such a long time. I then asked about him. He was Oddo and then proceeded to give me such a long list of either titles, ranks and/or alignments to the point where we stood there for about 10 minutes before he finished. At heart though he was human, for the most part.
He introduced Desiree and told us that they met when she was sealed away in a decanter on a sunken ship that Oddo was excavating years ago and have been together ever since. He confirmed that she was a djinn like Siete said and that she was the last of the Jinn of Origin. One of the most powerful djinns. I only know their kind from the story of Aladdin and asked if that’s the kind they meant. I was given looks of confusion and had to explain the story more. There were some similarities and also that she had to grant him 3 desires into creation for her freedom originally, but only did one. Her freedom. Oddo and Desiree were together for 5 years without him ever making a wish. Instead he got to know her and enjoyed her company. They fell in love 2 years in and when they decided to be together forever he made a choice to make it her choice. He desired for her to be free.
Their lives weren’t easy however. They were hunted by men who knew of Desiree and her power. They’ve been on the run for years and wanted to be with others like themselves. Oddo hates humans and Desiree matched that hatred. I asked, then why are you even giving me the time of day now. He just replied with, you’re…different. I didn’t know if that was an insult or compliment. I told them I didn’t want to hold them up any longer and it was a pleasure to meet them. They began walking away towards the elevator while Jim and Jon collaborated their feelings on the couple. I was just happy to finally meet another human here, even if we’re clearly not cut from the same cloth. Siente began speaking again in my head and told me we need to leave the lobby now. She said not to look, but Winthorp has not taken his eyes off of us and he doesn’t look happy.
I told Jim and Jon that we should go check on Mila so as to not cause suspicion on our leave. They agreed and gave a slight nod to confirm. We began walking away when Winthorp called out to me and asked me to come over. I told him maybe later and that we’re going to check on our friend. I turned to leave only to turn to see Winthorp in front of me. We were somehow sitting in a small room I’ve never seen before. It looked like the old school integration rooms you see in black and white detective movies. This wasn’t good. Winthorp had a serious look and looked directly into my soul with those impossibly bright blue eyes. He then lightened up and asked how I’m liking my stay here so far. I told him it was good and then was asked why I’m keeping secrets then. My blood ran cold and I told him everyone has secrets.
He laughed and said that was a good answer, but then suddenly switched to bad cop. He slammed his hand in front of me and asked why we have been spying then. Sweat began dripping down my face. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He switched to good cop and rubbed my cheek. He asked in a light tone if I think he’s stupid. I told him no and then he grabbed my face to look into his. He told me he doesn’t read minds, but he has ways of getting information. He then cupped his hand over my ear and I felt an intense pain with a loud white noise. He held the hair on my head so I couldn't move with his opposite hand and opened his other palm before me. The spider Siete put in my ear was standing in his palm. He asked again if I think he’s stupid. I told him no and the spider began floating. Her legs stretched out and one popped off. He made it so I could hear her scream.
I told him to stop and he asked again if I think he’s stupid. I yelled no again and he pulled out another from the spider. She was a child and I could hear her cry and scream in pain. He asked a third time and I switched my answer to hopefully get a better result. I said yes and then he set her on fire. A flame that burned, but didn’t cause fatal harm. A flame of pure pain and torture. Her screams were loud and filled with sadness and confusion. I begged him to stop, but he kept asking that same question over and over until she had no legs left. He then threw the burning legless spider in the corner. Her screams stopped when she had two legs left. I knew she was alive, but just broken in mind now. I told him I just wanted to leave and he grinned.
Honesty, is that so hard? Those words sent shivers down my spine. I told myself I can’t break. He asked what we were doing and I told him that I’m just trying to find a way out. The grin went back to a scowl. He touched his finger tip to mine and my right middle finger he touched began to burn. At first it dried up slowly and turned black. Then white and then began turning to dust from the tip down to the knuckle. He told me he doesn’t like torturing his tenants. He just wants us to live happily and comfortably. Winthorp then asked why I would want to leave. I have nothing out there and he knows that. I replied with a simple, fuck you.
He sighed in annoyance. I suddenly was completely frozen in place and was unmovable. He grabbed my left arm and began twisting. First my wrist snapped, then slowly up my forearm began breaking. After that he pushed my elbow opposite to where it’s supposed to bend and caused a compound fracture. I was then unfrozen and immediately cried out in pain. Winthorp grabbed the back of my neck so I could sit straight up and squeezed lightly. He told me he knows I’m up to something and to just tell him. If I tell him all this will be over, but I’d be putting my friends in danger worse than this. I answered with, you’re insane. He threw my head forward and it bounced off the table in front of me. I held my face with both hands and realized my arms are normal again.
