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AMAZONIA
by Andrew Roller
Chapter One
It was a soft summer night. School would be out soon. His pickup was new and smelled new, and it made Susan more responsive. Her blonde hair trailed down over her face and onto his shoulders. They kissed. Crickets took up a new symphony in the long grass surrounding his pickup to celebrate the arrival of his hand, for the first time, within her tight jeans.
He felt the front of Susan’s panties. Strange, how there was nothing there, except soft folds of flesh. Susan had sweet perfume. Her lips worked harder against his.
Lifting his hand from within her jeans, he took hold of Susan’s head. She breathed a remorseful sigh. Did she want him back between her legs? Her lips seemed to beg for his return, but his mouth was pressed so tightly to hers that she couldn’t get any words out.
His fingers infiltrated the long, honey-hued strands of her hair. He felt her ear, her jaw. He seized Susan by her neck.
Susan gave a shriek as he lifted her by her neck and slammed her head into the windshield of his pickup. Her blood splattered brightly against his new, leather-like dashboard. He pulled back his fist, still gripping Susan by her neck, then slammed her head forward again.
The windshield cracked. It was safety glass and it splintered into a tightly-glued pattern of see-through jigsaw puzzle pieces. He rammed Susan’s blonde head into the jigsaw pattern. Again. Again. He broke through into the hot summer night beyond the glass.
A white glare burst through the windshield. It was made of neon bulbs. He held Susan’s lifeless neck in his hand, stared at the hole he’d made in the windshield. Then he let go of Susan. She fell unresponsively into the footwell of his truck’s cab, on the passenger side. Her 14-year-old feet, clad in sneakers, remained draped over his lap.
“My God, what have you done?” he heard from beyond the hole in his windshield. It was kind of a half-scream, this question, and instinctively he pushed himself up from the seat of his truck’s cab toward it. He groped at the broken windshield in front of him with his hands. He found he could bend it back where he’d made a hole in it. He pushed at the glass.
He climbed out of the cab through the hole in the front of the windshield. There was no dark summer night beyond the windshield, not even the hood of his shiny new truck existed beyond it. Instead, he was standing in a neon-lit laboratory. He stared at a white-coated technician.
“God, you’ve broken through,” the technician said to him.
“Are you... my father?” was all he could think to ask.
“Huh?” the technician replied. Then he gulped, once, and, seeming to understand his question, answered, “No. I just work here.”
He looked at the technician. The man was thin. His cheeks were gaunt. Sewn on his coat was a name badge. It read: “Pope”.
“Who are you?” he blurted. He began to feel a rage inside him. It was the same rage that had caused him to strike Susan’s head, so suddenly, against the windshield of his new truck, even as they kissed and she’d given him what he’d wished for from her for so long. Frantically he glanced back at the hole in the windshield of his cab, saw just shadows beyond, and wires, and some kind of a body, the person he’d once called “Susan”.
“You don’t know what you’ve done. You don’t know what it’s like. Out there... you had a good life...“ Pope said to him in a voice as frantic as he himself was feeling. His head turned from the broken windshield back to Pope. Strange, how the windshield was set into the wall of the lab behind him, was part of the wall! And he was standing on a floor, not on the hood of his new truck, as he should be. And there was no grass, no crickets. Had there ever been grass? Was it night, or day? Where was he? Who was he? A vision of a rat in a cage flitted through his mind. The rat bore his head, and he lived in a cage. Pope stood outside the cage, studying him.
And now he was free of the cage and could confront Pope directly. His hand swept briefly over his backside. No, he didn’t have a tail. And, seeing his reflection in the glass cover on a laboratory machine, he saw he was human, just like Pope was. In fact, he was several inches taller than Pope. And he was young, 15, with his Learner’s Permit in his pocket, letting him drive, and he felt strong.
Pope was going gray. He had spindly fingers and a thin neck.
“Who am I?” he blurted at Pope. “And who are you, if you aren’t my father?”
“I’m just... I just... they wanted to study a human in the wild. You had a good life. Sure, it was a six foot by six foot Emulsion Cage, but you didn’t have to ever know that. For you, it was Sedgeway, Iowa, and you were scheduled to have a normal life, right through to old age.” Pope seemed to choke on a sudden, ironic laugh. “I was working on your old age pension plan this morning. You’d have gotten it in the mail in 13 years.”
He stared at Pope. The lab technician stared back. It was just the two of them, in this brightly-lit laboratory room, with the broken windshield set into the far wall. He still regarded the man as some kind of father, despite the man’s denials.
“Thanks, I won’t be needing an age old pension plan,” he said, angrily. He wanted to grab the man by the neck but he felt somehow that the man was real, not like Susan, who wasn’t real, but only seemed real. Real humans could tell tales, tales that died when they did. He needed some tales right now. Any tales.
“Who am I? What’s my name... Pope?” he said furiously to the man.
“Huh?” Pope replied. The graying man seemed half-bewildered by having to confront, face to face, the “rat” he’d studied for so long. “No... Pope is my name. Not yours,” Pope finally managed to say as they stared at each other in the laboratory. “Yours is, well, ‘Cum-Andi’ is all it really is. Cum... sperm from the subject named Andi... that’s all you’re really known by. Plus a number.” Pope grinned. It was that wry, ironic grin that had made him utter a choking laugh a minute ago. “Do you want to know the number?” he asked.
“What’s the number?” Cum-Andi said.
“2A-95596E-2320541-3000,” Pope grinned. It was a Stephen King kind of grin, except Cum-Andi was beginning to wonder if there had ever been a Stephen King. There had, after all, never been any Susan.
“What’s that, my goddamn phone number?” Cum-Andi growled.
“No, dear boy. It’s you,” Pope replied. “It’s your identifying number and I suppose you’ll want to memorize it now, or not. The choice is yours. All choices are yours now. You had a nice life but now you’re here, aren’t you? And you can’t go home again. Because home was a six foot by six foot box that you knew as Sedgeway, Iowa, in the great United States of America at the end of the 20th century.”
Cum-Andi peered at Pope through a haze of rising anger. Who was this little man, and why was he grinning now? Pope straightened his posture and pressed his fingers to a Notebook-sized, computerized pad he was holding in his hands.
“Forgive me but I must call security,” Pope said. “You’ve escaped from your cage and we can’t have you running loose around the building. I’d get in serious trouble. I could be killed…”
Cum-Andi grabbed Pope and smashed him headfirst into a glass covering over a computer. Pope screamed. The computer sparked bits of firefly lightning and its dials dimmed. Blood ran down the face of the computer. Pope fell lifeless to the floor. His notebook fell clattering between his legs.
Bending over, Cum-Andi picked up the notebook. The fall from Pope’s hands had shattered its viewscreen. Yet Cum-Andi studied it, looked at the lettering written across its top: “Renno
Amazonia League, D.C.,” the lettering spelled out, quite distinctly, “Do Not Remove from Building”. Underneath that, in smaller lettering, was written a rationale. The computerized notepad wouldn’t work outside the building and, hence, there was no point in removing it from the building.
Cum-Andi dropped the notepad to the floor. It wasn’t working inside the building, any more. Then a chill ran down his spine. Was he like the notepad? Could he still “work” if he himself left the building?
Dashing through a door, Cum-Andi felt a sense of desperation. Who was he? Just a number? Just a rat in a cage? He left the brightly lit laboratory only to find himself in an equally brightly lit hallway. He wanted to jump up and smash the light overhead. He tried, but couldn’t quite touch it. Cum-Andi jumped again and still managed to fall just short of it.
“Damn!” Cum-Andi swore. He dashed down the hall. He saw a door set in the wall of the corridor. He grabbed the door’s knob and tore the door open. He wanted to wrench the door off its hinges but found he couldn’t.
Staring into the small dark room beyond, he felt a sudden flash of fear. He’d opened a door on a closet. The cage. Sedgeway, Iowa. His truck. Susan. His eyes scanned across a mop, a cleaning bucket, and, next to the bucket, he saw a head. It stared at him. It blinked.
“Let there be light,” the head said. It grinned up at Cum-Andi from a shelf. Wires trailed out of the bottom of its neck. It had no body.
“Who--?” Cum-Andi felt a deep chill. He was about to slam the door shut on the closet but couldn’t quite bear to because the head was grinning up at him in a casual, accepting way, despite repeatedly blinking its eyes at the sudden intrusion of light into its dark closet.
“I’m Stan, if you must know my name,” the head said to Cum-Andi. “Do you want to play?”
