‼️The battle for Bakhmut is the longest in the entire war in Ukraine. Both sides stubbornly fighting for control of this settlement and suffer heavy losses there. But why both sides of the conflict fight so hard for this piece of land?
For the Russian troops gaining control of the city is important because taking the city will open roots for the further Russian offense and capturing the whole Donbass region. In addition, it will give an opportunity to the Russian headquarters to redistribute forces there. Moreover, after loosing the city Zelensky will lose support among European leaders and this war will simply be merged, because Russia will also fall out of the world agenda, being busy restoring the destruction in the occupied territories and internal struggle with dissenting Ukrainians. This fact, of course, will “untie the hands” of the White House and provide an opportunity to come to grips with China, the AUKUS block and Latin America.💣
Ukrainians continue to defend the city of Bakhmut because it became a “symbol” of their struggle and a sign that the NATO countries will continue to supply them with military equipment and ammunition. I am sure, that if Ukrainian troops keep control of the city and reoccupy it they will receive additional military support from the European and American “partners” that will let them begin their global counteroffensive in the eastern part of Ukraine.🧐
Anyway, there will be only one beneficiary in the end of the war – Washington and the “Shadow Government”… 👍🏻

In this post, we are going to discuss any cosmetic, functional, or gameplay-related features that could be added to Transformers: Tactical Arena to improve the players’ experience while playing the game. Red Games Co. nailed the gameplay itself and have already proven their ability to deliver great new cards, arenas, emotes, and music tracks in almost every update, but this list will include features that will improve this game in general, either improving the feel of the gameplay or adding more things to do in the main menu screen. These are going to be the types of additions the game needs to have before it can grow any further and expand to a wider audience. The list will be numbered in order of most wanted to not as most wanted, but still wanted (based on my personal preferences). Brace yourselves, here it goes:
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1. Add a selectable Landscape mode for mobile users:

There are two perspectives available to play the game in: Portrait mode and Landscape mode. Unfortunately, these perspectives are locked in to the system a player uses, with Portrait mode being limited to iPad and iPhone devices while Landscape mode is limited to Macs and Apple TVs. It would be impossible to implement Portrait mode to Macs and Apple TVs as that would limit the player’s perspective, but players on iPhones and iPads should be given a new option in the Settings that would allow them to choose whether to play the game in Portrait Mode, Landscape mode, or Both, depending on the device’s orientation. I would love to have the option to try playing this game in Landscape mode as it would totally change the perspective and the way I play along with it. You have no idea how frequently I miss while using Graviton Nexus because of the current portrait perspective I am limited to.
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1. Add a Match History feature with a controllable camera for Photo Mode:

This game needs a Match History of some sorts. Perhaps have the option positioned in the main menu between the Crates and Practice options. Not to crowd a respective device’s memory, the Battle Log should have 10 slots, which would fill in every time a Battle is played, sorted from latest at the top to recent at the bottom (preferably with times and dates indicated). If all 10 slots are filled, the recent game (10th in the list) would be automatically permanently deleted and the slot filled in with the next recorded game in queue, and so on. However, users would be given the option to Favorite or Save match replays of their choosing, which would go into a menu next to the Battle Log, have this option called Saved. The number of slots could be either infinite or a maximum of 30 saved replays. This is where the fun begins: the match replays would work in real time similarly to how the tutorial videos for the cards work. This would allow players to do the following: 1) Change perspective, viewing the match play out from their side or from the opponent’s side; and 2) Have a free cinematic camera mode that would give the players two cursors that would allow them to fly the camera around the arena and position it in ways like we have seen only in the trailers for TTA, almost like in Totally Accurate Battle Simulator. This would allow players to create cinematic shots, get clips of cool moments from various perspectives, follow Megatron or Scorponok around as they ravage through the arena. Imagine the amount of advertising it would allow for if players started posting videos of Bumblebee Super Punching a turret from a close up shot, or Starscream swooping in in jet mode.
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1. Add more game modes:

A lot of people ask for a story mode to be added to the game. Though a story mode would be incredible, it’s a lot to ask for, considering how much work it would take to make. However, we as players have been stuck battling each other or the A.I. solo for more than a year now. I love this game for what it is, it has incredible gameplay that keeps holding it up despite its cons, but it can get boring and repetitive fast, and sometimes I have trouble pushing myself to play through five games every day. Giving players the option to play more modes would highly increase the replayability of this game. For example, when pressing on the Battle button from the Main Menu, instead of a wait queue immediately starting, players would be greeted by another menu, asking them which mode they want to Battle in. The options would be 1v1, 2v2, 3v3, and perhaps Story Mode as the lower option (which would be an entire menu in of itself). Yes, you read that right, Red could go so far as to add a 3v3 mode. A while ago, I used to play a game called Mini Guns – Omega Wars. It’s dead now (servers shut down), but it was a unique Clash Royale-inspired mobile game with impressive visuals and fun original gameplay, similar to Transformers: Tactical Arena. It was later added to Steam as well, something I would love to see happen to TTA. There were 4 ways to play the game: it had a story mode, 1v1, 2v2, and 3v3. 3v3 was chaotic and at the same time the best way to play the game, because if your cards were underleveled, you had two teammates who could carry you if they were maxed out, and you were thus more likely to win in 3v3 than in 2v2 and 1v1 modes. I want Transformers: Tactical Arena to have such similar features from Mini Guns – Omega Wars because it’s going to make the game so much more replayable.
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1. Add more profile customization:

Giving us the option to purchase and choose from a variety of Banners and Avatars was one of the most brilliant things the developers added to this game. However, being able to customize only three things (our names, portraits, and banners) is not enough. How about adding customizable Frames to our tags, such as Bumblebee or Sunstreaker sitting on top, or a boombox around our profile tag, or Scorponok’s claw, Starscream’s Seeker armada, or Soundwave’s minions in every corner of our profile tag? How about adding unique Effects to highlight our tags, such as flames, pink plasma, dripping blue Energon, etc.? How about allowing us to customize our names with unique Fonts? This will monetize the game further and allow us to buy more things with our hard-earned ORE-13.
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1. Add skin selection for unique characters:

Shortly after being first released, Trailbreaker had his eyes changed from the color red to the color blue. Megatron recently had his entire appearance changed as well, from a more G1-inspired one to a more IDW-inspired one. This got me thinking about how more different skins like that could be added to the game for players to purchase with ORE-13 and use to slightly customize the appearance of their favorite characters. For example, Trailbreaker could be given a blue skin with red eyes, while Megatron could be given his G1-inspired skin back, with the players choosing which they want their Megatron to wear, the older one or the newer one.
NOTE: Do not turn unique characters from Transformers lore into simple reskins of cards already in the game. I.E. Do not make Cliffjumper a red reskin of Bumblebee. Cliffjumper and Bumblebee are two totally unique characters with different fighting styles in Transformers lore. Doing so will also confuse the players. Not everyone will be able to tell that a Bumblebee is coming for their turret if he is painted blue, red, or white instead of bright yellow that will immediately jump into the players’ eyes and warn them. Do not turn Skywarp and Thundercracker into Starscream reskins when they are extremely different characters with unique abilities. Not even Nemesis Prime should be an Optimus Prime reskin. The reskins should be limited only to the unique, named characters in question.
Instead, what you could do is make skins of the characters based on their Shattered Glass versions, which would make sense since it’s something the recent update hinted at. Or have the skins be the Generation 2 (G2) repaints of the characters, or their original Marvel comic book appearances, like the red-eyed, blue-painted Trailbreaker, or remodels of the characters based on the IDW comics, like the recent Megatron reskin we got. Keep the skin selection limited to the named characters selected by the players while customizing their looks.
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1. Add skin selection for Main and Secondary Turrets.

Similarly to the unit skins presented previously and the tower skins from Clash Royale, Transformers: Tactical Arena can have something similar by allowing players to customize the way their main and secondary turrets look. It would be nice if the main turret could be customized separately from the secondary turrets, or, better yet, *have all three turrets be independently customizable*. The turrets could be labeled Left Turret, Main Turret, and Right Turret during the customization process. Such customization could include festive themes, holiday themes, or, my most wanted proposition, have unique characters become the turrets. Have the main turret be Sky Lynx, who sleeps before being activated, or Tarn sitting on a throne, or Fortress Maximus (with the Secondary Turrets being his extra city mode limbs), or a cloning vat with a Predacon in stasis inside (a reference to Transformers: Prime). Add whatever your imagination tells you to! We as players will love these additions.
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1. Add skin selection for structures:

Similarly to the unit card skin selection and turret skin selection, there should also be skin customization available for the various structures in the game, including the Decoy (players can choose the character model being projected by the Decoy as well as the Decoy base itself), spawners, Teleporters, smaller turrets, and other deployable building cards. If skins are added for units such as Sharkticons, Minions, and Autobot Troopers and Infantry, their skins should be customizable separately from their respective spawners/Teleporters when customizing the appearance of the structure cards themselves, but also included into the customization.
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1. Add in-game death animations:

There is nothing more lame than struggling to destroy Scorponok in-game just to see him pop into some Energon bits on death. It would have been so much better if Scorponok would fall back on death, fall apart, or explode into Energon bits. This could add more elements to the game such as Scorponok dealing damage after exploding on death, similarly to how the NOD Avatar explodes on death in Command and Conquer: Rivals. However, this does not apply to Scorponok only. Other characters should have death animations, such as Jazz getting ripped in half (a reference to his death in the 2007 Transformers movie), Megatron falling to his knees and landing on his chest due to how big and bulky he is, Crosshairs and Spinister spinning out of control and crashing into the ground, Optimus Prime falling back (a reference to his death in the 1986 Transformers movie), Windblade getting blasted back and her sword sticking into the ground (similarly to how Clash Royale’s Knight’s sword sticks into the ground when his is killed), Starscream transforming into his jet and flying away, not actually dying because he is a coward, etc. Minions and Drones would still have their current death animations, while Autobot Infantry and Troopers could have something more unique like breaking apart into parts on death. And keep these death animations relatively short and simple, no longer than 2 or 3 seconds, similarly to the way Metal Slug soldiers die when you shoot them.
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1. Add units emoting at the end of the game:

This may sound confusing but bear with me. Do you know how there is a 1 or 2 second delay between a winning turret being destroyed and the victory screen coming up? Ever played Metal Slug? Ever seen how the enemy troops cheered and celebrated when you died, taunting your death? Ever played Red Alert 2 or 3? Ever seen how the units on the map would start cheering if you achieved victory? Seeing something similar to that in this game would be downright INCREDIBLE. Not only would it taunt your opponent, but it would look fun and good from an entertainment perspective. Autobot Troopers could start throwing their pistols in the air. Autobot Infrantry could dance and jump around. Megatron could strike a victorious pose, hands on hips and straightened out. Optimus Prime could lower his Energon Axe similarly to how does it in the squad selection screen. Grimlock could stomp the ground and release a burst of fire into the air to celebrate. Sunstreaker could start firing rockets into the sky as fireworks. Trailbreaker could start firing at the sky as an act of celebration. Moonracer could holster her sniper rifle similarly to her squad selection idle animation. Bumblebee could start clapping. Brawn could crack his knuckles and fold his arms. Starscream could transform into a jet and fly off. Soundwave could transmit a radio signal. Shockwave could return to plotting his schemes the way he does during his idle animation in the Squad selection screen. Windblade could slowly holster her blade. On the contrary, if the game is lost, the units would have unique scared animations, either shivering in the same spot or panicking and running away. The possibilities are endless.
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1. Add new daily and weekly objectives with higher rewards.

Right now, the game cycles between about 10 different daily challenges that are fairly easy to complete, but the lack of uniqueness is very boring. Add more daily and weekly objectives that involve using newer cards such as Chromia instead of Bonecrusher, for example. Such objectivates would help out newer players and add more spice to more experienced players.
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1. Add more Squad slots:

3 Squads is not enough. Simple as. In comparison, Clash Royale allows players to create 10 different decks at once. Giving us the option to make 5 would be way better than limiting us to 3, even though a similar system to CR could be implemented and we could be given the full 10 Squad slots in TTA as well. I had to overwrite many fun and unique Squads with more practical ones in the past since I had only 3 slots to work with, and I can’t really experiment with making new Squads since I’m trying to stick with the 3 I already have.
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1. Add Squad randomization:

On the topic of Squad creation, it can be difficult for new players to create Squads that work, so creating a button that, once pressed, would auto-generate a random Squad would be great. Every randomly generated Squad would have at least 1 random tactical support card, at least 1 random tank car, at least 1 random win condition car, at least 1 random structure card, at least 1 random ranged unit card, at least 1 random melee unit card, and so on.
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1. Add more Crate types (a greater Crate variety for players to unlock):

The current four types of Crates we have are very good (Common, Rare, Epic, and Arena), but wouldn’t it be better if we had more options to unlock and upgrade cards and get ORE-13? Adding a greater variety of Crates would give players more reason to grind and would make leveling up slightly easier and more fun. You could add a Legendary crate that contained only Legendaries, a Giant crate which would contain the most cards of any other Crate, etc. Anything you could come up with would be better than us being stuck with the same old four (mostly three) types of Crates.
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1. Add more A.I. decks and fix the A.I. itself:

It’s nice to have the current A.I. decks memorized to allow for easy victories, but at the same time this should not be the case. Rather than having the A.I. use randomized decks, simply create more decks for it cycle through than u/Picopede already listed in the following post: (https://www.reddit.com/TransformersTactical/wiki/ai-squads/). Add decks with the new cards, have the A.I. use decks with cards like Starscream, Scorponok, both Chaser cards in one deck, Trailbreaker, Sharlticon Portal, Shockwave, Railgun, and other unused cards that never show up while fighting the A.I. at upper levels. Fix the old decks so that the A.I. knows how to use actual strategies and strong card combinations instead of spamming units like crazy, hoping to overwhelm the human opponents. The A.I. should be more interesting and rewarding to fight.
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1. Add a camera mode in the Squad screen that would allow us to look at the 3D models of the characters closer:

Sometimes, instead of playing the game, it feels good to sit back and take in its beautiful art style, which includes looking at the characters, reading through their bios, and watching their tutorial videos. It would be nice if there was more, if there was an option once you entered the Squad screen and clicked on a card, to press on a button for some sort of Camera Mode and look at the cards in greater detail, from different perspectives. Maybe we could even be given the option to play specific animations for the card we chose, such as first deployment, regular attack, idle animation, and any other animations that card has. This feature would also allow players to look at unique character, structure, and turret skins (proposed to be added in points 5, 6, and 7) from different perspectives before or after purchase in the Supply Shop.
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1. Add a controllable camera to the Crates selection screen:

When it comes to unlocking Crates, it can get a bit boring and repetitive to do so. Despite us getting the Open All button, I am the type of player who unlocks the Crates one by one to visually see the things I get and any milestones I reach with my card levels. This feature is definitely not a must, but it would improve the immersion of the game so much more if we could look at the different types of Crates from different perspectives, especially the unique Arena ones, or any other Crate types the developers might add.
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1. Add sound effects to emotes:

This has the danger of making the game more toxic, but it’s pretty lame to see an emote without actually hearing it. I love the emotes as they are, the way they look and the way they play. However, this addition might take a lot of work to implement, so it should not be a priority.
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1. Make the gameplay feel more smooth:

Now this point is a bit more techy than the previous ones, but this is a complaint about the gameplay itself. There is a certain edge to it, like there is always a delay to the things you do, or the gameplay itself feels choppy, like you are playing at 30 fps instead of 60 fps. I would say this may have been done to conserve battery power, but changing the graphics quality of the game does not improve its flow, in fact it makes the gameplay even more choppy and laggy. If there was an option added to the Settings that would allow to increase the smoothness of the game at the cost of battery usage, that would be great, because the game does not run on mobile the same way it does on the Apple TV, based on watching u/Picopede ’s videos.
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1. Add a wait time for unit deployment.

In Clash Royale, when you want to deploy a card but do not have enough Elixir to do so, being 1 cost point short or so, the game deploys the card wherever you placed it on a certain wait queue that lasts a second or a millisecond before you accumulate enough Elixir, finally deploying the card later than you initially “planted” it. This can be both harmful, if you don’t plan ahead or misplace a card, and powerful, allowing for well-timed clutches and close calls. Transformers: Tactical Arena currently does not have this. You can either deploy a card if you have enough Energon, or you cannot. As a result, you have to hover your finger over the spot where you want to deploy a card while keeping your eyes on the Energon meter, which hinders your vision and allows you to make serious mistakes. Though depleting your Energon is a bad game strategy, this game should still have the same option of deploying your cards on millisecond-long queues, because I missed a lot of close calls and clutch moments due to either not being able to see the screen under my finger or the card I wanted to deploy not being deployed at all.
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1. Allow the deselection of cards in-game.

There is nothing more frustrating than misclicking on the arena after selecting a card but after changing your mind, and deploying a card you did not want to deploy at a random spot on the arena, for example at the bottom of the arena, right above the card selection bar. The only way of deselecting the card you currently have selected is to click on a different card, and you better not accidentally click somewhere randomly on the arena, or else the game will be lost. Players should have the option of deselecting the card they currently have selected. This can be done by either swiping down on the same card (since the card you have selected is raised up), or pressing a new x button added to the selected card, anything would be better then just hovering over what we have selected without being able to click anywhere else on the screen. It would also clear the screen up of the checkered pattern that appears every time you select a card, which would allow for better control of players’ vision.
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1. Fix ranged units not firing at enemy units within melee range.

There is a very annoying bug that happens whenever units approach ranged units really closely - the ranged units just simply stop firing at them. For example, if Optimus Prime enters Charge in his truck mode and Shockwave is standing right in front of him as he passes, Shockwave won’t fire at Optimus and will just allow him to pass without stunning him. This is true for all ranged units, including Sunstreaker, Trailbreaker, Arcee, Jazz, Starscream, Rotorstorm (he won’t fire at units directly under him), etc. The only exception is Megatron who uses Backhand in melee range. Either add melee attacks similar to Megatron’s Backhand to all ranged units or just simply allow them to fire at targets right in front of them.
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1. Add a new leaderboard.

This is an idea proposed by the other people on this Subreddit, such as u/Boosetro. Though I agree with the idea of having more than two leaderboards for a general ranking and the number of turrets destroyed, I don’t know if I agree with this idea in particular. Diving out PvP from PvE would force players to wait to play the game in PvP mode, which is rarely fun, competitive, and thus rather frustrating. People are free to disagree though, and I will leave it up to the developers to think about this point. Perhaps add a new Ranked leaderboard that would be limited to PvP matches.
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1. Add a new Spectator Mode that will allow players to attend and observe other real-time matches.

This feature follows the feature proposed in Part 2. Once a Battle Log feature is successfully added to the game, a Spectator mode should also be added, which would allow players to join and view a random or selected game happening in real time between two other players or between a player and a bot. This addition would be similar to what Clash Royale has. Players playing the game would be able to view how many people are spectating them, and the spectators would be able to use minimized emotes and cheer for the players they are spectating (or the opponents) without distracting either player. The reason I placed this feature so far down in the list is because I don’t consider its addition that important, though other people here may disagree. I never liked the spectator feature in Clash Royale and thus don’t think Transformers: Tactical Arena needs one. However, it’s up to the developers to decide whether they want to implement this or not.
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Thus, that amounts to a total of 23 items (and counting) to improve the feel of the game. It is up to the developers to decide whether they want to add these features or not, but I can guarantee they would make the game feel so much better. Please consider some of these. If you have any extra ideas, make sure to comment them down below! Thank you for reading through this list!

In this post, we are going to discuss any cosmetic, functional, or gameplay-related features that could be added to Transformers: Tactical Arena to improve the players’ experience while playing the game. Red Games Co. nailed the gameplay itself and have already proven their ability to deliver great new cards, arenas, emotes, and music tracks in almost every update, but this list will include features that will improve this game in general, either improving the feel of the gameplay or adding more things to do in the main menu screen. These are going to be the types of additions the game needs to have before it can grow any further and expand to a wider audience. The list will be numbered in order of most wanted to not as most wanted, but still wanted (based on my personal preferences). Brace yourselves, here it goes:
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1. Add a selectable Landscape mode for mobile users:

There are two perspectives available to play the game in: Portrait mode and Landscape mode. Unfortunately, these perspectives are locked in to the system a player uses, with Portrait mode being limited to iPad and iPhone devices while Landscape mode is limited to Macs and Apple TVs. It would be impossible to implement Portrait mode to Macs and Apple TVs as that would limit the player’s perspective, but players on iPhones and iPads should be given a new option in the Settings that would allow them to choose whether to play the game in Portrait Mode, Landscape mode, or Both, depending on the device’s orientation. I would love to have the option to try playing this game in Landscape mode as it would totally change the perspective and the way I play along with it. You have no idea how frequently I miss while using Graviton Nexus because of the current portrait perspective I am limited to.
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1. Add a Match History feature with a controllable camera for Photo Mode:

This game needs a Match History of some sorts. Perhaps have the option positioned in the main menu between the Crates and Practice options. Not to crowd a respective device’s memory, the Battle Log should have 10 slots, which would fill in every time a Battle is played, sorted from latest at the top to recent at the bottom (preferably with times and dates indicated). If all 10 slots are filled, the recent game (10th in the list) would be automatically permanently deleted and the slot filled in with the next recorded game in queue, and so on. However, users would be given the option to Favorite or Save match replays of their choosing, which would go into a menu next to the Battle Log, have this option called Saved. The number of slots could be either infinite or a maximum of 30 saved replays. This is where the fun begins: the match replays would work in real time similarly to how the tutorial videos for the cards work. This would allow players to do the following: 1) Change perspective, viewing the match play out from their side or from the opponent’s side; and 2) Have a free cinematic camera mode that would give the players two cursors that would allow them to fly the camera around the arena and position it in ways like we have seen only in the trailers for TTA, almost like in Totally Accurate Battle Simulator. This would allow players to create cinematic shots, get clips of cool moments from various perspectives, follow Megatron or Scorponok around as they ravage through the arena. Imagine the amount of advertising it would allow for if players started posting videos of Bumblebee Super Punching a turret from a close up shot, or Starscream swooping in in jet mode.
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1. Add more game modes:

A lot of people ask for a story mode to be added to the game. Though a story mode would be incredible, it’s a lot to ask for, considering how much work it would take to make. However, we as players have been stuck battling each other or the A.I. solo for more than a year now. I love this game for what it is, it has incredible gameplay that keeps holding it up despite its cons, but it can get boring and repetitive fast, and sometimes I have trouble pushing myself to play through five games every day. Giving players the option to play more modes would highly increase the replayability of this game. For example, when pressing on the Battle button from the Main Menu, instead of a wait queue immediately starting, players would be greeted by another menu, asking them which mode they want to Battle in. The options would be 1v1, 2v2, 3v3, and perhaps Story Mode as the lower option (which would be an entire menu in of itself). Yes, you read that right, Red could go so far as to add a 3v3 mode. A while ago, I used to play a game called Mini Guns – Omega Wars. It’s dead now (servers shut down), but it was a unique Clash Royale-inspired mobile game with impressive visuals and fun original gameplay, similar to Transformers: Tactical Arena. It was later added to Steam as well, something I would love to see happen to TTA. There were 4 ways to play the game: it had a story mode, 1v1, 2v2, and 3v3. 3v3 was chaotic and at the same time the best way to play the game, because if your cards were underleveled, you had two teammates who could carry you if they were maxed out, and you were thus more likely to win in 3v3 than in 2v2 and 1v1 modes. I want Transformers: Tactical Arena to have such similar features from Mini Guns – Omega Wars because it’s going to make the game so much more replayable.
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1. Add more profile customization:

Giving us the option to purchase and choose from a variety of Banners and Avatars was one of the most brilliant things the developers added to this game. However, being able to customize only three things (our names, portraits, and banners) is not enough. How about adding customizable Frames to our tags, such as Bumblebee or Sunstreaker sitting on top, or a boombox around our profile tag, or Scorponok’s claw, Starscream’s Seeker armada, or Soundwave’s minions in every corner of our profile tag? How about adding unique Effects to highlight our tags, such as flames, pink plasma, dripping blue Energon, etc.? How about allowing us to customize our names with unique Fonts? This will monetize the game further and allow us to buy more things with our hard-earned ORE-13.
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1. Add skin selection for unique characters:

Shortly after being first released, Trailbreaker had his eyes changed from the color red to the color blue. Megatron recently had his entire appearance changed as well, from a more G1-inspired one to a more IDW-inspired one. This got me thinking about how more different skins like that could be added to the game for players to purchase with ORE-13 and use to slightly customize the appearance of their favorite characters. For example, Trailbreaker could be given a blue skin with red eyes, while Megatron could be given his G1-inspired skin back, with the players choosing which they want their Megatron to wear, the older one or the newer one.
NOTE: Do not turn unique characters from Transformers lore into simple reskins of cards already in the game. I.E. Do not make Cliffjumper a red reskin of Bumblebee. Cliffjumper and Bumblebee are two totally unique characters with different fighting styles in Transformers lore. Doing so will also confuse the players. Not everyone will be able to tell that a Bumblebee is coming for their turret if he is painted blue, red, or white instead of bright yellow that will immediately jump into the players’ eyes and warn them. Do not turn Skywarp and Thundercracker into Starscream reskins when they are extremely different characters with unique abilities. Not even Nemesis Prime should be an Optimus Prime reskin. The reskins should be limited only to the unique, named characters in question.
Instead, what you could do is make skins of the characters based on their Shattered Glass versions, which would make sense since it’s something the recent update hinted at. Or have the skins be the Generation 2 (G2) repaints of the characters, or their original Marvel comic book appearances, like the red-eyed, blue-painted Trailbreaker, or remodels of the characters based on the IDW comics, like the recent Megatron reskin we got. Keep the skin selection limited to the named characters selected by the players while customizing their looks.
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1. Add skin selection for Main and Secondary Turrets.

Similarly to the unit skins presented previously and the tower skins from Clash Royale, Transformers: Tactical Arena can have something similar by allowing players to customize the way their main and secondary turrets look. It would be nice if the main turret could be customized separately from the secondary turrets, or, better yet, *have all three turrets be independently customizable*. The turrets could be labeled Left Turret, Main Turret, and Right Turret during the customization process. Such customization could include festive themes, holiday themes, or, my most wanted proposition, have unique characters become the turrets. Have the main turret be Sky Lynx, who sleeps before being activated, or Tarn sitting on a throne, or Fortress Maximus (with the Secondary Turrets being his extra city mode limbs), or a cloning vat with a Predacon in stasis inside (a reference to Transformers: Prime). Add whatever your imagination tells you to! We as players will love these additions.
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1. Add skin selection for structures:

Similarly to the unit card skin selection and turret skin selection, there should also be skin customization available for the various structures in the game, including the Decoy (players can choose the character model being projected by the Decoy as well as the Decoy base itself), spawners, Teleporters, smaller turrets, and other deployable building cards. If skins are added for units such as Sharkticons, Minions, and Autobot Troopers and Infantry, their skins should be customizable separately from their respective spawners/Teleporters when customizing the appearance of the structure cards themselves, but also included into the customization.
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1. Add in-game death animations:

There is nothing more lame than struggling to destroy Scorponok in-game just to see him pop into some Energon bits on death. It would have been so much better if Scorponok would fall back on death, fall apart, or explode into Energon bits. This could add more elements to the game such as Scorponok dealing damage after exploding on death, similarly to how the NOD Avatar explodes on death in Command and Conquer: Rivals. However, this does not apply to Scorponok only. Other characters should have death animations, such as Jazz getting ripped in half (a reference to his death in the 2007 Transformers movie), Megatron falling to his knees and landing on his chest due to how big and bulky he is, Crosshairs and Spinister spinning out of control and crashing into the ground, Optimus Prime falling back (a reference to his death in the 1986 Transformers movie), Windblade getting blasted back and her sword sticking into the ground (similarly to how Clash Royale’s Knight’s sword sticks into the ground when his is killed), Starscream transforming into his jet and flying away, not actually dying because he is a coward, etc. Minions and Drones would still have their current death animations, while Autobot Infantry and Troopers could have something more unique like breaking apart into parts on death. And keep these death animations relatively short and simple, no longer than 2 or 3 seconds, similarly to the way Metal Slug soldiers die when you shoot them.
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1. Add units emoting at the end of the game:

This may sound confusing but bear with me. Do you know how there is a 1 or 2 second delay between a winning turret being destroyed and the victory screen coming up? Ever played Metal Slug? Ever seen how the enemy troops cheered and celebrated when you died, taunting your death? Ever played Red Alert 2 or 3? Ever seen how the units on the map would start cheering if you achieved victory? Seeing something similar to that in this game would be downright INCREDIBLE. Not only would it taunt your opponent, but it would look fun and good from an entertainment perspective. Autobot Troopers could start throwing their pistols in the air. Autobot Infrantry could dance and jump around. Megatron could strike a victorious pose, hands on hips and straightened out. Optimus Prime could lower his Energon Axe similarly to how does it in the squad selection screen. Grimlock could stomp the ground and release a burst of fire into the air to celebrate. Sunstreaker could start firing rockets into the sky as fireworks. Trailbreaker could start firing at the sky as an act of celebration. Moonracer could holster her sniper rifle similarly to her squad selection idle animation. Bumblebee could start clapping. Brawn could crack his knuckles and fold his arms. Starscream could transform into a jet and fly off. Soundwave could transmit a radio signal. Shockwave could return to plotting his schemes the way he does during his idle animation in the Squad selection screen. Windblade could slowly holster her blade. On the contrary, if the game is lost, the units would have unique scared animations, either shivering in the same spot or panicking and running away. The possibilities are endless.
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1. Add new daily and weekly objectives with higher rewards.