Winthorp then grabbed the back of my head with his open palm gripping the back of my skull. He told me to spill my guts. Before I could say anything I started projectile vomiting hard. At first it was what I ate, then bile, blood and after my organs began coming out of my mouth as if I was still throwing them up. Every organ was ejected out of my mouth and he made sure I could feel it all. Every time I would start passing out from the pain he’d jerk my head and bring me back. My tongue was next to be forced out and then my teeth one by one uprooted themselves to join the rest on the table and floor. My skin began to melt off my flesh with my nose and ears. My skeleton from my neck down also decided to leave. It moved on its own and forced its way out and through my muscle tissue like it was trapped. Lastly he made my eyes pop out to view it all. This was nothing compared to when he made it all do it again in reverse and even slower.
Ever felt your skeleton crawl back into your flesh? I do. He made sure the nerves felt it all and that I wouldn’t lose consciousness for even a moment while my body slowly and painfully repaired itself. Once I was fully repaired he asked again what me and my friends were doing. I told him it was only me. He sat back in front of me and stared long and hard. I was shaking with fear as to what he was planning to do next. He reached out his index finger, placed it in the center of my forehead and pushed hard. When I turned back up I was no longer in the interrogation room. I was in my room. My childhood room. I looked down and saw my pajamas I haven’t worn since I was 6 years old. I felt wet and warm in my bed and began crying loudly. My parents entered my room to console me and told me I must’ve had a nightmare. I tried telling them about The Pandemonium Complex and Winthorp, but was too broken to explain and just babbled on like the crying child I was now.
They told me it was okay and that I could sleep in their room tonight. A few years went by and The Pandemonium Complex was nothing more than just a memory of a bad dream. When I was 9 I came back home from school to see my front door was open. I entered slowly and saw that my house was a wreck. Like a tornado or wild beast came through. I called out to my parents and siblings, but no one answered. I went to the hallway and saw a blood trail leading into each room. I passed my siblings rooms first and only saw blood leading to their closed closets. I was too afraid to open them. I went to my parents room and saw they were torn apart. Looks of horror were frozen on their faces. I heard something behind me coming from my siblings' rooms.
I ran to my parents window. I unlocked it and jumped out leaving my backpack behind. This isn’t right. I ran to the neighbors house and they called the police. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that. Then my grandparents. All met the same fate as my household. I was placed in foster care at 13. I began questioning my memories and what’s happening. None of this seemed right. At 14 I was adopted into an abusive household. My adopted mother only beat and yelled at me. My adopted father was worse and did unspeakable things. I ran away at the age of 16 and was homeless for a year. I then met the love of my life. Tanisha, she was perfect. Kind, loving, empathetic and an all around good person. We were together for 2 years before I met my best friend, Tate.
They helped me get back on track and made my past seem like a bad memory. I was 26 now and was married with 3 loving children. My best friend Tate had a family of his own and we were raising our kids together. Life was perfect. Then one day I came home from work. My front door was open and I knew it was over. I entered my home. My children were torn apart and thrown around my living room like ragdolls. I went into our room and saw that it was torn apart, but Tanisha wasn’t there. I ran out when I heard a familiar noise coming from the living room. I jumped out my window and started running towards Tate’s house. I kept trying to call my wife’s phone nonstop. No answer. When I got to Tate’s house I saw that his door was also open. I ran inside to see the same scene happen to his children.
I ran into Tate’s room and found him and…my wife. She must’ve tried running here when she found our kids, I thought. A small red light caught my attention in the debris. A camera that was recording. I played the tape back to see what happened. My wife was cheating on me with Tate. The camera was filled with different videos from long before today. I started the video from today to my dismay. They were in the middle of it when screams could be heard from the living room. I was so focused on what was going to happen that I didn’t notice the presence behind me. A scream broke the silence before I could see what entered the room and I turned to see Sarah, Tate’s wife screaming with horror at me. I tried calming her down and explain, but she had the police behind her already. I was arrested and was found guilty for murder.
They thought I killed them all because I found out they were cheating and also pinned the past murders on me since whatever kept happening is following me. I was thrown into a dark cold prison to live out my days in a hole. My days consisted of starving, being beaten and cold. I wanted to die. The death sentence was banned since I was a child, so all I could do was wait for death. One day, when I had given up, a few guards entered my room. I won’t say what happened, but it ended with them beating me nonstop until I couldn’t fight back. They didn’t stop beating me and when I was finally getting my wish of death I was sitting in a chair. I was in a small room with a man sitting across from me. A small bellhop wearing a straw boat hat. Winthorp. All my memories came flooding back. Memories of the past and now mixed and formed back into my hellish life.
Winthorp asked me again what we were planning. I looked him dead in the eye and just answered, I will kill you. A grin formed on his face again and he leaned in. How? He asked plain and simply. I knew I said too much again and just went silent. I don’t know how long I was there for. He made me live other hellish lives and tortured me over and over again in ways that would make the devil himself want to die. I never said another word. I could tell he was getting frustrated and was losing his cool. His methods started becoming sloppy and desperate. One of the benefits of being a basic mortal human is that we die very easily, so you could do whatever to us, but in the end they start getting very similar and I learned to get used to it. Once he realized he wasn’t getting anything out of me he threw me back into my room in the complex. I was thrown hard through the air and saw my furniture fly past me before I hit my wall hard. That’s when I just broke and just cried for hours.