“No, I —“ Cum-Andi couldn’t think of anything to say. It was ridiculous. He’d been in Sedgeway, Iowa, kissing a girl he’d longed for, and now he was staring into a cleaning closet at a head with no body. Was he dreaming? He pinched himself. Nothing. No change. But he remembered dreaming before, and pinching himself in the dream to see if it was real, and being assured it was real because the pinch in his dream was a dream-pinch, not a real pinch, and so didn’t wake him.
“I’m a BabbleBot,” the head told Cum-Andi. “I can be male or female. Just get me the body you prefer, and we can play together.”
“No thanks,” Cum-Andi answered. He felt again the need to slam the closet door shut but the BabbleBot stared at him so benignly, he grabbed it instead.
Cum-Andi lifted the head so that it was level with his own.
“Who are you?” Cum-Andi asked.
The head smiled, seemed unoffended by having to restate its identity. “I’m Stan. I’m a BabbleBot. Get me a body and we can play. Male or female, your choice.”
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Cum-Andi shut the closet door. Then, thinking quickly, he opened it again. Steeling himself against the possibility of finding himself in a cage once more, clutching the head as proof of what he’d found outside Sedgeway, Iowa, he stepped into the cleaning closet. He pulled the door in behind him but left it ajar, lest he find himself locked into the closet.
“Ooooh, Post Office! I like games in the dark. I need a body, though,” the head said under the crook of Cum-Andi’s arm.
“Shhhh!” Cum-Andi told the head. Then, looking down at it in the near darkness of the cleaning closet, he asked, “Who am I?”
“Oh, I don’t know that game,” the head replied.
“Keep your voice down!” Cum-Andi scolded the head. “Whisper.”
“Okay,” the head answered. “Who am I?”
“Don’t be useless to me or I’ll kick your head in,” Cum-Andi warned the head. It seemed to understand that Cum-Andi was serious.
“Who are you? I don’t know. You haven’t told me your name yet. I’m Stan,” the head said to Cum-Andi.
Footsteps hurried past the door outside. Cum-Andi heard hissing. The noise, a conversation of hisses, died as whatever was outside the door hurried past.
“Sisguards,” the head whispered. “Have you been bad? They’ll take you to a Detention and Reeducation Center. You won’t like that. I lost my body there.”
Cum-Andi glared down at the head. It had whispered, though, and whatever was outside the door seemed to have passed by without hearing it.
“What are... Sssguards?” Cum-Andi asked.
“Sisguards?” the head replied. “My, my, you’ve never heard of them before? And you so big, how could you...?” the head paused. “You wouldn’t be a Wild One, would you?”
“A what?” Cum-Andi asked.
“Yes, you must be,” the head said to itself, still whispering, as Cum-Andi had ordered it to. “A human, from the look of you, one of the experimental ones grown in the wild. Why aren’t you in your cage?”
“You know about my... cage?” Cum-Andi paused. He still had trouble believing Sedgeway, Iowa, could really be nothing but a fictional illusion inside a six foot by six foot cage. Silently he assured himself he’d wake up at any moment and find himself in his own bed, at home, with no new truck bought for him by his dad for his birthday, and Susan still an unattainable love-object, a kind of 14-year-old Jenny McCarthy. Just like she’d always been, until she’d agreed to go riding with him in his brand-new truck this evening.
“You’ve broken out of your cage,” the head said. “My, my. We won’t have much time to play, then.”
Cum-Andi pushed open the closet door. He peered out. He clutched the head under his arm, not sure if he wanted it, but afraid to let it go just yet. It seemed to have more tales to tell him. And it didn’t seem as much of a threat as Pope had been. For one thing, it had no computerized notepad and, for that matter, no body. It had nothing but a mouth.
“Keep your voice down,” Cum-Andi said to the head under his arm.
“Sure,” the head agreed.
Cum-Andi glared up the hall, then in the other direction. All he could see was the hall’s neon-lit walls. They seemed to close him in on both sides, like a tube-shaped cage. He still felt like a rat.
“Which way? Where do I go?” Cum-Andi asked the head.
“To the bathroom?” the head answered. Cum-Andi glared at the head and it chuckled. “Sorry. A bit of levity, brighten your day, before we both wind up in Det Ed.”
“Det?” Cum-Andi asked, unable to finish because the head interrupted.
“Detention and Reeducation. They’ll get us both now, I’ll bet. I’ll lose my head,” the head answered. Its face broke into a self-pitying smile.
“Look, if you want a body, I’ll see what I can do,” Cum-Andi told the head under his arm. “But if you... if you joke around and fuck with me I’ll kick your head like a football down this hallway.”
“Sounds like a deal,” the head answered. It grinned up at Cum-Andi.
“Good,” Cum-Andi said. “Now who am I, who are you, and where the fuck are we? And how do I get out of this idiot dream I’m in?”
“Not a dream,” the head said. “You may be dreaming soon, and quite painfully, once the Sisguards get hold of you. You’re an escaped animal. Escaped from a cage. I’ll bet you came from right down the hall, hmmm? You don’t seem to have gotten very far from your cage, I’ll bet, considering how little you know. You’ll be back in your cage soon. If you haven’t polluted yourself too much with knowledge of the world outside your cage.” The head looked up at Cum-Andi, and seemed to evaluate him. “If you have polluted yourself, if you know too much, then they’ll kill you. Perhaps you’d best put me back in my closet and turn yourself in before
you know too much.”
“No!” Cum-Andi said. He looked frantically up and down the hallway. Then back at the head. “No, I’m not going back into any fucking cage,” he hissed at the head.
“It’s a nice life. You’ll get to live a full life,” the head replied. “You won’t know you’re in a cage once they’ve got you properly locked back into it. You’ll be... God knows, in Sedgeway, Iowa, if you’re one of that man’s subjects. What’s his name? The guy down the hall? Did you meet anyone besides me?” The head peered up at Cum-Andi from the crook of Cum-Andi’s arm.
“Pope?” Cum-Andi said.
“Yes! Pope! He used to have me sing to him on Friday afternoons,” the head said. “When he had to clean his lab.” The head peered at Cum-Andi closely. “You’re Pope’s subject, aren’t you? Raised in the wild. Or, rather, in a cage that you thought was a real place. Sedgeway, Iowa, right?”
“That’s right,” Cum-Andi answered.
“Pope promised me a body someday, if he could afford it, so I could clean his lab for him,” the head said. “A nice man.”
“Yeah,” Cum-Andi agreed. Something told him to keep his own hostility toward Pope under wraps. The head might not like hearing that Pope was dead.
Footsteps sounded once more in the hall. Cum-Andi jerked his head in the direction of the laboratory. There was a gentle curve to the hallway. It prevented him seeing all the way to the lab, but he guessed that whatever had passed by the hallway closet was on its way back.
Cum-Andi clapped his hand over the BabbleBot’s mouth. The head worked its jaw, futilely.
“Yeah,” Cum-Andi thought. “Blab that I’m here, fucking head. Turn me in and get a body for yourself. No way.” Mewling sounds escaped from between Cum-Andi’s clamping fingers. He pressed them more tightly to the head’s mouth.
Cum-Andi turned and ran. He was wearing sneakers. They muffled his footfalls as he ran down the hall. He was glad he hadn’t taken his Dad’s advice and worn hard-soled shoes for his date with Susan.
Cum-Andi felt a freezing sensation in the pit of his stomach. That father, that man he’d called “Dad,” hadn’t been real. Unless this was just some crazy dream he was in. That meant his mother wasn’t real either. Or his kid sister.
Bethany! Six, going on seven, just old enough to read Dr. Seuss by herself. She’d gotten lost at the Mall last weekend and Mom had gone nuts. Now, it turned out she was lost forever, or, rather, never born. Cum-Andi would have stopped, perhaps even cried, but he could hear footfalls behind him and they were numerous. They, whoever “they” were, had heard him running, despite his sneakers.
This had to be a dream. In dreams, you always wound up being chased. Cum-Andi was torn between stopping, turning around, and confronting whatever was after him. At the same time, he kept his hand over the BabbleBot’s mouth. It kept working its jaw. Cum-Andi adjusted his fingers. The head seemed to be trying to bite one of them.
“Now would be a good time to find a rabbit hole,” Cum-Andi muttered to himself, remembering a book he’d read to Bethany a few days ago, after school. She’d insisted. It had been the only way he could keep her from putting a mud-pie in the oven. And keep her from telling Mom about the pot she’d found sneaking around in his bedroom.