Right now, the game cycles between about 10 different daily challenges that are fairly easy to complete, but the lack of uniqueness is very boring. Add more daily and weekly objectives that involve using newer cards such as Chromia instead of Bonecrusher, for example. Such objectivates would help out newer players and add more spice to more experienced players.
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1. Add more Squad slots:

3 Squads is not enough. Simple as. In comparison, Clash Royale allows players to create 10 different decks at once. Giving us the option to make 5 would be way better than limiting us to 3, even though a similar system to CR could be implemented and we could be given the full 10 Squad slots in TTA as well. I had to overwrite many fun and unique Squads with more practical ones in the past since I had only 3 slots to work with, and I can’t really experiment with making new Squads since I’m trying to stick with the 3 I already have.
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1. Add Squad randomization:

On the topic of Squad creation, it can be difficult for new players to create Squads that work, so creating a button that, once pressed, would auto-generate a random Squad would be great. Every randomly generated Squad would have at least 1 random tactical support card, at least 1 random tank car, at least 1 random win condition car, at least 1 random structure card, at least 1 random ranged unit card, at least 1 random melee unit card, and so on.
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1. Add more Crate types (a greater Crate variety for players to unlock):

The current four types of Crates we have are very good (Common, Rare, Epic, and Arena), but wouldn’t it be better if we had more options to unlock and upgrade cards and get ORE-13? Adding a greater variety of Crates would give players more reason to grind and would make leveling up slightly easier and more fun. You could add a Legendary crate that contained only Legendaries, a Giant crate which would contain the most cards of any other Crate, etc. Anything you could come up with would be better than us being stuck with the same old four (mostly three) types of Crates.
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1. Add more A.I. decks and fix the A.I. itself:

It’s nice to have the current A.I. decks memorized to allow for easy victories, but at the same time this should not be the case. Rather than having the A.I. use randomized decks, simply create more decks for it cycle through than u/Picopede already listed in the following post: (https://www.reddit.com/TransformersTactical/wiki/ai-squads/). Add decks with the new cards, have the A.I. use decks with cards like Starscream, Scorponok, both Chaser cards in one deck, Trailbreaker, Sharlticon Portal, Shockwave, Railgun, and other unused cards that never show up while fighting the A.I. at upper levels. Fix the old decks so that the A.I. knows how to use actual strategies and strong card combinations instead of spamming units like crazy, hoping to overwhelm the human opponents. The A.I. should be more interesting and rewarding to fight.
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1. Add a camera mode in the Squad screen that would allow us to look at the 3D models of the characters closer:

Sometimes, instead of playing the game, it feels good to sit back and take in its beautiful art style, which includes looking at the characters, reading through their bios, and watching their tutorial videos. It would be nice if there was more, if there was an option once you entered the Squad screen and clicked on a card, to press on a button for some sort of Camera Mode and look at the cards in greater detail, from different perspectives. Maybe we could even be given the option to play specific animations for the card we chose, such as first deployment, regular attack, idle animation, and any other animations that card has. This feature would also allow players to look at unique character, structure, and turret skins (proposed to be added in points 5, 6, and 7) from different perspectives before or after purchase in the Supply Shop.
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1. Add a controllable camera to the Crates selection screen:

When it comes to unlocking Crates, it can get a bit boring and repetitive to do so. Despite us getting the Open All button, I am the type of player who unlocks the Crates one by one to visually see the things I get and any milestones I reach with my card levels. This feature is definitely not a must, but it would improve the immersion of the game so much more if we could look at the different types of Crates from different perspectives, especially the unique Arena ones, or any other Crate types the developers might add.
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1. Add sound effects to emotes:

This has the danger of making the game more toxic, but it’s pretty lame to see an emote without actually hearing it. I love the emotes as they are, the way they look and the way they play. However, this addition might take a lot of work to implement, so it should not be a priority.
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1. Make the gameplay feel more smooth:

Now this point is a bit more techy than the previous ones, but this is a complaint about the gameplay itself. There is a certain edge to it, like there is always a delay to the things you do, or the gameplay itself feels choppy, like you are playing at 30 fps instead of 60 fps. I would say this may have been done to conserve battery power, but changing the graphics quality of the game does not improve its flow, in fact it makes the gameplay even more choppy and laggy. If there was an option added to the Settings that would allow to increase the smoothness of the game at the cost of battery usage, that would be great, because the game does not run on mobile the same way it does on the Apple TV, based on watching u/Picopede ’s videos.
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1. Add a wait time for unit deployment.

In Clash Royale, when you want to deploy a card but do not have enough Elixir to do so, being 1 cost point short or so, the game deploys the card wherever you placed it on a certain wait queue that lasts a second or a millisecond before you accumulate enough Elixir, finally deploying the card later than you initially “planted” it. This can be both harmful, if you don’t plan ahead or misplace a card, and powerful, allowing for well-timed clutches and close calls. Transformers: Tactical Arena currently does not have this. You can either deploy a card if you have enough Energon, or you cannot. As a result, you have to hover your finger over the spot where you want to deploy a card while keeping your eyes on the Energon meter, which hinders your vision and allows you to make serious mistakes. Though depleting your Energon is a bad game strategy, this game should still have the same option of deploying your cards on millisecond-long queues, because I missed a lot of close calls and clutch moments due to either not being able to see the screen under my finger or the card I wanted to deploy not being deployed at all.
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1. Allow the deselection of cards in-game.

There is nothing more frustrating than misclicking on the arena after selecting a card but after changing your mind, and deploying a card you did not want to deploy at a random spot on the arena, for example at the bottom of the arena, right above the card selection bar. The only way of deselecting the card you currently have selected is to click on a different card, and you better not accidentally click somewhere randomly on the arena, or else the game will be lost. Players should have the option of deselecting the card they currently have selected. This can be done by either swiping down on the same card (since the card you have selected is raised up), or pressing a new x button added to the selected card, anything would be better then just hovering over what we have selected without being able to click anywhere else on the screen. It would also clear the screen up of the checkered pattern that appears every time you select a card, which would allow for better control of players’ vision.
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1. Fix ranged units not firing at enemy units within melee range.

There is a very annoying bug that happens whenever units approach ranged units really closely - the ranged units just simply stop firing at them. For example, if Optimus Prime enters Charge in his truck mode and Shockwave is standing right in front of him as he passes, Shockwave won’t fire at Optimus and will just allow him to pass without stunning him. This is true for all ranged units, including Sunstreaker, Trailbreaker, Arcee, Jazz, Starscream, Rotorstorm (he won’t fire at units directly under him), etc. The only exception is Megatron who uses Backhand in melee range. Either add melee attacks similar to Megatron’s Backhand to all ranged units or just simply allow them to fire at targets right in front of them.
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1. Add a new leaderboard.

This is an idea proposed by the other people on this Subreddit, such as u/Boosetro. Though I agree with the idea of having more than two leaderboards for a general ranking and the number of turrets destroyed, I don’t know if I agree with this idea in particular. Diving out PvP from PvE would force players to wait to play the game in PvP mode, which is rarely fun, competitive, and thus rather frustrating. People are free to disagree though, and I will leave it up to the developers to think about this point. Perhaps add a new Ranked leaderboard that would be limited to PvP matches.
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1. Add a new Spectator Mode that will allow players to attend and observe other real-time matches.

This feature follows the feature proposed in Part 2. Once a Battle Log feature is successfully added to the game, a Spectator mode should also be added, which would allow players to join and view a random or selected game happening in real time between two other players or between a player and a bot. This addition would be similar to what Clash Royale has. Players playing the game would be able to view how many people are spectating them, and the spectators would be able to use minimized emotes and cheer for the players they are spectating (or the opponents) without distracting either player. The reason I placed this feature so far down in the list is because I don’t consider its addition that important, though other people here may disagree. I never liked the spectator feature in Clash Royale and thus don’t think Transformers: Tactical Arena needs one. However, it’s up to the developers to decide whether they want to implement this or not.
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Thus, that amounts to a total of 23 items (and counting) to improve the feel of the game. It is up to the developers to decide whether they want to add these features or not, but I can guarantee they would make the game feel so much better. Please consider some of these. If you have any extra ideas, make sure to comment them down below! Thank you for reading through this list!

So I read this post, and it didn't help. The paths were good, the route lead to the city (This was a brand new save, so nothing had updated), it was definitely a cargo station on each end, and certainly the right type of cargo. I know the supply side was good, because it was supplying a different line, and I had the line picking up at the same terminal. Same trucks, same type of station, definitely asking for the goods I was trying to deliver: I checked and rechecked and checked again. Absolutely nothing would get the trucks to load.
But then... After a while (quite a while, as this was a longer route) they finally started loading. It occurred to me: I don't think trucks will start picking anything up until at least one truck (Maybe each on the line? I wasn't watching closely) has completed the loop.
That seems incredibly silly to me, but it's the only explanation I have for what I witnessed. Is that the case, and if so, why doesn't anyone ever talk about it? And, bigger question, why is it that way? Finally, if that's just the way it is, is there any way to get trucks to pick up their goods before they go to their destination?

Apologies for the low detail here, the fact that this is retro and over such a large area meant I couldn't go into a large amount of detail.
1506
1507, Scandinavia
In Scania, the movements begin with a shelling of Helsingborg castle by the large Danish navy and its flagship, the Great Copenhagen. Following this, there are clearly ships and men being assembled on the other side of the Oresund. The Swedish under King Nilsson had spread themselves out with most of their forces split between Malmo and Helsingborg. In their eagerness to consolidate where the Danes would be landing, they leave a small contingent in Malmo and head north to Helsingborg to meet the Danish attack. However, this attack never came. Denmark's coordination was enough so that Nilsson was three days away when Prince Christian's army landed near Malmo. After one failed assault and further barrage, Malmo threw open its gates to Christian. With Malmo taken, Christian began the march north to take Helsingborg.
On the way, Sweden would attempt to harrass the army and slow it down, as they were slightly outnumbered, but the troops at Svante's command were not very effective. The Danish decoy army and King Hans would meet up with Christian's army to the South of Helsingborg, where Nilsson would defend Helsingborg out of the range of the Danish navy. The battle would begin with a roaring artillery barrage, which was unanswered by the Danes, who had planned on relying upon their ships for cannon. The weight of the initial charge and the ferocious redshank mercenaries initially made it appear that Nilsson would have to yield both fortresses on the Oresund. The Swedes however, put on a brave face and managed to eventually triumph over the Danish onslaught. King Hans was able to retreat with easily, leveraging his clear advantage in light cavalry to screen his retreating troops. King Nilsson pursued his enemies after a few days of rest to Malmo, but could not formulate a satisfactory plan to take the city and fortress garrisoned by the Danish troops, and the Danish navy prowling just beyond the coastline.
To the north, in Bahus fortress, careful Norwegian levies tried their hand at raiding the surrounding Swedish lands, but found almost nothing of value to plunder (6). They were latter reinforced with a small Danish force with orders to simply reinforce the fortress.
First Half of 1507, Ruthenia
It was very suspicious to the various princes of Muscovy and Ryazan that no hammer fall from the Polish or Lithuanians had come to fall on the easternmost part of the border. Making what we would now call an executive decision, Prince Shemyachich sent off the troops from Ryazan north, to where the enemy must be, while he kept his force in Ruthenia, just in case. He decided that he would raid surrounding lands while keeping Ruthenia secure.
First Half of 1507, Vyazma
Ostapy Dashkevich had been given an experimental mission to embarass the Russian Grand Duke and take a lynchpin of the Muscovite defense. Trying such well known tactics as carrying around far too many supplies for his army and lighting approximately five campfires for every actual man in the army, he would attempt to fool Vyazma into surrendering to his make believe huge army. The many thousands of men grew worried for three weeks as this huge force threatened to descend on them, but stayed put otherwise. It soon became clear that in fact, there was no huge force, and that this was merely a ruse. His trickery failed, Dashkevich scattered his army and merely conducted raiding missions in the meantime. This army under Daniil Shchenya moved north as well, realizing that Vyazma was under no real threat.
1507, Narwa
Two nearly evenly sized armies stare each other down from their twin fortresses on the two sides of the Narwa river. Stalemate.
1507, Novgorod/Pskov
In a twin strike, the Polish army under Grand Hetman Mikolaj Kamienieki and Lithuanians under Grand Hetman Konstanty Ostrogski advanced north from Polock and Toropets respectively. The Lithuanian army made great progress, aided by the ongoing renovation of border fortress Veliky Luki leaving it nearly defenseless. Up the Lowat river they went, taking Kholm, and then Staraya Russa before resting and awaiting reinforcement from the Polish, who they had been in communication with. Kamieniecki himself had been slowed greatly by the Muscovite army under the command of Semyon Mozhaisky, tasked with preparing defenses since last September. Mozhaisky was clearly outnumber however, and was forced to yield to the north while merely slowing Poland down. Kamieniecki, reaching the outskirts of Pskov, simply could not take the city with Mozhaisky in it. Pskov was also able to resupplied by the Velikaya River. Here, he made the decision to leave two thirds of his army to "siege" Pskov and keep Mozhaisky contained, while sending the other third east to aid the Lithuanians for their push.
Wolter von Plettenberg of the Livonian Order had been having a wonderful time camping in the Latvian wilderness when he suddenly received a letter from Kamienieki berating him. Intending to catch a flanking Muscovite army to attack Narwa, Kamieniecki made it clear no such army was coming, and the only enemy force in the area was staying in Pskov proper. Taking the long way around the successfully renovated fortress of Izborsk, the Livonians were finally on their way.
With the Polish reinforcements, Ostrogski continued to the north, to the prize of Novgorod. The dilapidated defenses of Novgorod did not hold out for long, and the Poles and Lithuanians took the city for a good sacking. Old rivalries die hard it seems. Soon after, the Muscovite armies from the south finally arrived on the scene in the middle of July, heavily bloodying the Polish-Lithuanians outside of Novgorod. The Polish-Lithuanians were so unlucky as to lose all their artillery in the disorderly retreat. Reorganizing all the way back to Porchow, their luck turned once again in their direction. Plettenberg had finally arrived, with a fresh cadre of cannon and gunpowder. Unfortunately for the Russians, their scouts had failed to detect the Livonian arrival, and they themselves had been sent packing after large casualties in the Battle of Porchow. From here, the siege of Pskov would continue through the end of the year, and the other army at Porchow regaining its strength.
1507, Finland/Karelia
The flashpoint of this conflict continued in the north at Vyborg. The Muscovites had been busy building defenses across the rivers here as well, with two armies to defend, both under the command of Vasily Shuysky, one in Vyborg, and one in Korela. Trying to dislodge him would be the team captain famous mercenary Nils Johannesson and Bishop Hemming Gadh. Approaching Vyborg, the army from Korela forced the Swedes to send their cavalry out to defend against their raids on their supply lines. Thrown back from the Vuoski at first, Johannesson was forced to medidate on his next move to dislodge the tenacious Muscovity force.
His luck as well would turn, as his scouts had heard of the suspicious lack of supply trains heading into Vyborg. With no hope of naval resupply, Narwa and Pskov supporting their own armies, the Muscovite supply train had run out of Novgorod. With the temporary occupation by Poland, the supplies north were the first to stop. His weakened army beginning to starve and thoroughly out of gunpowder from shelling Vyborg into oblivion, the second attempted crossing of the Vuoski by the Swedes was successful. Preparing for this foregone conclusion, Shuysky gave up Vyborg and retreated to Korela. Johannesson, tasting blood, was hot on his tails. Lining up with Lake Otradnoye covering his left flank, he attempted as well to prevent the Swedes from taking Korela. The Swedes as well have run out of gunpowder, the great number of artillery being difficult to support in the terrain of Finland. Even with their better defensive position, Shuysky is forced to retreat once again after minor casualties in the battle of Otradnoye, heading further south to friendly territory to safely winter.
Baltic 1507
The Malbork Treaty ships attempt to challenge the Danish supremacy over the Oresund, which is rebuked swiftly. The Oresund lost to them, the Malbork ships simply spent their time resupplying Johannesson in Finland.
Map 1
Map 2
--- Casualties
(I'll be editing them in)

Greetings locals, I'm visiting from out of town for work. While approaching this lovely city from the east on I70 Sunday afternoon (maybe 15 miles out) myself and seemingly every vehicle in front, rear and to the side were flashed by what I assumed was speed cameras. I remember it had sensors (electric cords) we were driving over I assume signaling the cameras. Was this a speed trap? I see posts from a year ago that speed cameras were deemed illegal in the state (MO). I was definitely driving with the flow of the slow lane .

I have the demo of my bathroom (50’s tile and thick mortar bed all removed, flooring out, framing and crawlspace exposed) mostly completed and am about to replace the remainder of the old copper and poly pipes left in the house that supply this bathroom before re-framing and building it all back out. The original copper lines to the sink and toilet came up through the wall sill plate and poked out the side of the tiled wall, and somewhere along the way whoever replaced the original lines just drilled holes through the floor mortar bed and tile and ran poly. For the new bathroom build should I go back through the sill plate and out the wall face or just go ahead and come up through the floor with a clean penetration so it will be easier in the future if and when I need to replace the lines again? I want to put in a pedestal sink and can hide the lines behind the stem, and I can tuck the toilet line in the corner behind the toilet. The reason I expect to replace the lines is we have old water mains in our area that the city is constantly fixing and flushing and it gets dirt and crap into the system, with a chunk of something making its way into our pipes and completely clogging the shower recently (which finally flagged the full renovation). I am leaning towards just coming up through the floor with new pex to new valves, and I am looking for any reasons why I should try the sill plate and 90 degree through the wall face route. I’m going to tile the wall and floor and figured I might as well have the holes in the floor to make it easier now and in the future. Thoughts?
I’ll add that I can’t access the vanity and toilet wall from the other side. I can access the shower from the other side and will keep those lines coming up through the sill plate because when I need to replace the shower plumbing I can remove the drywall from the other side to access.

Two months ago I made a post about the then-likely doomed recall campaign and correctly predicted (but's it's clear as day) that the recall is doomed. This will be my last post about Teedy because I don't think any further discussion about her is helpful for the city that I grew up in that many, including myself, has a special place in their heart. Here's my two (or three) cents of what came out from the saga and hope I don't repeat myself:

1. As I said in the other thread, Teedy is simply an epitome of who we are as a whole: half-intelligent, selfish, poor policymaking, and incompetent. The recall campaign isn't that much better. Remember, it's still the voters in Orleans Parish who overwhelmingly reelect her just a little more than a year ago. Despite her unpopularity according to polls, she actually has fans (and in my opinion as unintelligent as many MAGA supporters). I hate to call specific private citizens out, but just go to her Facebook comment section and see some of the comments or posts such as this, this, and this (before you complain, they opted to make them public). If you notice these comments, they offer zero policy reason as to why they are supporting her (i.e. I support John Bel Edwards because he expanded Medicaid and restored TOPS). It's simple: Teedy thinks her voters are idiots and I think she's right. She took advantage of them and they got exact what they wanted except we also get f**ked by her.
2. According to news outlets, the huge chunk of voters who signed are not voters of Orleans Parish. I hate to unnecessary talk about race, but the people who signed it are overwhelmingly white. In other words, many who signed it are likely Jefferson Parish voters who identify themselves as New Orleanians who participated in white flight and moved to JP back in the days. Sorry, but United States doesn't elect metro mayors that encompasses an entire metro area. Your mayor is Cynthia Lee-Sheng, not Teedy. If you wanted the good of the city, you should have stayed and promote policies that are good for NOLA, not moving to JP and bitch about what happen in NOLA.
3. Some people called that I am obsessed about her. It's not about she herself. It's about her destroying the city. The good side is that her low approval rating means that the next mayor (whether it's Helena Moreno or whoever is stepping up) wouldn't be as brazen as she is and will (I can only hope) better take care of the city. It still need the people keep a close eye of the city government and continual city engagement. Despite the failure of the recall campaign, I hope that people are waking to the fact that the municipal government is poorly run and that we can have the potential to be better.

NOLA still has a great foundation such as being a top tourist destination, relatively decent bike infrastructure in Baton Rouge standards, strong culture like Mardi Gras, Gumbo, and Yaka Mein, and beautiful homes that we can dream of owning. But, I think we can bring the energy to make the city a better place instead.