I just needed to release. What I didn’t notice was Gunter was on the couch the whole time. He sat silently and just let me break. I think he knew I just needed to let it all out. I don’t know if he knew what I just went through, but he just started getting some fruit ready for me to eat when I’m ready. The small spider crawled out of my sleeve and ran to Siete under Gunter’s cornucopia. I slept for an unknown amount of time, but my body definitely needed it. When I woke up, I ate and Gunter asked me if I wanted to talk. I just asked how long I had been gone. He said Jim, Jon and I left just a few minutes before I was suddenly flying through my room from out of nowhere. He asked more directly as to what happened. I didn’t give him all the details, but now my mind is set. Winthorp and The Pandemonium Complex need to die.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
It feels like it’s already been weeks since Mila was forced to fight to the death. I can’t tell time here anymore. I just sleep when I need to with no sense of time. At first it messed with my head for a while and I think I went a little insane for a moment, but once you realize that you don’t need it because you don’t need a schedule anymore. It can make you a lot more focused on the now. Gunter has been staying with Mila and barely stays in his own room anymore. We don’t know if she got the previous tenants room or she got hers upgraded since she won the battle against Níðhöggr, but Mila’s room is an entire mountain range. Gunter has been cultivating at the base of the mountains and taking care of Mila. He really loved her cherry blossom trees and spider lilies. I stayed with them for a few days and loved it too after a while. Mila chose a cave in the mountains that she said would work best for her recovery.
Mila’s biology works like a snake’s in a tank and can grow as big as her surroundings. Due to her limited space and food supply in her room that she was sealed in, she was small compared to her full potential. Her new demon noh mask was hard to get used to, but I kind of like it now. It looks pretty bad ass with the horns and tusks. The human skin color it chose wouldn’t be my first choice however. Her new dark red exoskeleton definitely makes up for that though. She doesn’t look anything like the Mila we first met, but we love her no matter how she looks. Pushed to her limits she could wrap an entire mountain if she wanted to or be as small as several inches.
Gunter as well has impressed me. For a small 5 foot something man he’s pretty fast and strong. On his own he can track up the 7,000 foot mountains to get to Mila and back in a little under an hour. I’ve gone with him a few times. We’d track normally and talk for a few hours and he’ll either carry me with him, which still takes him a few hours, or just do the rest alone. Jim, Jon, Siete and her many children visit too. We have meetings to discuss the plan while the kids play in Gunter’s forest that he filled with insects and fruit groves. Gunter also spent a few hours building me a cabin with one of his picks. It was actually really good and the furniture that he built is extremely comfortable.
We went over some ideas and shared what all of us can do during our meeting. I feel like an average Joe sitting among superheroes when I heard what just their species alone can do, plus Gunter, Mila and Jim have some unique talents. When they asked what I can do I decided to lighten the mood by doing the removable thumb trick. No one thought it was funny and we waisted almost an hour explaining to Gunter it wasn’t real. He still thinks I can remove my limbs at will, but choose not to. First thing we needed to do was find Baba Yaga. The Host’s hive mind knows of Klaus and has some memories of him, but we have no idea where he is or if he has a room. Baba Yaga might have some insight and Gunter thinks she should be our main priority. I still think there’s more to what he’s willing to tell us.
Gunter says she was never a tenant as far as he knows and knew her way before he lived here. She practices the arts of the witches, enchantresses, sorceresses and necromancers to name a few. She also spends most of her time in her cabin. Her and her cabin are similar to Withorp and the complex as in wherever it is, she is. If her cabin is somehow either inside or trapped in The Pandemonium Complex then maybe we can find it. Gunter knows what her door looks like if they happen to come across it, but Gunter can’t just run around the complex wildly. One he might catch unwanted attention and none of us know how big this place is if we just search everywhere. Siete said she can send her children, but it’ll take an unknown amount of time for them to come back and tell her what every door looks like and who knows if it’ll still be there by the time they get there. She does have another idea though.
Her hive mind is strong when the spiders are many, but even stronger when there’s less. With less it’ll be like she can see through every one of her children at once. She definitely hates the idea, but it may be our only one. We gave them the best days of their lives as best we could. A few days after that meeting Siete showed up at the cabin Gunter built without The Host and with her children riding on her. There looked to be about 500-600 left from her thousands. We didn’t ask or pry what she had to do, so we carried on with our plan. Siete told us she can also connect us to The Host hive if we wanted to so we can all at least instantly communicate with each other. We won’t have visuals like her, but we can hear her thoughts immediately like a walkie talkie. To be honest I think we all agreed out of respect. She killed her own children for our sake, the least we could do is be there for her.