Cum-Andi stared at the floor. It looked solid. He jumped, once, to test it. Hey, this was a dream, right? He’d probably sink right into it.
The floor held.
“There’s the animal!” Cum-Andi heard behind him. Cum-Andi whirled about. Something burned into his arm. He screamed. If it had been his right arm, he’d have dropped the head onto the floor. But it was his left, and in his left hand he held nothing.
Cum-Andi felt tears well up in the corners of his eyes. If this was a dream, it was a damn painful one! His arm felt like it was on fire. Cum-Andi would have looked down at his arm but he couldn’t take his eyes off the creatures who were coming toward him. They resembled lizards! Lizards without tails!
They had long hair, like Susan. One lizard was blonde, two were brunettes. A brunettes had her hair pulled back into a tight, Puritan-like bun. The other two lizards let their hair flow freely down over their shoulders. The lizards had slitted yellow eyes. They seemed to be wearing blue body armor. It consisted of a blue helmet, with a Sheriff-like gold star on its front. A blue armored vest was fitted over each lizard’s torso. The lizards, underneath their vests, seemed to have bosoms. Some of the lizards were more amply endowed in their chests than others. Their arms were bare, but covered with what appeared to be small, mesh-like scales. Their legs were covered with the same cloth, or was it bare skin? Cum-Andi couldn’t decide. Most amazingly, except for one other feature, the creatures wore no pants. Cum-Andi could see what appeared to be pubic hair where the legs of each creature joined.
It was the faces, though, of the lizards that most riveted Cum-Andi. They were crocodile faces. Every lizard had a long, protuberant snout. The snout of each lizard was graced, hideously, by long, glittering fangs.
Each lizard had long claws growing from her hands. Her fangs and claws seemed to match. In fact, they did match, Cum-Andi noticed, for each lizard seemed to have chosen her own personal color to paint her fangs and her claws with.
Almost involuntarily, Cum-Andi glanced at the lizards’ feet. Yes! Protruding from what could only be described as open-toed, sandal-like boots, each lizard had claw-like toes. They had colored their toes’ claws to match their fingers’ claws and their fangs. One lizard had pink fangs, pink finger claws, pink toe claws. Another had chosen yellow as her color. A third lizard had chosen garish purple.
“Is it a Man?” Cum-Andi heard one of the lizards ask another. They hurried toward him.
“Yes. One of the specially-grown, primitive men, created for study purposes,” one of the lizards dashing toward Cum-Andi replied.
“It’s a plot! Pope cloned himself! Now he’s released his creation on us,” one of the lizards cried. The lizard who led the pack seconded this. She said:
“Kill it! Pope was wise to commit suicide. We must not be unwise and let this animal run loose, spreading his diseases among us!”
Cum-Andi watched as one of the lizards rushing at him raised what looked like a gun. Cum-Andi remembered his left arm. It still burned, badly, like a sunburn laid on with a vengeance by a too-long day at the beach.
“Don’t! You’ll kill the BabbleBot!” Cum-Andi cried. He raised up the head to block the inevitable blast of the gun aimed at him.
“He’s an animal! An escaped animal!” the BabbleBot screamed at the approaching lizards. Cum-Andi’s hand had come off the Bot’s mouth as he raised the head to protect himself.
“No!” one of the blue-armored lizards shouted. With apparent sympathy for Stan, she knocked her mate’s gun aside. The blast meant for Cum-Andi went off anyway. However, it went awry. A hole was blown into the wall to Cum-Andi’s right. Shards of it cut into Cum-Andi’s right side.
“Owwww! God!” Cum-Andi yelled. This dream was getting too painful to bear. He turned. He ran. Behind him he heard contentious yelling, as if the lizards had turned on one another.
Cum-Andi tucked the BabbleBot back under his arm so he wouldn’t drop it as he ran. Then he remembered how the head had betrayed him. Cum-Andi lifted the head. He glared at it. He kept running, though, for he could hear the lizards somewhere behind him, still shouting at one another.
“Hi. Exercise is good for you,” the head said with forced nonchalance.
“Where I come from, we play football,” Cum-Andi panted. “If you want to find out what it’s like to be a live football, betray me again.”
“You were using me to block the gun,” the head answered. “I only betrayed you after you betrayed me.”
“Yeah, sure,” Cum-Andi said. He didn’t believe the head had only been getting a just revenge. The head had yelled the minute it could, and it had been trying to talk, or shout, the whole time he’d had his hand clamped over its mouth. “Tell me how to get the fuck out of this dream. NOW!”
The head looked up. “Air conditioning is a wonderful invention,” the head replied.
Cum-Andi looked up. He slowed his pace. He scanned the ceiling. Of course! Air ducts were spaced at regular intervals in the ceiling. If he could pry off a duct’s cover, assuming he could reach it, he might... Yes! He might be able to get up into an air duct!
“You’ll need to jump high, or find something to stand on,” the head said.
Cum-Andi looked along the hall. He saw a door. He rushed to it, turned the knob. It was locked.
Cum-Andi ran on. He came to another door. It too was locked. Then, running on, he came to a hallway that cut across the one he’d been running through.
Rounding the hall’s corner, Cum-Andi found himself staring at a lizard like the ones he’d been running from. But this one had her hair pinned up in a loosely-tied scarf. She was mopping the floor. Cum-Andi scanned her figure for a weapon but saw none.
“Eeeeyah! An animal!” the lizard screamed. She raised her mop at Cum-Andi. She swung it at him, hard. It connected with his chest and sent him sprawling. Cum-Andi landed on his back. He dropped the head as he did.
“Yow!” the head cried. It went clattering across the floor.
Without thinking, Cum-Andi leapt to his feet. He attacked the lizard with the mop. He managed to wrench the mop from her hands. He began to beat the lizard. Viciously, without remorse. The lizard responded, kicking him in the groin. Cum-Andi suppressed a scream, somehow, and beat the lizard even more violently.
Cum-Andi found himself standing over the lizard. It lay at his feet. Blood gushed from its head and mouth. Cum-Andi reached down between his legs and gingerly massaged his crotch.
“Nice work. It’s dead,” the head called from across the hall.
“Now what?” Cum-Andi asked. He felt slightly disoriented by the kick he’d received in his groin.
“Her cleaning cart, idiot. Get up on her cart,” the head said. “And don’t forget me. I doubt they’ll let me off, much less give me a body, now that you’ve killed one of them. They’ll figure I’m polluted, just by having seen one of them killed. By a man. A primitive man. They wouldn’t want me talking.”
“Hmmm, I guess we’re partners in crime, then,” Cum-Andi said. He turned to the head. He walked over to it, his gait slightly awkward from the kick he’d received in his groin. “Good. You won’t be screaming about me any more.”
“Yeah,” the BabbleBot agreed. Cum-Andi scooped up the head from the floor. He looked at it. It had a dent in its forehead but otherwise it seemed just as it had been before.
Cum-Andi heard the blue-armored lizards somewhere around the corner and down the hall. They were running toward him.
I’m getting sick of this,” Cum-Andi said suddenly. He was gripped with a desire to stand his ground, to confront the lizards. He’d end this stupid dream and wake up in his own bed and--
“Look at me,” the head said in a strange, low voice. It might have been a furious voice but the head was just a head, and it seemed silly for a head with no body to be angry with him. Still, Cum-Andi obeyed the head. He looked down at it.
The head glared up at him. “Everything you ever knew is over,” the head said. “This isn’t some dream, like you wish it would be. Your past life is over. It never existed, except in your head, in your cage.” The head said the word “cage” vengefully. “You can’t smoke pot to get out of this one, or listen to Nirvana. This is real. Real life. And they’ll make you pay for killing one of them. They’re wymen, after all. Twenty-fifth century wymen. You’re a throwback. A primitive man from an earlier era. You’re not supposed to be alive, except in your cage, and then only so you can be studied.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Cum-Andi replied. And he wished he could get that name out of his head. He wasn’t Cum-Andi. He was George. George, named after George Washington, George Harrison Smith. He lived in Sedgeway, Iowa, and he had two parents, two parents who hadn’t gotten divorced, like most of his friends’ parents. And he had a 6-year-old sister, almost seven, who had just learned to read Dr. Seuss books on her own.
Cum-Andi winced at the pain in his left arm. At the shards of broken hallway in his right side. At the throbbing in his groin where earlier in the evening he’d been feeling a welcome tightness, in his briefs, as Susan proved remarkably responsive to his kisses.
Susan! He’d bashed her head into his windshield. That’s how all this had started. He’d felt, somehow, a need... a sensation that he was boxed in, inside his brand-new pickup, that he was being studied, watched, observed, and...