I'm writing this from the ruins of our old diner. This will be my last post.
When the bus came to an abrupt stop suddenly, I pressed my head against the window and peered out, hyper alert of my surroundings.
I was seeing a large glass building which reminded me of a school, or maybe a hospital. It looked far more modern than anything in Littlewood. It hit me that this was the Halfway House we had been promised solace ever since we were kids. I vaguely remembered our class being told about the curse and quickly following that up with, “But we’ll keep you safe. Like we do every year, we send our seniors to a place of healing to prepare them for the outside world after going through such trauma where they can mend and reignite themselves."
Ironic wording, considering what really happened to us.
In actuality, I knew exactly what it was. The whispering in my head had revealed the Halfway House’s true meaning. Inside that building we were going to burn. We were going to fucking burn and nobody was coming to save us. Not our parents or the town. Leaning back in my chair, my gaze flicked to the front where two armed guards were beginning to escort my classmates off of the bus. I had already made my decision when I grabbed Jun’s sleeve and yanked him under the seat in front of us. He let out a sharp gasp, almost a sound of protest. “Bee, what are you doing? Get off--"
Slamming my hand over his mouth, I pressed myself into a ball, pulling him further under the seat. The thud, thud, thud, of the guards' boots sent slithers of fear creeping up and down my spine. They passed us. I could hear their breaths, their muttering to each other.
The guards already knew our game. I sensed them checking under each seat—which motivated me to shuffle myself further under until I couldn’t breathe. Jun didn’t move, his breaths sharp and heavy into the flesh of my palm. After a moment which seemed to go on forever, thudding boots retreated back towards the front of the bus. I squeezed my eyes shut when the engines started up once again. Gripping Jun for dear life, I settled on taking deep breaths. We were going to get out, I thought. We were going to escape.
“Can you get off of me?" Jun tried to squirm from my grip, but I tightened my hold on him.
“Shh.” I said under my breath. “Don’t make a sound, okay?”
"Why? We're going to the Halfway house!"
I bit back a yell, stopping him from crawling away from me. "There is no halfway house."
Once the bus started to move, keeping a firm grip on Jun’s sleeve, I pulled us from our hiding place and lifted my head, scanning for somewhere better. The back was our best bet. When I started towards it, dragging Jun with me, however, I spotted two familiar faces already in hiding. Jonas and Mira. Jun let out a low grumble, and part of me couldn't believe he was still salty about Jonas in this situation.
Without speaking, we joined them, with Jonas shuffling back so I could join him, pulling a reluctant Jun with me. It was an uncomfortable squeeze but we were safe. I allowed myself to breathe when the bus fell into a steady drive. But I didn’t have time to relax. I was considering asking Jonas in low whispers why he had chosen to hide, when once again the bus came to a jolting stop. “Forty six?” The bus driver all but thundered from the front. “What are you talking about? Fifty were loaded onto the bus. I fucking counted them!"
Shit. Shooting the other’s a panicked look, I weighed our options. Four against one.
We could easily get past him.
“No. No, we did a sweep of the bus!" His voice was growing panicked. "There’s nobody on here."
Jonas twisted around, shooting me a questioning look.
What the fuck is wrong with him? He mouthed.
I pressed my index over my lips in response.
Jun let out a frustrated hiss, and I instantly knew what he was going to do. Before he could, however, I was slamming my hand over his mouth once again, this time with Jonas' help, cutting off his strangled, "We're over–"
Jonas shoved us further under, dragging a struggling Jun. "Do you want us to get caught!?" He exploded in a hiss of breath.
Jun only muffled into my hand, and I half wondered if knocking him out would benefit us. The bus driver’s voice was eerily shaky. I could hear every tremble in his tone. “Check? Yes! Uh, yes, I’ll check now. Don’t worry, alright? There’s no more kids on this bus. They must have ran away."
When the driver started down the aisle in a bumbling stumble, ducking under each seat, I attempted to hide. I mean there was nowhere to hide, though I at least tried to shove myself uncomfortably further under the damn seat until we were squashed like sardines. “Hey!”
The driver’s steps quickened towards us and I felt my body catapult into fight or flight.
“What are you kids still doing here?” When I lifted my head to meet his eyes, I expected anger. There was no anger, however. I was seeing frustration and fear, trickles of pain blooming in wide cartoon-like eyes. The guy was keeping his distance from us, I noticed.
Like we were teeming with the plague. It was a curse, not a contagious virus.
"What do we do?" Jonas murmured.
"We stay here."
"But he's looking directly at us." He said in a sing-song voice. "I don't think he's blind."
Before I could stop him, Jonas was awkwardly dislodging himself from the gap underneath the seats. He jumped to his feet and raised his arms in mocking surrender. His smile was bright, but there was an underlying darkness in his eyes, and I had no doubt he wouldn’t resort to violence. “Yeah, okay, you got us. We were just hitchhiking back to town. I’m not a fan of the whole half-way house thing,” he said. “I’d rather just ride back into town and go and see my pops.” His lip curled. “I want to see if he’s okay. You know, after last night. I'm sure you know I'm a little on edge."
“No.” The driver’s eyes filled with tears. “No…” he shook his head rapidly, his arms trembling at his sides. “You're not going anywhere. You.. you're staying right there."
"What, so I get possessed by the dead souls of my ancestors and now I don't have basic human rights?" Jonas rolled his eyes with a scoff. "You're legally inclined to let me go. I don't want to go to some weird halfway house and pretend I didn't gut my best friend's mother, alright? I'm going home, asshole."
The driver didn't move. "I'm telling you to… to stay back." He moaned. "Please. I have a wife. I have a wife and two children, and I just got promoted! I don't need this shit!"
Jonas' eyes darkened. "What did you say?"
"Jonas…" Jun hissed out.
"No, no, I'm curious to know what the fuck this guy's problem is," The boy spat. "I woke up tangled in my neighbors guts, and this guy…" He started to laugh, a hysterical giggle collapsing into a sob. "This guy thinks his job is more important?"
"You're a disease." The man said in a whisper. "You shouldn't… exist." His gaze flicked to me. "All of you. You're a disease."
A look of hurt sparked in the boy's eyes, and his lip curled. “The curse is over, Jackass! I'm not going to kill you!" Jonas cocked his head, his expression crumpling with confusion when the guy started sobbing. "Are you…crying? Jeez, what did I say, huh? I'm not going to kill you! We just want to go home, alright? Look! I'm holding up my hands. Just take us home."
Just as promised, Jonas held up his hands.
I chose to stand at that point. Jun followed hesitantly, Mira following, staying behind Jonas. The driver stiffened, backing away.
“I said stay back!" He hissed out. “Do you hear me?” His shaky hand went into his jacket, his eyes squeezing shut like he was expecting something. Pulling out a phone, the man's fingers nervously tapped the screen. He didn't take his eyes off us. “I’m taking you kids back to the Halfway House, alright?"
He nodded at us like we would agree if he looked as pathetic as possible. And he did. The guy looked like he was ready to drop to his knees and beg. “Just… stay there.”
I caught the exact moment he dropped the notion of an authority figure. His lips twisted when Jonas ignored his instructions and took a casual step towards him. If this guy had a gun, I knew he would use it. Instead, he stumbled back with a cry. “Don’t fucking move! I mean it!”
Jonas' lip curved. He raised a brow. “Like this?” Another step.
This time, the man let out a shriek.
“Jonas.” Jun said. “Dude, stop. You're scaring him."
"Scaring him? What's to be scared of?" He laughed. "The night's over, and this guy still thinks a bunch of kids are going to gut him."
"I don't know," Jun whispered, "but don't get too close, okay? He looks freaked."
“Why?” Jonas twisted around to look at him. “This guy’s got fucking problems. Didn't I tell him we weren't a threat?"
I caught a glimmer of that maniacal glitter left over from overnight. “Let me guess,” Jonas laughed. “Do you see dead people?” In three strides, he was face to face with the guy. Nose to nose. Still smiling. The driver was petrified to the spot, like Jonas was inhuman. His eyes were wide, lips moving, but he wasn't speaking. "You look like you're about to poop yourself over a bunch of teenagers, my guy. Kind of pathetic, dontcha think?"
"I…" The man's bottom lip trembled. His breaths were heavy, his mouth twisting and turning and trying to speak. I would have felt sorry for him, if it wasn't for him being responsible for bringing my class to the slaughter. He couldn't even get words out, wide eyes pinpointed on Jonas and Jun like they were ghosts. Something was building in my head, a pressure harsh enough to make my nose bleed.
I found myself staring out of the window. I had initially caught the movement of a lamppost swaying back and forth. But there was no wind. When I squinted, I noticed more things which didn't make sense; a patch of flowers which had been planted outside the Halfway House were… drooping. No, not just drooping. They were blackening, rotting away into their soil, petals being whisked into the air and coming apart.
It was 10:30 in the morning, and the sky was darkening.
Jun started forwards and grabbed Jonas’s wrist, and with the two of them so close, the man let out a childish whine which only confused Jonas further. Outside, a tree I was so sure had been standing tall and proud, crashed onto the ground suddenly, the force of the impact rattling the bus. I fought to hold on. The pressure was building in my brain, and suddenly I couldn’t… I couldn’t breathe. “Hey!” Jonas yelled in the driver's frozen face. “What did I say, huh? The curse is over! You don’t have to be scared of us anymore, alright? Just… take us home–"
Bubble-gum.
It sounded like bursting bubble-gum.
I didn’t hear the latter half of what he’d said because the bus windows were suddenly bright red, dripping red. The floor was red, the seats, and the ceiling. Jonas was red, and I could feel splatters of it on my cheeks and speckled on my chin. The others had gotten the worst of it, but it was still painting me. The red was warm and wet, like I had bathed in it. It was at my feet, pooling and spilling and spattering every colour from existence. I felt like I was back in on the school corridor being suffocated by a wet rag pressed over my mouth, horrifying images projecting into my hand from the fumes. But these weren't delusions. This was real. It was happening.
There was a dizzying moment when I thought it was raining blood before my brain found reality and I blinked at the spot where the driver had stood in front of us—and it began to dawn on me. I hadn’t been looking at the man when he popped out of existence. I was watching the leaves on the trees outside start to brown and then blacken into nothing. Like there was an invisible force decaying everything in its path. Jonas, who looked like he was starring in Cannibal Holocaust, twisted around to face me with wide, almost unseeing eyes. He looked like he might say something before the bus shook, and I forced myself to move, to find the window.
Outside, the ground had started to crack apart, zigzagging raptures spreading like fire across the sidewalk. Jun grabbed my arm and pulled me off the bus, Jonas diving off first, Mira on his heel. The world was crumbling around us, I realised. I could see it in flocks of birds flying across the sky in a panic. When we found solid ground, Jonas started hyperventilating. I was half listening to him mutter obscenities to himself, eyeing the growing sinkhole eating up everything in front of us. A woman jumped into her car and attempted to drive straight ahead before another tree collapsed, crushing her. “This is the curse.” Jonas said shakily. “It’s got to be, right? But why would they still be mad?"
The four of us teetered on a safe piece of sidewalk.
Mira wasn’t speaking. I think she was frozen. Traumatised. I could barely see her through the red.
“Nope.” Jun murmured. He swiped blood from his eyes with his sleeve. “It’s because we’re refusing to save the world.”
“What?” Jonas spluttered.
The ground started to split in front of me and I staggered back, my stomach galloping into my throat.
“He’s brainwashed.” I found myself gritting out. “Jun’s convinced we’re saving the world.”
“Like… like The Avengers?” Jonas grabbed his arm with a laugh. “Dude, did you hit your head?”
“No.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
“Didn’t I make it clear I didn’t want to talk to you?”
“Well, you might as well! Since the fuckin’ world is ending!” He paused. "If this about me and Wendy--"
Jun laughed. "You're telling me this now?!"
“Stop.” Mira cut in, her cry breaking into a sob. “Just shut up. Shut up! I can't think!"
Their back and forth was barely a whisper in the back of my mind while I watched chaos unfold in front of me. Have you ever heard a human being explode?
It kind of sounds like bubble gum bursting.
I glimpsed a running man hand in hand with a little kid before both of them went “Poof!” against the store window, painting it in a whole new colour.
Like a domino effect, the town's people started rupturing like the ground beneath us. I was staring at an old woman struggling to hobble through a panicking crowd when the mayor announced himself via megaphone across a particularly large crack in splintered concrete. Armed guards surrounded him and I wondered if whatever this was would spare him. “Stay exactly where you are!”
“Do you understand me? Do not move!”
When they risked coming closer, part of me revelled in seeing fear prickle in their eyes. Behind the mayor, was our principal. His face beet red. The guy was seething. “Can you kids understand what you have done?”
Uh, yeah.
I think we had accidentally caused the death of Littlewood.
I didn’t say that, though. I wanted answers and Jun and Jonas seemed in their own world, watching our town crumble around us. “The curse.” I said shakily when they were close enough to hear us. The bookshop I’d frequented my whole life started to crumble behind me, windows splintering with the force of the quake. But It barely fazed me. Neither did the little girl screaming for her exploding mother showering her in scarlet. “Who really started it?”
The mayor dropped his megaphone. “If I tell you, will you hand yourselves over?”
Even his voice was shaking.
I nodded. “Of course.”
"What?!" Jonas shot me a look.
"She's not being serious, idiot," Jun muttered to him. "She's stalling."
The mayor's lips twisted. “No fighting? No more questions?”
“Sure.” I said, gesturing to the world around us. “You should hurry up though. Unless you want to turn into brain soup.”
If the phenomenon happening around us wanted to take the three of us, we would already be dead. It wasn’t targeting us, however. It was killing everyone except us.
Which spoke volumes.
“Uh, no,” Jonas hissed, tugging on my sleeve. “We should run. Like, right fucking now. I don't care what you want to say, okay? I don't want to be part of this!"
“Let him explain.” I said.
“Bee, are you serious?” Mira's eyes were wide, cartoon like.
“Very.” I told her, before directing my words at the mayor. “I want to know why you made Noah Sharpe kill my mother eleven years ago. And I don't want bullshit."
A woman who was mid run across the ruins of the sidewalk blossomed into a cloud of red, and I only just glimpsed what was left of her bag landing onto the ground with a comical splat. The mayor looked like he might argue or even attempt to capture us right there and then. But he didn’t give the order. Instead, he pasted on a strict smile. “Two hundred years ago in the year 1799, the elders of this town made a grave mistake which they knew they would regret for the coming years, dooming their children, and their ancestors to eternal misery” He cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “Littlewood was on the brink of collapse. Women were unfortunately barren and unable to bear children, and nothing they tried would work. They tried everything, Bee. Everything which would work and wouldn't - - old wives tales, and whispers in the wind carrying word of mouth. The town had no other option and were forced to make a terrible choice. Our elders prayed to an entity and asked for good luck and prosperity to help us through trying times, and for their women to no longer be barren."
“Prayed?” Jun frowned. “Like… to a God?”
“You could say that.” The mayor smiled proudly.
"No, you said… you said there was a fire," Jonas whispered. He was already in denial. "That's what you told us! You told us there was a fire which killed a bunch of kids…and we’re punished because you didn’t help them. Because you let them burn."
The mayor was doing a good job of skirting around actual conversation.
He nodded gravely. “That was the story we told you, yes. It was built on the bones of the truth. However, the reality of what really happened would cause panic. The truth is our ancestors sacrificed fifty teenagers in the year 1799. They were a gift to this entity in control of our beloved town. As you already know, human sacrifice was practised in those days. Some say it was normal. Human blood and life force was seen as the greatest gift Littlewood's bearers could accept— as well as the soul from an elder, or an authority of the town. But of course we couldn't do that. In the simplest of terms, our elders were.. more important. ” He folded his arms. “However, what they did not know is that those sacrifices were… impure. They had engaged in certain activities which would be deemed… unsanitary, or maybe that's not the word for it. They, ahh.. I'm not sure how to–"
“They fucked.” Jonas cut him off with an eye-roll.
The mayor’s gaze found the ground.
“Indeed.” He said. “Angered, the entity demanded more than the town could give it, and when town’s people started to notice rotting food and animals disappearing, rumours of a beast lurking in the trees beginning to circulate, they struck a deal. Every year following, the eighteen year olds, with fifty being the minimum, would be sacrificed as our punishment.”
“Burned.” I corrected in a scoff.
The man found my gaze. “In those times, yes. Burned at the stake. However, throughout the years we have found a far more humane way to complete the ritual.”
Yeah. Incineration.
“I’m not a virgin.” Jonas said dryly.
“That doesn’t matter.” The mayor said. “Whether you are or not, fifty sacrifices were demanded to make up for the towns sins. If the debt wasn’t paid, however, the entity threatened a wrath greater than hell on earth to strike our town and then the world.” This time he lifted his gaze and looked me directly in the eye like I was supposed to feel guilty. “What we call The Teen Purge would be child’s play in comparison to what they have planned for us,” he continued. “If the correct number of sacrifices are not made, Littlewood will fall, which will cause a domino effect. Destruction will spread to neighbouring towns and then cities, followed by countries across the world, killing billions of people.” The mayor gestured around us as spattered red. “As you can see, we are already seeing the start of it.”
“So… two hundred years ago, you idiots prayed to an inhuman entity and actually expected them to give you what you wanted?” Mira whispered.
Then she laughed to my surprise. “You killed fifty kids because a faceless presence told you to?”
“Like I said, Mira,” The mayor’s tone grew cold. “Human sacrifice was considered normal in those days. I’m not saying what our ancestors did was right, but they were starving. Their women could not bear children.”
“What does that have to do with turning us into psychopaths?” I found myself asking, my voice was trembling. “Why did Noah kill my mom?”
This time, the man wore the slightest of smiles. “Do you really think parents would agree to us murdering their children if we didn’t make them fear them? If we didn’t plant the idea in their head that it was their twisted child’s life or innocent towns people? Your parents were as in the dark as you. In their eyes, you were cursed. Killers. You had to be taken away.”
“You’re kidding.” Jonas looked frantic, his eyes darting around, searching for an escape, “Do you seriously think I’ll die for a town which has ostracized us since were five years old? Who made us think we were fucking monsters?”
“Mr Lockhart, the sole reason why this town is crumbling around us is because you are still breathing.” The Mayor told him. “Right now, forty six seniors have been… gifted as part of our yearly ritual. That is not enough to stop them from destroying us. We need exactly fifty sacrifices.”
“Well, good luck finding them.” Jonas said in a choked laugh. “I’m sorry, but no. If you think I’m going to willingly sacrifice myself, you’re deluded!”
“Jonas.” The principle at least tried to be sympathetic. “I know you don’t want to do this, but which would you prefer? A world which is no longer recognisable, one which you wouldn’t be able to survive anyway, or a peaceful euthanasian? Your father is still alive. You will be saving him.”
“I don’t care!” He sputtered. “You think I give a fuck about anyone in this town? You’re an elder,” He accused. “Why not give yourself to them, huh?”
“That’s…” The Mayor looked taken aback for a moment. “Mr Lockhart, that is incredibly disrespectful.”
"So is murdeding our entire senior class! " He gasped out, his body trembling. Jonas backed away, grabbing Jun’s hand, and then mine. I held on, but Jun wrenched away from his grasp, his eyes far too empty for me to bear.
“The girl who told me she had a siren in her head,” He said softly. “She said I was going to save billions of lives, and this is what she meant.”
Jonas let out a sound of distain, and Mira laughed again. Her laughter was hysterical.
There was a content smile on Jun’s face and I realised with a pang in my chest, that I preferred it to the agony twisting his expression when I’d found him. I wanted him to be happy, to be at peace. But not like this. I wanted to run away with him, with Jonas and Mira, even if this twisted fate demanded otherwise. Jun strode over to the guards, with two out of four spontaneously combusting in their helmets before the remainder grabbed and restrained him. For a moment, Jonas looked like he might join him. I saw it in his expression, in his eyes filling with tears.
He took a shaky step forward like he would abandon self-preservation for a boy he had confusing feelings for, a boy who was locked into a fantasy nobody could pull him out of. Before he turned on his heel and ran. I watched him go, concrete splintering under his every clumsy step, as he pushed himself into a sprint. I respected that Jonas had chosen himself over the town. His own life over 7 billion people. He didn’t owe Littlewood anything.
“Mr Lockhart!” The mayor yelled, a look of panic twisting his expression.
“Go after him! We need fifty sacrifices!”
The guards hesitated.
They were scared to get near any of us.
“Go!”
After hesitating, they were stumbling after him, but Jonas was already out of sight.
He nodded to the remaining guards holding Jun. “Take him to the halfway house. They’re waiting for him."
At his words, I found myself backing away, and an almost childlike look of pain crossed his face. “Bee.” The mayor stamped the ground like a child, like he was having a tantrum. “Did you not hear him?” He shook Jun like a doll, his smile widening into a grin. “You’re going to save the world!”
No.
I laughed at him. In his fucking face.
He had to be kidding!
He’d taken away my mom, and Noah— now Jun. My entire fucking class.
To make up for a mistake THEY had made. We were being punished for what they had done.
For 200 years, we had suffered.
Because of them.
And he expected me to give myself up?
One look at Jun told me he would never follow me. He had already made his choice.
Still though, I smiled at him.
And he smiled back.
Not a Wonderland Smile, a real smile.
“You’re insane.” I found myself spluttering. “You actually want to die.”
Jun rolled his eyes. “Die?” He said. “Who wants to die? No, Bee. I don’t want to die.” My friend laughed, and the guard holding him flinched, as if a single movement or expression would trigger him to combust like the others. “What did I tell you? I want to go visit my dad before Christmas. I want to move across the country and start fresh in a new college. I want to…” he pulled a face. “I want to eat New York pizza and kiss a stranger, make mistakes that I learn from. Maybe I want to go skinny dipping in mid-December, drive through late night traffic with my head stuck out of the window singing to cheesy pop. Barf all over myself after too much drinking, and then do it all over again the next night because I have zero self-control.”
The more he was speaking, the more I realised I was losing him. No, I’d lost him.
Jun was speaking in goodbye, and there was nothing I could do to stop him. Because, if he had made his choice to give in to his fate, then what business did I have trying to save him? He would only hate me. He was doing a bad job of acting like goodbye didn’t matter to him though, swiping at sore eyes. “The list goes on, Bee! Of course I want to live, idiot,” he laughed again, though it was more of a sob. I thought I was getting through to him. I knew deep, deep down, he didn’t want this either. But Jun was a good person.
He stepped out of the guards restraint , and into my arms. He was warm, and I held onto that. “Nobody ever wants to die,” He mumbled into my shoulder. I squeezed him tighter. “even on the edge of life, even with that storm cloud over their head, the suffocating pressure in their chest. All of that anxiety and pain knotting up their gut telling them they’re not worth it. That they should give up. They all still want to live. They want that reason to keep going.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. Why I couldn't step in front of traffic or cut open my wrists. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe not all of Jun was gone. His eyes were far too sad for me to call them empty. Brainwashed. “But,” he stumbled over his words, pulling away so abruptly, I felt like all the air in my lungs had been sucked away. “How is it fair that I live while everyone else dies? Our whole class, Bee. How could I stay breathing while they sacrificed themselves for us every year prior?”
“They didn’t have a choice!” I said through gritted teeth. “Do you really think they willingly walked in there? They didn’t want to die, Jun! I saw them die. All of them."
Jun’s eyes flickered to the guards in front of him, and for a moment it looked like I was getting through to him. He made the slightest of movements, his hand grasping hold of my wrist, fingernails digging into my flesh. I felt that desperation to live. Even if he insisted it was the opposite, I knew he was putting on a brave face. But then our Principal was gone, and more red was spattering my face. Jun let go of my wrist and stepped away from me for the final time, allowing the dwindling guards to grab him. I finally understood what the mayor meant. The longer we were breathing, others were suffering and the town was falling apart. Except I couldn’t bring myself to have sympathy for them.
Would you?
“Jun.” I was fighting, then. Fighting to hold myself together when I was splintering apart. “What I heard… in my head,” I sputtered. “They weren’t voices. They didn’t speak to me.” I could feel my knees buckling. “They were screaming! They didn’t want to die! And… and why should we?”
I turned to glare at the mayor who was still standing. “Why should we die for them, huh?” I demanded. “Give me one good reason why we should die. So they can kill the seniors next year? Why should we be the ones they sacrifice? Prisoners exist! Child murderers! Why can’t it be them?”
“That is something we considered.” The mayor started to say, but I cut him off.
“Shut up.” I gritted through a mouthful of tears. “You don’t get to speak."
The mayor looked like he might argue but decided against it.
Jun shrugged. “It’s either us or the planet.”
“This isn’t a movie,” I said, “Do you really think you’re doing some heroic gesture and the whole town is going to cheer you on?” I was seething, I couldn’t control my words, control my breathing. “No. They see you as a sacrifice and nothing else. I don’t see them putting up a fucking memorial. Did they for the others? Did they care, Jun? The girl who put all this in your head. Did the town remember her?"
It took two single strides to grab him.
Shake him.
"Did. The. Town. Care? About any of them? Noah? Tommy? The girl who filled your head with all this crap? Did Littlewood remember them?"
He held my gaze. “She said I was going to save billions. They don't have to care."
“So?” I shrieked. “I choose myself any day! And you should too!"
I expected him to call me selfish, but that wasn’t Jun.
“So, run.”
I let go of him. “Jun, I swear to God–"
“I’m not saying goodbye,” Jun said in a strained voice. “I’m going to turn around and walk away. And you’re not going to look back, okay?"
“What?”
If Littlewood hadn't been decaying around us, I would have held onto him.
Mira was grabbed before she could follow Jonas, and I was so close to following Jun. I was so fucking close to giving myself up, as long as I got to be with him and the others. When one of the guards took a hesitant step towards me, however, I found myself backing away. No. I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to fucking die, and if that made me selfish, so be it. I felt myself moving step my step.
One last look at Jun.
He wasn’t smiling, his head bowed as a guard pinned his wrists behind his back. When he lifted his head, his eyes were on the horizon. He looked content. And knowing that he was happy—he was at peace with his fate, I ran. And behind me, just as I turned around, the mayor was staring at me, a look of immense disgust on his face. I stared back. I wanted him to explode. I wanted his body to shower the street in red and prove to me that this so-called entity didn’t just take innocents. It took those in power too. And yet he stood there, not a smear on his perfectly pressed suit. His expression was twisted with fear, a pain in his eyes I had never seen before.
And his words were echoing inside my skull.
"Human blood and life force was seen as the greatest gift Littlewood's bearers could accept— as well as the soul from an elder, or an authority of the town. But of course we couldn't do that. In the simplest of terms, our elders were…more important.”
I took pleasure in quickening my pace into a sprint.
It’s been 12 days since I last saw Jun. On October 3rd, the trees started to blossom again. Outside my hiding place, the remnants of the diner, a rose bush bloomed out of nowhere, followed by daisies. Amongst the chaos, the endless shower of red every time another towns person was claimed, there it was. Life. Sitting in a battlefield of death. Jun.
Number forty seven. I want to believe it wasn’t him, that he got away, that he got some sense knocked into him. But it was hard to ignore the suffocating presence squeezing the breath from our town lift—even if it was only slightly. I lit a candle for him. Well, I couldn’t find any candles, so I set my neighbour’s yard alight instead. October 5th, the ground stopped cracking apart and the town's people were spared. Number forty eight. Jonas. It was fast, and I knew by the way the wind knocked into me threatening to throw me off my bike when I was scoping the ruins of my neighbourhood, a powerful gust blowing my hair from my face, that it was him.
I sensed his anger and frustration, but no pain. I think he liked being part of the wind. Jonas had done the opposite of what I thought he would. Instead of running away from his fate, he’d given up. Maybe he didn’t have anyone left. He should have ran. Maybe there might be far more destruction if he did. Jun and Jonas totalled the number of sacrifices to forty eight. I wondered if it was enough to make Jun’s wish come true. Did my fallen classmates really save the world?
Following them was Mira. I knew by the pace the leaves started to flower on trees, like the town was mending itself, that she was gone. With her combined with the boys, I think it was enough to stop the destruction, at least for a little while. Mira had fought until her last breath. She didn’t want to die, and that was evident in her lingering presence causing more decay than life before she seemingly found some kind of peace. Birds started to sing again, and the last person who exploded was, ironically, her mother. Sucks to be her. I think I’m allowed to laugh in this situation, right? Maybe Mira had a hand in it.
And I did laugh. I laughed until I cried.
Until the remaining town’s people power washed her off the sidewalk with everyone else.
October 13th, and the sun is shining.
The town are attempting to rebuild a broken Littlewood, and I sit here hoping me still existing and breathing will bring their downfall. I don’t have to hide anymore. Nobody will come near me. I’m like a plague, which works for me.
I’m skipping town soon, but first I want to stay behind to see the fireworks. I want to know if Littlewood has truly been spared or they’re just taking their time. I like to think my classmates are still here. I mean, they are. I see them in spring flowers coming to life in Fall. I hear them in the wind blowing my hair back. Some call me a coward for running away, while others beg me to keep going. And I will. I’m just… waiting.
I’m waiting for Littlewood to fall. Because I am the 50th sacrifice. While I breathe, their debt is not paid. My town’s clock is ticking, and I can’t wait for a wrath to finally be bestowed on the ignorant. I know this “entity” won’t rest until we’ve all been gifted to them. I can see that in rotting animal carcases appearing in the road and on the sidewalk. The town try to hide it.
They’re trying to hide the sudden appearance of maggot like insects festering on every street corner and a mysterious flu which has taken hold of the kindergarten. Like I said, I should sympathise with their dead. I don’t think our parents knew about any of this. We were just monsters to them; monsters they decided to let go. I am thinking about playing the pied piper and taking the little kids of the town with me. I can still save them, right? They don't have to die too.
I saw a junior girl yesterday.
Lanie Matthews. I used to sit with her in the cafeteria sometimes. She was handing out flyers in an attempt to send away Littlewood’s juniors to a safe place so the curse doesn’t get them next year. I want to tell her that her fate will follow Noah Sharpe and Jonas Lockhart. Mira Jane. Jun Sato.
Did their sacrifices really make a difference?
Who knows? Maybe this “entity” will take our world before October 1st, 2023. I think they’re waiting for me. They’re waiting for me to give in too. At some point, I almost caved. It was the screaming I couldn’t bear. Mother’s crying for their children in despair, and vice versa. But then I got a hold of myself. If I want to bring down Littlewood, then I have to survive. I wonder if the world will follow…
Are you worth saving?
In my opinion, no.
You're not worth Jun and Jonas and Mira, as well as generations of our town burning them alive.
Why should I sacrifice myself for a planet which is already killing itself?
I think I'm losing my mind. Yesterday, when I was hunting for supplies, readying myself to leave, I could have sworn I saw two guys leave the remnants of what used to be the old church. Hands entangled, the two of them hissing at each other, wielding baseball bats and cloth bags on their backs. Maybe I haven't been eating enough, but their faces, despite being bloodied and bruised, haunted eyes scanning an oblivion in front of them– a cursed town which insisted on their sacrifice– were familiar. They moved in a cloak-and-dagger dance across ruins, the one in front keeping a firm grasp of the other's arm, and when they moved, each step was in sync, the two grasping onto each other like their lives depended on it.
I can't help wondering if perhaps I was wrong. Maybe Jun and Jonas aren't part of the wind, afterall. I think they're much closer. And whether they are reincarnations built in flowers, or ghosts still attached to the town, I will find them again. But also… I won't fall victim to my own imagination. It could have been anyone. The way they moved, however, made me want to believe my delusion. It is hopeful thinking, but that is all I can do right now. I can hope they're much closer. And I'll reunite with them.
One day.
I’m going to ask you that same question again.
If this was your choice.
What would you do?
Would you surrender yourself to a fate which will save billions of lives… or run?

HeadGames is the concept story behind my novel Eternal Convictions.
​
PART 1
The sound of people talking was loud in the hallways as men went about their daily business. As background noise it was a confusing jumble that faded to a dull roar, but if one listened closely to individual voices, picking them out of the din, actual conversations could be heard. Deals were being made as men jockeyed for position while rumors spread and gossip was shared. People discussed hopes and dreams as they planned for a better future.
Michael opened his eyes and looked up at the heavy wire mesh of the walls around him. He was in a holding cell in the high security wing of the prison and the constant noise was a welcome change. His own cell was more like a closet where he was hidden away from the world and the only sounds were the constant blowing of the air vents and his own breathing. Occasionally, a guard would rap on his cell door with a night stick as he looked in to make sure Michael was still alive, but even this was rare.
The cell was six feet wide and eight feet long with walls made of solid concrete. The only openings were the steel door he received his meals through and the air vents in the ceiling. He was allowed to leave only if he had a visitor or for one hour of exercise each day in the exercise yard. Some yard, he thought. The exercise yard was actually a twenty by twenty atrium surrounded on all four sides by the walls of the prison. Overhead, steel mesh, not unlike that on the walls around him now, was laid across strong steel beams and welded in place to prevent any chance of escape. Highly unlikely in any event, considering the mesh ceiling was some eighteen feet above the paved ground.
His world had devolved into cold concrete and steel ever since that fine spring day he had gone to the bank. Thinking back, Michael remembered the four long days he had spent in the holding cell of the courthouse waiting for the jury to deliver a verdict. Each morning he was shackled, marched to the courthouse and placed in the holding cell where he waited for the verdict and each evening he was shackled and marched back to his cell at the city jail. His lawyer had been there most of the first day, expecting a quick decision but he was called away on business early in the afternoon.
After that, he would show up in the morning and talk with Michael a while before giving his cell phone number to the court clerk and leaving to do other business as they waited for the outcome. His lawyer was just about to leave on the fourth day when word came a verdict had been reached.
For a brief moment, Michael relived the joy he had felt when he knew there was a verdict. While he was terrified beyond belief that he would be convicted of the crimes he was accused of, he felt sure that God would not let him take the blame. His joy was short lived.
The jury found him guilty of all charges, sentencing him to multiple life sentences to run consecutively. It meant there was no hope for parole, ever, as he would be dead before having served a fraction of the sentence. The judge declared Michael to be a menace to society, incapable of rehabilitation and ordered him to be confined in a maximum security prison.
When it became clear that he would not be free any time soon, Michael authorized his attorney to liquidate what little remained of his assets and place the money in trust to be drawn upon as Michael needed it and to pay for continued attorney fees through the appeals process. Money was of little concern to him now, though. Other than personal toilet articles, he was not allowed to have anything else in his cell other than periodicals and books provided by the prison.
Two men began to scuffle in the hall outside the holding cell and Michael got up from the table to see what was happening. Leaning his forehead against the wire mesh, his vision was relatively unobstructed as he watched the men fight. The guard outside the cell, looked anxiously up the hall as he waited for others to come and separate the men as he was not supposed to leave his position by the gate.
He had never been interested in boxing, nor any other violent sports, but Michael found himself fascinated by the fight and rooting for the man he felt was the underdog. He noticed the thin white stripe on the men’s prison shirts and realized they were trustees, prisoners who are allowed extra privileges for good behavior. He laughed to himself as he realized they were putting their elevated status at risk with this fight, even as he silently cheered them on.
One of them kicked a mop bucket over at the other and Michael turned his face to avoid the spray of soapy water. Looking back at the fight, Michael was aware he was now wet and felt the water running down the mesh to his fingers where he was holding on. It traced small streams down his hands and arms to wet his shirt sleeves, but he didn‘t care.
A surge of electricity caused him to stiffen and Michael wondered what was happening as his vision turned white and he lost all control of his muscles. Even though his legs sagged and he could feel his face contorting, he could not let go of the wire.
“Hey buddy, you alright?” the guard asked him over the sound of the fight.
Michael heard him but could not answer.
“Aw hell. Somebody help me here!” the guard yelled. “I think this guy is getting electrocuted!”
Michael heard the words, but they made no sense as his vision faded to black except for a small pinpoint of white. The pinpoint grew larger and he began to see a face coming closer. The face was laughing cruelly and Michael could only stare in disbelief. Then the vision changed and it was as if he was looking at the bank robbery he had been convicted of from one of the security cameras. He could see himself talking to the girl and the man with the gun as the robbery started. It was as if he was reliving it from outside his own body and Michael wondered if he was dying as he had heard that one’s life flashes before their eyes as they die.
He heard the gate to the cell open and felt a hard shove as someone used something to push him away from the wall. Falling to the ground, his vision cleared immediately and he was confused, but felt fine otherwise. He got to his feet and moved to the chair by the table. The guard was talking to him, but he was thinking about what he had seen and didn’t register the voice.
“Hey buddy, just sit right there while I get a medic,” the guard said as he used his radio to call the infirmary. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Michael heard a familiar voice and looked to see what was happening.
“What’s going on here?” Phillip Johnson asked, looking from Michael to the guard. “Michael, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he said quietly.
The guard proceeded to tell Phillip what had happened, speculating that the water from the bucket must have hit the floor outlet and charged the mesh. They were quickly joined by a medic who checked Michael out thoroughly and pronounced him to be fine. It all seemed to happen very fast and Michael wondered what was going on. He was aware of the conversation between the guard and his lawyer, but it made no sense to him. He had lost all sense of time.
When the medic asked him questions, he was apparently giving the right answers but in thinking about it, he couldn’t remember what was said or even what it was about. Sitting there dazed, he watched the medic leave and the guard resume his post outside the door after closing it and locking them within. Then he realized Phillip was talking to him.
“So how have you been, Michael?” Phillip asked as he opened his brief case and took out a legal pad and pen.
Looking at the pad, Michael was reminded of their first meeting in the city jail.
“Not too bad, Phillip,” he said. “My concentration has improved since I don’t have any distractions in my cell.”
Phillip looked at him puzzled for a moment before he realized Michael was being mildly sarcastic. He couldn’t blame him. Being locked up like he was would drive anyone mad with boredom.
“I’m sorry, Michael.” Phillip looked him in the eye. “I wish there was more I could do for you.”
“Well, just get my conviction overturned and I’ll buy you dinner.” Michael smiled as he thought about being free.
“That’s why I’m here, Michael.” Phillip looked grim.
“You got my conviction overturned?” Michael asked.
“No, I’m sorry to say,” Phillip began. “The courts have over ruled your appeal and upheld your conviction.”
“Then let’s get busy filing a new appeal.”
“We have exhausted all of the appeals processes, Michael,” Phillip looked down at his bare notepad. “There is absolutely nothing more I can do except be here if you need me for something else.”
“You mean there are no more appeals, no chance of getting this damn wrongful conviction overturned?” Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Phillip, I have been patient throughout this whole ordeal. I’ve been good even when the injustice has driven me so crazy that I actually wanted to resort to violence and now you’re telling me that there is nothing that can be done?”
The guard turned to watch the conversation as he heard what was being said and the tone of Michael’s voice. He had seen inmates go off on their lawyers in the past and waited to see if he would need to intercede.
Michael was aware of the way he sounded and of the guard’s renewed attention. He took several deep breaths to try and calm himself. Phillip had done everything for him. It wasn’t his fault.
“I wish there was something I could do, Michael.”
“I know, Phillip,” Michael looked at him with tears in his eyes. “I have begun to think God hates me.”
Phillip almost wished Michael would turn violent. At least then he could leave here knowing he had tried to help and was rejected. It would be far easier to leave a man he cared nothing for to such a fate, but this was killing him inside. He had come to like Michael very much and understood him to be a kind and gentle soul. There was no doubt in his mind that he had not done the things he was convicted of, but he could do nothing. He felt helpless.
“God doesn’t hate you, Michael,” Phillip said quietly. “As you’ve told me all along, God has a purpose for you and we are not privy to what that purpose is.”
“You know, Phillip,” Michael wiped his face dry with his sleeve. “I always believed and I guess I still do, somewhere deep inside, that God has a plan for all of us and we are but part of some grand design. But for the last two years, as I’ve waited for the appeals process to bear me out, I have seen nothing that could be accomplished by my being taken from the world where I was helping people and placed in a cold concrete and steel box where I have no contact with anyone whatsoever for twenty three hours of each day. How could I serve even the smallest purpose here?”
He looked at Phillip for an answer neither of them had.
“I was always fond of saying that no one is worthless, as they could always serve as an example of what not to do but even that has no meaning here.”
“Michael, when we met, I was skeptical of your story but as I checked it out and found what you were telling me to be true, I learned to not take things only as I saw them.” Phillip put the notepad back in the briefcase. “I have never been a religious man, but watching you through this ordeal has given me hope. You have demonstrated such faith and patience as I never witnessed before and it shows me there is a higher power at work in our lives.”
“Will I see you again, Phillip?” Michael asked. “If I have no reason for legal counsel, will you still visit?”
For the first time in his life, Phillip found he did actually want to return to visit with one of his clients even if his legal services were not needed. Money was not the concern here. He had found something in Michael that had been missing in his life and he felt that, even though he had failed to free an innocent man, he had made a true friend.
“Yes, Michael.” Phillip swallowed hard. “You have given me hope and perhaps even faith. I can’t say when or how often, but I will visit and I will answer any letters you send.”
“Thank you, Phillip.” Michael reached out and squeezed his hand. “For everything.”
There was no need for good bye. Both men had reached an understanding of what they needed from each other and the moment left them filled with emotion that threatened to overwhelm them. Phillip grabbed his briefcase and turned to leave as the guard opened the gate for him.
Michael sat for a few minutes looking at the area around him as he waited for the guard to take him to his cell. It was standard procedure for visitors to clear the holding area so the gates could be secured before prisoners were allowed to move about. There was nothing new to see, but still he studied every detail of his surroundings Once he was back in the cell, there would be nothing to look at or distract him from the endless hours of nothing. He had already read the book he was given so many times he had committed it to memory and there was no telling when he would receive a new one.
“All right, Chaste. Let’s go.” The guard held out his hand to take Michael by the elbow and lead him down the hall.
Michael resigned himself to his fate and trudged along silently until they came to the entrance of his wing and walked on past.
“Where are we going?” he asked, looking around.
“You’ve been transferred to a new wing,” the guard said and continued to lead him.
They seemed to walk forever before coming to a gate where he was halted as the guard on the other side opened it. The guard who was leading him guided Michael through but did not follow. Instead, he pulled the gate shut and locked it as the new guard led him down this new corridor. It had no openings on either side but he could see a small point of light at the very end. As they drew closer, Michael could see that the door actually led outside the building and he wondered just how far he was being transferred.
His senses were assaulted as he stepped outside into the sunlight. For two years he had seen only the sky above the exercise yard and no hint of sun as the large structure of the prison kept the yard in shadows all the time. Now he smelled a wide variety of plants and marveled at how the sun felt on his face. It was like being born anew and Michael let himself revel in it.
He was guided onto an electric cart and driven across the compound. He no longer cared where they were going as he was busy looking at the world. In the distance, he could see the mountains with their snow covered peaks, but he did not let himself sink into despair with thoughts of never being able to go to them. Instead, he studied them and everything else he could see to form images in his mind. Once he was led back indoors, there was no telling when he would set foot outdoors again, if ever.
The cart came to a stop outside the steel door of another building and Michael was led from the cart. For the first time since he had been first arrested, Michael resisted the guard and stopped walking halfway from the cart to the door.
“Let’s go, Chaste,” the guard said menacingly.
“Just a second, buddy.” Michael thought quickly. “Do you think maybe I could have a quick smoke before we go in? I haven’t had one in over two years.”
Michael didn’t smoke, hadn’t for years, but he had seen the cigarettes in the guard’s pocket and knew it would give him ten more precious minutes outside.
“Yeah, sure. Why not.” The guard offered him a cigarette and raised the pack to show a guard in a nearby tower. “I was about to go on break anyway. Now don’t try anything, Chaste. There are guards on the towers around us and this is a shoot to kill zone.”
“I won’t,” Michael said calmly.
He had no intention of trying to escape and, in fact, the thought had never crossed his mind. He sucked at the cigarette as the guard lit it for him and found himself in a violent coughing fit as the acrid smoke seared his throat and lungs. He wondered why people would do this to themselves and claim they even liked it.
“I guess it has been a while, huh.” The guard laughed. “Take it easy. It’ll come back to you.”
It seemed to take forever to get his breathing calmed down but once he did, Michael continued to smoke the cigarette. The taste was nasty, but he did enjoy the light buzz he was getting from the nicotine and decided that this must be what smokers liked about cigarettes. He let the sensation wash over his senses as he looked around, taking in the scenery.
The prison was a very large complex. The fences in the distance looked very small, but he remembered from his arrival that they were at least twenty feet tall and topped with razor wire. The main prison building he had just left was nearly half a mile away but still loomed very large, giving perspective to its size. To the east he could see the yellow fields of the plains stretching away toward Kansas and to the west were the mountains. He seemed to be located in a large bowl as the mountains curved around to encompass part of the north and south.
He took one last drag of the smoke and dropped it to the ground where he crushed it out. The guard had also finished and nodded toward the door. Silently they walked over to the steel door and waited for the guard on the other side to open it. As Michael entered, he noticed a sign beside the door which read “Medical Receiving” and wondered why he was being led through a delivery entrance.
Michael looked around at the holding cell he was placed in after arriving at the new prison building. It was small, about three feet by three feet with a barred door. It was like a broom closet in which a bench had been placed and there was no room to lie down or even stretch his legs unless he stood. He hoped he wouldn’t be in here for long.
Across the hall was a well lit room with medical supplies and an examination table. It was clearly some kind of clinic or infirmary and the open door was directly across from his cell. Occasionally, he would see a nurse enter through a door at the back of the room to do something out of his sight before leaving the way she came. His view was very restricted and he could only see about eight or ten feet to either side of the cell he occupied. He was aware that the air smelled of disinfectant and clean linens.
He recalled his old cell and the silence there. That had been loud compared to this place as there was not even the sound of air being moved mechanically. He could hear his breathing and, though he was calm, it sounded very loud. Listening carefully, he thought he could even hear his own heartbeat but dismissed this, realizing he must be hearing his own pulse in his ears.
Michael thought about his meeting with Phillip and the strange event which happened just before he arrived. The guard said he was electrocuted but, as a technician, Michael had been subjected to many electrical shocks over the years and this was nothing like that. There had been a current running through his body, but it was not electrical in the sense he knew. It was more like his blood was on fire and had grabbed hold of every muscle in his body. The vision of the bank robbery was confusing but, knowing he had been at the bank during the robbery and seen the videos during his trial, he decided he must have been reliving it.
The only logical explanation was that stress from waiting to hear about his appeal had triggered some type of seizure. He remembered how his vision had went all white and then faded to black before he saw the vision. The only thing he couldn’t explain was the man’s face he had seen as it looked like no one he had ever known or could recall seeing.
The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall and Michael looked to see who was coming. A small man in a white lab coat, who he presumed was a doctor, accompanied by the guard who led him here, stopped in front of his cell.
“Chaste.” The guard spoke evenly, but firm. “The doctor needs to examine you for long term incarceration in this facility. We’re going to go into that room across the hall. Normally I would have to handcuff you, but you’ve been cooperative so far. Can we keep it that way?”
Michael nodded and stood up. “Yeah, thanks.”
The guard opened the gate and allowed Michael to step out. He motioned with his arm to the room across the hall and Michael went where directed.
“Have a seat on that examining table,” the doctor said as he turned to retrieve a cart with medical instruments.
Michael sat on the table, feeling like he would slip off as the white paper covering it moved under him. He looked at the cart the doctor was pushing. There was a blood pressure machine, digital thermometer, a jar of tongue depressors, a box of latex examination gloves and several other items he recognized as general practitioners’ tools. The only thing that seemed out of place was the hypodermic syringe, but the needle was a very small gauge and he decided it must contain a flu shot or something similar.
“Please remove your shirt,” the doctor said as he put on his stethoscope.
Michael did as asked and handed the shirt to the guard who laid it on a chair for him.
For the next thirty minutes, he was poked and prodded and blood was drawn with a much larger syringe he had not noticed behind one of the machines on the cart. He wasn’t afraid of needles, but the large gauge had unsettled him. He watched as it was inserted and a vial was attached to collect his blood. The doctor pressed a gauze pad to the wound when he was finished and instructed Michael to keep it there with his other hand.
As they finished up, Michael heard footsteps in the hall and looked up to see a tall man in a suit enter the room. He was very self confident and moved around looking at things as if he owned them.
“We’re ready, sir,” the doctor said and stepped aside so the man’s view of Michael was unobscured.
“My name is Warden Dempsey, Mr. Chaste.” He looked Michael straight in the eye. “You are here because you were convicted of crimes against society so brutal that a judge deemed rehabilitation impossible and every appeals court which heard your case upheld the decision. There are no more appeals and no chance for you to ever leave this prison during the course of your natural life. Therefore you were transferred here, to me, to be entered into the Eternal Convictions program.”
Michael was already completely aware that he had no chance to ever leave prison, but the cold tone of the Warden drove the fact into him once again like slivers of glass. He knew that there was no escape from this nightmare and hoped at the very least to be treated civilly as he served his sentence. There was no use proclaiming his innocence any more. As the man had said, all appeals were exhausted. He felt as though the Warden’s words had sucked the life from him as the judge’s had when he pronounced his sentence.
“This facility is operated entirely autonomous from the main prison where you have been to this point. Here, there are no visitors, no computers, nor any other contact with the outside world. For all practical intents and purposes, you are deceased. Even the IRS will not contact you here so you may take joy in that fact.” The Warden smiled at his own joke. “What there is, though, is order. I run an orderly prison here with no problems. You have been cooperative thus far and I expect it shall remain so as I have no tolerance for any disobedience. Can I count on you for this, Mr. Chaste?”
Michael looked at the man for a moment and knew immediately that he despised him. Far beyond the fact that he, himself, was a convicted felon and expected to be treated poorly, this man was the type who thought himself above the rest of the world and carried himself as such. Michael respected his position, but not the man.
“Yes sir,” he said quietly.
“Very well,” the Warden continued. “In order to preserve order, we take certain precautionary medical measures to prevent aggression. The doctor is now going to give you an injection to facilitate this.”
Michael was aware the doctor had picked up the small syringe from the cart and was tapping air bubbles from it as he squirted some of the liquid into the air. He held it at the ready, waiting for the order to continue.
“Proceed doctor,” the Warden said and turned to leave. Reaching the door, he turned back as if having forgotten something. “This will be the last time we meet, Mr. Chaste. Please enjoy your stay with us.”
As quickly as he appeared, the Warden was gone and Michael was left to the doctor and guard. He looked from one to the other as if expecting an apology for the Warden’s intrusion, but neither man even changed their expression. It was time for the injection and he made himself relax as the doctor approached.
He felt the needle enter his upper arm and wondered just what he was receiving. The Warden had said it was to prevent aggression and Michael wondered if he was being injected with hormones to inhibit testosterone production or perhaps it was estrogen to enhance his inner calm. He really hoped it was neither as self gratification was one of the only releases he had in prison and he wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of growing breasts as the other guys might take an undesired liking to him.
He had no more than completed this thought and was about to ask what he was injected with when he realized he knew already. His vision blurred and a deep fog began to settle over his mind. Suddenly he was very tired and could feel his entire body relax. As he passed out, Michael realized he had been given a sedative.
Everything seemed to be moving slowly and he couldn’t understand why everything seemed out of place. Michael looked up from the bench where he was working to see his girlfriend coming toward him through the door. She was carrying something that looked like plans and he wondered why as she had never had anything to do with his work. In fact, he had not even seen her since before he began doing electronics work and wondered why she was here, but decided he didn’t care. He was happy to see her.
She laid the plans on his desk and told him to hurry up or they would be late picking up the kids. She seemed upset and he wondered why, while at the same time, he wondered what she was talking about as neither of them had children.
He followed her through the door and into a large area he could only describe as an inner courtyard with driveway passing through it. In the center was a large fountain made of very old white marble and water streamed down from the center in a heavy flow, cascading over terraced ledges to the catch basin which was overgrown with weeds.
Looking around, he realized the landscaping had been long neglected as grass protruded randomly in tall yellowing bunches at joints of the pavestone sidewalks and driveway. The area was surrounded by a red brick wall of some ten feet in height and this also was overgrown with vines and weeds. The mortar seemed to crumble in places and small bunches of plants sprouted from the cracks. In a far corner, a faded white gazebo stood in a shroud of plant life with its grey wood roof shingles covered in moss. Atop at the peak, a wind vane shaped like a rooster pointed it’s scaly green arrow at the gate where the driveway entered. Beyond the gate and along the outside of the brick walls, heavy forest shut out the sun.
“Come on or we’re going to be late,” she called to him. “Mother wants to rebuild this place and has decided to rip out all of the sheetrock in the east wing to make sure the structure is sound.”
He followed her across the courtyard and through a set of double doors, back into the house. He had no idea where they were going or even where they were, but felt the need to continue following.
“This room is going to be the new family room,” she said, walking around a large wooden structure in the middle of the room.
Michael looked down and saw that there was no floor here but rather bare earth with a rough sandy texture. The floor was uneven as well with the outer edges raised where they walked and dipping down in the center under the wood framework. None of this made sense and as he looked at the large structure in the middle of the room, it looked to him like the skeleton of a large boat which had been either built here or unearthed as the building was erected around it. As he walked around the end and saw her moving toward the back, her mother entered through a set of French doors to his left followed closely by several children.
He did not recognize the children and heard her say something about rebuilding the house since her husband had died. In his mind, he knew this wasn’t right as his girlfriend’s mother had passed long before her father and they had lived in a very small house. None of this made any sense, but he suddenly felt an urgent need to talk with his girlfriend, if she would ever stop walking away from him.
“I need for you to talk to me,” he said pleading.
“We have plenty of time to talk. You’re not supposed to be at the prison until Thursday.” She smiled and continued to walk around the framework away from him.
“That’s not right,” he said. “I’m going to be gone before you even realize and I don’t know if I will ever be able to see you again.”
Michael heard the words he was speaking, but had no idea what he meant or why he felt it so urgently. One part of his mind knew that he had parted ways with her years before, but another part said he needed her to stay with him now because he was about to face something terrible and she was the only one who had ever understood him.
“Don’t be silly.” She smiled coyly. “I’ll always be here.”
She walked around the back of the framework and he went back the other way to intercept her. Coming face to face he put his hands on her shoulders and looked deep in to her eyes. It was strange, but he could not see the love he knew should be there. Instead he felt she was mocking him.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get through this,” he pleaded. “I have done everything I could, but nothing seems to work.”
“It’s all being taken care of,” she reassured him.
“What’s being taken care of?” he tried to ask, but the words would not come.
Suddenly Michael’s neck was sore and he couldn’t speak. She started to walk away from him again and when he tried to follow, he found he couldn’t move. In fact, he couldn’t even turn his head to see where she was going, but had to follow her with his eyes until she was out of sight. He tried to call to her, but no words came and he wondered what was happening.
“There. That should do it,” he heard her say.
“Doctor, we have rising activity on the EEG. The patient is waking up”
Michael tried to look and see who the doctor was and who was talking to him, but still could not move his head. He was stuck looking out of an old multi-paned wooden window at the overgrown garden.
“I got it,” she said and then everything went black.
​
​
Part 2 https://www.reddit.com/DrCreepensVault/comments/11y08t7/headgames_part_2/
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Eternal Convictions / HeadGames
Steven Knies (c) October 23, 2009