The smallest spiders from her cluster with long thin legs crawled up each of us and as much as we hated it. We had to let them crawl into our ear canal. We all shuddered hard and tried our best to let them do their job. I can’t speak for the others, but imagine a wild tickle in your ear that sounds like wind blowing hard directly in. Suddenly an intense pain in my ear drum started making it ring loud and hard. Once the ringing started to fade I kept hearing a beautiful woman’s voice saying, hello, softly over and over again. I looked over at Siete, who was standing on the dining room table and asked if that was her. She bounced a little while I could hear that voice saying yes happily. Even Jon had to comment how beautiful she sounded. Definitely a mother’s voice if I’ve ever heard one, which made us hate what we had to make her do so much more.
We played around with our new voiceless communication and had to tune it to not hear every thought. Didn’t think that would be a problem until all of us could hear Jon’s intrusive thoughts while he was staring at Jim. Ever seen a hulking big green apeman turn bright red? It is hilarious, but now I have images in my head that I’m afraid will never go away. Since Siete is now also without The Host she needs a new spot. We decided to keep her under Gunter’s cornucopia. We enjoyed our last day of peace, but now we had to start our search. Siete sent out her children and we listened intently to her kids updates of anything out of the ordinary. Gunter and Siete focused to show Siete what door they’re looking for. So far no door, but we heard a couple of interesting sightings.
The Wisps are back at their pranks again, little light fairies that can cast visual illusions that have been tricking tenants into entering unlocked rooms. Gulp, the bottomless traveling portal, ate the zombie horde, thankfully now I won’t get cramped in the elevator again when they were up to 13 zombies. Her was seen consuming that shape shifting lizardman who loved pretending to be politicians, near my room and tried desperately holding on to a door with chains. Girin and Kuba, the giant black bear forest spirit are fighting in the hallway near Gunter’s room because neither would move so the other could pass again. Adrenepae, the wife of Apollo who ate his heart, looks like she finally can control her avatar of fire form now and is roaming the hallways.Tate the warlock is stalking Beta, the techno organic virus, who has a new female host body; weird little creep. What caught our attention the most was the new tenant that entered the lobby.
He was a darker skinned man with long dreads that had metal links. He wore a long green coat with a satchel. The big headphones and reflective sunglasses were also a nice touch. Me, Jim and Jon went to the lobby to see. We are pretty nosy and we might as well kill some time people watching. Us breaking routine and avoiding Winthorp might also cause suspicion. We have people checking in all the time, but this guy was different as the complex was seemingly treating him as a long time tenant. The lobby works like a one way mirror and with new potential tenants it hides us and the current theme of the lobby before they get approved. I’ve only seen it a few times, but when someone new enters, to us they’re surrounded by a clear cube that limits what they can see when they’re inside. While inside they can only see what the complex wants them to see and nothing as far as I know can enter or leave this pocket dimension box.
With this man however there is no box. The complex didn’t feel the need to hide us or his surroundings for some odd reason. He was ignoring it all though as if he’s been here. He even walked right past Agatha & Mrs. Donahue, seemingly two old ladies that are always playing chess in the lobby and try speaking with anyone in a gentle neighborly tone. You must never speak to them however. They are a Lich and a Fae, but not a nice one like Gunter. The longer you talk to them the more they ruin and steal your life. I was lucky enough to have Jim & Jon stop me before I could reply to their hellos, their friendly faces immediately turned to anger when their meal was not taking the bait. The man paid them no mind and walked right past when they tried waving him down. He was speaking to Winthorp who also was paying the man special attention.
He kept referring to him as they and them when speaking. Winthorp also was standing at full attention before the man walked up. I’ve never seen him so eager to greet a potential new tenant. When it came down to signing the leger he did so without saying a word, but when he finished Winthorp said all new tenants must sign. We didn’t understand at first, when suddenly the man held out his arm and pulled up his sleeve. His arm was covered in a mix of branded and ink tattoos of symbols I’ve never seen before. His closed right palm began to glow a color I’ve never seen before and probably was never meant to be seen by human eyes. He opened his palm and a flash bright enough to blind half the lobby engulfed the room. When we looked back after shielding our eyes there was now a woman with him.
She had turquoise colored skin, long black hair, a beautiful purple choli that had modern accessories and a satchel bag that matched the man’s. She also signed the ledger and was greeted with as much enthusiasm the man was getting by Winthorp. I asked Jim and Jon if they knew who or what they were, but they had no idea. I then asked my internal host Siente if she’s seeing this. A familiar ringing began in my ear and I could hear her voice once again. This had her curiosity immediately when the first words I heard are, interesting. Siente has no knowledge of the man, but the woman is theorized to be a djinn and an old one at that. Siente said that physical djinns are extremely rare and are the most powerful kind, but what caught Siente’s attention was that she wasn’t bound.
Djinns are normally adorned with bright jewelry to symbolize that they are bound to the human world and must obey the law of the bound djinns when on the mortal plain. This djinn was somehow free and in full control which can normally only be done if wished to be free by the master. They also usually leave once freed to return to the realm of the untamed elements, like a fish running back to water. Once checked in we saw Winthorp provide them with what looked like a metal jewelry box that the man put in his satchel. They started walking towards the elevator when I decided to introduce myself. The man stopped first and raised his brow behind those shades, but the djinn stood between us and signaled me to halt with her outstretched arm. Or at least that’s what I thought.