He’d killed Susan. Cum-Andi felt it in his gut and knew it was true. Yet Susan never had existed! Pope had said he was living in... what was it? An Emulsion Cage.
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Copyright 2023 by Andrew L. Roller. AMAZONIA is a trademark of Andrew L. Roller.

I’m not a writer but BOBF inspired me to write my own story for Boba. I took some ideas from the show and have much more written which I’ll upload later if people like this story. Thanks for reading!
Darks sands whirl about the Dune Sea Jabba's sail barge remains are scattered and scalding in the night heat. Inside the Sarlacc Boba Fett awakens he can hear the Screams and cries of victims the Sarlacc is digesting both new and old.
Where his body is not covered in beskar armor he feels the burning acid eroding his body away.
With his jet pack damaged by Han Solo it’s not as simple as just flying out so, Boba engages his wrist blades and begins digging his fore arms into the walls of the Sarlacc.
Boba starts to feel a wooziness fall over his body as the Sarlacc releases a poison gas to lull its victims unconscious. The Sarlacc will sedate victims that become too violent inside one of its many chambers.
Boba unconscious mind goes to flashbacks of his time spent on Kamino with his father and Taun We.
Things were so much simpler back then.
He would miss his father when he left for long jobs that were too dangerous for him but his father still made sure of his training even in his absence.
Boba spent most of his time with the ARC troopers that his father had personally trained. It was an odd feeling for Boba missing his father but being surrounded by his very same face and voice.
No matter where he looked he saw his Father but there was one ARC trooper he was very fond of ARC- 77 also known as Fordo.
He was the top of his class and one of Jango's favorite students, due to him being one of the first clones to have more of a diverse personality which greatly enhanced his battlefield capabilities.
He took a particular liking to Boba seeing him as a little brother since he was there for many of the training sessions ARCs went through.
Boba snaps awake from his poison induced dreams and can feel he has descended deeper into the Sarlacc. The walls being full of tiny tendrils excreting acid that break down cell membranes to interweave with the walls and the victims stuck to them.
Bobas armor allowed him enough area not connected he could use all his strength and break loose.
The smell of chemicals devouring flesh along with screams and cries of agony intensify by the second as if they are all connected.
Boba reaches into one of his pouches after managing to get his arm free and slips an air purifier into his mouth to ward off the Sarlacc’s poison gas.
Now that he is not in and out of consciousness he engages every blade his armor holds. Digging into the stomach walls with his forearms and spikes equipped in his boots. The helmet light showed that he has made it out of the lower stomach, it also showed him what he had been experiencing. Jabba's men stretched on the walls writhing in pain and pleading for Boba to save them from the abyss of torture. The Sarlacc does not just digest your body over a long period of time, it will enter your mind and make your consciousness one and the same with it. Essentially everything alive in the Sarlacc is connected through needle like neurons that cause all to feel each other’s pain till death.
Boba found a some what level plane and gazed at the victims some more bones than person, some he knew some he didn’t but he was sure this is a thing of nightmares.
No thanks to Han Solo and his friends most of Bobas arsenal was lost and needing to see what he could salvage he dug through the half dead bodies now intertwined in the innards of the Sarlacc.
Most moaned weakly and begged for death as he searched to find anything to help him escape this hell.
Boba is a survivor he told himself, trained in the ways of Mandalore and the whole galaxy knows the toughness and grit of Mandalorians.
Everyone also knows anything and everything can be a weapon for a mandalorian if the situation calls for it.
Boba finds a cluster of smoke grenades along with pure Kessel spice, which he carefully maneuvered inside the smoke grenade.
Being at Jabba's palace you’ll see your share of patrons on their spice journey and bobas hoping to send the Sarlacc on one.
Climbing to the highest point possible he tossed the grenades into the lower stomach and thanked mandalore he still had his respirator.
He could feel the creature go limp after a while, meaning its defenses were down, now is his chance.
Ascending out of the lower stomach meant there was one more to go but would be much too difficult to climb out the way he did the lower level. Using his grappling hook Boba grappled onto the bodies intertwined on the walls till he felt near the opining.
The Sarlacc's beak was sealed shut like the InterGalactic Banking Clans vaults just another obstacle to blow through. Boba removed his jet pack with 1 fuel cell still being intact as solo only punctured the right side, he emptied the extra fuel cells he had for his flamethrower into the hole and tossed the jet pack into the seemingly bottomless abyss. Even with his helmets multiple displays the air in the stomachs makes it hard to see much at all but he finally spots the jet pack and shoots it.
The blast in combination with the stomach gasses form a huge combustion and violently shoots Boba out onto the Dune Sea marking the first person to ever escape the Sarlacc.

I’m not a writer but BOBF inspired me to write my own story for Boba. I took some ideas from the show and have much more written which I’ll upload later if people like this story. Thanks for reading!
Darks sands whirl about the Dune Sea Jabba's sail barge remains are scattered and scalding in the night heat. Inside the Sarlacc Boba Fett awakens he can hear the Screams and cries of victims the Sarlacc is digesting both new and old.
Where his body is not covered in beskar armor he feels the burning acid eroding his body away.
With his jet pack damaged by Han Solo it’s not as simple as just flying out so, Boba engages his wrist blades and begins digging his fore arms into the walls of the Sarlacc.
Boba starts to feel a wooziness fall over his body as the Sarlacc releases a poison gas to lull its victims unconscious. The Sarlacc will sedate victims that become too violent inside one of its many chambers.
Boba unconscious mind goes to flashbacks of his time spent on Kamino with his father and Taun We.
Things were so much simpler back then.
He would miss his father when he left for long jobs that were too dangerous for him but his father still made sure of his training even in his absence.
Boba spent most of his time with the ARC troopers that his father had personally trained. It was an odd feeling for Boba missing his father but being surrounded by his very same face and voice.
No matter where he looked he saw his Father but there was one ARC trooper he was very fond of ARC- 77 also known as Fordo.
He was the top of his class and one of Jango's favorite students, due to him being one of the first clones to have more of a diverse personality which greatly enhanced his battlefield capabilities.
He took a particular liking to Boba seeing him as a little brother since he was there for many of the training sessions ARCs went through.
Boba snaps awake from his poison induced dreams and can feel he has descended deeper into the Sarlacc. The walls being full of tiny tendrils excreting acid that break down cell membranes to interweave with the walls and the victims stuck to them.
Bobas armor allowed him enough area not connected he could use all his strength and break loose.
The smell of chemicals devouring flesh along with screams and cries of agony intensify by the second as if they are all connected.
Boba reaches into one of his pouches after managing to get his arm free and slips an air purifier into his mouth to ward off the Sarlacc’s poison gas.
Now that he is not in and out of consciousness he engages every blade his armor holds. Digging into the stomach walls with his forearms and spikes equipped in his boots. The helmet light showed that he has made it out of the lower stomach, it also showed him what he had been experiencing. Jabba's men stretched on the walls writhing in pain and pleading for Boba to save them from the abyss of torture. The Sarlacc does not just digest your body over a long period of time, it will enter your mind and make your consciousness one and the same with it. Essentially everything alive in the Sarlacc is connected through needle like neurons that cause all to feel each other’s pain till death.
Boba found a some what level plane and gazed at the victims some more bones than person, some he knew some he didn’t but he was sure this is a thing of nightmares.
No thanks to Han Solo and his friends most of Bobas arsenal was lost and needing to see what he could salvage he dug through the half dead bodies now intertwined in the innards of the Sarlacc.
Most moaned weakly and begged for death as he searched to find anything to help him escape this hell.
Boba is a survivor he told himself, trained in the ways of Mandalore and the whole galaxy knows the toughness and grit of Mandalorians.
Everyone also knows anything and everything can be a weapon for a mandalorian if the situation calls for it.
Boba finds a cluster of smoke grenades along with pure Kessel spice, which he carefully maneuvered inside the smoke grenade.
Being at Jabba's palace you’ll see your share of patrons on their spice journey and bobas hoping to send the Sarlacc on one.
Climbing to the highest point possible he tossed the grenades into the lower stomach and thanked mandalore he still had his respirator.
He could feel the creature go limp after a while, meaning its defenses were down, now is his chance.
Ascending out of the lower stomach meant there was one more to go but would be much too difficult to climb out the way he did the lower level. Using his grappling hook Boba grappled onto the bodies intertwined on the walls till he felt near the opining.