TLDR This is a crude and rough initial attempt to place many known events into a narrative order with some semblance of a time stamp to them. It concerns the time of 12:50 to aproximately 3pm? or later the day of the shootings.
lengthy intro, feel free to skip this part
You will see I don't get too far on the time stamp part, and I'm sure I'm leaving out known and likely vital events we know of, too. But the sources are scattered and their narratives jumbled as well. It does begin to sketch a picture though, to tell the story as best as I can from the top of my head. I'd like to make this a lot more factual and probably should make it a lot less "editorial," as well. But it is like the old joke, what do you call a thousand lawyers at the bottom of the lake? "A good start."
I'm POSITIVE some of this is wrong. But I wanted to start somewhere before it all gets turned to mush in my brain. I keep notes but later they don't always make perfect sense to me because all the information comes in from every angle and it's spinning like a top, usually as well. . I'm not a historian, or a true crime reporter. I'm an amateur on the internet in this regard, please forgive me and help me get it right where you can. I dont mean to offend anyone, either. Hopefully we are all in this together, to establish the truth here. How can we have any real opinions or accountability or make the best policy decisions moving forward, or honor the fallen, or sue the heck out of one another, for that matter, without first establishing the basic facts.
It's just what sloughed off my keyboard this morning as I woke and once again tried to make sense of what makes no sense. why, ten months on we have to peice this together from corporate news accounts' hastily assembled snippets of B-roll, local rumor, internet conjecture (mine and yours, dear readers), leaks and bodycams edited and truncated by a hired PR firm for the city of Uvalde, and other odd sources coming across the ether and "over the transom," meaning we don't know who told us this.
This will be a partial timeline from a shattered afternoon where almost everyone present was in some sort of a state of shock, yet waving cheap and crude videocameras of various sorts and disordered eventual custody around in back of a school no one paid much attention to before, and that will soon be razed to the ground. And about which NOTHING HAS BEEN DONE other than to board up the windows and wipe up the blood. One important source seems to be a "whistleblower" who may in fact be a "bad actor" working to just help spread out bad news as slowly and poorly as possible, selectively omitting the worst of the worst. Who can say?
It's a portrait of chaos, drawn from chaos. A vision of hell from someone who wasn't even there, but can't stop imagining it somehow. I have little idea why. Some of my friends' children were there, but they were not in the 4th grade. It's probably all none of my business, my only real connection is that my children go to public schools in Texas. And I helped pay for these public records that are so well hidden. That at least means something to me. The rest just seems to spring from common decency and having an empathetic heart. I couldn't rightly say why any of us are here almost a year later but we are. It all started with a bang. And it all ends in sin and tears, like my grandmother would say.
The TLDR is that 21 people were murdered and a bunch of people who were only attempted to be murdered were mishandled by idiot cowards and dragged hither and yon while parents were tackled, tased and traumatized. The rest is just the gory sad details.
Don't read it if you can can help it. Horesman, pass by. But if you must, know this: it isn't pretty and it likely won't fix much of anything. But maybe just maybe it's part of path towards eventual healing or as Senator Gutierrez says, looking forward someday to "a slightly duller ache of pain."
There is no good place to start this narrative, the story of the "Aftermath." This is the wrong place but it's where I began so here it is:
Draft Narrative:
If it was Noah and AJ who ended up in an ambulance with Mayah, it seems like one of them may have originally been on the bus but taken off fairly quickly. The narrative from the lawsuit by the bus driver seems to say a boy was put on her bus but quickly taken off because of the seriousness of his injuries, or perhaps like with Mrs Mireles, the frantic cops seemed to have tunnel vision and couldn't find the ambulances at first and when one was finally right in front of them, they stumbled towards it instead.
It's also related that a dead child was placed into one ambulance, and that's why there were three in the other. Extrapolating from there it's also possible Mrs Mireles was eventually taken off the sidewalk and put in the ambulance with the dead boy still inside, or maybe she was moved to an ambulance the finally arrived from Main Street holding area.
The WP/TT/PP story has an excellently detailed animation of where ambulances and school busses came and went, beginning with the initial two ambulances. But it doesn't say who was placed inside any of them. The lead bus leaves the line at the funeral home where at least two livestream cams had caught the frantic scramble of LEOs to march and carry kids from the school to the bus. I'm not sure how many kids were on the bus. I haven't even re-read the lawsuit account yet.
Finding a sync point in order to put time stamps to the animation and the citizen livestream recordings for us poor saps denied full versions of public records videos is difficult. It seems likely the bulk of vehicle movement animation is drawn from DPS helicopter video and of course the funeral home cameras. We don't have those, but we can see snippets of them her and there the DPS helicopter at least. It's the one with the rangefinder marking and what looks almost like a weapon system crosshairs superimposed on screen. The story itself mentions LEO bodycam as well. Don't forget Crimson Elizondo is said to have ridden the "BORTAC express" school bus and wore an operating bodycam.
But the buses began to move - then stalled - before 1:01. That seems to tell us a few things - the "triage" was perfunctory and swift in getting the kids who could walk - and some who were carried - from the school to the BORTAC Express. But it took more than just one or two minutes, it seesm like it took almost ten to get children onto the BORTAC Express, but less than ten probably. We know one child was so wounded he was taken off the bus and put into an ambulance. likely the one manned by the EMT who treated thee kids, Mayah, AJ and Noah. That's not certain tho.
Two busses in the lead turn left onto Geraldine. Others go right. Were some on a route to civic center? Or to hospital? I need to check routes.
In a sick, sad moment on the Adam Ladezma livestream, seemingly after 12:50 and before 1:01 a US Marshall threatens parents, telling them harshly to move behind the busses or else their kids won't be brought out, and that the present delay is their fault, for standing on the grass off the street north of the busses, blocking no one and nothing. It seems like the scrum of agents are waiting inside, calling and stalling for a path to be cleared for them, rather than trusting that the public wants the same thing they want - for medical aid to be swift.
Some 5-10 minutes earlier the news had spread by word of mouth that the shooter was "in custody" or dead, it seems. The crowd is indeed increasingly distraught, frantic and hostile to LEOs. Some had likely seen a stretcher come out of the school. possibly with the dead child who was locked into an ambulance. And then abandoned, visibly, to some who could see it just across the street, undoubtedly. An air of pandemonium was cresting. No doubt many heard the gunfire at 12:50 or at minimum saw the LEOs n the west doorway courtyard react, after more than an hour of standing around trying to look tough, or whatever.
Then, a gaggle of LEOs, possibly BORTAC and seemingly although not visibly, DPS Crimson Elizondo among them rushes the scrum of children to the first bus, number 17, as seen on a livestream video from the parking lot at a distance in a blurry video. All hell breaks loose. On the door side/ funeral home side, a livestream cam catches some of the chaos as a distraught father is tackled by LEOs who prevent him from reaching his son. The crowd screams in protest, and women begin to loudly and openly wail in abject agony. They've seen THEIR children are bleeding, wounded, in shock, or worse. and all they are told is to "stay back" by the same people who didn't go in an hour ago and get them out.
They should be livid and they should be cursing and shouting, IMO. In some regards, these cops are accessory to murder IMO. A judge will never likely assess that. But they've kidnappend the kids and held them in police custody, arguably but not prevented the shooter from killing them at will for 82 minutes. And they've physcialy blocked those who were willing to immediately intervene.
On the other side of the bus, citizen Adam Ladezma, whose nieces and nephews go to Robb "films" or livestream-captures a child who, on encouragement from his family crawls out the back window of bus 17, the "BORTAC Express" as I'm calling it and is helped down and spirited away from the custody of the lawmen. As you watch, it's likely you feel a sigh of relief. These are poor custodians of children, one is likely assured despite the breakdown order occurring. Anyone would want to get away from their custody and the child readily complies. "When you find yourself going thru hell, keep going."
So there are all these things happening and more, and I'm attempting to put them into a coherent timeline. This is a bad, preliminary attempt to do so but I think the clues exist to do a much better job of outlining the actions. Perhaps the first pass should just be to name all the things that we see or know happened, in whatever order we have. I'm sorta doing that here but not in bullet-outline form, pardon the very poor choice of words.
But as the busses soon get moving, we know the BORTAC Express driver has locked the back door and that she sees Eva Mireles "dead" on the sidewalk being given CPR or at least lying there bleeding. And we know a child is taken off the bus by who she says is BORTAC, I think. She's made her initial turn onto Geraldine and the bus behind her follows her. lead. Does it have kids on it, the #2 bus? Does it have a LEO on it, or instructions where to go? I don't think so. It's just going. There may be a picture of aaLEO on the street speaking to the driver, IIRC, Ill try to find it. The driver wants the heck out of there, who wouldn't? Maybe it hopes to pick up more students and wishes to be closer. Seemingly, no one is put on board as it waits on Gerldine that I can see evidenc of however. It follows the Express off the scene.
The busses move far enough that the #3 and 4, 5, busses can turn right. As they do so, they too seem to stall as a helicopter comes in to land. I think it is the DPS chopper but I cannot be certain. If so, it's potentially one of the things that has delayed the arrival of the medical Air Flite choppers, although that sounds like mainly an oversight or foible of the Medina Fire chief, too. One of the choppers has blood supplies. The end up not getting used at the scene. I'm not sure if they go to the Uvalde hospital, the blood supplies, or back to a Trauma 1 center in San Antonio.
Dust covers the sky and drifts eventually onto the wounded (Eva Mireles, probably, gets covered in it) and and the ambulances that are newly arriving. A famous long-lens photo shows what looks like a 9/11style ash blizzard or. snowstorm-from-hell on the scene looking down Geraldine from the front of the school to chaos, disorder. We move quickly from two ambulances, one locked with a dead child inside and the other overcrowded with kids bleeding on the captains chair, to six or eight ambulances.
As the DPS helicopter moves towards the playground, the camera swings back to the west entrance and the bus lane. A stretcher gurney seems to be going IN to a newly arrived ambulacne. (See the first video WP/TT/PP story) Another gurney seemingly is OUT of another folded low on the ground by the tail of a ambulace. The tail end of the #2 bus is still there but begins to leave.
DPS tactical from all the way up in Austin has arrived somehow at 12:58 (too late, they were always going to be too late for the kids) in the midst of the bungled evacuations. Somewhere before all this they sprint to the courtyard by the west door, choking the passage of anyone. News helicopter seems to capture some of it, as well as news cameras down at the front of the school, and still photogs, too. it looks to all of them like something important is happening. It isn't. Not there, and not with them.
Somewhere in here SWAT from San Antonio enters the mix. I'm very loose on that timing. They're hard to tell apart from DPS tactical or SRT or whatever they are called. Is it them that runs as a big squad? I'm unsure. Nor can I spot where BORTAC huddles up afterwards. I think they stay inside the building because we don't spot them outside, not at tthe west and not at the south. They didn't all stay on the bus they commandeered. DPS Crimson Elizondo did, but who else?
We know ambulances have crawled across peoples yards, criss-crossing like a post apocalypse freeway scene to get around abandoned cop cars blocking the roads. They start arriving all from one direction as the second bus behind BORTAC Express finally manages to scoot off from the front of the school.
There's some sort of "load and go, load and go" action here that we don't have much information about unless we extrapolate what child was wounded how and eliminate the trio of AJ, Noah and Mayah from them, possibly.
At least one medical helicopter manages to land, to no avail at some point. Everyone is racing somewhere in an ambulance. Xavier, to his demise somewhere west of Hondo. Mrs Mirales never leaves the ambulance at the curb, as she desperately attended to possibly at near-gunpoint after UPC cops and attending EMTs have seemingly furiously pumped what little blood she had left onto the sidewalk, because her heart stopped from the traumatic way she was dragged from the room, seemingly and of course her multiple gunshot wounds from an AR-15. The "load and go" kids must also include the teacher from 111, who has first been placed in a cop car, or attempted- he didnt fit - and then onto the tailgate/ lift gate of a fire department truck? Possibly the one in the funeral home lot, which must have freaked the crowd out to witness, then finally into one of the "maze runner" arriving ambulances.
Again, I refer us all to the WP/TT/PP animation for clues to that. Somehow, "load and go" period ends. When? When the ambulances stop moving, whenever that is.
And then, finally, Rangers lock the scene down, even closing the gate to the west door. It's now a crime scene and they are in charge of the investigation. The Justice of the Peace, acting as coroner is enroute to pronounce the less than 18? bodies as dead. Unsure on the math here. Three left the classroom with a pulse who died. 21 died. (plus the shooter, #22). One body was locked in an ambulance. How many left in the classrooms when the rangers lock it down? 22 minus three who died and one who was improperly removed and locked in a (much needed) ambulance. 18 bodies including the shooters, is that right?
Eventually each is designated a letter of the alphabet and DNA sampled on site so the pieces of children and teachers can be sorted and reassembled, or at least distributed to the funeral homes in the right batches. Several are said to be more or less headless. On one, a pair of Green converse with a little heart-shaped sharpie drawn on the toe, that aids in identifaction.
Parents have been told to go to the civic center. Many are going to race to every hospital they can think of, including San Antonio instead. Mothers, fathers and grandparent must all separate to cover more ground, adding to the panic and desperation. Some have been told to go to the high school, but the high school gets some sort of possible gun threat? Again, NO ONE IS IN CHARGE.
On the curb near the front of the school sits Lexi's Rubio's mother and deputy father, utterly bereft. He's been kept out of the classroom but seems to have been told the definite news their child is not coming out. Curious news crews videotape and photograph them in their grief, until the mother of one parent seemingly arrives to join them. Eventually, they thread their way onto the campus to get away from the news anchors assembled by the school sign in the same intersection where Officer Hill had parked to witness Coronado's "wild ride" at 11:31 or so. 82 minutes and then some have passed, as have at least 19 souls? by now, some still fighting for life, the shooter one among the many dead, yet separate in category only. The blood of all spreads to mingle in the footprints and pools of fluids on the floors the gruesome CSI process begins in earnest.
In the queue on the video projector's mechanism, "Lilo and Stitch" awaits the Disney happy ending. Elvis won't be singing the finale BURNING LOVE today. Elvis has left the building. Elvis is deader than Elvis. And the children are going to meet him in Heaven, if you believe what the King does and loved to sing about. "Farther along, we'll understand it./ Farther along, we'll understand why."

Previous
Writer's note: Who needs to clean a shotgun when you can drive nails into solid wood with nothing but your hands?
And once again; Big CGI action sequence. Gotta love em.
Enjoy.
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"So. These people you are converting." De'Lius said as he reached up and pressed one of the nails into the wall, holding the silver and steel mesh in place. He didn't use a hammer, or any other tool for that matter, to drive the nail into the wood. "They are dying?"
Vickers kicked the small step stool over to where he was working and stepped up onto it so he could do the same. Unlike the Outer Light Commander he used a hammer to drive the nail in.
"Yeah." He replied. "One of them is almost dead already. She's got maybe a few days left."
"They are your friends?" The old wolf asked.
"Eh. Not so much. More like.... distant coworkers." Vickers admitted.
"I thought you were a part of your world's military?" De'Lius wondered. "Would that not make them brothers in arms at the least?"
"It's uh.... complicated." Vickers said hesitantly. "We work for the same government. But we're not the same branch of the military. I think technically they're considered Marines?" He wondered. Even with two of them under his care he hadn't been given very much information about them besides what was deemed necessary. "Plus one of them tried to kill me a few months ago. Didn't work out for her."
"Is she the one that is near death?"
"Ya." Vickers said simply.
"Is that fight why?" De'Lius followed up.
"Ya."
"Hmm." The Commander said.
The two of them worked in silence for several more minutes. Pressing the mesh in place then driving in nails to hold it. Then changing position and repeating.
"So um...." Vickers began after the silence had drawn on long enough to feel awkward. "What did uh... Atrafar tell you? About me?"
De'Lius paused for a moment. Then resumed working.
"Only that she'd converted a man from another world. That his were-form manifested into a night brother. And that he was remarkably apt at adjusting to his new body." The old wolf said as he drove in another nail with the pad of his thumb. "Said that he was one of the few people she'd ever met who could keep up with her in a fight even before he'd converted, and that she was curious to how capable he would be AFTER converting."
Vickers considered that for a few moments. It was true that the two of them had bonded over their ability to fight. Hell, their first night together had been right after spending several hours in a tavern's fighting ring, winning gold for beating people up.
"Yeah. That sounds like her alright." Vickers said. "Ever the warrior."
"She also wrote about how you saved her in the battle of the Druidic Forrest." De'Lius added. "And only a week or so after having been converted."
"That's... also accurate." Vickers said.
"All in all she seemed quite taken with you." De'Lius admitted.
"She did?" Vickers asked.
De'Lius stopped what he was doing and turned to face Vickers. Vickers in turn pulled the last two nails from his mouth and turned to match.
"Mister Vickers. I raised my daughter to be a warrior and follow in my footsteps. If she admits being impressed with someone's combat and survival abilities then it's as good as admitting she has a crush on them." The large wolf said. "She's a grown woman. Who she lies with or doesn't is no business of mine. A few years ago it might have been if it began interfering with her duties to the Outer Light. But, I'm retired."
"She didn't ask you to come here and help me?" Vickers wondered.
"She doesn't even know I'm here." De'Lius revealed. "She and the Conversion party still have another three or four towns to visit before their current circuit is completed and they head back to the Lunar Council City. The Council simply asked me to reactivate for a few weeks to come here, oversee an emergency conversion, and then return back to my home. My employers in Jadesport needed some of their goods delivered to the capital for distribution, and as their Head of Security I was allowed to come along as escort."
"Huh." Vickers said. The whole thing made sense to him. Minus one part. "I thought that service to the Outer Light was for life." He said. "Didn't know you could retire."
"For most that is the case." De'Lius confirmed. "Standard term of service is two centuries. Most Outer Light members are either killed or maimed beyond serviceability well before then. It's a dangerous job. I just got lucky is all."
"Did you say two centuries?" Vickers asked in surprise.
"Yes." De'Lius confirmed. "My family line is descended of elves and giants." He said with a gesture at his immense size. "Couple that with the regenerative properties of being a second generation member of the folk and I will likely live another century and a half. Maybe two. Assuming my current job doesn't get me killed."
"And Atrafar?" Vickers wondered.
"Eh." The old wolf huffed. "Her mother was descended from humans and dwarves. "She's a bit of a runt as a result. But she'll still live at least two, two and a half maybe." Then he saw the surprised expression on Vickers' face. "Relax. Even as a human you'll probably get a century and a half. So long as nothing kills ya first."
"Huh." Vickers grunted. He'd known about the extension of life. It made sense with the regeneration stuff. But he hadn't expected it to be THAT much of an extension.
"Come." De'Lius said. "We are nearly done with this room." He said as he pressed the last nail in place for his wall and began walking out to grab the supplies for the next room. "Tell me about these two you intend to convert."
Vickers quickly hammered the last two of his nails in place and then hustled to follow.
"Can't really tell you too much." He said as he caught up. "Government secrets and what not. One of em wants to be a squirrel apparently."
But he told what he could.
---------------------------
"[As is custom, the final match shall be the four warriors who have one their respective fighting brackets.]" The announcer explained to the crowd for anyone unfamiliar. James was glad that he'd put his medallion back on, even if it was uncomfortable underneath his armor. "[If a fighter's hit indicator is activated seven times they are eliminated and shall be locked in place, their body shielded by the last of the device's magic until the fight is over. Magic is allowed from the start. Still no intentionally lethal or injurious attacks allowed.]" James ignored the way almost everyone seemed to focus on him for a moment. "[One of the four remaining contestants is already at a two strike disadvantage.]" This time everyone DID look at him.
James waved and smiled sarcastically.
Amina stood on her pedestal at the opposite side of the arena. Raend was on the one to James's right, his massive hammer already in hand and its head glowing with a faint bluish-white light. Glag stood in the same expressionless stupor as before across from the hammer wielding mercenary.
James began spinning his chain, his sword already attached to the end of it and eager to head toward Glag. Even the magic in the weapon was registering the odd, seemingly mindless, rock creature as the biggest threat now.
What the fuck is this guy? He wondered to himself.
"[LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE ARENA!]" The announcer said, their explanation finished. Cheers began to rise from the crowd and James's eyes began to glow. Amina's matched across the way.
There was a deep grinding noise coming from Glag's pedestal.
"[LET THE LAST FIGHT!]" The announcer said as they raised the golden banner of the final match up. Then he dropped it in a flourish. "[BEGIN!]"
James flew over to the space where Glag had been in a flash, arriving in less time than it would have taken for a normal person to blink.
And struck nothing.
"JAMES!" Amina yelled at the same moment that he heard, and felt, a massive impact in the ground behind and to the side of him.
He turned and saw something that his mind immediately related to an old video game.
Sonic the fucking hedgehog? He thought.
"COME ON THEN!" He heard the smoky, baritone, voice of Raend yell in protest as he saw the man winding up with his hammer like he was about to hit a homerun.
Glag, who had only seconds before been staring into the arena like a brain-dead simpleton, was now rolling along the floor of the arena so fast that James honestly wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up with him without using magic.
Amina flew in in a flash and slammed her shield into the side of the rolling Glag, attempting to change his trajectory, but instead found herself bouncing off of it harmlessly and having to recover her footing as she staggered off to the side.
There was a loud impact, accompanied by a cracking noise that reminded James of when he'd cracked a geode in his middle school science class.
"ARGH!" Raend yelled in surprise as he flew back, his chest glowing blue as the device there marked him as being struck. In the announcer's box a black flag was placed next to his name. None were placed next to Glag's despite Raend having hit him head on with his hammer.
Then the mercenary slammed violently into the arena wall some twenty feet behind where he'd met the rock creature, causing a massive crack to form in the wall from the impact.
Another black flag went under his name.
They're even counting non-combat impacts? James realized. Shit.
"JAMES!" Amina yelled in warning.
Then James realized that the ball of living sandstone was headed his way.
He wasn't dumb enough to think that he could match the creature in strength the way the mercenary had tried. This despite his sword's protests to the contrary.

BOOM!