I was thrown backwards by an unseen force, but was luckily caught by Jim. Jon stood in front and began to growl hard in anger. Jon’s size began to increase steadily with his rage and the air around us began getting hotter. I saw his gray fur begin to tense with his flex of dominance and I yelled for him to calm down. Jim put me down and rested his hand on Jon’s shoulder. Jon began to almost instantly relax. Jim stepped in front and apologized, but the woman held her hand back up as a warning to not approach. The man this time relaxed her by resting his hand on the top of her forearm. She looked surprised and shocked by this. The man walked up to Jim, took off his glasses and moved his headphones to around his neck. He looked Jim up and down like he was inspecting him. The man’s eyes were a bright mix of blue and green.
The man asked what tribe he is from and Jim answered. The 13th Wukong of the Nán Providence, but has been Omega ranked in the Tauá-Miri clan for a few decades now. He then looked over to Jon and asked him. Jon only replied with, nikto, and both Jon and the man averted their gaze when the man apologized. The man then looked towards me and apologized for his girlfriend's defensive behavior. We shook hands and greeted each other properly. The man’s name was Oddo and his girlfriend was Desiree. She still watched me with hard suspicious looks while we talked. The man asked me what I was. I told him I’m just human, he stared for a while. He then looked me up and down like he did with Jim and asked how long I’ve lived here. I was honest and told him it felt like years now, but I have no idea. He then berated me with questions I didn’t really understand like, what’s my faction, who’s my totem, who do I embody and when/where is my birth place. I answered as best I could and was only given looks of suspicion in return.
At the end of my interrogation he simply stated, So you’re…a basic mortal human? I could only reply with an embarrassing, yea. Oddo seemed surprised and turned toward Desiree who gave him an equal amount of confusion. He then bluntly asked how am I even alive or even sane in this place. I just shrugged and replied honestly, no fucking idea. I’ve never heard so much laughter since I’ve been here. Oddo, Desiree, Jim and Jon all teared up from laughter. Oddo dabbed me and pulled me in for a hug while still chuckling. It was so weird to have a normal person interaction in such a long time. I then asked about him. He was Oddo and then proceeded to give me such a long list of either titles, ranks and/or alignments to the point where we stood there for about 10 minutes before he finished. At heart though he was human, for the most part.
He introduced Desiree and told us that they met when she was sealed away in a decanter on a sunken ship that Oddo was excavating years ago and have been together ever since. He confirmed that she was a djinn like Siete said and that she was the last of the Jinn of Origin. One of the most powerful djinns. I only know their kind from the story of Aladdin and asked if that’s the kind they meant. I was given looks of confusion and had to explain the story more. There were some similarities and also that she had to grant him 3 desires into creation for her freedom originally, but only did one. Her freedom. Oddo and Desiree were together for 5 years without him ever making a wish. Instead he got to know her and enjoyed her company. They fell in love 2 years in and when they decided to be together forever he made a choice to make it her choice. He desired for her to be free.
Their lives weren’t easy however. They were hunted by men who knew of Desiree and her power. They’ve been on the run for years and wanted to be with others like themselves. Oddo hates humans and Desiree matched that hatred. I asked, then why are you even giving me the time of day now. He just replied with, you’re…different. I didn’t know if that was an insult or compliment. I told them I didn’t want to hold them up any longer and it was a pleasure to meet them. They began walking away towards the elevator while Jim and Jon collaborated their feelings on the couple. I was just happy to finally meet another human here, even if we’re clearly not cut from the same cloth. Siente began speaking again in my head and told me we need to leave the lobby now. She said not to look, but Winthorp has not taken his eyes off of us and he doesn’t look happy.
I told Jim and Jon that we should go check on Mila so as to not cause suspicion on our leave. They agreed and gave a slight nod to confirm. We began walking away when Winthorp called out to me and asked me to come over. I told him maybe later and that we’re going to check on our friend. I turned to leave only to turn to see Winthorp in front of me. We were somehow sitting in a small room I’ve never seen before. It looked like the old school integration rooms you see in black and white detective movies. This wasn’t good. Winthorp had a serious look and looked directly into my soul with those impossibly bright blue eyes. He then lightened up and asked how I’m liking my stay here so far. I told him it was good and then was asked why I’m keeping secrets then. My blood ran cold and I told him everyone has secrets.
He laughed and said that was a good answer, but then suddenly switched to bad cop. He slammed his hand in front of me and asked why we have been spying then. Sweat began dripping down my face. I told him I didn’t know what he was talking about. He switched to good cop and rubbed my cheek. He asked in a light tone if I think he’s stupid. I told him no and then he grabbed my face to look into his. He told me he doesn’t read minds, but he has ways of getting information. He then cupped his hand over my ear and I felt an intense pain with a loud white noise. He held the hair on my head so I couldn't move with his opposite hand and opened his other palm before me. The spider Siete put in my ear was standing in his palm. He asked again if I think he’s stupid. I told him no and the spider began floating. Her legs stretched out and one popped off. He made it so I could hear her scream.