The Sarlacc's beak was sealed shut like the InterGalactic Banking Clans vaults just another obstacle to blow through. Boba removed his jet pack with 1 fuel cell still being intact as solo only punctured the right side, he emptied the extra fuel cells he had for his flamethrower into the hole and tossed the jet pack into the seemingly bottomless abyss. Even with his helmets multiple displays the air in the stomachs makes it hard to see much at all but he finally spots the jet pack and shoots it.
The blast in combination with the stomach gasses form a huge combustion and violently shoots Boba out onto the Dune Sea marking the first person to ever escape the Sarlacc.

I’m not a writer but BOBF inspired me to write my own story for Boba. I took some ideas from the show and have much more written which I’ll upload later if people like this story. Thanks for reading!
Darks sands whirl about the Dune Sea Jabba's sail barge remains are scattered and scalding in the night heat. Inside the Sarlacc Boba Fett awakens he can hear the Screams and cries of victims the Sarlacc is digesting both new and old.
Where his body is not covered in beskar armor he feels the burning acid eroding his body away.
With his jet pack damaged by Han Solo it’s not as simple as just flying out so, Boba engages his wrist blades and begins digging his fore arms into the walls of the Sarlacc.
Boba starts to feel a wooziness fall over his body as the Sarlacc releases a poison gas to lull its victims unconscious. The Sarlacc will sedate victims that become too violent inside one of its many chambers.
Boba unconscious mind goes to flashbacks of his time spent on Kamino with his father and Taun We.
Things were so much simpler back then.
He would miss his father when he left for long jobs that were too dangerous for him but his father still made sure of his training even in his absence.
Boba spent most of his time with the ARC troopers that his father had personally trained. It was an odd feeling for Boba missing his father but being surrounded by his very same face and voice.
No matter where he looked he saw his Father but there was one ARC trooper he was very fond of ARC- 77 also known as Fordo.
He was the top of his class and one of Jango's favorite students, due to him being one of the first clones to have more of a diverse personality which greatly enhanced his battlefield capabilities.
He took a particular liking to Boba seeing him as a little brother since he was there for many of the training sessions ARCs went through.
Boba snaps awake from his poison induced dreams and can feel he has descended deeper into the Sarlacc. The walls being full of tiny tendrils excreting acid that break down cell membranes to interweave with the walls and the victims stuck to them.
Bobas armor allowed him enough area not connected he could use all his strength and break loose.
The smell of chemicals devouring flesh along with screams and cries of agony intensify by the second as if they are all connected.
Boba reaches into one of his pouches after managing to get his arm free and slips an air purifier into his mouth to ward off the Sarlacc’s poison gas.
Now that he is not in and out of consciousness he engages every blade his armor holds. Digging into the stomach walls with his forearms and spikes equipped in his boots. The helmet light showed that he has made it out of the lower stomach, it also showed him what he had been experiencing. Jabba's men stretched on the walls writhing in pain and pleading for Boba to save them from the abyss of torture. The Sarlacc does not just digest your body over a long period of time, it will enter your mind and make your consciousness one and the same with it. Essentially everything alive in the Sarlacc is connected through needle like neurons that cause all to feel each other’s pain till death.
Boba found a some what level plane and gazed at the victims some more bones than person, some he knew some he didn’t but he was sure this is a thing of nightmares.
No thanks to Han Solo and his friends most of Bobas arsenal was lost and needing to see what he could salvage he dug through the half dead bodies now intertwined in the innards of the Sarlacc.
Most moaned weakly and begged for death as he searched to find anything to help him escape this hell.
Boba is a survivor he told himself, trained in the ways of Mandalore and the whole galaxy knows the toughness and grit of Mandalorians.
Everyone also knows anything and everything can be a weapon for a mandalorian if the situation calls for it.
Boba finds a cluster of smoke grenades along with pure Kessel spice, which he carefully maneuvered inside the smoke grenade.
Being at Jabba's palace you’ll see your share of patrons on their spice journey and bobas hoping to send the Sarlacc on one.
Climbing to the highest point possible he tossed the grenades into the lower stomach and thanked mandalore he still had his respirator.
He could feel the creature go limp after a while, meaning its defenses were down, now is his chance.
Ascending out of the lower stomach meant there was one more to go but would be much too difficult to climb out the way he did the lower level. Using his grappling hook Boba grappled onto the bodies intertwined on the walls till he felt near the opining.
The Sarlacc's beak was sealed shut like the InterGalactic Banking Clans vaults just another obstacle to blow through. Boba removed his jet pack with 1 fuel cell still being intact as solo only punctured the right side, he emptied the extra fuel cells he had for his flamethrower into the hole and tossed the jet pack into the seemingly bottomless abyss. Even with his helmets multiple displays the air in the stomachs makes it hard to see much at all but he finally spots the jet pack and shoots it.
The blast in combination with the stomach gasses form a huge combustion and violently shoots Boba out onto the Dune Sea marking the first person to ever escape the Sarlacc.

I’m not a writer but BOBF inspired me to write my own story for Boba. I took some ideas from the show and have much more written which I’ll upload later if people like this story. Thanks for reading!
Darks sands whirl about the Dune Sea Jabba's sail barge remains are scattered and scalding in the night heat. Inside the Sarlacc Boba Fett awakens he can hear the Screams and cries of victims the Sarlacc is digesting both new and old.
Where his body is not covered in beskar armor he feels the burning acid eroding his body away.
With his jet pack damaged by Han Solo it’s not as simple as just flying out so, Boba engages his wrist blades and begins digging his fore arms into the walls of the Sarlacc.
Boba starts to feel a wooziness fall over his body as the Sarlacc releases a poison gas to lull its victims unconscious. The Sarlacc will sedate victims that become too violent inside one of its many chambers.
Boba unconscious mind goes to flashbacks of his time spent on Kamino with his father and Taun We.
Things were so much simpler back then.
He would miss his father when he left for long jobs that were too dangerous for him but his father still made sure of his training even in his absence.
Boba spent most of his time with the ARC troopers that his father had personally trained. It was an odd feeling for Boba missing his father but being surrounded by his very same face and voice.
No matter where he looked he saw his Father but there was one ARC trooper he was very fond of ARC- 77 also known as Fordo.
He was the top of his class and one of Jango's favorite students, due to him being one of the first clones to have more of a diverse personality which greatly enhanced his battlefield capabilities.
He took a particular liking to Boba seeing him as a little brother since he was there for many of the training sessions ARCs went through.
Boba snaps awake from his poison induced dreams and can feel he has descended deeper into the Sarlacc. The walls being full of tiny tendrils excreting acid that break down cell membranes to interweave with the walls and the victims stuck to them.
Bobas armor allowed him enough area not connected he could use all his strength and break loose.
The smell of chemicals devouring flesh along with screams and cries of agony intensify by the second as if they are all connected.
Boba reaches into one of his pouches after managing to get his arm free and slips an air purifier into his mouth to ward off the Sarlacc’s poison gas.
Now that he is not in and out of consciousness he engages every blade his armor holds. Digging into the stomach walls with his forearms and spikes equipped in his boots. The helmet light showed that he has made it out of the lower stomach, it also showed him what he had been experiencing. Jabba's men stretched on the walls writhing in pain and pleading for Boba to save them from the abyss of torture. The Sarlacc does not just digest your body over a long period of time, it will enter your mind and make your consciousness one and the same with it. Essentially everything alive in the Sarlacc is connected through needle like neurons that cause all to feel each other’s pain till death.
Boba found a some what level plane and gazed at the victims some more bones than person, some he knew some he didn’t but he was sure this is a thing of nightmares.
No thanks to Han Solo and his friends most of Bobas arsenal was lost and needing to see what he could salvage he dug through the half dead bodies now intertwined in the innards of the Sarlacc.
Most moaned weakly and begged for death as he searched to find anything to help him escape this hell.
Boba is a survivor he told himself, trained in the ways of Mandalore and the whole galaxy knows the toughness and grit of Mandalorians.
Everyone also knows anything and everything can be a weapon for a mandalorian if the situation calls for it.
Boba finds a cluster of smoke grenades along with pure Kessel spice, which he carefully maneuvered inside the smoke grenade.
Being at Jabba's palace you’ll see your share of patrons on their spice journey and bobas hoping to send the Sarlacc on one.
Climbing to the highest point possible he tossed the grenades into the lower stomach and thanked mandalore he still had his respirator.
He could feel the creature go limp after a while, meaning its defenses were down, now is his chance.