James rocketed up over the remarkably fast ball of sandstone and watched as it quickly altered it's trajectory with a slap of its outstretched arm against the ground. In a flash it was looping around in a tight hairpin turn and angling toward where Amina was standing with her shield and a fire blast readied in her hand.
James charged wind magic into his and his hand flashed forward.
The Pneumatic Punch impacted Glag at the same moment that Amina's lance of fire splashed off of his front side. The pneumatic punch had the desired effect, mostly, as it hit Glag and knocked a chunk of stone off of his side. But more importantly it threw his high speed roll off balance, causing it to wobble and change trajectory wildly before it could re-stabilize. As a result it flew past Amina's dodging form, missing her my mere inches.
But the arm it reached out for her didn't.
Glag swiped a massive, cudgel-like fist at Amina as he flew past. Only her enhanced reflexes and years of experience allowed her to escape unharmed, the hand clanging against her shield as she used the impact to move back several yards in a leap.
Glag slammed into one of the few stone columns and embedded himself into it, causing the whole thing to topple over on top of itself.
James poured more pneumatic punches into its temporarily halted form as he landed and began approaching.
"THIS IS FOR THAT FIRST HIT YOU BASTARD!" Raend yelled as he quickly stepped in and began hammering at the Glag fiercely. There were sickening crunches and groans from Glag as it weathered the offensive.
But James didn't see any flags being placed underneath his name when he looked over.
"YEARGH!" Raend exclaimed suddenly as his hammer was seized and he was lifted up in the air. James watched as one of his legs was slammed into the side of the arm holding him up as one of the pneumatic punches he'd sent impacted with the back of the mercenary's leg and accidentally made him kick Glag.
A black flag was placed under Raend's name.
"My bad!" James yelled.
Then Raend was flying.
James and Amina watched him soar over them and across the arena in a rush.
"AAAAAAAAHHHH!" He yelled as he flew over and landed in a heap.
Another black flag was placed under his name.
There was a loud rumbling grinding noise from where he'd come from.
And Glag began to stand up. As he did he took one of the massive chunks of column rubble and placed it in his mouth. It disappeared in seconds.
"Is he bigger?" James asked.
When the match had started Glag had been all of three feet tall, and a few feet wide.
But as James and Amina looked up they saw that he had grown to nearly ten feet tall.
"Yep." Amina said. "Warned you."
"YOU DIDN'T WARN ME THAT IT WOULD GET BIGGER!" He yelled in frustration as a pair of large spike protrusions formed on its shoulders. He pointed at the Glag as it reached up and broke the spikes off with each and and began reeling back to throw one. "OR THAT IT COULD DO THAT!"
"That is new." She admitted. "MOVE!"
"NO SHIT!" James yelled as he blasted over, grabbed her around the waist, and continued on, avoiding the nearly six foot long sandstone spike as it slammed into the space Amina had been in.
He kept his eyes on the massive half elemental, and as he did he saw something interesting.
Where his pneumatic punches had impacted there were still cracks in its outer layers. They weren't big. And most of them seemed to be healing at a rapid rate. But they were lingering.
"I've got an-" He began before having to blast into a redirect to avoid the second spike. "I have an idea."
James landed behind a pillar and set her down. Then he handed her the handle to his chain weapon.
"You've never seen Star Wars." He said as he lifted the sword at his end of it up.. "So just follow my lead." Then he looked at his sword. "You've got a part of my soul forged into you." He said to it hesitantly. "Do me a favor and prove it."

KRAKOOOSH!

Both of their eyes went wide as Amina ducked down instinctively.
James ignored the fact that he had just nearly been beheaded by a massive stone spear and reached up to absent mindedly brush some dust and debris out of his hair.
The top of the pillar they were behind had just been obliterated by Glag.
"That was our cue." He said as he led her out from behind the cover.
Raend charged in from behind Glag and began hammering at the back of its leg with his weapon. There was an odd glow around his hands and his hammer's head was shining with that same ethereal blue/white light from earlier again. A massive chunk of Glag's leg, what would have been his calf if he were made of flesh, flew off of him and rolled across the arena floor.
Glag turned with one of the spikes in his hand and grabbed it with his other hand to use it like a club. But Raend kept hammering.
Can it only focus on one direction at a time? James wondered. If so then thank you Raend.
"Hold on tight!" James instructed as he spun a length of the chain on his end and threw the sword at Glag. Before it could impact his hand flashed out and slammed a pneumatic punch into the space he'd aimed for.
The pneumatic punch impacted on the side of Glag's torso, throwing him off balance as he swung the club down at the hammer wielding mercenary. It ended up only getting a glancing blow on the man's shoulder, or at least it looked like a glancing blow. James had a feeling he wouldn't have shrugged that hit off as well. But it seemed to roll of of Raend's body like water as he continued hammering, taking progressively larger and larger chunks off with each swing.
Then James's sword sunk into the crack that had been left behind by his spell.
"NOW!" He yelled at Amina. He pointed to the side. "RUN!"
She nodded and began running, pulling the chain handle as tight as she could while she went. James ran the opposite direction, blasting more of the pneumatic punches at the thing to keep its attention.
Instead Glag continued assaulting Raend.
The Mercenary bean laughing as he ignored the incoming blows, focusing instead on repeatedly slamming his hammer into Glag, now focusing on his other leg as the first one had all but been severed by the blows. Even as James watched Glag's stability grew faulty and he teetered over a bit as the combination of Raend's assault, Amina's pulling, and James's blasts, began forcing him over to the side.
Curiously, though James was too focused to notice it, flags weren't being placed for Raend or Glag.
After a few moments of the scramble, and as Amina and the chain came around near James, Glag toppled over sideways. The move pulled Amina off her feet for a moment. She quickly got her feet back underneath her and kept the chain taut.
The Glag slammed to the ground in a cloud of sand and powdered stone. Raend didn't relent, slamming his hammer into it like he was driving railroad spikes.
"That it?" James asked, hopefully.
"Not a chance!" Amina yelled as she flew past him, throwing the rest of his chain at him as she closed the distance. She drew her sword as she leapt into the air and onto the fallen earth elemental.
She landed with her sword in a two handed stab and drove it into Glag's body, piercing one of the links of James's chain in the process. There was a grinding noise from inside Glag as it acknowledged what James hoped was a strike. But when he looked there still weren't any flags in the things space.
Amina was on the verge of drawing her dagger and adding another pinning point to the chain when Raend screamed again. This time it wasn't a scream of battle lust or surprise. Rather, it was a blood curdling sound of pain and unexpected fear.
The arena, which had been cheering the entire time, froze as they heard the sickening crunch of bone in Raend's leg.
One of Glag's hands had slammed the thing into the ground like a wrecking ball, and as Raend fell back it was clear that his leg was ruined. Blood dripped from the end of Glag's fist as it rose back up.
"Amina!" James yelled as he realized what was happening.

GLAG! GLAG! GLAG!

The crowd chanted.
Amina leapt up and away from the stone monster. But too late.
The other hand seemed to form from the very part of Glag she'd been standing on, readying her dagger to strike.
It hit her so fast and so violently that James couldn't tell whether or not she'd gotten her shield in the way as she flew past him. He didn't have time to check the flags.
"SONOFABITCH!" He yelled as he poured wind energy into the chain and made it wind around the extended arm.
Glag slammed the hand onto the ground and began to rise back up onto his feet. A new one emerged from his body to replace the damaged one, which his other leg stepped on and immediately began absorbing. As its arm hit the ground it pulled James forward and off balance.
It's like the blood golem. He realized as he staggered forward.
"Good." He said. "I beat that thing just fine."

BOOM!

James flew toward the thing, snaking his chain around it as he passed, and slid between its legs.
Glag spun to react, bring it's arm around to strike at him. But James didn't stop moving.

BOOM!

Up into the air, missing the swipe by a mile.

Bo-Pop! Po-Po-Pop!

He quickly flitted around the arm and back into the space he'd just left. Then slid down underneath it again.
"GLAAAAG!" It bellowed as James zipped around it's leg.
Then he stood up straight, the last ten feet or so of chain held taut between himself and the massive monster.
"Hey Glag!" He shouted and watched as the thing turned, completely oblivious of the meaning of the chain rattling around its body. "You ever think you were gonna fly?!?!"
The thing's head tilted. Though unlike a normal body the head simply rotated, as if it had a joint specifically for rotating its face.
"Glag." It said, and James thought that it sounded confused. Though it was hard to tell since his medallion apparently didn't translate Glag-ese or whatever.
"Get ready." James said.
Suddenly there was a flash of steel, crimson cloth, and a blue shield as Amina slammed into Glag's back, her dagger in one hand in a stabbing hold. Her shield followed up, slamming the dagger in like a nail.
That broke Glag out of it's confusion as he reeled and began trying to turn.
The second his left foot left the ground James moved.

BOOM!

He flew straight up, pulling Glag off of its feet.
Then he threw on the after burners.

FFFFFFOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

His arms strained against the mass of the elemental, and he began to wonder if he had enough lift to pull this off. He also faintly wondered if his chain would hold.
Beneath him, though he couldn't see it, Glag reached out to try to grab on to some of the rubble that he still hadn't absorbed.
This was made feeble by Amina walking calmly over near Raend's immobilized body and lifting his hammer. Then she walked back over near Glag, and began slamming the immense weapon into the arm.
With each hit she felt the magic within the enchanted weapon growing stronger.
She paused, for just a split second, as she realized what it was doing.
Then she redoubled her efforts.
"GLAAAAG!" Glag yelled in protest.
"SHUT!" She yelled as she took one last swing at its arm. The hammer's enchantment adding more and more force to each consecutive hit, while also making her swing faster. "UP!" She finished as the hammer head smashed through the last bit of rock keeping the arm attached to Glag's body.
Then he and James began to rise once and for all.

Previous / First
Writer's note: Who needs to clean a shotgun when you can drive nails into solid wood with nothing but your hands?
And once again; Big CGI action sequence. Gotta love em.
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So. These people you are converting." De'Lius said as he reached up and pressed one of the nails into the wall, holding the silver and steel mesh in place. He didn't use a hammer, or any other tool for that matter, to drive the nail into the wood. "They are dying?"
Vickers kicked the small step stool over to where he was working and stepped up onto it so he could do the same. Unlike the Outer Light Commander he used a hammer to drive the nail in.
"Yeah." He replied. "One of them is almost dead already. She's got maybe a few days left."
"They are your friends?" The old wolf asked.
"Eh. Not so much. More like.... distant coworkers." Vickers admitted.
"I thought you were a part of your world's military?" De'Lius wondered. "Would that not make them brothers in arms at the least?"
"It's uh.... complicated." Vickers said hesitantly. "We work for the same government. But we're not the same branch of the military. I think technically they're considered Marines?" He wondered. Even with two of them under his care he hadn't been given very much information about them besides what was deemed necessary. "Plus one of them tried to kill me a few months ago. Didn't work out for her."
"Is she the one that is near death?"
"Ya." Vickers said simply.
"Is that fight why?" De'Lius followed up.
"Ya."
"Hmm." The Commander said.
The two of them worked in silence for several more minutes. Pressing the mesh in place then driving in nails to hold it. Then changing position and repeating.
"So um...." Vickers began after the silence had drawn on long enough to feel awkward. "What did uh... Atrafar tell you? About me?"
De'Lius paused for a moment. Then resumed working.
"Only that she'd converted a man from another world. That his were-form manifested into a night brother. And that he was remarkably apt at adjusting to his new body." The old wolf said as he drove in another nail with the pad of his thumb. "Said that he was one of the few people she'd ever met who could keep up with her in a fight even before he'd converted, and that she was curious to how capable he would be AFTER converting."
Vickers considered that for a few moments. It was true that the two of them had bonded over their ability to fight. Hell, their first night together had been right after spending several hours in a tavern's fighting ring, winning gold for beating people up.
"Yeah. That sounds like her alright." Vickers said. "Ever the warrior."
"She also wrote about how you saved her in the battle of the Druidic Forrest." De'Lius added. "And only a week or so after having been converted."
"That's... also accurate." Vickers said.
"All in all she seemed quite taken with you." De'Lius admitted.
"She did?" Vickers asked.
De'Lius stopped what he was doing and turned to face Vickers. Vickers in turn pulled the last two nails from his mouth and turned to match.
"Mister Vickers. I raised my daughter to be a warrior and follow in my footsteps. If she admits being impressed with someone's combat and survival abilities then it's as good as admitting she has a crush on them." The large wolf said. "She's a grown woman. Who she lies with or doesn't is no business of mine. A few years ago it might have been if it began interfering with her duties to the Outer Light. But, I'm retired."
"She didn't ask you to come here and help me?" Vickers wondered.
"She doesn't even know I'm here." De'Lius revealed. "She and the Conversion party still have another three or four towns to visit before their current circuit is completed and they head back to the Lunar Council City. The Council simply asked me to reactivate for a few weeks to come here, oversee an emergency conversion, and then return back to my home. My employers in Jadesport needed some of their goods delivered to the capital for distribution, and as their Head of Security I was allowed to come along as escort."
"Huh." Vickers said. The whole thing made sense to him. Minus one part. "I thought that service to the Outer Light was for life." He said. "Didn't know you could retire."
"For most that is the case." De'Lius confirmed. "Standard term of service is two centuries. Most Outer Light members are either killed or maimed beyond serviceability well before then. It's a dangerous job. I just got lucky is all."
"Did you say two centuries?" Vickers asked in surprise.
"Yes." De'Lius confirmed. "My family line is descended of elves and giants." He said with a gesture at his immense size. "Couple that with the regenerative properties of being a second generation member of the folk and I will likely live another century and a half. Maybe two. Assuming my current job doesn't get me killed."
"And Atrafar?" Vickers wondered.
"Eh." The old wolf huffed. "Her mother was descended from humans and dwarves. "She's a bit of a runt as a result. But she'll still live at least two, two and a half maybe." Then he saw the surprised expression on Vickers' face. "Relax. Even as a human you'll probably get a century and a half. So long as nothing kills ya first."
"Huh." Vickers grunted. He'd known about the extension of life. It made sense with the regeneration stuff. But he hadn't expected it to be THAT much of an extension.
"Come." De'Lius said. "We are nearly done with this room." He said as he pressed the last nail in place for his wall and began walking out to grab the supplies for the next room. "Tell me about these two you intend to convert."
Vickers quickly hammered the last two of his nails in place and then hustled to follow.
"Can't really tell you too much." He said as he caught up. "Government secrets and what not. One of em wants to be a squirrel apparently."
But he told what he could.
---------------------------
"[As is custom, the final match shall be the four warriors who have won their respective fighting brackets.]" The announcer explained to the crowd for anyone unfamiliar. James was glad that he'd put his medallion back on, even if it was uncomfortable underneath his armor. "[If a fighter's hit indicator is activated seven times they are eliminated and shall be locked in place, their body shielded by the last of the device's magic until the fight is over. Magic is allowed from the start. Still no intentionally lethal or injurious attacks allowed.]" James ignored the way almost everyone seemed to focus on him for a moment. "[One of the four remaining contestants is already at a two strike disadvantage.]" This time everyone DID look at him.
James waved and smiled sarcastically.
Amina stood on her pedestal at the opposite side of the arena. Raend was on the one to James's right, his massive hammer already in hand and its head glowing with a faint bluish-white light. Glag stood in the same expressionless stupor as before across from the hammer wielding mercenary.
James began spinning his chain, his sword already attached to the end of it and eager to head toward Glag. Even the magic in the weapon was registering the odd, seemingly mindless, rock creature as the biggest threat now.
What the fuck is this guy? He wondered to himself.
"[LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF THE ARENA!]" The announcer said, their explanation finished. Cheers began to rise from the crowd and James's eyes began to glow. Amina's matched across the way.
There was a deep grinding noise coming from Glag's pedestal.
"[LET THE LAST FIGHT!]" The announcer said as they raised the golden banner of the final match up. Then he dropped it in a flourish. "[BEGIN!]"
James flew over to the space where Glag had been in a flash, arriving in less time than it would have taken for a normal person to blink.
And struck nothing.
"JAMES!" Amina yelled at the same moment that he heard, and felt, a massive impact in the ground behind and to the side of him.
He turned and saw something that his mind immediately related to an old video game.
Sonic the fucking hedgehog? He thought.
"COME ON THEN!" He heard the smoky, baritone, voice of Raend yell in protest as he saw the man winding up with his hammer like he was about to hit a homerun.
Glag, who had only seconds before been staring into the arena like a brain-dead simpleton, was now rolling along the floor of the arena so fast that James honestly wasn't sure he'd be able to keep up with him without using magic.
Amina flew in in a flash and slammed her shield into the side of the rolling Glag, attempting to change his trajectory, but instead found herself bouncing off of it harmlessly and having to recover her footing as she staggered off to the side.
There was a loud impact, accompanied by a cracking noise that reminded James of when he'd cracked a geode in his middle school science class.
"ARGH!" Raend yelled in surprise as he flew back, his chest glowing blue as the device there marked him as being struck. In the announcer's box a black flag was placed next to his name. None were placed next to Glag's despite Raend having hit him head on with his hammer.
Then the mercenary slammed violently into the arena wall some twenty feet behind where he'd met the rock creature, causing a massive crack to form in the wall from the impact.
Another black flag went under his name.
They're even counting non-combat impacts? James realized. Shit.
"JAMES!" Amina yelled in warning.
Then James realized that the ball of living sandstone was headed his way.
He wasn't dumb enough to think that he could match the creature in strength the way the mercenary had tried. This despite his sword's protests to the contrary.

BOOM!

James rocketed up over the remarkably fast ball of sandstone and watched as it quickly altered it's trajectory with a slap of its outstretched arm against the ground. In a flash it was looping around in a tight hairpin turn and angling toward where Amina was standing with her shield and a fire blast readied in her hand.
James charged wind magic into his and his hand flashed forward.
The Pneumatic Punch impacted Glag at the same moment that Amina's lance of fire splashed off of his front side. The pneumatic punch had the desired effect, mostly, as it hit Glag and knocked a chunk of stone off of his side. But more importantly it threw his high speed roll off balance, causing it to wobble and change trajectory wildly before it could re-stabilize. As a result it flew past Amina's dodging form, missing her my mere inches.
But the arm it reached out for her didn't.
Glag swiped a massive, cudgel-like fist at Amina as he flew past. Only her enhanced reflexes and years of experience allowed her to escape unharmed, the hand clanging against her shield as she used the impact to move back several yards in a leap.
Glag slammed into one of the few stone columns and embedded himself into it, causing the whole thing to topple over on top of itself.
James poured more pneumatic punches into its temporarily halted form as he landed and began approaching.
"THIS IS FOR THAT FIRST HIT YOU BASTARD!" Raend yelled as he quickly stepped in and began hammering at the Glag fiercely. There were sickening crunches and groans from Glag as it weathered the offensive.
But James didn't see any flags being placed underneath his name when he looked over.
"YEARGH!" Raend exclaimed suddenly as his hammer was seized and he was lifted up in the air. James watched as one of his legs was slammed into the side of the arm holding him up as one of the pneumatic punches he'd sent impacted with the back of the mercenary's leg and accidentally made him kick Glag.
A black flag was placed under Raend's name.
"My bad!" James yelled.
Then Raend was flying.
James and Amina watched him soar over them and across the arena in a rush.
"AAAAAAAAHHHH!" He yelled as he flew over and landed in a heap.
Another black flag was placed under his name.
There was a loud rumbling grinding noise from where he'd come from.
And Glag began to stand up. As he did he took one of the massive chunks of column rubble and placed it in his mouth. It disappeared in seconds.
"Is he bigger?" James asked.
When the match had started Glag had been all of three feet tall, and a few feet wide.
But as James and Amina looked up they saw that he had grown to nearly ten feet tall.
"Yep." Amina said. "Warned you."
"YOU DIDN'T WARN ME THAT IT WOULD GET BIGGER!" He yelled in frustration as a pair of large spike protrusions formed on its shoulders. He pointed at the Glag as it reached up and broke the spikes off with each and and began reeling back to throw one. "OR THAT IT COULD DO THAT!"
"That is new." She admitted. "MOVE!"
"NO SHIT!" James yelled as he blasted over, grabbed her around the waist, and continued on, avoiding the nearly six foot long sandstone spike as it slammed into the space Amina had been in.
He kept his eyes on the massive half elemental, and as he did he saw something interesting.
Where his pneumatic punches had impacted there were still cracks in its outer layers. They weren't big. And most of them seemed to be healing at a rapid rate. But they were lingering.
"I've got an-" He began before having to blast into a redirect to avoid the second spike. "I have an idea."
James landed behind a pillar and set her down. Then he handed her the handle to his chain weapon.
"You've never seen Star Wars." He said as he lifted the sword at his end of it up.. "So just follow my lead." Then he looked at his sword. "You've got a part of my soul forged into you." He said to it hesitantly. "Do me a favor and prove it."

KRAKOOOSH!

Both of their eyes went wide as Amina ducked down instinctively.
James ignored the fact that he had just nearly been beheaded by a massive stone spear and reached up to absent mindedly brush some dust and debris out of his hair.
The top of the pillar they were behind had just been obliterated by Glag.
"That was our cue." He said as he led her out from behind the cover.
Raend charged in from behind Glag and began hammering at the back of its leg with his weapon. There was an odd glow around his hands and his hammer's head was shining with that same ethereal blue/white light from earlier again. A massive chunk of Glag's leg, what would have been his calf if he were made of flesh, flew off of him and rolled across the arena floor.
Glag turned with one of the spikes in his hand and grabbed it with his other hand to use it like a club. But Raend kept hammering.
Can it only focus on one direction at a time? James wondered. If so then thank you Raend.
"Hold on tight!" James instructed as he spun a length of the chain on his end and threw the sword at Glag. Before it could impact his hand flashed out and slammed a pneumatic punch into the space he'd aimed for.
The pneumatic punch impacted on the side of Glag's torso, throwing him off balance as he swung the club down at the hammer wielding mercenary. It ended up only getting a glancing blow on the man's shoulder, or at least it looked like a glancing blow. James had a feeling he wouldn't have shrugged that hit off as well. But it seemed to roll of of Raend's body like water as he continued hammering, taking progressively larger and larger chunks off with each swing.
Then James's sword sunk into the crack that had been left behind by his spell.
"NOW!" He yelled at Amina. He pointed to the side. "RUN!"
She nodded and began running, pulling the chain handle as tight as she could while she went. James ran the opposite direction, blasting more of the pneumatic punches at the thing to keep its attention.
Instead Glag continued assaulting Raend.
The Mercenary bean laughing as he ignored the incoming blows, focusing instead on repeatedly slamming his hammer into Glag, now focusing on his other leg as the first one had all but been severed by the blows. Even as James watched Glag's stability grew faulty and he teetered over a bit as the combination of Raend's assault, Amina's pulling, and James's blasts, began forcing him over to the side.
Curiously, though James was too focused to notice it, flags weren't being placed for Raend or Glag.
After a few moments of the scramble, and as Amina and the chain came around near James, Glag toppled over sideways. The move pulled Amina off her feet for a moment. She quickly got her feet back underneath her and kept the chain taut.
The Glag slammed to the ground in a cloud of sand and powdered stone. Raend didn't relent, slamming his hammer into it like he was driving railroad spikes.
"That it?" James asked, hopefully.
"Not a chance!" Amina yelled as she flew past him, throwing the rest of his chain at him as she closed the distance. She drew her sword as she leapt into the air and onto the fallen earth elemental.
She landed with her sword in a two handed stab and drove it into Glag's body, piercing one of the links of James's chain in the process. There was a grinding noise from inside Glag as it acknowledged what James hoped was a strike. But when he looked there still weren't any flags in the things space.
Amina was on the verge of drawing her dagger and adding another pinning point to the chain when Raend screamed again. This time it wasn't a scream of battle lust or surprise. Rather, it was a blood curdling sound of pain and unexpected fear.
The arena, which had been cheering the entire time, froze as they heard the sickening crunch of bone in Raend's leg.
One of Glag's hands had slammed the thing into the ground like a wrecking ball, and as Raend fell back it was clear that his leg was ruined. Blood dripped from the end of Glag's fist as it rose back up.
"Amina!" James yelled as he realized what was happening.

GLAG! GLAG! GLAG!

The crowd chanted.
Amina leapt up and away from the stone monster. But too late.
The other hand seemed to form from the very part of Glag she'd been standing on, readying her dagger to strike.
It hit her so fast and so violently that James couldn't tell whether or not she'd gotten her shield in the way as she flew past him. He didn't have time to check the flags.
"SONOFABITCH!" He yelled as he poured wind energy into the chain and made it wind around the extended arm.
Glag slammed the hand onto the ground and began to rise back up onto his feet. A new one emerged from his body to replace the damaged one, which his other leg stepped on and immediately began absorbing. As its arm hit the ground it pulled James forward and off balance.
It's like the blood golem. He realized as he staggered forward.
"Good." He said. "I beat that thing just fine."

BOOM!

James flew toward the thing, snaking his chain around it as he passed, and slid between its legs.
Glag spun to react, bring it's arm around to strike at him. But James didn't stop moving.

BOOM!

Up into the air, missing the swipe by a mile.

Bo-Pop! Po-Po-Pop!

He quickly flitted around the arm and back into the space he'd just left. Then slid down underneath it again.
"GLAAAAG!" It bellowed as James zipped around it's leg.
Then he stood up straight, the last ten feet or so of chain held taut between himself and the massive monster.
"Hey Glag!" He shouted and watched as the thing turned, completely oblivious of the meaning of the chain rattling around its body. "You ever think you were gonna fly?!?!"
The thing's head tilted. Though unlike a normal body the head simply rotated, as if it had a joint specifically for rotating its face.
"Glag." It said, and James thought that it sounded confused. Though it was hard to tell since his medallion apparently didn't translate Glag-ese or whatever.
"Get ready." James said.
Suddenly there was a flash of steel, crimson cloth, and a blue shield as Amina slammed into Glag's back, her dagger in one hand in a stabbing hold. Her shield followed up, slamming the dagger in like a nail.
That broke Glag out of it's confusion as he reeled and began trying to turn.
The second his left foot left the ground James moved.

BOOM!

He flew straight up, pulling Glag off of its feet.
Then he threw on the after burners.

FFFFFFOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

His arms strained against the mass of the elemental, and he began to wonder if he had enough lift to pull this off. He also faintly wondered if his chain would hold.
Beneath him, though he couldn't see it, Glag reached out to try to grab on to some of the rubble that he still hadn't absorbed.
This was made feeble by Amina walking calmly over near Raend's immobilized body and lifting his hammer. Then she walked back over near Glag, and began slamming the immense weapon into the arm.
With each hit she felt the magic within the enchanted weapon growing stronger.
She paused, for just a split second, as she realized what it was doing.
Then she redoubled her efforts.
"GLAAAAG!" Glag yelled in protest.
"SHUT!" She yelled as she took one last swing at its arm. The hammer's enchantment adding more and more force to each consecutive hit, while also making her swing faster. "UP!" She finished as the hammer head smashed through the last bit of rock keeping the arm attached to Glag's body.
Then he and James began to rise once and for all.