I told him to stop and he asked again if I think he’s stupid. I yelled no again and he pulled out another from the spider. She was a child and I could hear her cry and scream in pain. He asked a third time and I switched my answer to hopefully get a better result. I said yes and then he set her on fire. A flame that burned, but didn’t cause fatal harm. A flame of pure pain and torture. Her screams were loud and filled with sadness and confusion. I begged him to stop, but he kept asking that same question over and over until she had no legs left. He then threw the burning legless spider in the corner. Her screams stopped when she had two legs left. I knew she was alive, but just broken in mind now. I told him I just wanted to leave and he grinned.
Honesty, is that so hard? Those words sent shivers down my spine. I told myself I can’t break. He asked what we were doing and I told him that I’m just trying to find a way out. The grin went back to a scowl. He touched his finger tip to mine and my right middle finger he touched began to burn. At first it dried up slowly and turned black. Then white and then began turning to dust from the tip down to the knuckle. He told me he doesn’t like torturing his tenants. He just wants us to live happily and comfortably. Winthorp then asked why I would want to leave. I have nothing out there and he knows that. I replied with a simple, fuck you.
He sighed in annoyance. I suddenly was completely frozen in place and was unmovable. He grabbed my left arm and began twisting. First my wrist snapped, then slowly up my forearm began breaking. After that he pushed my elbow opposite to where it’s supposed to bend and caused a compound fracture. I was then unfrozen and immediately cried out in pain. Winthorp grabbed the back of my neck so I could sit straight up and squeezed lightly. He told me he knows I’m up to something and to just tell him. If I tell him all this will be over, but I’d be putting my friends in danger worse than this. I answered with, you’re insane. He threw my head forward and it bounced off the table in front of me. I held my face with both hands and realized my arms are normal again.
Winthorp then grabbed the back of my head with his open palm gripping the back of my skull. He told me to spill my guts. Before I could say anything I started projectile vomiting hard. At first it was what I ate, then bile, blood and after my organs began coming out of my mouth as if I was still throwing them up. Every organ was ejected out of my mouth and he made sure I could feel it all. Every time I would start passing out from the pain he’d jerk my head and bring me back. My tongue was next to be forced out and then my teeth one by one uprooted themselves to join the rest on the table and floor. My skin began to melt off my flesh with my nose and ears. My skeleton from my neck down also decided to leave. It moved on its own and forced its way out and through my muscle tissue like it was trapped. Lastly he made my eyes pop out to view it all. This was nothing compared to when he made it all do it again in reverse and even slower.
Ever felt your skeleton crawl back into your flesh? I do. He made sure the nerves felt it all and that I wouldn’t lose consciousness for even a moment while my body slowly and painfully repaired itself. Once I was fully repaired he asked again what me and my friends were doing. I told him it was only me. He sat back in front of me and stared long and hard. I was shaking with fear as to what he was planning to do next. He reached out his index finger, placed it in the center of my forehead and pushed hard. When I turned back up I was no longer in the interrogation room. I was in my room. My childhood room. I looked down and saw my pajamas I haven’t worn since I was 6 years old. I felt wet and warm in my bed and began crying loudly. My parents entered my room to console me and told me I must’ve had a nightmare. I tried telling them about The Pandemonium Complex and Winthorp, but was too broken to explain and just babbled on like the crying child I was now.
They told me it was okay and that I could sleep in their room tonight. A few years went by and The Pandemonium Complex was nothing more than just a memory of a bad dream. When I was 9 I came back home from school to see my front door was open. I entered slowly and saw that my house was a wreck. Like a tornado or wild beast came through. I called out to my parents and siblings, but no one answered. I went to the hallway and saw a blood trail leading into each room. I passed my siblings rooms first and only saw blood leading to their closed closets. I was too afraid to open them. I went to my parents room and saw they were torn apart. Looks of horror were frozen on their faces. I heard something behind me coming from my siblings' rooms.
I ran to my parents window. I unlocked it and jumped out leaving my backpack behind. This isn’t right. I ran to the neighbors house and they called the police. I lived with my aunt and uncle after that. Then my grandparents. All met the same fate as my household. I was placed in foster care at 13. I began questioning my memories and what’s happening. None of this seemed right. At 14 I was adopted into an abusive household. My adopted mother only beat and yelled at me. My adopted father was worse and did unspeakable things. I ran away at the age of 16 and was homeless for a year. I then met the love of my life. Tanisha, she was perfect. Kind, loving, empathetic and an all around good person. We were together for 2 years before I met my best friend, Tate.