Ascending out of the lower stomach meant there was one more to go but would be much too difficult to climb out the way he did the lower level. Using his grappling hook Boba grappled onto the bodies intertwined on the walls till he felt near the opining.
The Sarlacc's beak was sealed shut like the InterGalactic Banking Clans vaults just another obstacle to blow through. Boba removed his jet pack with 1 fuel cell still being intact as solo only punctured the right side, he emptied the extra fuel cells he had for his flamethrower into the hole and tossed the jet pack into the seemingly bottomless abyss. Even with his helmets multiple displays the air in the stomachs makes it hard to see much at all but he finally spots the jet pack and shoots it.
The blast in combination with the stomach gasses form a huge combustion and violently shoots Boba out onto the Dune Sea marking the first person to ever escape the Sarlacc.

Back in 2016, I was exploring the house that my family just moved into. During my exploration I made my way to the basement. At first there wasn't really anything, but I then heard a faint female voice behind me saying,
"Who are you?".
Naturally, I freaked out and looked behind me, I then saw the vague figure of a pale woman with dirty blonde hair, red dress, white hat with a rose, and I noticed that she seemed to have stab wounds under her rib, stomach, and right side of her head. The woman then backed away slightly before saying,
"Don't be scared.. My name's Vanessa"
After that encounter, I see her near my closet and my windows at night. During those nights, she hums songs (the only song that I've indentified from her hums were Kitty Kallen's It's Been A Long Long Time). She said it was because 'I don't sleep enough'. Nowadays she mostly hums songs when she wants some company.
Vanessa's Backstory
Vanessa was born back in August 16, 1953, in Hackensack, New Jersey. She said that she moved to another state (the state I live rn) and bought the house back in 1972. She only finished high school when she married some guy with the last name Henderson. Their marriage was very rocky, with Mr. Henderson being physically abusive to Vanessa, him literally killing their child, and cheating on her multiple times.
Mr. Henderson violently killed Vanessa since he wanted to be with his mistress. She was only 21 and it was on her birthday. From what I conclude from my first encounter with her was that she might've died from blood lost since she had a whole lot of stab wounds on major-vital areas of her body. She said that she was killed near the boiler. To this day, I don't know where her body is, one theory was that Henderson could've gotten rid of the body in some way but her body would've been discovered and possibly shown on the media. Another and most likely one was that Henderson could've put her body in the boiler, since the house was vacant for 30+ years until now, which gives time for a body to decompose fully. The last theory was that her body could be within the concrete floor of the basement, the last time I've been in the basement, I saw a cement-mixing machine that looked run-down and super old.
In today's time, Vanessa shows up time to time to chat for a while or to tell a story. She also takes care of the other ghosts, making sure they don't harm me. The sad thing is that she always mistakes me as her son, Charles. As of today, she had mistaken me as him and read me a story ( 3 little pigs ). I let her because I know that she's still hurting from his murder.
​

Down the elevator went, further and further down; much farther than the last two elevators the three had taken. It seemed as though it would keep on going without stopping, making all of them wonder where the elevator was taking them.
But after an entire minute, the elevator stopped. What was revealed was a narrow hallway, which contained two rows of capsules; each big enough to contain a single individual. The room was immensely cold; their own breaths could be seen the moment they stepped out.
“Brrr… It’s so cold.” Sumireko said, rubbing her arms to generate friction. Suika also felt the immense cold, but wasn’t as bothered as Sumireko, all the while Satsujin acted like it was his kind of domain.
“It’s very narrow as well. What is with all these capsules?” Satsujin said, observing the number of capsules down in rows. Even though his hearing allowed him to distinguish forms with exceptional detail, if any material that could reflect sound waves was present, it was difficult for him to identify what was inside of it. Curious, he approached one of the vats, and sticking an ear to the glass, he made little knocks, in hopes to use the vibrations as a guide.
"There's a person inside. Aside from that, I can't tell much." He said, turning over to Sumireko. "Could you take a look for me and tell me what's inside?"
“A person? Let me look.” Sumireko went over to the capsule. It was all fogged up due to the low temperature of the room, so she had to wipe the glass with her hand to get a better look inside. And inside revealed a sight that caused her to jump back in shock and horror.
“EEEEEK!!!” She yelled. “T…That…That person inside.” Her hand trembled while pointing. "It's dead!!!! And rotten!!!!"
Suika looked inside the capsule, staring at the mummified figure.
“Huh, you’re right.” Suika said. “Wonder how long they’ve been sleeping in there.”
The monitor next to the capsule activated; flickering on slowly as it filled with text, yet not all of the text was shown correctly.
[Sub… N………..urei”]
[Date of b…. 18…. The very first… of Gen…yo. Not much in…mation is k….]
*pop*
The monitor turned off, and a trace of smoke filtered through the plastic.
"Great. The display just died." Sumireko said, bonking the screen in an attempt to bring it back to life. But alas, it didn't work at all.
"Let's keep moving." Suika said, pointing at the distance.
The group stumbled upon an improvised workbench, filled with at least half a dozen folders, a writing pen made from strange materials, a dirty coffee cup, a moldy piece of hand-made cheese, and a shelf, filled with small and medium capsules containing many organic samples of various kinds of living beings. The liquid in them was semi-translucent, with a weak blue color.
"Ugh! The cheese stinks like death! Someone get that out of here!" Sumireko said, taking a pile of papers from the trash bin, and wrapping the undesired object in them.
Suika took the cheese, and after a quick scan, she saw a strange machine labeled "Trash disintegrator". She put the cheese and the papers that wrapped the food in it, and after a loud electric sound, the cheese was no longer there…except for the stench that stayed in Suika's hands.
"Ugh…fuck." Suika said, reaching for one of the many hand washers that were in there, and furiously cleaning her hands with soap until there was not a single trace of smell. After that, she returned over to the others, who were inspecting the items in the table.
In one of the many smaller capsules, an oddly familiar piece of tissue was floating in a transparent liquid. It had a scale-like patterned exterior, similar to a fish's skin, while the interior flesh was mostly orange with signs of advanced decomposition.
[Sample N°1: "Fallen Mermaid"]
Recollected on the 12th of April, on the shore of Misty Lake. Condition: Stable.
Aside from the previous capsule, there was another one, with a decently sized chunk of flesh inside, roughly as big as a trout, in an outstandingly good condition. It looked more like human flesh than the previous one.
[Sample N°2: "Night Sparrow"]
Harvested and recollected on the 12th of April. Condition: Perfect.
"Wait…the skin color in the first one looks familiar…Wakasagihime?!?" Sumireko said in shock. "So the journal was actually right after all."
"And the second one must be Mystia." Satsujin said, taking the second capsule, and lifting it. "Why would he want to store this?" He thought, returning the capsule to its original place.
"I don't know, but I'd rather not mess with any of this." Sumireko said, returning the capsule she had picked up to its intended place. "Suika, did you get rid of that thing?"
"Yep. It's gone. What have you two been looking at?" Suika said, taking one of the folders in the desk, and looking at its contents.
[Clone N°7: "Reisen"]
"Stage of growth: Fully grown young adult. Memories have not been copied into this clone yet. Not ready for deployment."
[Clone N°8: "Reisen" (Uncomplete)]
"Stage of growth: 16 to 18 years old. Clone possesses a perfect copy of the original's memories. Requires further growth."
[Clone N°9: "Reisen" (Gender-swap)]
"Stage of growth: Fully grown young adult. Ready to use in case of a catastrophe. Complete memories and growth."
[Codename: Project Origin]
"The original and authentic Reisen. I've decided to replace the original with a clone, in case something happens in the next few days."
“...” Sumireko glared at what the information had to say, squinting her eyes slightly while looking closer, as though there was something else on her mind. Satsujin took notice of this.
“Something wrong?” Satsujin asked.
“I’m good… I just… Feel like the stuff here isn’t…I don’t really know.” Sumireko said. “It just feels like something’s missing… Or maybe the opposite. Maybe there’s nothing missing, I don’t know how to describe it.”
"Missing? What do you mean by that?"
“It feels… Wait, where’s Suika?” Sumireko looked behind and found that Suika had walked further down the hall, as though something caught her eye.
“Suika?” Sumireko asked again, chasing after the Oni. “Hey, what is-”
Sumireko stopped. She noticed the narrow hall widening into a large, circular section. Surrounding them were various capsules; clear as day and bodies that were well preserved. Each one held a certain figure, all of them bearing similar traits. Brown Hair, Clear Skin, and they all looked female…save for one. Around the center there was a much bigger capsule; one which remained empty, but had text written on it that had the following message.