First Prev Next
Approximated Earth Date: 3. May. 2235
A dull pain began to gather in Teresh's neck. Now that his shock was waning, he was beginning to feel the searing heat of the cut. His eyes glanced around at the oddly mundane things around him. Nothing seemed, well, alien. This room resembled many clinics and hospitals that he had visited throughout his life, though at a larger scale of course. These aliens seemed to have a fairly square approach to their furniture. The cabinets of medical supplies and the cots were evidence of that. Valaxi architecture favored more triangular geometry. Though not perfect triangles at times to preserve space, their beds and cots were wider near the head and skinnier near the feet. Their practical storage was still primarily square to be easily stacked, but many domestic shelves, cabinets, etc. were actually triangular in shape. Perhaps it wasn't the most efficient, but it was the artistry of it that was always apparent. He wondered if these aliens had art. If Tom had ever created a living mural or an infinite world.
There was a loud thunk as the door opened, Tom tentatively stepping inside. His voice resonated through the dull translator, "I have arranged a meeting, but we're going to have to hide you. If anyone sees you they'll probably panic. I don't want there to be any possibility that you'll be hurt."
"H-Hurt!" Teresh squawked, "Your people kill strangers on sight?!"
Tom sighed, the translator echoing a dull vibration. He continued, "No, we don't kill strangers on sight. If people see you and panic because they think that you'll hurt or kill them, then they may try to fight back first."
"Why would they do that? I'm not a danger to anyone... but myself it seems," he replied, his voice low.
"Humans..." Tom began, then stumbling, "that's us by the way. Our species."
"Hue-man, human," Teresh sounded out the word.
"Yes. Humans have something called a 'fight or flight' response. Under great stress, like seeing something that frightens us, we can either freeze up, run, hide, or become aggressive and defensive. There are plenty of other ways people act that fall into those camps, but that's roughly how it works," Tom explained. He made sure to have distance between them as he explained the aggressive part.
Both natural aggression and fear responses? Teresh had never heard anything like it.
Most species were either majorly one or the other, with exceptions of course. His own, the kooli, were actually aggressive when threatened. They could puff up their chest and crown, displaying an array of dazzling colors that could frighten many assailants. Their sharp talons usable as a last resort to rip and tear into their attackers. On the other claw, some like himself did prefer to run and hide. Though, Teresh always considered that a weakness of his. Not being honorable and brave like so many other kooli. It wasn't natural like with humans.
"Do you think I'm frightening?" He asked.
Tom immediately shook his head, "No! No, not at all."
"But other humans might be?" Teresh asked.
Tom explained, "There's a chance Teresh, that's all I'm saying. I don't want to take a chance with a diplomat like yourself. As you said, you need to speak to our leaders, and I'd like to facilitate that."
The kooli thought for a moment, his feathers unknowingly shifting to purples and violets. Then returning to his usual emerald green, "I-I understand, but how will you hide me? Please don't tell me you're going to toss me in a box."
"Okay, we really need to work on your perceptions of us. We're not callous," he replied, eliciting a strange look from Teresh.
"Callous?" Teresh questioned. Not familiar with the term.
The human paused for a moment, then rattled off, "It means... cruel, rude, brutish,"
That remains to be seen, he kept to himself. Though, he had to admit that Tom had shown him genuine compassion and hospitality since his arrival. He just hoped that the rest of his race was similar.
"How do you mean to hide me then?" Teresh asked, looking up at his own reflection in the black void.
"So, I've been thinking it over and I think I have a good solution. I need you to let me explain something that may be surprising to you, understand?" Tom responded.
Though he could feel his heart beating faster in his chest, he gave the human a nod.
Tom pointed to himself, "This is not what we, humans, look like naturally."
I surmised as much, Teresh noted sarcastically. He knew what a space suit was and would have donned his own if the atmosphere wasn't safe in the ship's hanger.
"This suit keeps me safe in the vacuum of space, including this," he made a closed fist with his hand and tapped the black mirror a few times. "You can't see my real face from the outside. I'd like to have you don one of these suits, so you don't stand out."
So, it is a helmet of some kind. For intimidation, it certainly is effective. I can't imagine seeing that on the battlefield, he noted.
Their own gear was nowhere near as terrifying. The kooli used a high-tech mask that vacuum fit to their head shape. It even accounted for the varying size of their crowns. This was the usual for most species using SSS (Smart Skin Suits), but it seems the humans haven't developed their own version of it. However, it seemed that this was working to their benefit. Perhaps this plan wasn't as farfetched as he initially thought. The thought of him dressed head to toe in orange and with the mirror helm would have made him laugh if he wasn't so nervous.
"I see, you mean to disguise me as one of your own," Teresh replied, receiving a nod of affirmation. "Could I pass as a human with my... size?"
"Yes, we humans actually come in many varying heights. There are plenty of humans that are actually shorter than yourself, albeit rare," Tom answered, getting another strange look from the kooli.
"Really? Are you humans highly varying in shape too, or just height?" He asked curiously.
"Eh... somewhat. Some can be a little bigger around the stomach area, but we all share the same shape for the most part," the human answered.
"I would love to sit down and discuss biology with you or your professionals, but that will have to wait till later. For now, I'm at your disposal," Teresh explained, then tacking on, "and please don't dispose of me."
"Wouldn't dream of it. Let's find you a proper suit first," Tom said, turning to face the door.
"Wait!" He called out, causing Tom to stop and flinch. The black mirror settled on him, knowing that there were however many eyes behind it. Gulping, he continued, "Would you let me see your face? Your real face?"
Tom paused, his stance still and tense. He had no idea what thoughts were stirring behind that glass, seeing only his own expression. The human's hand gripped the frame of the door a little tighter. Then he gave his answer.
"In time, but not now. I'd rather not expose you to any possible diseases, but..." Tom faltered, "I promise I will if all goes well. Deal?"
"If you're asking me to accept your terms, then yes," Teresh agreed, his feathers flashing a bright yellow.
"Good. I'll be back soon, just need to make sure my crew aren't experiencing their own fight or flight response," Tom concluded. He shut the door behind him, and left Teresh in silence.
-------------
Date: May 3, 2235
Tom stepped past the threshold and immediately leaned on his side. His mind spiraled, his breath tight in his chest. There was too much going on. The lights were too bright, the dull humming of electricity and the pipes pounding in his ears. His blood rushed through his veins, and every muscle twitched with energy. His anxiety like a swirling maelstrom in his chest. Everything was too much.
Come on, remember to breathe. Inhale. 1... 2... 3... 4... Exhale. 2... 3... 4... and Inhale. 2... 3... 4... Tom repeated in his mind. Forcing his body to follow the rhythm as his chest raised and lowered.
A simple salvage mission had turned into so, so much more. He had no idea what he was doing. There was a god damn alien in his med bay. He talked to them, and they talked to him. They shared a conversation about humanity and now he was trying to sneak them into a UNEM base. What the hell is happening with my life? It was supposed to get easier after service, but it's been nothing but more and more difficult. Why did it have to be me?
Dread began to fill his being as he made the long trek from the med bay to the cargo bay, to the administrative branch, and up to the bridge. He knew the others could watch him through the cams, and he could only imagine their expressions throughout the ordeal. Each step another clang against the metal floor below. Passing room after vacant room. He considered it an annoyance to only have the three of them working for the day, but now he held it as one of the greatest blessings. Clang, clang, clang. The sound of his boot impacting the stairs echoed through the air as he climbed to the top step. A hiss escaped the air as he removed his helmet and placed it under his left arm. With a heavy hand, he opened the door and stepped into the bridge. Both Maxim and Ally were crowded around the monitors, helmets off, expressions gaunt.
He looked at them, and they looked at him. The tension in the air kept them in an eternal moment. Up until Tom finally decided to cut through the silence.
"Their name is Teresh. They're friendly as far as I can tell," he explained, neither of them saying a word. Tom paused, and continued, "I phoned Mikael, going to try and figure this mess out together. I'm taking them to Jefferson base."
That seemed to snap them out of their stupor. Maxim speaking first, announcing, "Captain, you can't be serious."
Maxim may not don the uniform the uniform, but he was always a soldier. Young, strong, and ready for anything. He remembered Maxim coming to him fresh off his 18th birthday, ready to save the world. Tom could still see the innocence in those blue eyes, though tarnished with time. A number of pale scars and tattoos now adorning his obsidian arms. His voice was like a rough-cut gem. Strong, chiseled features, though he'd never tell him that. With jet black hair, he retained the buzz cut from service, and the same carefree attitude that Tom used to grapple with. However, given the situation, he knew it was the time for professionalism.
At the sound of his old title, there was a surprisingly flash of anger that swirled inside Tom.
"I'm not a captain anymore!" Tom growled. Then quickly dropping the snarl, continuing, "and I'm deadly serious. We need to get them to Earth gov and do it quickly. This is the most important thing that's ever happened in human history, and it's been dropped on our plate."
"Ca- Sir, we have an honest to God alien in our med bay. How do you expect us to get through clearance?" Ally asked, concern in her eyes.
Ally was always too kind for her own good. Their line of work didn't deserve someone like her. She came to their unit fresh out of college and worked as their intel operative. Outside of his lead, she was the one who pulled their asses out of fires. A tad shorter than both he and Maxim, but she was hiding the strength of a seasoned gymnast in that deceptive frame. She may not be able to go toe to toe with either of them, but she as hell could toss them around like ragdolls with their own body weight. Ally had hazel green eyes, lighter skin, dirty blond hair, and usually wore it in a ponytail.
"Already thought of it. I'm going to put them in an EVO suit and escort them ourselves. Give them a box, act like we're there delivering cargo," Tom explained, drawing stares from both of them.
"That's your plan?" Maxim asked with disbelief.
"Yes, damn it! I've had all of fifteen minutes to think of it, so I'd say it's pretty damn good. Look, you both know how the bulls are. Walk and talk like you belong, no one says a word," he replied, a tad exasperated.
"And if they scan the ship? Y'know, like the routine surface scan that's definitely going to pick up an unknown craft in our hanger bay," Ally said, a hint of an edge in her voice.
Tom allowed himself a smile, "Already thought of that. If they ask, it's top-secret clearance. They want info on it, they can go to Mikael."
"You're seriously going to throw the commander into the brush like that?" Maxim asked, hiding a chuckle in his voice.
"You better believe it. He owes us far more than that," Tom concluded, placing both hands on the helm.
He looked out of the viewport. Neptune was still in sight, with colorful marbles of various size in the distance. Dipping his hand down, he turned the navigator to the moon and set it to autopilot.
The nav computer's voice filled the ship, "Destination set: Earth's Moon. Estimated travel time: Fifty-five minutes, and twenty-three seconds."
With a small shunt, the ship shifted and began to turn. Its engines roared to life as it began to coast towards the moon. They could've used FTL but making a jump like that would've drawn much more attention to them. Better to play it safe and slow. See if they could dodge some of the air control towers while they're at it.
With a few extra button presses, he put the countdown timer up on the screen. They now had a little under an hour to formulate their plan and strategize for any obstacles. In some ways, it was sickeningly nostalgic. The three of them were tasked with an impossible mission once again. However, this time, it would be for peace and not for war. Failure was not an option.
Just like old times, Tom thought to himself. Just like old times...

The scourge began with the darkest of nights.
Cecuria, the aquatic province of The Sea Kingdom had no clue about what was about to happen. Falcon knew that. Daybreak knew that. And there was no way to prevent the destined bloodshed.
Day was quaking in fear. Falcon watched in silence as his dragon began to itch his orange-gold scales feverishly. He was also beginning to bleed from all of the scratches around his neck. Occasionally Day would growl in a deep unbridling voice, one that Falcon knew all too well. The transformation was happening once more.
The sting of his curse mark was enough to jolt Falcon awake. Terror struck in his bones as he felt the calling of the curse. And everything about it irritated him.
Day's growls were getting more ferocious by the minute. Falcon glimpsed up from his caged window to notice the three moons. Falcon's chocolate eyes grew wide at the sight of the full two moons. A bad omen for times to come.
It still amazed Falcon that he wasn't used to his new life. It had all the same now; the duo would play nomads, travel across the continent, gather supplies, and just as it seemed everything was going to be okay, a tragedy had to happen. It would never stop. Fate always caught up to the two of them.
Falcon had to prepare for the night. And for that, he had to grab his gear. He made his way toward his partner and bent down to his transforming friend.
"Day, I know you can hear me," Falcon began with caution. Day's bleeding eyes had begun to turn black. Venom glared within them. "Try to fight it. Hold out for me, okay? We can try to rampage in the lower districts."
Day grunted, but there was no answer. Falcon painfully left him alone in his dark corner. Falcon had to focus on the lock.
Producing a lockpick from the waistband of his undergarments, Falcon held his breath and began to work on the cell lock. He had one chance and he had to make it count.
Focus, Falcon. A little to the left, hear from the right. The sweet spot is abound. I've been doing this for ages now. Let's hope my time of breaking into mom and dad's chests has been worth it.
With one final nudge, the lockpick broke and so did the lock. The metal securement fell to the blood-tainted floor softly on some pine straw and Falcon released a sigh of relief. There was no time to waste now.
Falcon trudged through the black corridors. His prisoning anklet weighed a ton but it wouldn't be before long that he would have it released from his foot.
He finally found his gear. Though it seemed like everyone fretted about his armor missing, he knew it would return and that was the part he dreaded. His golden Valkyrie arm was the first he grabbed and he hugged it for a moment. The last gift she had ever gifted him. He vowed she would rest easy. They all would.
As he attached his arm and gathered his belongings, Falcon felt a searing pain in his neck. He winced at the pain and turned around and saw it.
You…
An abomination laid before his eyes. A misshapen dragonet squealed in a pile of bloody droppings. The minuscule creature was rust-colored, and one side of its face was bulging gold. It had only one bulging green eye, a boney wing, and a tiny arm that resembled a human arm. Falcon's blood boiled at the sight.
"Get out of my sight, you fucking freak!"
And with that, Falcon moved on with rage.
∆∆∆
The shopping districts were the first to collapse and so came the first battalion of the Jomsvikings. Falcon had only heard of them in tales but never had he imagined that he would be facing them in battle. Day's transformation had officially ended and the monster before him was no longer his friend. Just a cannibalistic frenzy of scales and teeth.
Falcon had no name for whoever possessed Day but he knew it was his friend, through and through. He had no love for the vile fiend, however.
Falcon's transformation began. The cold shiver in his spine was beginning to scream out in pain and fear. Rage clouded his mind as the black-scaled armor appeared on his body. With the helm attached, his body lost free will over his control and the carnage began.
Kitsune… Kitsune… KITSUNE!!! KITSUNE! KITSUNE! KITSUNE! KITSUNE!!! KITSUNE!!! KITSUNE!!! KITSUNE!!! KITSUNE!!
An explosion of anger burst from Falcon as he joined Day in the bloodshed. The two began to cut down many people before their path. Falcon roared in delight as he strangled the life out of a dragonet. Day could hear his jaws snapping bones from men. Blood pathed the streets and screams of terror roared throughout the city. All Falcon could remember was the thought of his enemy.
BREAK EVERY BONE IN HIS BODY UNTIL HE BLEEDS!!! TEAR HIS FLESH OFF HIS BODY UNTIL HE SCREAMS IN PAIN. SHOW HIM THE TRUE ANGER OF US, THE SCALESCOURGE! KITSUNE! KITSUNE! KITSUNE!!!
When the Lord and his dragon count arrived, the city was already on fire. Day and Falcon looked up from their bloody-frenzied carnage to notice them.
"My, oh, my!," the Lord began clapping. Such a pretty picture the two of you have painted. It just needs one last thing to make it a masterpiece."
"Yeah…," said "Day". "YOUR FUCKING HEADS!"
The Human Lord and his pet dragon laughed. The two began to molt away their flesh and a set of eight black wings was revealed. Their flesh disguises were shed and their true forms were revealed.
Spiderwings.
Falcon and Day lunged at them; Day's jaws screamed for the hunger of dragon flesh and Falcon's eyes burned for vengeance. The two Tarantula-like dragons put up a fight but soon, they were both beginning for mercy.
"Mercy?" Falcon laughed in hysteria. "MERCY?!" Falcon tore apart a wing, to which one of the dragons howled in pain. "It's time you felt the pain of the victims you've eaten! All those dragonets and humans you've sent to sacrifice for your gluttony!"
And so began the torture. Wings were torn to shreds by Falcon's sword and Day was screaming with joy at the blood he drank from their wounds. Each time it seemed like they were dead, Day would enchant them to come back to life. Their final moments were to be remembered as death full of misery and weeping.
Just as when the sun was beginning to rise, Day was starting to turn back into his older self. And Falcon's scaled armor was satisfied from the deaths they'd caused. Falcon plunged his mechanical arm into the chest of one Spiderwing.
"Tell me, before I blow you into a pile of mutilated shit," Falcon growled in anger. "Where is Kitsune?!"
"K-Kitsune?!" One of the SpiderWings had blood spilling from his mouth.
"WHERE IS HE?!"
"I… I don't know! I'm sorry! Let my li-"
A BOOM! exploded from Falcon's arm. Day and Falcon sat in silence as the world around them began to burn.
This… This is our life, Day thought in sadness. Our new life. The life that we got ourselves now.
I wonder how this all started again…
End of Prologue

Something's missing. People (and entities) are starting to notice.
First Previous
***
Far across the multiverse in a tavern that, depending on one’s point of view, may or may not have actually existed, Zeb, Petunia, Bethany, Bergamot, Cleve, and Zilandrial sat at a large wooden table.
“Thank you, Shauna,” Bergamot said as a buxom woman in a low-cut peasant dress filled their mugs with a “magic” pitcher of beer that never ran dry. “You don’t have to serve us, you know.”
“Oh, I know,” Shauna replied brightly, “but I am a barmaid. Besides, I am not giving up my magic pitcher!” she added with a laugh. “The next batch of stew should be out in a second.”
“If it is as good as this bread…” Cleve said, holding up a thick, floppy piece of flatbread.
“Better!” Shauna exclaimed. “The pantry keeps filling back up with the best stuff! It’s almost a shame to make stew out of it, but the “fancy” chef went to the “fancy” place. We just figured out the roaster thingy, so we’ll be serving roast fowl as soon as the first batch cooks!”
Shauna paused and took a big drink from her pitcher.
“It turns out that you just had to talk to it. Weird… But no weirder than anything else, I suppose. You guys want to wait for the roast fowl?”
“We shouldn’t tary,” Zeb replied, “We don’t know how long this blessed peace will last.”
“Maybe it’s over?” Bethany the Tinker, now reunited with her beloved hat, asked.
“One can hope,” Zeb shrugged as he drank deeply from his tankard, “but I’m not delaying my repast, and neither should you. When you have fiends like Pantsu and F10w3rchy1d in play, things can get much worse than they already are.”
“Worse?!?” Bergamot exclaimed in horror.
***
Melinda the Stalwart was starting to believe that she should have stayed in bed today.
It was supposed to be her day off! Yeah, things were starting to get “weird,” but with all of those high-rated champions running around up north, it was probably going to get handled pretty quickly… and she was tired of chasing around after their scraps.
Her copper-rated ass was sitting this one out. The fact that everyone had gone gank-crazy just further confirmed that she had the right idea.
So, she decided to head back to the royal city of Raven’s Peak to take advantage of the richer and more powerful adventurers running off to the north, leaving all the armorers, enchanters, alchemists, and publicans in town behind.
It was nice not constantly getting shoved out of the way by stronger champions and ignored by shopkeepers far more interested in their gold than her silver for once.
It started out as such a lovely day, too!
She awoke in a lovely bed at the Blade and Wand, her absolute favorite inn, and a place where it was nearly impossible to get a room without a reservation or a lot more status than she had. There, she enjoyed a wonderful breakfast, at a discounted rate no less, and then went out for a day of crowd-free shopping!
It. Was. Bliss! There were no lines, and all of the storekeepers and craftsmen were all too happy to not only serve her and her meager purse but actually take time to chat!
Then, for lunch, she decided to visit the main branch of the adventurer’s guild, where she had an honest-to-gosh hamburger and fries along with some cider. After that, the plan was to get some training or maybe buy a buff or two…
Well, that was the plan, anyway.
What actually happened was that her wonderful burger, which she could never get under normal circumstances (they were always sold out before a copper-rated nobody could get their coppers taken), was interrupted by the most unholy screams she had ever heard inside or outside a dungeon.
She barely had time to stand before the doors to the guild offices exploded outward, and a demon covered in spikes and flames charged into the main hall.
That looks just like the guildmaster, was about all she had time to think before the fiend was on her.
***
“What’s happening?!?” Melinda cried in terror as she hurtled through absolutely nothing.
(Shh bby is ok)
“H-hello?” she called.
(😊)
“W-who are you? What happened to me?”
(Shh bby is ok)
“Am I… Am I dead?!?”
(is ok)
“Oh, it is definitely NOT okay! Who are you, and what the hell happened?”
The bedbug sighed with exasperation as it bounced off an invisible barrier again.
It had taken too long. The soul was starting to wake up.
Before much longer, it would start to get wiggly. It hated it when they began to wiggle.
Not knowing exactly what else to do, it let out a little ping.
It was answered by thousands of its kind! They couldn’t get through either, so they were having a rave! Awesome!
With a happy little (woo!), it zipped off towards the largest concentration of pings dragging an increasingly indignant Melinda the Stalwart along whether she wanted to or not.
***
“Hahaha!” Tawdry laughed into a prepaid “burner phone” her parents didn’t know about. “I can’t be-lieve you got me fucking grounded, you skank!”
“You’re still grounded?” Claudia snickered, “You diminished that badly?”
“It’s my parents. I managed to talk them down to a week without brain fucking them too hard. Besides, this cell is a lot nicer than the holes you used to stick me in. I’ll just do my time and be done with it. Besides, it will give our friends time to leave town since someone can’t manage to find a freaking truck.”
“First of all, fuck you,” Claudia laughed, “Second of all, thanks for getting that bastard to show up in a park and chase you across all of that nice soft turf. We got a lot of data we didn’t have before.”
“Like what?”
“Like its estimated mass, tire treads, a few lovely material samples where it nailed a park bench while trying to kill you… oh, and confirmation that it actually materializes and dematerializes. We can only assume the little bitch does the same thing. Too bad you couldn’t actually lay hands on her.”
“She was slippery, okay?” Tawdry chuckled.
“Hey,” Claudia said, “before Evika and her party ganked you, did they say anything about whom they were working for, or did they mention a little blonde girl named Petunia… or Pantsu?”
“No, they just said hi and blew my head off. Oh! Stephen did say that David finally confessed to Evika!”
“Took him long enough,” Claudia laughed, “Think he has a chance?”
“I know he has one,” Tawdry replied, “Evika’s gonna drop those drawers any second.”
“Good for her.”
“You said that Robert the Golden Peckerhead got sent back?”
“Yeah, and he is not adjusting well,” Claudia replied, “We have him in a ‘special’ inpatient facility where we are keeping the people with ‘issues’.”
“You got a lot of ‘patients’?”
“Not as many as you would think,” Claudia said, “Not everyone is happy about things, but there is something to be said about not having to sleep with a dagger under your pillow.”
“True that,” Tawdry replied. “High school is a pain, but being able to go out for pizza without an enraged wife (or husband) trying to shank you is nice.”
“Careful,” Claudia laughed, “Enraged spouses here might have a gun. You might want to go easy on the adultery this time around. There is also no magic contraception, and cure disease potions aren’t for sale in every town.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Tawdry groaned. “Doesn’t really matter, though. I might as well be a nun these days.”
“You can’t be diminished that much!”
“I am not into kids, and any man worth screwing isn’t into jailbait. I’m the exact opposite of screwed… Speaking of, you did mention a possible trip to Denmark?”
“Aren’t you grounded?”
“I won’t be next week!”
“And how will you explain your sex tourism to your folks?”
“Let me worry about my folks,” Tawdry replied, “You worry about that plane ticket!”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Claudia replied with a chuckle.
Natasha! Come down for dinner!
“I’ll be right there!” Tawdry yelled.
“I gotta go. It’s taco night…”
Tawdry grinned.
“Speaking of tacos, did you get that camel toe fixed yet?”
“And just when we were even, too!” Claudia laughed. “Your little suggestion has everyone looking at my snatch… including me, and I know it’s bullshit!”
“Ha! Is your new fuck toy looking?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Detective Martin! I know you have a thing for that whole world-weary crusader vibe. And don’t think I didn’t see you checking out his ass, either.”
“I have the same problem you do,” Claudia sighed, “worse even. The sort of man I like certainly won’t be messing around with a ‘kid’, even if I am ‘legal’.”
“Yeah, you do like them a bit crusty, don’t you? How about finding some rich asshole who is having a mid-life crisis?”
“I will repeat myself. The sort of man I would like isn’t interested… and won’t be for years.”
“Meh. You’re not giving yourself enough credit… and giving them far too much of it.”
“Well, Slaker turned me down cold… goddamn chain of command…”
“No! You tried to give it up to Slaker?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time…”
“No way! I need details, all of them!”
“Well…”
Natasha! Dinner!
“I have to go,” Tawdry said, “but this is not over!”
***
Vroom? an old Peterbilt truck revved as it sat in a remote corner of a truck stop in the middle of nowhere.
“Still nothing,” the little girl huffed. “How can an entire universe disappear?”
Vroom… Vroom?
“Let’s hope not,” the girl replied, “Even so, he wouldn’t abandon us!”
“What?” the spirit asked with alarm.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” the little girl replied.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“Okay,” the little girl replied, “There is a remote chance that our boss has had to… um… cease operations and relocate. It hasn’t happened in a really long time, but it has happened.”
“Does that mean that I’m stuck?!?”
“No, of course not. It just means we might have to wait until we’re collected.”
Vroom.
“He won’t forget us!”
VroOoom…
“Hey! Don’t even start talking like that! We’ve done good work for the boss on several worlds. He won’t just discard us!”
“What do you mean, discard?”
“Just watch your anime, weeb,” the little girl snapped. “He hasn’t abandoned us, and he won’t forget us. He’s just… um…”
Vroom.
“I don’t know, alright!” the little girl replied angrily, “I have no idea where those others came from. All I know is that we didn’t squish them.”
VvvrOom.
“If he had another team, I would know about it!”
Vroom?
“I just would, okay! WE AREN’T GETTING REPLACED!... I’m… I’m going to get some air, maybe a Coke or something.”
The little girl threw open the door to the cab angrily and hopped out.
“Hey!” the spirit yelled, “See if they have any audiobooks!”
***
We’ve been abandoned… the little girl thought to herself as she prowled the truck stop trying not to panic.
She had to keep it together for Truck-Kun… and their new companion. If she fell apart, Truck-Kun would, too, and who knows what the spirit would do. He was two seconds from making another run for it as it was.
She paused by a rack of dusty old audiobooks on CD. Now that wasn’t something she had seen in a bit.
Thankful for the distraction, she started perusing the titles. Some of them were things she hadn’t already read (or listened to).
She grabbed a few for herself and then started looking for something appropriately nerdy for her new guest.
She might have murdered them in cold blood, but that was no reason not to be a good host.
She was so distracted by her own troubles and the audiobooks that she didn’t notice that she was being followed until the guy’s shadow fell around her.
She then became aware of his oily aura and smiled.
All work and no play…
“Hello, little girl…”
She looked up at him with an innocent expression and doe-like eyes.
“Hi.”
***
Truck-Kun quietly ground his gears as he watched a beat-up RV pull onto the highway.
Vroom, he grumbled as he put himself in gear and started to follow.
“What?” the spirit asked.
About half an hour later, Truck-Kun pulled over next to an RV that was parked on the side of the highway.
The door opened, and the little girl hopped out, holding a paper bag.
Vroom, the truck revved disapprovingly.
“Such a nice man,” the little girl said impishly as she plopped into the driver’s seat, and the truck drove away.
“Are those bloodstains?” the spirit asked as he pointed at the bag.
“What answer would you prefer?” the girl asked as she pulled out a half-filled fifth of vodka and most of a pack of smokes graciously donated by the nice man in the RV (it wasn’t like he was going to be needing them).
Vroom.
“I know I quit,” the girl replied as she put one in her mouth. “Give me a break. My nerves are shot.”
Vroom.
“Yes, shot enough to smoke menthols!”
The little girl lit up and drew heavily on the cigarette, exhaling a lovely smoke ring.
Vroom!
“So, crack a window!”
Vroom! Vroom! Vrooooom!
“You can’t smell, and you know it! So please, cut me some slack. I’ve had a bad day,” she said as she turned up the bottle of vodka like it was Juicy Juice.
Vroom!
“I know you’ve had a bad day, too,” the girl said as she wiped her mouth, “Want me to get you some fuel treatment at the next stop, maybe some starting fluid?”
Vroom.
“Okay, and a new air freshener, maybe some of those fuzzy dice you like? Deal?”
Vroom!… Vroom?
“As a matter of fact,” the little girl said as she pulled out a wad of bills. “the nice man did keep his cash on him.”
Vroom! the truck revved happily.
***
“Jesus!” Gary Martin, formerly Detective Martin, winced as he looked inside an abandoned old RV the following day.
“Say what you want about her,” Claudia Smythe said as she ate a corn dog. “but she is thorough.”
“We think the girl did this?”
“Matches her MO,” Claudia shrugged as she flicked the corn dog stick aside. “And we have surveillance footage at the truck stop. The asshole was talking to someone small, the cameras didn’t get a good shot of the kid, and eyewitnesses state that he was in the company of his ‘daughter’ when he left.”
“You said this was her MO. She’s done this before?” Gary asked.
“She rolls guys like this for their pocket change. We’re not sure if it’s how they finance their operations or if she just does it for fun, but this is the third one this year.”
A well-dressed and very young man in sunglasses approached the pair.
“Sir Lark,” Claudia said without turning around. “We have an ID on this guy yet?”
“Boris Veetch,” the young man said. “a registered sex offender with an active warrant for skipping out on his parole.”
“Yeah, she likes those,” Claudia shrugged. “Nobody will mourn his passing. He was easily ensnared, and he probably was carrying cash.”
“And she is professional bait,” Gary shrugged. “He was slime, but I’m not sure even he deserved what happened to him, though. What sort of monster would do something like this?”
“You just answered your own question,” Claudia replied, “a monster.”
“If you think this is bad," Lark said as he started photographing the scene, "You should see what a pack of goblins will do if they get the chance."
“Considering what we now know,” Claudia said with a shrug, “this trail is beyond cold. Even if they couldn’t do the whole disappearing act, they could be in any of several states by now. We’ve lost them… again.”
She looked over at Gary.
“Just as well,” she added, “We need to get you processed and briefed… agent.”
She smiled.
“Welcome to the Temporal Protection Agency.”
***
Deep within the deepest dungeon on Asteria Prime, a monstrous giant of a spider fidgeted uncomfortably.
“H-hello… boss,” it said nervously, “T-to w-what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
Frostie smiled an icy smile that filled the giant spider with horror.
“Oh, I was just in the area and thought I would give my friends here,” she said, indicating The Great Erectus, The Herald, and Cuddles, “a tour.”
“O-of c-course!” Log’Sharingoth LXXXIII stammered as their legs twitched miserably. “W-would you like a guide?”
“That would be lovely,” Frostie smiled. “Where’s Pantsu? I think she and The Big Guy over here would get along famously.”
“S-she isn’t available, boss.”
“Not even for me?”
“I-I apologize,” Log’Sharingoth said nervously, “but she isn’t here right now?”
“Well, where did she go?”
“I-I’m not sure, boss…”
“Okay, how about Nova?”
“S-she’s not here, either.”
“Shai-Vai-Loshara?”
“Um…”
“Steve?”
Log’Sharingoth made a whining bubbling noise as they shrank away.
“Why don’t you just tell me who is missing and exactly what the fuck is going on?” Frostie said with an angry gleam in her eye.
***
“…and I don’t know where anyone is!” Log’Sharingoth wailed miserably. “And everything is going wrong, the players almost rioted, and the physics engine threatened to quit! I didn’t know what to doooo!!!”
“And at no point did it occur to you to call me?” Frostie asked with a frightening edge to her voice.
“Pantsu told me not to!!!”
Frostie let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course, the current Log’Sharingoth wouldn’t go against Pantsu. It was horribly unfair to expect otherwise.
“I’m not going to come down on you because of what she did,” Frostie said a bit more gently. “However, since I now clearly know something is amiss, anything you can tell me will be of great value.”
“I-I’m not in trouble?”
“Not from me,” Frostie replied, “and Pantsu won’t be giving you any problems after I’m done with her.”
Frostie paused.
“So, this glitched Pantsu, where is it now?”
“Pantsu had me send it to Tartarus! I’m sorry! But she said to!”
“Sounds like the only sensible thing she’s done thus far,” Frostie replied.
“I didn’t want to, but she told me to do it!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Frostie shrugged, “sounds like the perfect place for it. Wait. She told you?”
“Yes, Boss!”
“That means you have a line of communications?”
Log’Sharingoth’s multiple eyes all widened with fear.
“Y-yes?”
“Call her and tell her to give me her location… now.”
“Y-yes boss…”
Log’Sharingoth fell silent for a few moments.
“Um… Boss?”
“Let me guess,” Frostie said, “You can’t reach her, can you?”
“No, Boss.”
“Fine,” Frostie grumbled. “We do this the hard way. You’ve done a great job, considering everything.”
“I have?” Log’Sharingoth asked hopefully.
“You have,” Frostie said reassuringly. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll send a crisis response team to help out in the meantime.”
“A… A crisis response team?” Log’Sharingoth asked fearfully.
“You didn’t think you were getting off Scot free, did you?” Frostie laughed as she and her companions disappeared.
“…Ssssshit,” Log’Sharingoth hissed as she stalked off into the shadows.
***
The hominid looked around at their new surroundings.
Everything was white. The floor was white. The walls were white. The furniture was white…
Even the plants were white…
And everything was spotless.
“Interesting décor,” he said after a few seconds.
“They like to keep things tidy,” Frostie replied as she took a seat on one of the white couches.
“They?” the ape-man asked dubiously as Cuddles slipped one of her tentacles into The Herald’s hand.
He gently gripped it, causing Cuddles to suppress a delighted squeal.
“Playtime is over,” Frostie said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’m calling in my real operatives.”
“Jesus!” The Great Erectus exclaimed as a spotless white door opened, and a short, slender blue male amphibian-like biped in a white tunic bearing a three-headed dog embroidered with platinum thread walked in.
“You never told me you had… them!”
“Oh, you are familiar with their kind?”
“Those little monsters are responsible for the death of entire universes! Every time there is a parallel manifestation of those… monsters… entire galaxies die.”
“They can be a handful,” Frostie said pleasantly, “But I’ve found them incredibly valuable over the years… for that very same reason. These do come from much more reasonable stock from a much more reasonable ancestor... Maybe 'reasonable' is pushing it a little,” Frostie added with a laugh. "Reasonable for one of them, at least."
The blue amphibian smiled pleasantly and blinked his huge amber eyes, their pleasant hue replaced with a whirling madness of color.
“Hello, Hades,” Frostie said with a smile. “It has been quite a while. How have you been?”
“Bored,” Hades replied. “I trust you have come to alleviate that?”
“Most definitely,” Frostie replied. “Awaken the others…”
“…It’s time to hunt.”