They helped me get back on track and made my past seem like a bad memory. I was 26 now and was married with 3 loving children. My best friend Tate had a family of his own and we were raising our kids together. Life was perfect. Then one day I came home from work. My front door was open and I knew it was over. I entered my home. My children were torn apart and thrown around my living room like ragdolls. I went into our room and saw that it was torn apart, but Tanisha wasn’t there. I ran out when I heard a familiar noise coming from the living room. I jumped out my window and started running towards Tate’s house. I kept trying to call my wife’s phone nonstop. No answer. When I got to Tate’s house I saw that his door was also open. I ran inside to see the same scene happen to his children.
I ran into Tate’s room and found him and…my wife. She must’ve tried running here when she found our kids, I thought. A small red light caught my attention in the debris. A camera that was recording. I played the tape back to see what happened. My wife was cheating on me with Tate. The camera was filled with different videos from long before today. I started the video from today to my dismay. They were in the middle of it when screams could be heard from the living room. I was so focused on what was going to happen that I didn’t notice the presence behind me. A scream broke the silence before I could see what entered the room and I turned to see Sarah, Tate’s wife screaming with horror at me. I tried calming her down and explain, but she had the police behind her already. I was arrested and was found guilty for murder.
They thought I killed them all because I found out they were cheating and also pinned the past murders on me since whatever kept happening is following me. I was thrown into a dark cold prison to live out my days in a hole. My days consisted of starving, being beaten and cold. I wanted to die. The death sentence was banned since I was a child, so all I could do was wait for death. One day, when I had given up, a few guards entered my room. I won’t say what happened, but it ended with them beating me nonstop until I couldn’t fight back. They didn’t stop beating me and when I was finally getting my wish of death I was sitting in a chair. I was in a small room with a man sitting across from me. A small bellhop wearing a straw boat hat. Winthorp. All my memories came flooding back. Memories of the past and now mixed and formed back into my hellish life.
Winthorp asked me again what we were planning. I looked him dead in the eye and just answered, I will kill you. A grin formed on his face again and he leaned in. How? He asked plain and simply. I knew I said too much again and just went silent. I don’t know how long I was there for. He made me live other hellish lives and tortured me over and over again in ways that would make the devil himself want to die. I never said another word. I could tell he was getting frustrated and was losing his cool. His methods started becoming sloppy and desperate. One of the benefits of being a basic mortal human is that we die very easily, so you could do whatever to us, but in the end they start getting very similar and I learned to get used to it. Once he realized he wasn’t getting anything out of me he threw me back into my room in the complex. I was thrown hard through the air and saw my furniture fly past me before I hit my wall hard. That’s when I just broke and just cried for hours.
I just needed to release. What I didn’t notice was Gunter was on the couch the whole time. He sat silently and just let me break. I think he knew I just needed to let it all out. I don’t know if he knew what I just went through, but he just started getting some fruit ready for me to eat when I’m ready. The small spider crawled out of my sleeve and ran to Siete under Gunter’s cornucopia. I slept for an unknown amount of time, but my body definitely needed it. When I woke up, I ate and Gunter asked me if I wanted to talk. I just asked how long I had been gone. He said Jim, Jon and I left just a few minutes before I was suddenly flying through my room from out of nowhere. He asked more directly as to what happened. I didn’t give him all the details, but now my mind is set. Winthorp and The Pandemonium Complex need to die.

CHAPTER 6.
How The Natives Lived In Old Times.
People think that in old times the native lived on fern root only. What they did before I came here I can't say, but they had lots of good food, fish in any quantities fresh from the river in the fine weather; in winter they had stores of dried fish to fall back on. The bush, too, was full of birds everywhere. I have often seen koroi trees quite black with tuis; mocking birds, too, were plentiful enough. Why, the natives would go into the bush and snare them by hundreds, fill large kits full. They would make a low sort of roof of flax leaves or nikau to hide under, they had a long stick bent a bit at the top so as to form a sort of perch, then a flower that had honey inside; one of their favourites was placed on the top; a piece or flax was made into a noose and placed near the flower; the native would creep into his shelter, put up his stick, and imitate the bird's note. Then the birds would settle on the perch-like end of the stick, taste the flower, the noose caught their feet, was drawn tight, the string pulled the bird down the stick, the head squeezed, and into the kit in less than no time. It was a fine thing in the morning to hear the birds, their notes were beautiful: some did not sing, but still they made pretty noises. I cannot make out what’s become of all those birds, though they did catch such heaps for kai, they seemed so plentiful as the leaves on the trees. Now the bush seems as still as if never a bird had lived in it, “quiet as the grave,” is a saying; but I am sure here where we live you might say ''as quiet as the bush.” The natives used and do still eat the owl, and if they are fat are not at all bad, though I have a dislike to them myself.