“Reserved for Reimu Hakurei.”
"What in god's name is…" Sumireko said, her eyes widening in shock. “What is this place?”
Sumireko walked over to one of the capsules at random; specifically the one that was empty, tapping on the monitor just as it began to spit out dialogue.
"Subject N°12: Minako Hakurei."
"The 12th Shrine Maiden. She died in an unfortunate incident regarding a loose cerberus long ago. Somehow, all traces of her DNA have vanished from existence after awakening the power of the Hakurei God. All that remains of her are my own memories of her, what the sages knew, and her kin."
“Minako…Who is that?” Sumireko said.
“...An old friend.” Suika said, standing behind Sumireko. She turned around to greet the Oni; who no longer had a careless or cheerful voice. Instead she looked more solemn; down to earth. “Out of all the Shrine Maidens, she was one of the most dedicated to her job. She had a cold mind, and never hesitated on taking matters into her own hands. However, that didn't make her less comprehensive when the situation called for it. She never harmed or was rude with any innocent person or youkai, and was always fair with everyone. And to top it off…she was an amazing friend to have. She was more human with us than most of the previous maidens. It's such a disgrace that her life was taken away so early."
“You…knew her?” Sumireko said. “But I thought that you only knew Reimu and-”
"Yes. I may not look like it, but I've lived long enough to meet most of Reimu's bloodline. A very long time, I must say." Suika said. "And the day Minako died is still fresh in my mind."
"It took us all by surprise. We thought it was everyday business, as always. But it wasn't. Fate is a cruel thing, and that day, it decided to seal her and her spouse's destiny in a heroic sacrifice for her beloved daughter. A sacrifice which would leave wounds that never healed. Reimu suffered the worst part of it, having to bear the trauma of seeing her two heroes be ripped off to shreds right in front of her. And there she stood, filled with terror. Even days after her mother died, she would continue to tremble and have nightmares every single day, until her mind gave up and sealed those memories away, to never be rediscovered again." Suika said, in a melancholic tone. "Me and the others who were close to Minako agreed to never bring this topic to her by any means, and to ensure she had a normal childhood."
Satsujin and Sumireko both were in shock. They never seen or heard Suika act in such a way, least not since they broke her out from her gourd. Her words sounded true; her voice genuinely saddened.
“Suika…” Sumireko said. “I-I’m sorry that-”
W̶̖͘r̷̨̀o̵̜̽n̸̛͍g̴̦̈́
“...What?” Sumireko was interrupted upon hearing a voice. It seemed that Suika and Satsujin also heard it.
Ỵ̵͛o̷̺͘ǘ̵͍ ̴̹͝a̸͇̽r̶̠͝ë̷̜ ̸̜̈ẉ̷̒r̵̢͝ǒ̴͔n̸̦͊g̸̨̐.̸̜̃ ̵͉̃T̵͎͊h̷͕̒a̸̞̐t̵̯̚ ̵͙͠ṅ̷̜e̸̘̊v̴͔͝ê̸̺r̶̬͝ ̴̭͛h̸̙̑a̴̺͝p̴̺͌p̷̪̂é̸̢n̵̯̓e̷̺͋d̶̢͛.̵͓̈ ̸̦͠T̴̬͋h̵̞͂a̵̬͒t̶̲͒'̵̞̉ş̴̋ ̵̤͊ṇ̶̏o̷̧͠t̶͚̚ ̵̩̂w̴̙̆ĥ̴͙a̷̹̐t̴̻͑ ̶̮̓t̵̡̏r̷̤͛ų̸͗l̷̐ͅy̷̖̎ ̸̨̃ḫ̷̋ȧ̶͍p̸̬̽p̷̼̔è̸̜ǹ̷͎ê̴͕d̸̞́.̷̨͌
“Who’s saying that!?” Satsujin demanded. “Who are you!?”
S̵͎̕u̴̞̎i̴̠̐k̶̳͑ą̶̈́.̷͍̎ ̸̬͌S̶̜͘t̵͖̄o̶͍͊p̴̖̃ ̶̯̀l̸̲͒y̴̙̓i̸̻̚n̶̯͆g̸͚̍.̵͇͌ ̴̠̎Y̶͖͌o̸̩͑ų̶̉ ̴̬̋k̷̩͝n̶̈́ͅó̸̯w̶̲̎ ̵̫͑t̶̟͗h̸͕̆ȁ̴̩t̸̟͋'̷͔̿s̶̰͋ ̸̰̌n̸͖̓o̸̝̊ṱ̴̈ ̴̙̓w̴̻̃h̷͔͠à̶̗t̷̫͆ ̷͇̋h̴͖̍ă̵̗ṗ̷̤p̷̮͑ë̴̪́ň̶̳ë̵͔́d̵̺̆.̵̖̎.̸͈̑.̶̅͜ ̸̖́T̸̢̏h̴̦͌a̷̢̎ṭ̴͠'̵͇̎š̶͉ ̵͍̊n̶̡̓o̷̻͛t̶̠͛ ̴̩̀w̴͑͜h̷͍́à̵͜t̸̡͂ ̷̯̉I̴͓̓ ̶̝̈i̸̘̾ṇ̷͝t̴̞͠ë̵̖́ǹ̸͖d̵̤̄e̷̱̅d̷͚̾ ̸̟̀f̷̠̂ǒ̶̦r̴̛̫ ̶͎̌y̴͎͐o̴̼͑u̶͈̽.̶̮́
“What?” Suika asked. “No, I-I…”
Ḋ̸̖õ̴̩n̶͇͑'̵̱̈t̴̛͚ ̵̡̒y̷̦͗ǒ̵̱ŭ̷̪ ̷͙͌r̵̨̚ë̶̤́m̵̜̀e̷͍͛m̵̠̽b̶̛͓ę̴͐ȓ̴̤ ̵̤̋t̸̟̚h̸͈͂a̸̜̐t̶̪̅ ̵̦̀d̴̯̏ó̷͈l̷̗̃l̸̰͠?̵̻̕ ̴͈͐D̸͂͜o̴͓̽n̸̙͠'̸͈̋t̷̙̉ ̴̰̀ẏ̶̙o̴̥͊u̵̧͑ ̵̖͑ȓ̴͜ḛ̶̈m̷̳̑e̸͍̓m̷̱̋b̷̨̂ẹ̸̓ř̶̹ ̴̠͝t̴̢͊h̸̏ͅè̸͖ ̸͆͜t̵̿͜r̴̞̊ȅ̶̫e̵̙̓,̸̕ͅ ̶̯̿w̶̧̄ĥ̷̹e̵͇̍r̴̯͗ē̶̥ ̶̩͘y̸̤͘õ̸̝u̴̦͝ ̵̮́w̵͍̾r̶̳̒o̵͚̐t̸̠̚e̸̘̍ ̵͎̕t̸͑͜ḥ̷̈́a̷̩͊t̷͕̋ ̶̲͝m̴͙̅e̷͕͗s̸̨̀s̷͙̏a̵̭̓g̵̺̿e̷͉̐ ̴̺̈́a̷̺̅n̷̛̠d̵͍̕ ̶͉̇h̷̢̉į̶̊d̶̖͛ ̵͇̍t̴̻͛ẖ̵̋a̷̬͂t̴̜̔ ̷̻̈b̷̟͐o̶̡̎t̶̫̚ṭ̶͂l̶̝̚e̸̳͆?̶̥̇ ̸̺͌Y̷͠ͅo̶̺͒u̷̼͛ ̵͖͝k̵̦̀ṉ̸̅ò̷̢w̸̖̚ ̸̬͛w̷͇͐h̴͉̚a̴͖̐ẗ̷͔́ ̷̮̚R̷̙͆E̴̬̐Ḁ̵͊L̴̤̐L̵̞̅Y̵̰̏ ̷̧̀h̴̠̄a̵̼̔p̶͔̂p̷̲̓e̶̩̾n̸̗̽e̵̜̓ḑ̸̉.̷̭́ ̴̜́D̶̡̿o̷̳͆n̴̫͌'̷̳̈́t̴̖͑ ̸̫̏ľ̸̺i̷̻̿e̸͌ͅ.̸̯̕
“A…Ah…” Suika shuddered. She trembled to her knees, and shook her head. Flashes of memories that she could recall like yesterday rose from the surface. The doll, the rain, the injuries… The sight of her very first friend on the surface after so long… Yet one person did not approve of her kind, for a very good reason.