So, Victoria 3, is by far at its best when being an economics and pops simulator. Saying this, the city-building genre really 'get'/pioneer the core gameplay loop of Victoria 3 and I think it would serve Victoria 3 well if they leaned/expanded upon city-builders.
Part 1: Basic gameplay loop of City-builders and their relationship to Victoria 3
I'll use Songs of Syx as my primary example here, but most city-builders have these mechanics too. Songs of Syx starts you off with 10 dudes and the gameplay 'victory' condition is growing your city to 10,000 ppl. The game can support, however, up to 30k ppl, but I digress. In this game, you start off by gathering resources. Your population is primarily immigrant-based, as in, if you get your happiness up, you're going to be able to get more people. This wholly parallels Victoria 3's initial loop of getting ppl out of being peasants, raising their SoL, getting more ppl to come and work in your factories, getting more SoL, getting more ppl into your factories, and repeating the loop. In Victoria 3, you also have ppl gaining their base resources, like grain or clothes, and if those resources and bountiful and cheap then, you're gonna get more immigrants. This is also paralleled in Songs of Syx as if you give more concessions to your subjects, like increasing their rations, giving them more clothes, making their cities really nice with decorations and whatnot, they're gonna be happy and more immigrants will come to your city. This supercharges your economy more which allows you to build more and increase the number of goods produced. You can also change the birthrate by setting up childcare, which is something you can do in Victoria 3 through your laws and through SoL. Victoria 3 really parallels city-builders going, 'The more consumer industry you have, the more your ppl like it, the happier they'll be'.
Victoria 3 needs to have less abstraction w.r.t the consumer industry and simulate housing. One of the biggest things which show happiness in Cities Skylines, Songs of Syx, [insert city-builder here] is the amenities of your city. Victoria 3 abstracts amenities to clothes, furniture, and services. I know that it's kinda dumb to have a billion types of services and consumer goods, but they need to show that, 'Yes Mr. Smith is getting 2k-3k calories of food, he's able to have a house that isn't a shack, he has enough clothes, he has entertainment, etc'. Yes, I know that if you hover over the Standard of Living you can see that 'Oh, this guy pays 30% more for his goods,' or 'This dude pays 10% less for his goods and is able to advance to upper strata' but I wanna understand what's happening in the life of a person in my empire.
Part 2: Substitution in Resources, Modularity of Production Methods, and General Resource Shortages
Rimworld and Songs of Syx are both really good examples here as they both expand the imagination with respect to resources when making furniture, clothes, etc. You can use different resource inputs to create a secondary good. In Rimworld, I can use steel, wood, stone, etc to make furniture or pottery. In Victoria 3, I have to use wood and tools to make my furniture. I have have to use lead and dyes if I want to create glass. For furniture, I can't substitute wood for steel or iron if I'm an iron-rich and wood-poor. For glass, I can't make a production method that allows ports to make sand and make my glass that way. I have to use lead.
I'm not saying that we should be able to make clothes and furniture out of human leather, but there are some cases in Victoria 3 where you should be able to make your own Production Method. An example of this is paper. If I have a lot of fabric and not a lot of wood, something that has been done in the past was making your paper out of cotton. This is a thing in Songs of Syx and in other city-builders, this should be a thing in Victoria 3.
By far, the most egregious error is with farms. Why can't there be production methods which switch farms from grain/rye/whatever to fabric? Linen is literally grown everywhere. There should be PMs that allow farms to output wood or ethanol/fuel, which is something important as that's how Brazil got its money. Rimworld does this pretty well where you can even cultivate rats that make fuel. Unrealistic as that is, there need to be ways that show how farms diversified their crop and modified themselves through the 19th and 20th centuries.
In both SoS and Rimworld, I can basically 'make' my own production methods by setting how efficiently something can be made and how many ppl can work on it. We should be able to 'make' our own production method by setting which input goods it takes in, setting which secondary production goods it creates, and how many ppl will be employed by it. For example, I should be able to make clothes factories that trade fabric for dye if I'm a dye-poor nation and I can't trade for it.
Part 3: Removal or Improvement of Warfare
The Anno series used to have ground warfare in the past. Now, it doesn't. Unless Victoria 3 gets a more realistic interpretation of how wars were fought, they honestly should remove it from the game. The game is honestly less than the sum of its parts bc of how bad it feels to play when doing warfare. Anno 1800 removed ground warfare even though it was a staple through the series with even Anno 1701 DS having ground warfare. However, they removed it because it didn't add anything to the game. However, they kept naval warfare. Naval warfare in 1800 is good and somewhat approximates real-life naval warfare. They kept that in the game as it added more and showed how powerful the navy was back in the 19th century.
Songs of Syx, on the other hand, has really good land warfare and is basically Total War light with better logistics. Your economy really ties into your armies as they will revolt if you can't supply them. However, if you have good tech/your armouries are at full employment and you can crap out armour by the thousands, you can crap out thousands of fully armoured troops that will crush everything in their path. This shows that either of these features can be tenable in a city-builder game.
Victoria 3 has half-assed warfare and would honestly be better if they removed it from the game as there's nothing worse than your ally joining the other side and then reloading bc you can't even do the classic, 'Welp, time to micro the hell out of this war'. Warfare doesn't really add anything in Victoria 3 and if the rumours about warfare being too computationally intensive are true, it should just be removed.
Victoria 3 really is toeing the line between a Grand Strategy game and an economics sim. However, the game directors really want to go in the direction of an economics sim and the mechanics need to be changed in order for it to be an economics sim rather than a GSG. Like, if it can't depict some of the stuff that happened in the 19th century, at least make the economics part of the game really good.
Also, play Songs of Syx. It's quite possibly the best city-builder in the genre.

First Previous
Chapter 2: Now Is Found
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The moment the Into the Black entered Sol, the human’s home system, various transmissions and radio signals poured in. At first, the captain and the rest of the crew thought that humanity was well and truly alive. But upon closer inspection of the deluge of signals they were receiving, they realized they were nothing more than automated warnings, echoes, and ghost signals bouncing around the countless derelict ships, stations, habitats, and arcologies that surrounded nearly every world and moon in the system. The place was a mass grave, far greater than any of the previous systems. In fact, this system was the most developed Ohmata had ever seen. The Galactic Union’s capital is the most advanced system in the GU, and it pales compared to the level of development of the human home system!
The sheer amount of death and destruction was frightening. Entire fleets worth of ships clumped together in the void of space. Their own mass creating a small gravity, pulling them together and fashioning massive hulks. While also creating hazardous clouds of metal debris, more than a few moving fast enough to rip the Black to shreds, should they not be vigilant. Constructs the size of cities floated aimlessly, stuck within the confines of the star’s influence. Mobile defense platforms, which once bristled with the finest weapons humanity could field, lay battered and broken amongst the many wrecks that called Sol home. Humanity did not go down without a fight, that much was for certain. If anyone ever called them cowards, Ohmata would simply show them the recorded footage of their home system to prove the naysayers otherwise.
There looked to be more metal strewn about from the battles and destroyed ships alone than in every GU fleet combined, and more than a few worlds, too. The difference in the ships was obvious. The human vessels were boxy, utilitarian. They did their jobs, and they did them well. Many of which appeared to be nothing more than massive guns someone built a ship around, then put more guns on that.
The Nemesis were different; they weren’t boxy and rigid angles like the humans, but not totally smooth either. They had a far more organic look with multiple bends and curves, but the surfaces seemed to be rough and bumpy, and unlike the human ships, almost none were symmetrical. But though they were asymmetrical, there existed patterns in the various derelicts. As if they were variations of preexisting models, updated and expanded upon with time. In comparison, most GU ships were a happy medium. They had the bends and curves like the Nemesis, but were neatly symmetrical like the human ships.
Looking past the destruction and death, the system was fairly average. Four rocky worlds, four gas giants, and several smaller bodies here and there. The gas giants still had the broken remains of floating cities scattered across them, while their moons contained colonies and stations galore. But what was most interesting were the third and fourth rocky worlds. The fourth one had depressingly little green on it. It was mostly red, with an occasional white streak indicating clouds. It was highly developed, ruined cities ranged across its surface freely. But it bore the marks of war none the less. It would be a prime candidate for collecting samples, as long as the surface wasn’t too hazardous. Humanity did have a fetish for nuclear annihilation towards their end, after all.
The third planet, the third planet was something else. It was a grey husk devoid of life. Its moon had a massive crater denting its facade, with many smaller ones marking its surface. They stood out prominently. Fresh wounds of war contrasted against natural meteor strikes. The debris from the lunar surface and whatever had caused the impact was already starting to form the semblance of a ring around the planet. And like everywhere else, the surrounding space was choked with battle debris, though most had collected in the planet’s “proto ring”. There was so much debris that they could barely scan the planet, and what parts they could get to was so irradiated that a signal couldn’t penetrate from such a distance. Which meant if they wanted to scan the home world of these legendary humans, they would have to get closer. Which, frankly, was currently impossible.
“Nix’Fa, can you maneuver through that debris field?” Ohmata asked, while peering down at her console.
“No ma’am. A shuttle may get through, but it won’t have any of the equipment necessary to scan the planet. At least, not at any reasonable rate,” Nix’Fa replied. She, too, was looking over her console at potential flight paths.
First Lieutenant Qhaax spoke up from her station. “We may not need to actually scan the planet to learn more about humanity, captain. Most of the planet is a flattened, irradiated death pit, but the debris field around it still contains warships from both sides, some in remarkable condition. In fact, several derelicts appear to still have power, even after thousands of years. We may be able to board them using a shuttle and extract data from any intact computer systems we find. And while not exactly human, there is a Nemesis ship relatively close to the edge of the field. It would be a good first target.”
“Then we’ll change our plan to that. Qhaax, contact Kitern and tell her to get her marines suited up, send a techy or two and some researchers with them as well. You’ll have to contact Tentzonta to get her to let some of her engineers loose for once, and Glevar for her researchers. Though you won’t have to convince her, she’ll be jumping at the opportunity. Nix’Fa, start plotting them a course, and we’ll go from there, understood?”
The two responded with a crisp, yes ma’am, and got to work on their respective tasks.
-
“Kitern, can you hear me?” Ohmata’s voice called out from Kitern’s suit’s comms.
“Loud and clear, cap, whatcha need?” Commander Kitern responded as she stowed away several more energy cells for her weapon. She was a digitigrade, feline like mammal known as a Lioranian, with thick paw like hands that held deadly claws within them. They were still thin and nimble enough to manipulate objects accurately, but most importantly, pull a trigger. Her kind also had a slightly elongated snout, long tail, and top forward facing ears. Their eyes were dark, but a few bore mutations which lightened the iris to a sky blue. And their pupils are vertical, but would dilate periodically to give better depth perception and low light visibility. Her species’ coats ranged from a dark tan to a bright yellow gold and had multiple coat patterns of varying intensities. She personally had a dusty tan coat with slight stripe markings originating from her spine, but quickly fading as they reached around to her abdomen and chest.
“You already have a basic rundown about what to do. But I just wanted to remind you, we marked an entrance for you through some old battle damage on a derelict Nemesis ship that is close to the edge of the debris field. Enter, make your way to the power source, secure the area, and set up a pressurized zone if possible so the techies can work in peace. If you can’t, oh well, they can work in their suits. Also, you see anything living, as unlikely as that is, don’t go shooting it. Try to capture or reason with it, but if it does anything stupid, then do what you and your girls do best.”
Kitern smiled maliciously. “Aye, aye, captain. We’ll keep the civvies alive and kick’n, get the goods and be back in no time.”
“Then I leave the rest to you. Oh, try not to mess with the shuttle’s controls while it’s on autopilot this time. It’ll be weaving through a debris field too compact to get the Black into. Any rescue efforts will take a long time, longer than what you’ll have, so don’t touch the throttle like last time!” Ohmata raised her voice jokingly, playfully reminding Kitern of the last time they were on a shuttle together in such conditions.
“Ha! Dontcha worry, I’ll be in the back. Onsa will be in the pilot’s seat for this go. She’s a better flyer anyways,” Kitern played.
“Alright then, get done and come back, preferable alive. Ohmata out.” There was a click as Ohmata closed the channel.
“Hmph, always do.” Kitern had been staring at a random wall while talking to Ohmata. With the call over, she turned to her squad. “Alright girls, get your shit together and get to the shuttle. Oh, and keep your hands to yourself, Hran is coming along, I don’t want any complaints from him, or hands where they shouldn’t be, got it?” she barked, eyeing each of the three other marines, more specifically the youngest two.
“What if he lets us?” one of said marines asked jokingly.
“It’ll be a cold day on Ca’tab before that happens, Asteli,” Kitern replied.
“You never know, we might just wear him down finally, right Gre’Namra?” the perky Venanian replied.
“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Namra, and I doubt it. Men like to be wined and dined. Take them out, pay for a fancy meal, maybe buy them something. You know, the usual,” her counterpart, a Drae’Ildan, responded.
Kitern sighed. “Or how about not harassing anyone and act like a decent sentient, you hornbags? Now, shut it and get to the shuttle. Dentala you’ll have your work cut out for you keeping track of these two today.”
“Not as big of a job as keeping track of you, I pity Onsa,” Dentala said as she lifted a heavy kinetic slugger with a red hand, another Venanian.
Kitern chuffed deeply, her species version of a chuckle. “Me too! But, you might wanna put on a glove before we go out. Might help with the whole vacuum thing.” Dentala looked at her hand, surprised that she had forgotten it, before slipping one on. It attached to her bracer and made an airtight seal, forming an armored gauntlet. With that, the four marines left to join their fifth member in the shuttle.
As they left the locker room, Asteli mumbled under her breath. “We wouldn’t do that. We’re not assholes,” she said, addressing Kitern’s assertion of harassment.
“Well, you sound like one,” Gre’Namra replied quietly. After that, they kept their heads down and trudged along with their commanding officer.
A short jaunt later, they were passing through the hangar bay’s airlock. They were greeted by the Black’s only two shuttles. One, small and cramped, meant for scanning dangerous locations that they couldn’t get to with the ship. Logically, that would mean it was best suited to scan Earth. But even its equipment was not powerful enough to breach the radiation. Not without descending into the planet's atmosphere and becoming so irradiated they would practically glow in the dark. And while they could get Aphosi to pilot the shuttle remotely, its scanners aren't able to scan such a broad area like an entire planet. They were more meant to target small, specific locations.
The second shuttle was much larger. It was built to transport supplies and the handful of rovers they had in storage, to make excursions to planets. The smaller shuttle had permanently extended wings and large thrusters on the rear. The larger of the two, simply dubbed Shuttle One, could fold its wings. And had a variety of thrusters located across the ship for better maneuverability in space, and atmospheric thrusters embedded in the center of each wing for flight in atmo. But it also had two large engines in the back for forward thrust, just above its rear ramp.
Walking over to shuttle one, Onsa, the other Lioranian in the squad, was already waiting for them in the pilot’s seat. In the rear seating area were two engineers and two scientists, wearing grey, lightly armored EVA suits that looked to be made of cloth, but were instead a variety of advance polymers and flexible but insulative materials. Most of the helmet was a large, one way transparent material, allowing for increased awareness while sacrificing protection. In comparison, the marine’s helmets had no exterior window, instead a suite of miniature sensors embedded in their black armored helmets allowed them to see through an internal display screen. The helmets appeared to be smooth metal from a distance, only up close could you see the microscopic sensors embedded in them.
The marine’s suits held many of the same features as the civilians, but were black and had thick armored plates over vital areas and on select parts of their extremities, with thinner, non-metal armor segments filling in the gaps. Both suit types had an array of pockets and hideaways, each holding their respective tools of the trade. Regardless of the accessories, or level of protection, each was specially crafted to accommodate for the unique physiologies of the different species.
Had the ship and its equipment not made with each of their species in mind, they would have worn generic multi species suits. Instead of the pre-built features tailored for their specific anatomy, they would be covered with a thick insulated, pliable material that fitted over the horns, tails, and crests and shrank until it was tightly pressed against every nook and cranny. Aside from personalized helmets, each species’ leg sections and gloves/gauntlets catered for whether they were plantigrade, digitigrade, or for how many digits they may possess.
Hran being a male Venanian, had small horns jutting out from his temples. But because his horns were so small, his helmet did not need any special features. Thus was fairly plain. It looked like a sphere that had been slightly squished in on the sides. Unlike the females of his species, who had much larger, curved horns, their helmets were marked with two twin armored segments sticking up like antenna. Otherwise, their helmets were just as “stubby” as his, for their flatter faces. At least, in comparison to the other species onboard.
The Shednae with their elaborate head crests and long faces, had a stubby mohawk like metal protrusion for their crests to fit in, and longer helmets to account for their heads. The Drae’Ildan’s helmets were similar to the Shednae. In fact, they could be mistaken for one another if not for the lack of a head crest. Lastly, the Lioranian helmets were quite plain, aside from the extended “snout” for their slightly longer faces and two nubs to house their ears located on the top of their heads.
Those with tails were likewise afforded a special area to put them, instead of the shrinking material normal for such species. The Shednae have a small knob like space for their short tails. While the Venanians and Lioranians had long thin tails, they could be coiled in the suit. Drae’Ildan suits had a much longer and thicker tail section that looked burdensome but was quite flexible. Their suits were also equipped with a much larger array of sensors to assist them, as the Drae’Ildan’s natural sensory organs were significantly dulled in such tight confines.
“I see the grunts have finally made their appearance. Why did you bother bringing so many guns with you? It’s a derelict that has been floating dead in space for thousands of cycles. There won’t be anything living on board.”, one of the engineers nagged, as the marines ducked into the shuttle. Though her helmet was on, it was clear she was a part of engineering by the orange stripe running along the left of her suite, and left sleeve. Mimicking their uniforms.
“And a fine hello to you Kass, you too, Hran,” Kitern said as she sat down across from the two Venanians and buckled in. Hran simply nodded silently. Kitern continued, “And as for your question, we have no idea what we’ll find. You want to be stuck out in space with no way of protecting yourself if something is there? Yeah, I’m sure it’s empty too. Doesn’t mean I’m taking any chances.” Kass snorted at her reply.
“Shavizi, Jurwa, what about you two, think we’ve over prepared?” Kitern asked the two scientists to her left. Their stripes were blue.
“One can never be too prepared! Though the heavy slugger seems a bit excessive, but as long as you don’t drop it on me, I have no complaints,” Jurwa, a Shednae, said gleefully, practically bouncing in her seat.
“I agree, organic enemies aside. The ship may have automated defenses still functioning. If so, they will have to be dealt with accordingly.” Shavizi added. Yet another Venanian.
“See Kass, they get it,” Kitern grinned smugly underneath her helmet as she leaned back and buckled herself in.
As the others sat down and buckled in, Onsa turned in her seat to see if they were all ready. Everyone confirming they were. She turned back around and started up the shuttle. Quickly putting it into autopilot, but still keeping her hands on the controls just in case. The shuttle slipped out of the bay, passing through the atmospheric retention field, and pitching down and to the left, heading for the derelict Nemesis ship.
As the debris field is so dense and dangerous, the Into the Black was several hundred kilometers away, clear of any potential danger. As such, the trip would take around five minutes before they reached the field, another six to navigate the debris, as it was so hazardous. The Nemesis ship in question was near the edge of the debris field, but still mostly intact, with some power readings emanating from within, a perfect target for research.
-
“We’re coming alongside it now. Once we have successfully magnetized to its hull with the docking clamps, I’ll decompress the shuttle and you can open him up,” Onsa called out, just barely turning her head back in their direction.
Kitern activated her comms so everyone could hear her clearly once the air was siphoned out. “Gotcha. Scans show two distinct points of power readings. Both look to be in the same place, or at least really damn close. We’ll take a right once we get into the ship and follow the corridor until it leads to a three-way intersection. Then we make a left, then a right, and we’ll be on track. The room in question will be along that corridor. Keep your eyes and sensors open for anything that looks Nemesis-y.”
“Oh, like the entire ship?” Kass chimed in.
Kitern rolled her eyes. “Onsa, give a countdown.”
Onsa nodded her head. “Affirmative. Decompression commencing in three… two… one… starting.” There was an audible hiss that slowly faded away as the air in the shuttle was pulled back into storage tanks for later use. “Decompression complete, safe to open the door,” she confirmed over their comms.
“Opening door. Don’t go floating off,” Kitern joked as she pressed a button near the hatch, causing it to slide open silently. Before them was a gaping hole in the side of what looked like a ship that had grown large warts. The human beacons had mentioned that the Nemesis ships weren’t smooth, but the reality was a bit more unsettling up close. The humans weren’t sure why the Nemesis ships were so… bumpy. But they knew it wasn’t actually part of the building process, as newly refurbished or repaired Nemesis vessels lacked the warty exterior. But they had seen no importance in investigating the reason, as they had no tactical or structural advantage. Humanity theorized they were damage, but what could cause metal to ripple and bubble? So it remains a mystery to this day.
Kitern lifted a foot, causing the magnetic lock on that boot to disengage automatically, then re-engage when she put pressure on it. Allowing her to walk forward until she was looking down into the hole. Kitern put a foot on the lip of the shuttle, and bent forward, pushing herself into the opening.
As Kitern floated into the ship, she could see the corridors were circular, with strange partitions along the edges. The partitions didn’t seem to move or close, so she guessed they were more decorative support beams than actual doorways. A second later, she put out a hand to stop herself from colliding with the far wall, and pushed downward, boots magnetizing to the floor. Upon magnetizing, she immediately lifted her weapon. It was a small energy-based firearm, similar in size and function to an SMG.
Looking down both directions of the corridor showed nothing of interest other than more of those strange support beams and closed bulkhead doors on either end. She noted the twisted metal and battle damage in the corridor caused by whatever had impacted the hull.
Before everyone had touched down, she started making her way toward their objective. She continued on until she reached the bulkhead door at the end of the corridor. It was not fully closed, only partially, allowing someone to grip between the two sections and pull them apart. She did just that. As the door slowly opened, Dentala came up behind her and lent her strength to the task. Grunting in exertion, they pulled the door apart until they could easily walk through. Kitern silently fist bumped Dentala on the shoulder in thanks before she continued on, weapon held at the ready.
As they proceeded through the derelict, signs of battle began to appear. At first, it was only a few scorch marks or kinetic impact craters on the wall. Then, what looked like dried blood from some ancient creature. It had aged into a sickly dark green color with a hint of yellow. A quick scan showed that no genetic material could be retrieved, it had long degraded into nothing. Though some sort of information could certainty be gleamed from the stain if they searched long enough, but the sample was unimportant, as it was not a focus of the mission. Pressing on, the signs of battle intensified, as well the amount of spilled blood. At one point, an entire corridor looked like it had been painted in viscera.
The team could only speculate on what had happened. Was it a mutiny? Civil war between surviving Nemesis forces trapped in the Sol system? Or perhaps the humans had something to do with it? But there was one thing on everyone’s mind as they walked through the ancient carnage. Where were the bodies? They hadn’t passed a single corpse yet, just blood stains.
“Captain Kitern, do you suppose we can slow down and so I can scan the ship a bit more? I can’t get a proper reading while moving like this,” Shavizi requested from the back. She had some sort of tool and was waving it back and forth across the surface of the corridor.
“You can scan the ship when we stop, and that will be when we get to those power signals. And once we make sure the place is secure,” Kitern responded, weapon still up at her shoulder as she swept the hallway.
“If that is your order,” Shavizi relented, but still attempted to scan everything they passed, incomplete or not.
It didn’t take long before they arrived at where the Black said the power readings were. They had weaved about the ship a bit more than desired. Several bulkhead doors were completely sealed shut, causing them to detour, but they managed it in the end. They were now standing in front of a large single door; it was nowhere near as large as the bulkhead doors that sealed off entire corridors, but it was large enough to allow passage with room to spare on all sides.
It too bore damage from whatever conflict had occurred within the ship. The door’s access panel was damaged, and the surrounding wall panels warped. Preventing them from directly interacting with the door.
“This is the place; my scanner is already picking up power readings from here. Hran, be a dear and get out the interface tools. We’ll see if this door has power first, instead of brute forcing our way through first thing,” Kass stated. Hran silently carried out his orders, unpacking a variety of tools they may need.
After pulling off several of the panels to see if they allowed access to the door’s wiring, they eventually found the right one. Sadly, a closer inspection revealed that the door, like nearly the entire ship, had no power, meaning it couldn’t be opened by the press of a button like they wanted.
“Oh well, do what you do best, Kitern,” Kass shrugged as she and Hran began packing up their tools.
“Eh, worth a shot. Privates, if you please,” Kitern motioned to the door for the two young marines to take a crack at it. They both replied with a crisp, yes ma’am, and quickly got to work trying to pry open the door.
It took a little more effort than they thought, but over time it slowly slid further and further open, until Gre’Namra wedged herself in between the door and frame, and used her entire body to push it open. Asteli joined in when it widened enough for the both of them. Together, they pushed it fully open, the door slowly recessing into the wall. Revealing an old dusty room with several long bed-like pods.
“Thank you, girls. Now clear the room while you’re at it. Though by now any baddies would have chewed you up,” Kitern ordered. The two did just that. Thankfully, the entire room could be seen from the doorway, so there really wasn’t any clearing. Just looking behind the pods for anything not so friendly.
During their little search, they noticed one bed had several lights flickering on its side. They pointed it out to the others. Immediately, Kass and Shavizi pushed them aside to get to it. Drooling over it like children being offered sweets.
“I wonder what this is?! After so many thousands of years, it still has power. I thought those beacons were incredible enough, but this is something else!” Kass said to no one in particular.
Shavizi had been scanning the bed, as well as its neighbors, while Kass looked it over. “Hmm. The pods have a sliding covering that encloses the occupants. All the others are open, yet this one is closed.” Shavizi tapped at her scanner a bit. “Wait… the other energy signature… it’s coming from inside it!” she said astonished, while moving a hand over the top of the slid that covered the pod. As she did, thousands of years’ worth of dust floated away from where she dragged her hand. Allowing a small amount of light to break free from within.
Noticing this, Shavizi leaned forward and peered inside the pod. Her eyes went wide as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing. “GET BACK! DON’T TOUCH IT!” she screamed, but was too late. Kass, who was now crouched down near the base of the bed, had pressed a finger to one of the flickering lights just as Shavizi yelled her warning. All Kass had time to do was turn her head up and mutter a confused, “huh?”, before the covering of the pod slid open, unleashing its occupant onto the galaxy.
First Previous
Hello once again! First things first. If you see the name Osan, please point it out to me. It is supposed to be Onsa, but the program I use to write the story changed the name to Osan for some reason. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger! This chapter is meant to help further detail the various species and their features, and of course set up for many things to come!
Also, in my last story. I had a lot of flashback sequences to add in fluff and give backstory to the MC. While I don't want overuse it in this story, I do want to have flashback esque sequences that are basically just battles of the Human-Nemesis war (recorded combat footage recovered from human ships and installations), introduce new characters, or maybe give further development to preexisting characters. The flashback sequences will be called Orphan: Tales of the Past and won't begin until a certain point in the main story. Once that point is reached, the side stories will pop up every once in a while in place of the main story chapters. Or, if I fell as if its safe to push the story ahead, you'll get the main story and a side story in one week.
That's it for the week folks! See you next week!