Rats As Game
There was the rat, too, the Maori one of course I mean, that was one of their nice things. I remember seeing my first wife catch one on the top of the water. When it was caught it looked something like our rat, with a 'pretty soft fur. When cooked it was like rabbit or fowl. I have often seen women and slaves hunting for them among the cultivations. That was soon after I came. The last time was when my wife caught the one I spoke of, they must have been something like what game is among the gentry in England, for there would be hunting parties got up to find rats; and places where they were plentiful were considered very valuable, and there were dreadful rows and fights about poaching in those days. I have often taken convicts to Hobart Town who told me they had got sent out for poaching the game belonging to the swells in England, and here they would kill one another about rats. The fights through rat stealing was over pretty near when I came, but many a yarn have I listened to that had been all about the nasty little vermin. Then they used to preserve eels in their own fat. Why I tell you such a lot about kai is that you should understand that though the New Zealander did eat human flesh, they had plenty of things to eat besides.
Cannibalism.
Cannibalism mostly took place in time of war and the flesh of a dead enemy they considered sweet. I am not defending what they did, but when I tell you things it is what I have seen, and what I think about it. The greatest insult you could offer to a native now would be to call him a cannibal. He would be as much horrified as you would yourself. I am sure some of the white men at the Bay of Islands were not a bit better than the natives, and some not half as good, I can tell you. Why there was lots of things done by those chaps that would make a savage ashamed of himself. Any of the old hands knocking about could tell some nice yarns if they liked. There were fellows there who used to entice the men belonging to the vessels to stay ashore, keep them on the quiet, drunk most likely, till the ship sailed; then when a whaler or some other ship came in wanting hands, the men would be sent aboard, the crimps getting so much from the captain for the men, and the men had to pay out of advance for their keep ashore.
How Religious Differences Were Adjusted.
I had been at home about a week, when I was told there was a great lot of natives at the Mission Station, Mangunu. There was always a large number of people there on Sundays. They used to come from every part of the river and the chapel would be crowded. The natives arrived on a Saturday, and camped about the Mission Station, perhaps visit at their friends, for there were whares from the Matu to Wairere. No one would believe it. I think there must have been more natives living on that bit of ground than you could find now from here to the Bay of Islands. I must go back a little to explain how I came to be there, for being a Roman Catholic I did not attend the Mission Chapel. There were some native missionaries living up at Mangamuka, and three of them stayed at home to preach to the natives living up there. A little while before the day of which I am speaking, a chief named Kaitoke came down from Utukara and told Wi Barton, one of the native missionaries, that he was not to come to his place again. If he did, he would shoot him. Kaitoke said he should not change his old religion for anybody, and did not want to be bothered with this new religion the pakeha had brought. He liked a good many things - the blanket, tobacco, and a lot of things, but he did not want the new God, so he and the others had better keep at home and preach to the people who wanted to hear him. Wi Burton said he did not care, the Utukura mob could shoot him if they pleased. The missionaries did go up to Utukura and one of them was shot dead. Wi Burton got a lot of bullets in his blanket, but was not wounded. He and the others came down and told all those at Mangunu what had happened. I enquired what, was going on, for from my place I could see it was something more than the usual Sunday meeting. I got into my canoe. and was pulled over. There was great excitement among the chiefs. Te Nene, Macquarie, and others went to the Horeke, and got a case of muskets from Captain McDonnell: then came back, and dividing them among the natives at Mangunu they then started for Utukura, the whole mob going by way of Mangamuku. Mr. Turner, the head of the mission going with them: but Mr. Turner returned that night. On the Tuesday after they got to Utukara, they began looking about, intending to kill and eat all they could find. Macquarie‘s mob fired into the pa, and a chief got wounded in the ankle, and slipped from the pa into the tide: he was seized by Nene’s mob but got saved. The pa was taken, but nearly all the enemy got away. There an old chieftainess, more than sixty years old, left behind, and one of the native missionaries chopped off her head with his tomahawk. My wife saved two of the chiefs wives from being killed. The natives here thought the Bay of Islands mob would take up the affair, and made great preparations for war, but no notice was taken. I suppose they were not in the humour for a row just then; killing the old chieftainess would do for a grievance another time, if they wanted one.

maybe I'm late to the game on this one but I just realized this

Gently used gear for sale. Payment via Paypal G&S only, all prices are shipped CONUS. Happy to discuss prices.
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1. Bearvault BV500: 2 available. Both second hand, used for two weeks on the JMT last summer. Work great. $60 each or two for $100. Cheaper if local pickup in Austin, TX.
2. Patagonia Black Hole 25L daypack (navy). Purchased in 2021, still in great condition. "A" in "Patagonia" peeled off. $90
3. Patagonia Strider Pro shorts 5" (men's medium). Liner cut out. Good condition except some tearing at the inside seams where my legs chafe. $35
4. Patagonia Strider Pro shorts 7" (men's medium). Liner cut out. Barely used. $45
5. Gossamer Gear shoulder strap pocket (medium, grey). Used a couple times, excellent condition. $15 SOLD
6. Justins UL shoulder water bottle holders. 2 available. Never used. $15 each or $25 for both.
7. Tillet LTM6 Airflo hat (size 7 3/8, navy). Used a few times, excellent condition. No chin strap. $50
8. Ten Thousand Distance shirt (men's medium, black). 3 available. Has a laddercoach print on the chest. $20 each or $50 for all three.