My name is Thomas Saul, I am a member of the Skatin Nations tribe in British Columbia, Canada. I am of Salish, and European descent. I began this project around May 2021 when news broke about the Kamloops residential school where the remains of 215 children were allegedly found. As a teenager I briefly Attended Norkam secondary in Kamloops, and have friends and family who still live in Kamloops, so this hit close to home. Upon my research into The origin of this residential school I found that Israel wood Powell, a Freemason, was the Indian Superintendent at the time it was built. Four generations of my family attended residential schools, some in Port Alberni and some Mission City, so naturally I wanted to know more. I have come to the conclusion that Colonisation, Freemasonry, and residential schools go hand in hand. Its a Fact, both the United States and Canada would not exist without Freemasonry, Therefore many Freemasons played a leading role in the genocide of Indigenous Americans. “Freemasonry, as it exists in various forms all over the world, has a membership estimated at around 6 million worldwide.”
Genocide: The UN definition, which is used in international law, states that genocide is: "any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnic, racial or religious group," as such:(a) "Killing members of the group;"(b) "Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;"(c) "Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;"(d) "Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;"(e) "Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group."
The supreme governor of the Church of England is the head of the Church of England, a position which is vested in the British monarch. The father of the Royal Proclamation of 1763 King George III was not a Freemason, George III had announced that the colonies would no longer seize Native lands or purchase them without treaties. Starting in 1763, no English settlers could legally travel through or acquire land west of the Appalachian Mountains. The proclamation specifically stated that Native Americans had been subject to “great Frauds and Abuses” and that their sovereignty should be protected. Freemason Thomas Jefferson in his list of 27 grievances accused the king saying “He has excited domestic Insurrections among us, and has endeavoured to bring on the Inhabitants of our Frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known Rule of Warfare, is an undistinguished Destruction, of all Ages, Sexes, and Conditions.’’ Thomas Jefferson did this to build support for the revolutionary act that the Declaration of Independence would represent. It was suspected that the Freemasons were behind the Boston Tea Party, the American War of Independence, the french revolution, and Napoleonic France triggering British prime minister William Pitt’s, the Unlawful Societies Act of 1799 where he aimed to see Freemasonry abolished. Some Freemasons addressed Pitt explaining how vast their membership is and its connection to Royalty and As a result, Freemasons were excluded from the Act, but lodges were obliged to return a list of members to the local Clerk of the Peace every year, which are recorded in the Quarter Sessions.1. King George IV reigned from the death of George III until 1830, he was the first of many British Freemason kings and was the head of the Anglican church. William IV, Edward VII, Edward VIII, George VI were also masons. In the 209 years since the Union of the Premier and Ancient Grand Lodges to form the United Grand Lodge of England, a member of the Royal Family has been its Grand Master for more than 150.
A Freemason warrant of constitution is the Document which authorizes or gives a Warrant to certain persons therein named to organize and constitute a Lodge, Chapter, or other Masonic Body. The first Warrant for a military Lodge was issued by the Grand Lodge of Ireland in 1732 to the First British Foot Regiment. Within a few years the Grand Lodge of Scotland and both the Grand Lodge of England, Modern and Ancient were issuing Warrants to military Lodges. In 1733, 18 men gathered at the Bunch of Grapes Tavern on King Street in Boston and organized the first Masonic Lodge in North America. The first record of a military Lodge Warrant being issued in the new world happened during the French and Indian Wars. It was issued by the then Provincial Grand Master at Boston to the 28th British Foot in an expedition against the French at Crown Point. Edward Cornwallis became founder in December 1748, of a military Lodge in his regiment, the 20th. Foot, No. 63, on the registry of the Grand Lodge of Ireland. The warrant was issued to Lord George Sackville, Lieut. Col. The Hon. Edward Cornwallis and Captain Milburne. When in 1759 this famous regiment gained new honors at the battle of Minden, that name was immediately adopted as the name of the lodge. Cornwallis’ second lodge was founded in Halifax early in 1750 or possibly earlier, under a “deputation” or dispensation from Major Erasmus James Philipps of the 40th. Regiment at Annapolis Royal, Provincial Grand Master for Nova Scotia under Henry Price of Boston. Of this lodge, known as the First Lodge, Cornwallis was the first Master. Cornwallis In October 1749, issued an order that came to be known as the Scalping Proclamation. His government would pay a bounty to anyone who killed a Mi’kmaq adult or child in a bid to drive them off mainland Nova Scotia.
Sir William Johnson, an agent for the British Indian Department met Joseph Brant, a 9-year-old Mohawk boy while doing a land deal with Joseph's father King Hendrick. Sir William eventually started a common-law relationship with Joseph's sister Molly giving him incredible power over her tribe. Johnson groomed young Joseph Brant to become a loyal warrior and eventually leader of the six nations tribe. At 13 years old Joseph accompanied Johnson on his first tour with the military. Missionary Samuel Occham, a student of Eleazar Wheelock (father of The Great Awakening) procured a 19-year-old Joseph Brant to attend Moore's Indian charity school in Lebanon Connecticut with the blessings and charity of William Johnson. Freemasons Benjamin Franklin and Benedict Arnold had also donated money to Wheelock’s cause. William was the British Crown's first superintendent of Indian Affairs for the colony in 1756 and Joseph Brant was appointed as a captain in the Indian Department. Many Freemason colonists were high-ranking military who waged many wars on the Indigenous American population, scientists say so many Indigenous people were killed as a result of colonization it caused a mini ice age. After the North American wars, many Freemasons took positions as Indian agents helping to remove and segregate the native population. Anyone who wanted access to the six nations had to go through Indian agent Sir William Johnson and his family which includes the Brant family and the Kerr family through various marriages. At one point Johnson proposed that the moor's Indian Charity School move from Lebanon, Connecticut, to Johnstown but it never happened. Eventually, Johnson withdrew the support for Wheelock. In a letter Wheelock had suggested to Lord Dartmouth "The Nations will not make war with us while their Children, and especially the Children of their chiefs are with us” Dartmouth college claims that In 1766, Johnson was invited to join the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (SPG), the largest and most influential Anglican missionary society in the 18th-century British-Atlantic world. He began working to place Anglican missionaries like Freemason and bishop Charles Inglis, rather than Congregationalist and Presbyterian ones, among the Six Nations. I believe Moore's dubbed “the great design” was the original model for the Mohawk Institute and the Canadian residential school system.
On April 10, 1766 Sir William Johnson was raised to the position of Master Mason of St Patrick's Lodge No. 4 where many Freemason Indian agents like John Butler, Guy Johnson, Sir John Johnson, William Johnson Kerr, Christian Daniel Claus, Gilbert Tice, George Croghan and A protégé of Reverend Eleazar Wheelock, Rev. Samuel Kirkland attended. In 1770 Johnson's fellow St Patrick's lodge Freemason Rev. Samuel Kirkland coincidentally parted ways with Wheelock and Moors charity school. Eventually Kirkland founded the Hamilton-Oneida Academy as a boys' school in central New York. In 1776 Joseph Brant was initiated into the Freemason fraternity in London England where it is rumoured a benefactor of Moors charity school king George III gave Brant his masonic apron. When Brant returned to Canada he became affiliated with Lodge No. 11 at the Mohawk village on the Grand River, of which he was the first Worshipful Master, and later affiliated with Barton Lodge No. 10. Joseph Brant invited fellow Freemason and grandson of Eleazar Wheelock to be a minister to the Mohawk. To Joseph It was imperative that Freemason Rev. Davenport Phelps was made minister of the Mohawks, so he reminded the Bishop, through Sir John, of the pledge which the Archbishop of Canterbury had made to him in the presence of the King, that whenever the Indians, by the erection of a church, should be ready for religious instruction, he would do all in his power to supply their wants. A Freemason named Rev. Robert Addison helped make this happen. Mr Addison, a relative of William Johnson, had been minister to the Six Nations and Joseph Brant and Freemason John Norton were his translators. Freemason Reverend Davenport Phelps and Jarvis Wheelock, the brother of Eleazar, were invited to Canada and granted land by Freemason and founder of the family compact John Graves Simcoe, the man behind the Simcoe patent. Mrs Simcoe in her Diary says, “In April of the following year Mary Brant (sister of Freemason Joseph Brant and common-law wife of Freemason Indian agent Sir William Johnson) successfully prescribed a favourite Indian remedy, the root of sweet flag (acorus calamus), for Governor Simcoe, who had been extremely ill with a persistent cough. The medicine relieved his malady “in a very short time. This brought the Brant family and Simcoe family close together. Davenport Phelps became the Worshipful Master of The Barton Lodge under Freemason William Jarvis and he was the first chaplain at the Mohawk Chapel. Davenport was the leader of many Indian agents who were members of The Barton Lodge. I suspect Davenport's mission was to help with the so-called Indian problem.
Chief Joseph Brant has been accused on many occasions of selling off land for his own enrichment and in a lot of cases he sold land to Freemasons. He granted 999-year leases to many families, the Nelles, the Young’s, the families of Adam Young UE, his three sons, Lieutenant John Young (Indian department) UE, Sergeant Daniel Young UE, and Private Henry Young UE, along with Captain Henry William Nelles UE and his families (Rev. Abraham Nelles). Many of these Indian agents were members of The Barton Lodge. Both Captain Henry William Nelles UE and Adam Young UE, fourth great-grandfather of Robert Collins McBride UE, were also the first Freemasons to settle in Haldimand County. Freemasons Robert Kerr and Rev. Robert Addison, William Kennedy Smith, also had land there. "There were very few outright legal sales of our land; 90 per cent of the leased land has never been paid for or paid to Six Nations," according to a research document prepared by Six Nations. Many Freemasons were involved with the Simcoe patent and the Haldimand Proclamation. Lieutenant Governor John Graves Simcoe stated that the Indians could not lease their land since British subjects could lease land only from British subjects. Freemason William Jarvis signed the Haldimand proclamation, Freemason Thomas Ridout surveyor-general was behind the Ridout survey, Freemason Sir Peregrine Maitland lieutenant governor informed them that they had no title to the northern part of the grant, Freemason John Butler acted as an agent of purchase on behalf of the government, Freemason chief John Brant) and Freemason Robert Johnson Kerr finally went to England to lobby on behalf of the Six Nations.
Freemasons King George IV, and King William IV, reigned from January 29 1820 to June 20 1837. The idea of residential school was brought forward by the Freemason Governor of Upper Canada, Sir Peregrine Maitland, within the context of a proposal he made in 1820 to the Colonial Office "for ameliorating the condition of the Indians in the neighbourhood of our settlements." Maitland's proposal contained most of the civilising concepts and techniques that would be adopted in the next three decades. The American Freemason, President Andrew Jackson succeeded in pushing the Indian Removal Act through the United States Congress in 1828 leading to the trail of tears. John Brant solicited help from the New England company to build the Mohawk institute, the first residential school in Canada. The mohawk institute operated from 1831 to June 27, 1970. John Brant appointed Rev. Abraham Nelles son of Freemason Robert Nelles as principal of the Mohawk Institute. Abraham after over 30 years was succeeded by Freemason Robert Ashton. Oronhyatekha aka Peter Martin was also a Freemason and played an important role in the development of the Mohawk Institute. The Arthur of the Historical sketch of the Barton Lodge, No. 6, G.R.C., A.F. and A.M., says “the name of Brother John Brant is connected with important events in the history of Canadian Masonry.” John Brant is responsible for the formation of at least 12 residential schools in Ontario, while Freemason Israel Powell the superintendent of Indian affairs in British Columbia Powell “was able to boast that the government had established seventeen Indian schools, one for each year in office.”. Powell sought to establish several boarding schools across the province and particularly pushed for creating a school in Kamloops to address communities in the province’s interior.The school opened in Kamloops in 1890 and became one of the largest residential schools operated by Indian Affairs. The Freemason Organisation is vicariously liable for all abuses in those residential schools.
In 1837 a Rebellion in Upper Canada was led by William Lyon Mackenzie, who was a fierce critic of Simcoe’s Family Compact, an elite clique of businessmen and many Freemasons. Mackenzie opposed a system of land grants that favored settlers from Britain. Many Freemasons such as William Botsford Jarvis and Sir Allen Napier Macnab who was Joint premier of the Province of Canada helped stop this rebellion. Sir Allen Macnab was succeeded by Freemason Sir John A. Macdonald as Joint Premier. This Rebellion of 1837, this triggered the 6th generation Freemason Lord Durham to write The Durham Report, he was appointed governor in chief of British North America. In his 1839 Report on the Affairs of British North America, he recommended that Upper and Lower Canada be united under a single Parliament, with responsible government. In 1863 a steamboat named the Brother Johnathan) carried smallpox from San Francisco to British Columbia killing 1/3rd of the Native population. Many Freemasons like Thomas Harris the first mayor of Victoria, Israel Wood Powell who served in the Victoria Rifle Volunteer Corps which was established to protect the colony from the indigenous population, Amor De Cosmos who was the extremely racist editor of The Daily British Colonist, and Ronald J. NcDonell clerk for magistrate Pemberton who forced The Nuu-chah-nulth to leave their camp, escorted by two gunboats. There are many many more who may have purposefully mishandled the smallpox epidemic of 1863. British freemason Edward Jenner created the life-saving smallpox vaccine but on the other hand Freemasons Jeffrey Amherst and Col Henry Bouquet have been accused of distributing smallpox contaminated blankets to their enemies.
As early as 1866 Israel W. Powell, with his colleague Amor De Cosmos, had proposed confederation with the Canadian colonies. Israel Wood Powell, Superintendent of Indian affairs also outlawed potlatching an indigenous ceremony In British Columbia. Following the Lord Durham’s report, Freemason Henry Howard Molyneux Herbert, 4th Earl of Carnarvon proposed The British North America Act, 1867 Under section 91(24) of the Constitution Act, 1867, the federal government has exclusive legislative authority for "Indians, and Lands reserved for the Indians." Of the 36 Fathers of the Canadian confederation, 11 were Freemasons. One being Freemason Sir John A. Macdonald, He was named by the United Grand Lodge of England as their Grand Representative near to the Grand Lodge of Canada. Sir John A. Macdonald took a page from American Freemason Andrew Jackson's book by removing the Indigenous people from their land. He was proud that he was able to subdue the Indigenous people with less blood shed than his American brethren. One Of Macdonald's Legacies is the Canadian Pacific Railway which displaced many tribes across Canada. Sir John A. Macdonald's campaign promise in the 1870s was that he would have a railway built that would link the country from coast to coast. Freemasons Richard Marpole, Sir Sandford Fleming, Sir George J.A. Bury And the Chinese Freemasons of Vancouver and Alberta made Macdonald’s promise come true. As quickly as the railroad was laid Freemason lodges were erected. Louis Riel a Métis hero, led two resistance movements against the Government of Canada and its Freemason Prime Minister, John A. Macdonald. Riel sought to defend Métis rights and identity. The Wolseley expedition was a military force authorized by Sir John A. Macdonald to confront Louis Riel and had been dispatched to Red River under Freemason Colonel Garnet Joseph Wolseley. Another of Mcdonald's legacies is the North West Mounted Police. Macdonald established the N.W.M.P in 1873 which boasted 750 Freemason members in its time. He claimed that “it was intended to have a body of mounted rifles to protect the people from the chance of an Indian war.’’ Meanwhile, The Pacific Scandal, the first major post-Confederation political scandal in Canada, Sir John Macdonald and senior members of his Conservative Cabinet were accused of accepting election funds for the contract to build the C.P rail.
The near completion of the railway allowed troops from eastern Canada to quickly arrive in the territory causing Riel to surrender to Canadian forces. The NWMP barracks was where Louis Riel was detained after his arrest in 1885 for leading the North-West Rebellion. Many Freemasons were involved in the defeat of Louis Riel. The RCMP museum had a display of the noose which hung Riel. Macdonald said this about Riel "He shall die though every dog in Quebec barks in his favor." John A. Macdonald is also one of the fathers of the Canadian Indian act First passed in 1876. In 1879 Freemason Nicholas Flood Davin wrote the Report on Industrial Schools for Indians and Half-Breeds, otherwise known as The Davin Report. An amendment to the Indian Act in 1894 under Freemason Prime Minister Sir Mackenzie Bowell, made attendance at day schools, industrial schools, or residential schools compulsory for First Nations children, resulting in over 100000 Indigenous children being forcefully removed from their families by Indian agents and the RCMP. From 1740 to 1896 The Mexican government's response to the various uprisings of the Yaqui tribe have been likened to genocide particularly under Freemason Porfirio Diaz. Due to slavery and massacre, the population of the Yaqui tribe in Mexico was reduced from 30,000 to 7,000 under Diaz's rule. One source estimates at least 20,000 out of these Yaquis were victims of state murders in Sonora. It was during this period of the conflict that the United States Army fought the last battle of the American Indian Wars, the final battle being the Wounded Knee Massacre December 29, 1890, and in the subsequent Drexel Mission Fight the next day. In recent history the statues of Freemason John A. Macdonald, Freemason Edward Cornwallis, Freemason George Washington, Freemason Lawrence Sullivan Ross, Freemason Robert E. Lee and Andrew Jackson have all been vandalized but no mention of their affiliation to the Freemasons in the news. We can't point fingers at the church or government without first confirming whether or not the accused are Freemasons. The Order of the Eastern Star, Job's Daughters, and Rainbow Girls are masonic fraternities for women such as the daughter, widow, wife, sister, or mother of a Master Mason. All masons will cry out that Freemasonry has nothing to do with what an individual member has done, yet they all praise these men and prop them up as heroes. Freemasons claim to have superior morality compared to the average person, that they are the most honorable men on the planet, yet they refuse to acknowledge their members role in the genocide of the Indigenous Americans.
You may believe Freemasons are irrelevant nowadays but that is far from true. Winston Churchill is regarded as one of the greatest wartime leaders of the 20th century. Churchill was initiated into Studholme Lodge No. 1591 on 24 May 1901. He said of the Pashtun people “all who resist will be killed without quarter,” Pashtun territory was occupied by the British in 1848 and divided into two areas. Winston Churchill's policies caused a famine that claimed more than 3 million Indian lives during the The Bengal famine of 1943. President Harry Truman, known as one of the most dedicated men to have joined Masonry on the morning of August 6, 1945, ordered an American B-29 bomber to drop two atomic bombs over the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The two bombings killed between 129,000 and 226,000 people, most of whom were civilians. John Edgar Hoover, more commonly referred to as J. Edgar Hoover, was an American attorney and director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) Hoover was raised on November 9th 1920 in Federal Lodge No. 1 in Washington D.C. In 1919 Hoover became the head of the Bureau of Investigation's (predecessor of the FBI) new General Intelligence Division. The division was also called the Radical Division because it was the task of the division to find radical elements in American society to monitor and disrupt their activities. The Duke of Kent was initiated as a Freemason in Royal Alpha Lodge No. 16 in London on 16 December 1963. The Duke of Kent, is now UGLE’s longest-serving Grand Master. The Duke’s brother, Prince Michael of Kent, is also a Freemason and is Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of Mark Master Masons, and Provincial Grand Master of the Provincial Grand Lodge of Middlesex. On 6 March 1953, HRH Prince Philip progressed to the Second Degree of Freemasonry, before advancing to the Third Degree on 4 May 1953.
I encourage those who have been affected by the actions of Freemasons to begin a class action lawsuit against this organization in what ever country, state or province you live in and hold Freemasonry accountable for genocide. The first thing a Freemason will say when presented with this evidence is you don't know how masonry operates, that the lodge is not responsible for individual members actions. That is exactly what the Catholic church said before the Canadian Court of Appeal on July 28, 2020 had found the Archdiocese vicariously liable for abuses committed by a civilian employee. I witnessed countless people stand up against the Catholic Church for what they have done and the Pope came to Canada and apologized. Now it's time to turn your sight toward Freemasonry. You must understand that all Freemasons on the American contenent have greatly benefited from the genocide of Indigenous Americans.
“ Prime Minister Justin Trudeau's acceptance of an inquiry's finding that Canada committed genocide against Indigenous people could have tremendous legal impact if a court ever weighs Ottawa's responsibility for crimes against humanity, experts say.”
https://www.ctvnews.ca/canada/trudeau-s-acknowledgment-of-indigenous-genocide-could-have-legal-impacts-experts-1.5457668
"I didn't use the word genocide because it didn't come to mind but I described genocide," Pope Francis told reporters on the papal flight from Iqaluit to Rome on Friday.
https://www.cbc.ca/news/indigenous/pope-francis-residential-schools-genocide-1.6537203
“The very word "secrecy" is repugnant in a free and open society; and we are as a people inherently and historically opposed to secret societies, to secret oaths, and to secret proceedings. We decided long ago that the dangers of excessive and unwarranted concealment of pertinent facts far outweighed the dangers which are cited to justify it.”
― President John F. Kennedy
“President Kennedy issued an Executive Order prohibiting use of facilities on military bases by groups not integrated. The result was to bar Masonic lodges from using the bases.” Masonic Parallels with History - A Chronology of General and Masonic History by Alphonse Cerza. themasonictrowel
THE MILITARY AND FREEMASONRY
Freemasonry in Nova Scotia
Freemasonry at the Two Sieges of Louisbourg 1745 and 1758
Freemasonry in Quebec
Sir William Johnson, the Brant family, the Kerr family and the British Indian Department
MOOR’S INDIAN CHARITY SCHOOL
Mohawk Institute (Mush Hole)
The rebellion of 1837
Manitoba Freemasons
Saskatchewan Freemasons
North-West Rebellion
Provincial Premiers Alberta masons
The Canadian Pacific Railway
Smallpox epidemic of 1862
British Columbia Freemasons
Freemason Prime Ministers
American Freemasons and the genocide of the
Indigenous peoples.
Spanish Freemasons
Royal Freemasons
300 Years of Freemasonry Celebrated at Royal Albert Hall Global Event
Freemasonry according to Masons.
The Fourth Council of Toledo Canon 60 and Indian Residential Schools
Sources
https://docs.google.com/document/d/e/2PACX-1vQ4QiANX3BnEdEwD94FXfh1Nkg_RJ-XN5UhN0_gLX10isR2i08xUziA9ZX7sErUMdp4PTKKPhP0P7F2/pub#h.fpjzhjnusgk1

The Foundations of Humanity 8 (Cultivation) - an NoP fanfic
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Thank you u/SpacePaladin15 for establishing the Nature of Predators Universe, and for allowing Fanfics to flourish!
Warning. This is disgustingly cute and very intimate with lots of touching. You have been warned.
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Memory transcription subject: Valek, Venlil-Human Partnership Program Participant
Date [standardized human time]: August 25th, 2136. Early morning
I knew the heat beside me before I finished dreaming, and I knew the arms around me before my eyes opened. Maeve was huddled against me, nuzzled into my collar wool as she dozed. I dared not move, as I knew she had another hour or more before a full rest.
While planning my extraction, I felt her pull harder and take a deep breath, before opening her eyes.
"Good morning, handsome,"
"Good waking, little leafy green." Maeve pushed her face further into my mane at that. "I know you have a longer sleep than we do, please don't wake up on my account."
"It's ok, I'm doing this as much for me as for you," she whispered, as she pressed her lips to my shoulder.
Maeve pulled herself from me and stretched the length of the bed with a loud groan, before settling back against me on her side, and looked at me with a smile, "I'll be honest you are very comfortable, I could see this becoming a habit."
It was only then I noticed, to my horror, my tail had found its way between us. I hoped she didn't catch on to the implications of my tail curled around her foreleg, but my shaking reply left no questions. "I think I could be convinced."
We giggled to each other, while she reached over and started to idly scratch through the tuft on my chest, to my immense satisfaction. I could only see half of her face around the pillow, but the look from that gleaming green eye was the closest thing to 'predatory' I've ever seen from Maeve.
"Well!" Maeve said with a start, lifting her hand from me, "as lovely as this is, it's time to get up, and I wouldn't mind a snack. Do you still want to try the rec room for art supplies?"
"Oh that would be wonderful! My parents couldn't afford art classes, so I only had public events to really try it."
"You didn't have art in school?"
"Well no, we couldn't afford it, that's what I said."
"Sorry, that's not what I mean," Maeve clarified, muffled through her changing of clothes, "Ok, first off, do the Venlil have a concept of public schooling? Education of subjects deemed necessary, paid for by the state, and free to the parents?."
"Of course we do! You can't have modern civilization without everyone knowing the basics of things like math and science."
"Well for humans, several of those subjects are art."
My ears snapped forward, utterly surprised, "Really?? Why??" I asked as we left the room.
"I'll admit, it is relatively recent; for most of human history, several hundred thousand years at least, artistic expression was something that humans just did, without any assistance or education. There were earlier instances of art being treated like a trade, apprentice learning from journeymen, but I think the earliest examples of formal artistic education were in pre-Christian Rome, so that would be… 3, maybe 4 thousand years ago? At that time and for a long time after, artistic education was only taught to the elite. Not because of pay or profit, but because the wealthy and powerful were cultural leaders and needed to be taught as much about culture as possible, including art."
"The concept of public education has come and gone several times in human history, but our current era started I think in the 1500's, almost 700 years ago, and even then artistic expression only became part of it around 300 years ago, or less. There were a lot of reasons why they included it: social reasons, political reasons, scientific… but it wasn't until after the Satellite Wars that such practices became ubiquitous. So now, almost every living human will have had at least one or two years of formal training in the arts by adulthood, to familiarize them with the concept of expression and creation."
"That's incredible!" I exclaimed as we entered the Mess Hall, to the shock of several Venlil and a few humans nearby, "I mean, Maeve! Your people's warlike history is well documented; why, by the sun and stars, would artistic education be compulsory for a species at war?"
"Like I said, there's a lot of reasons" gathering our food, we found empty seats by the window, "In fact, one of those reasons is precisely to prevent war." My mouth hung agape as I nearly dropped my tray; settling in, Maeve now had my full attention.
"You remember what I said about humans feeling too much?" I did, and the reminder of last waking's events did not help my nerves, but I nodded and Maeve continued all the same between sips of what I now know was coffee, "Humans appear to have incredible impulse, or as the Venlil call it 'instinct', control because we have had to learn and develop effective ways to control it. One of the most effective of which is Expression; to put that emotion out of your body and into the world in some way."
Having finished our meal, we started toward the rec room, "True, this can manifest in… unkind ways such as posturing, fighting, or just yelling, but it can also be expressed in others such as running, talking with someone who listens, and, of course, artistic works."
"So we started to teach our children how to express their imagination and emotions in non-violent ways such as the Arts. Not everyone continues practicing, and very few find professional success, but every human knows enough to understand and participate." The door to the Rec Room slid open in front of us, "Here we are, Valek. You said you checked this out on the first day, so how about you give me the tour?"
It was a large room, about the same as the bathing room including the drying corridor. The walls were lined with full bookshelves, colored boxes, and several large viewing screens with comfortable seating. Several tables made up the interior, some with what appeared to be a Pad-mount attached to a keyboard; some designed for humans, some for Venlil. I saw several pairs already engaged in activities; a mixed group of six were seated and watching what appeared to be a world of cubes, and several pairs appeared to be using their pads together, though I couldn't tell what they were doing.
“I didn't have anyone to show me around last time, so I’m not sure what some of this is. Social media is pretty big on Venlil Prime, so I think these are to communicate with the herd," I said, motioning to the Pad-mounts. “It looks like Humans are as fond of reading as we are, judging by the bookshelves. But I’m not sure what that is,” motioning to the large displays, “I think they're watching a movie? I’ve never seen one like that, though.”
“Oh! They’re playing Minecraft. Interactive media, such as video games, are really big with humans. The one they’re playing is a little more than a hundred years old now, but it never lost its appeal.”
“You said it's interactive? How?”
“Oh you just use the controller to… wait… um…” She seemed to be trying to find out how to begin, “So you told me the Venlil have, like, shows and stuff right? Well, just like those shows take place in a False World where the actions of the actors influence change upon it, video games also take place in a false world. The difference is; your actions in the Real World are interpreted as actions in the False World; it’s like you, the player, are the actor in these shows.”
“That’s so cool! I’ll have to try that sometime.”
Maeve and I explored the room further, I was especially interested in their library; what kinds of stories would I see here? About to pull a large anthology book with what appeared to be a large human holding a lightning bolt, I heard Maeve call from the other corner.
“I think I found the art supplies! So when you did your community art, were you a paint guy or a chalk guy?”
“Oh, chalk please! Most of our public works are temporary, so using something that washes with the rain is very useful.” Their artistic education is complex enough to teach different mediums? Such classes are prohibitively expensive to have, and every human learns this??
“Well I don’t see chalk, but that tells me you prefer a dry medium, so let's try pencil and markers.” Maeve said as she pulled out sheets of paper and two buckets of what I assumed were the art supplies.
We spent the next entire claw working together, drawing what fit our fancy. Maeve told me about the forests of earth, and how her family used to go camping. She explained it was like leaving home, to make a new home, in a place where a home has no right to be. I was still wrapping my head around that when she told me about the clear skies, and how her family would stay up late to see the stars, and share ancient stories about their shapes.
We were silent for a moment while we worked, when I heard Maeve speak from beside me, “Are those your woods from back home?” she asked about my drawing, “It's so colorful! Are these broad colors typical of Venlil styles?”
To the human eye, my work appeared as large swathes of color, with vague shapes representing direction and shape, rather than form. Emotion mixed with reality to create something that gave an impression of overall calm and nostalgia over the representational work.
“I do often see something similar in the parks when others are being creative. I have seen some Venlil try a style that is more detailed, but I like to show what I feel rather than what I see.” I explained, while making another long streak of golden sunbeam.
Maeve asked about my home, and I told her how we lived in a traditional burrow-style house; not an actual burrow, it was above-ground, but it made use of smooth lines and soft corners to lend structural support, spreading more out than up. We still had a 2nd floor, which was where most of our living and sleeping space was, but it looked like barely a mound against the modern stem-style houses, which was what used to be my university apartment. I was just talking about the kitchen on the ground floor when I looked over at what Maeve was working on. To my surprise, she was making an incredibly life-like imagining of our kitchen. It wasn't perfect, our dishes never stacked that high, but this could absolutely be someone else’s kitchen.
“How did you draw that?” I asked, unbelieving.
Maeve giggled as I stared, and answered lightly, “I did a lot of things back home, either as work or hobby, and one of them was room concepts and architectural design. I followed your descriptions as best as I could, with some artistic flavor. Some older human cultures also had burrow homes, so I took ideas from that. What do you think?”
“It’s incredible! This could absolutely be someone's kitchen, though it isn't ours. You even have the berry field in the window!” I was so enthralled by the detail I was seeing, I didn’t notice Maeve’s hand reaching for the work. She pointed to two figures in frame: a Venlil with what was clearly my salt-and-pepper pattern and…
“I’ve given it some thought,” Maeve whispered beside me, “and I think, yes. I would like to keep doing this.”
My heart leapt with joy and and my tail thrashed behind me; if any attempt at subtlety was made I clearly ruined the secret. Maeve smiled broadly, hiding her teeth in a vain attempt to hide her quickly reddening cheeks. We quickly packed up our projects, and I saw Maeve making to throw them away! “What are you doing?”
“Oh, I was…” She paused, not truly having an answer. I walked over and gently, wordlessly, took the sketches from her hand, and filled the space with my own paw. The message received, we exited to the corridor. "You mentioned something about camping, what is that?"
Maeve paused in thought without breaking stride, then asked, "You mentioned your favorite place was taking the road between The Grove and University. If you had the chance to live there, for a few days or a week, would you?"
I thought about this. It's a beautiful place, and I would find great joy in staying there for a time. But I remembered the look of that predator, "No. I know, in my head, that the predators in that forest would leave us alone; I'm certain it would be fine. But no, I don't think I'm brave enough for it."
"It's ok, and I won't ask you to. But Humans would, though that doesn't say much for our judgment." she added with a chuckle, "Most humans live in cities. Massive places of steel and concrete with more people than plants. Just like cities on Venlil Prime, they are comfortable, safe, and good places to live; but humans are drawn instinctively to the natural world. Despite our industry, we have to see the Earth and its bounty, or we get out of sorts."
We had reached the room and, picking up on human mannerisms, I invited Maeve to enter first. "Thank you, my good sir." She said through a giggle, "anyway, because of this many humans will leave the city to live in nature for a while. We have a lot of ways to make it more or less comfortable, and the varied ecosphere on earth combined with our diurnal cycle means we have to be very prepared. Personally I prefer a tent, rain cover, and camp stove; but some people take as much as a rolling house, or as little as a sleeping bag."
Maeve sat down on a chair, and I on the bed as we continued talking, "do you hunt when you do this?" I asked.
Carefully, Maeve spoke in measured words, "Not always, and myself never; the vast majority of people bring food with them to eat as-is or cook on site. But yes, some humans do still hunt, kill, consume, and use the dead of wild creatures. But I'd like to point out it has been regulated in most countries for a few centuries now, and even more so in the last few decades. These days, only a couple thousand animals are killed annually due to hunting practices, worldwide. And, as we continue to become more prosperous, cede more of earth to nature, and find alternatives to killing, that number will continue dropping to almost nothing." she said, matter-of-factly.
"But why do you still hunt at all? If you can eat plants, have domesticated livestock, and can now print synthetic meat, why is that number not zero?"
"it is a part of our history, and our culture; such things are very difficult to unlearn. Also, we humans have assumed the responsibility to maintain the ecologies of our world. This is done in large part as penance for the damage we did during our colonial and industrial ages, but that sense of guardianship still carries on. Answering that question is pretty complicated, and I won't dance around the fact that controlled murder is a big part of it, do you want me to keep going?"
I will never be totally ready for frank discussions of murder, but I felt this was nothing compared to what we've already done. With a deep breath, I steeled myself and flicked an affirmation.
"Ok, this is a phenomenon we have seen nearly everywhere on Earth, but we are going to talk about Yellowstone National Park, specifically. Yellowstone is a large evergreen forest that is host to a huge variety of wildlife, but early in America's history, the colonists eradicated the local Wolf population. True we had domesticated wolves earlier, but not here, and these wolves were more harmful than helpful to the colonists, so they killed them. What followed was a process called a Trophic Cascade."
"Wolves were a natural predator of Deer, so without wolves to control their numbers, the deer population exploded. The deer over-grazed on many things, most especially tree saplings. Without saplings reaching maturity, the forest couldn't create new growth, and this reduced usable living space for many small herbivores; so things like squirrels and beavers left the area. Without these small herbivores, small carnivores like the fox left as well, which made very small omnivores, like mice, also explode in population. These mice over-hunted grubs, beetles, and other detritus-eaters, so the forest floor stopped getting new nutrients, which made all plants, including trees, even sicker. With trees dying faster and still not able to make new growth, because the deer were still a problem remember, their root systems became weaker, which could no longer hold the soil. This exacerbated the effects of erosion, causing landslides to be more frequent, and even changing the course of rivers, leading to droughts in places that have never seen it"
"All of this because: we killed the Wolf. There were many examples, this is just the one I know best, but humans are well familiar with the effect of adding or removing a species from local ecology."
I sat for a long moment, letting this sink in. "You changed the shape of mountains, and the path of rivers… by killing wolves?
"Yeah!" She confirmed, with just as much surprise as I had. "We tried a few things to help heal the damage: manually planting more trees, shoring up at risk earth, even controlled culls of wildlife; this is where most of our modern hunting practices came from. But no matter what humans did, we just couldn't keep up with the forces of nature. So, Occam's Razor, we decided to try the obvious option: put the wolves back into the forest, using the natives' local cousins from further north. And you know what?" I flicked my tail expectantly, both ears swiveled on Maeve, "It worked! The wolves hunted the deer to manageable numbers, the trees had a chance to grow, the small herbivores came back… a complete reversal of all the damage I mentioned. So now, the only species that have an overall open-season are invasive species, like the European Rabbit in Australia. Among humans, it is both illegal, and socially taboo, to kill wild animals without specific cause."
This was… a lot. All of this made sense on its own, it logically followed, but I couldn't wrap my head around how everything could be so connected. Predators kill! That's all they do! How could killing be a good thing? Finding my voice, I spoke up, "I won't pretend to know what this means. I cannot get it through that everything is so dependent on murder. But I know you've told me the truth as best as you know it, so I'll leave it alone. Can we talk about something else? You mentioned something about stories in the stars?"
"Oh absolutely!" Maeve seemed to glow with this topic, I loved seeing her so excited, "so humans have a day/night cycle, but some of us would have to keep watch during the night while others slept; so we learned to entertain ourselves by telling stories. At night, and before industrialization, our skies were brimming with stars! So we would see shapes in their patterns, and tell great stories about who they represented. There have been stories since before writing, so sadly most have been lost to history, but one story, Orion, is about-"
A ping from my pad, and then hers, interrupted the lesson.
Please report to the Partnership Program lead office promptly. Suite 4006 on deck 4.
We shared a worried look, sharing an understanding of what prompted the summons. We would face it, together. We left the room and made our way to the elevator, mostly in silence. Sensing my worry, Maeve touched my shoulder, "It's ok, this will work out." I'm not sure I believed her. We stood apart in the elevator, and the distance felt cold. Walking down the hall of offices I felt more fear and anxiety than the past week, but I had to keep moving forward.
We reached the door, and as I reached for the handle, Maeve stopped me, and gently pulled me by the shoulder against her in a desperate embrace, as one would say goodbye. She whispered into my ear,
"Whatever happens in there, I want you to know I love you, Valek."
"I love you too, Maeve."
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