“No…No…I remember now… Why did I suddenly remember?” Suika asked. “Dammit… I shouldn’t have ever forgotten… Stupid, stupid, stupid!”
“Suika!? What’s the matter?” Sumireko said, checking on Suika closely while Satsujin remained where he was, listening to the voices more intently.
“...Who is that voice? They sound like her… But… different.” Satsujin said.
Wait… This wasn’t supposed to happen… What are you doing? Why are you doing this?
I̸̺̾'̸̙͝m̴͉̈́ ̷͔͋d̴̡̈o̶̪̿ḭ̵̐n̸̰͒g̷̝͝ ̴̭̀w̴̼͆h̸̟̿ḁ̷̾t̷̻̆ ̸̰̀į̴́s̵̙͆ ̶̕ͅm̷̭̈́e̸̝͠å̸̪n̶̗͝t̸̖̿ ̴͙̂t̴̼̎ō̴͖ ̶͇̀h̴̓͜a̶̝͝p̵̠̀p̸̞̈́e̶̪͐ṅ̸̪.̴̈͜
But this was not what I, or rather, we had in mind.
W̸̲̊h̴͍͋ȧ̷̢t̵̝̂ ̷̭̉y̷̹̾o̵͉̎u̷̜̇ ̶̖̅ȟ̷̫ã̵̩d̶̗̄ ̸̜̓į̵̍n̵̠͘ ̵͇͌m̴͍͝ḯ̴̞n̴̡͘d̸̛̠?̷̫̄ ̸̯̀W̵̢̚ë̶̞́l̷͖̚l̶͎͂.̸͓̈.̵͉̏.̷̭͑ ̶̮̆t̷͈͗ǒ̷͇ô̷͜ ̵̓͜b̶̨̛a̸̯͝d̴̫͑.̶̻͋
The voices were then suddenly replaced with loud static, coming from all of the monitors next to their respective capsules. They all shook with the figures still inside; as their eyes glowed with a white glow as though they were each looking directly at the trio, surrounding them with their divinity.
“What is going on!?” Sumireko asked. “Wait. Suika? Why are you breathing heavily?”
“Hah…Hah…” Suika’s eyes were wider than before. She was looking at two specific capsules and pointed at both of them. Sumireko looked at where she was pointing.
Those two capsules were the only ones who’s figures eyes weren’t open with a white glow. One held a figure who looked to be quite elderly; bearing hair that was slowly turning white and skin with signs of wrinkles. But the other… The other was a man… And he smiled, with eyes that looked red instead of white like all the others. His monitor flickered with red text.
[Subject Number 10: Sendai Hakurei]
[Date of Birth: Unknown. The only member of the Hakurei bloodline that was born a male… A man who had been forgotten by history, not by accident… But because of the atrocities he committed to both Gensokyo, and his own daughter.]
The man looked over at the other capsule next to him. His eyes glowing brighter with almost ecstatic behavior. Suika and Sumireko looked at the capsule next to him, and it caused Suika to panic even more.
“No… Not her… Not her… Not the Blood Flower Maiden.” Suika whimpered.
"You three…get out of here. She has finally revealed her true colors."
T̸̮̅h̸̹̕e̵͈̊ÿ̸̜'̵͒ͅř̶͖e̷̱͐ ̶̘̔ņ̴̍ǒ̴͉t̶̻́ ̷̛̼s̶͙͒ù̶͖p̸̖͛p̸͎̿o̴̭͊ș̸͠e̵̢͊d̴̨̔ ̷͓̑t̷͓̔ò̵͎ ̸̮̿ľ̶͚e̶̖͝ȃ̸̬v̴̱̿e̸̊ͅ ̴̥̇ȳ̷̹ẹ̴̽t̴̨̓.̴͇̿ ̷̠̒Ṇ̶͑o̴͎̽t̶͉̏ ̷̬́u̶̢̾n̶̳͂t̴͎̋i̸̖̅l̴͎̈́ ̷̳̓s̵͉̎h̶͖̒e̵̖͂ ̶͓͌a̸̺͊ŵ̷̻á̵̝k̷̳̈ě̷̦n̶͇͠s̶̅͜.̶͙͊
"DON'T LISTEN TO HER, RUN! EXECUTING CORE ISOLATION PROTOCOL!"
\BZZT**
Ǹ̶͓Ọ̵́!̷̗̐!̷̢̛!̸̼̉ ̴̦͗T̶̼͌H̷͕͘Ȋ̴̯S̴͔͂ ̴̰͋I̶̗͆S̸͍͆ ̵̬́Ṇ̴̐O̸͚͝T̶̘̈ ̷̘͝H̷̫̆O̵̢̒Ẅ̴̘ ̴̫̎I̵̮̽T̸͉͛ ̴͎̏I̸̝̍S̴̳̆ ̵̩͛Š̵̺Ȗ̵͈P̵̙̔P̴͖̿O̵͕͑Ś̶̡É̸͇D̷̗͝ ̷̼͑T̴͖͛O̸̢͝ ̷̙̀G̶̞͝O̸̝͘!̶͖̓!̶̥̽!̸̰̉
The room started blaring with red lights, but it was already too late. The other figure awakened from her slumber, slamming her hand against the glass as cracks began to show.
“No no no no! Not her!” Suika said, freaking out.
“Suika! Stay with me!” Sumireko said. “It’s going to be okay! I swear upon it!”
“...” Satsujin listened to the blares, the thoughts of everyone around her. They all… had nothing to say… except for one. The only other man in the room.
“...Heh…She’s right, you know? This wasn’t her plan… Yet it looks like she has to go fix things up for the future.” Sendai thought.
“...Who are you?” Satsujin asked back.
“Me? I’m nobody at the moment. I don’t have a role yet, and probably won’t for a long time. Least, that’s according to her. How do I know this? It’s simple really?”
The other figure managed to make more cracks, and Suika was now crying, almost afraid of what’s to come.
"Grr…Damn you! Listen to me, I can't hold her forever. Suika, take them and return to the surface, and…shit, she's trying to escape! GO!!!"
S̸̻̈Ḧ̸̫Ȗ̶̝Ț̶̉ ̷̗̍Ú̷̻P̴̰̑!̷͖͐!̴̮̔!̵͔͋!̴̡͝!̶͓͒
“She has everything planned out… including all of your deaths.”
*ERROR*
Buffer overload detected. Restarting stage…
Restart was successful!
—
—
—
The room was dark and quiet again… It was as though everything that happened in the last few minutes never happened. The emergency backup power was left on, giving the people who were still inside the room just enough to see their surroundings.
Suika found herself hugging Sumireko, yet couldn’t remember why she was doing so. She also felt tears on her face, but didn’t remember why she was crying. Sumireko was the same. She found herself hugging Suika back, with a hand on her head like she was comforting her.
“Um…Did something happen?” Sumireko asked. “What were we doing?”
“Uhhhhh…” Suika was confused as she let go of Sumireko and got back up. She noticed how dark the room was yet the last thing she recalled was leaving the elevator with Sumireko and Satsujin and exploring the room a little bit.
Satsujin was standing next to them, facing one of the capsules which contained a still figure; almost lifeless. There was nothing else he sensed in his surroundings, save for a pile of shattered glass which was now on the floor.
“Um, you two.” Satsujin said. “I think something happened.”
“Huh? Something happened? Like what?” Sumireko asked.
"Phew. I thought the core isolation protocol wouldn't work…Now…where we were?"
And then all the lights in the room flashed back on, almost blinding everyone as the lab went back into full power; running everything that needed to be run efficiently. A muffled air fan sound could be heard in the distance, adding to the abandoned ambience.
The glass shards that Satsujin noticed earlier were now revealed to have belonged to one of the capsules, which was empty. It made him more worried as it now begged the question of who was inside there.
“That’s…not good.” Satsujin thought.
But then something else caught everyone’s attention. There was a monitor, or rather a large screen, about 70 inches in width, above the capsules and everything else as it turned on, showing some old footage of a couple familiar figures.
“Wait a minute.” Sumireko said. “Isn’t that… Eirin? And… Okina?”
On the screen, the two figures looked to be discussing something, sitting down in a room together full of empty capsules.
“Do you really need to be recording this?” Okina asked Eirin. “I’m not familiar with your moon’s tech, but I would rather not find out this is something used to send info to your superiors.”
“I assure you, this device is for containing records and nothing more. And even if I wanted to send this to the Lunar Capital, that would risk the safety of me and the princess, which you are well aware I would never do.” Eirin said.
“Yeah yeah, just don’t let anyone unfamiliar find this somehow. Last thing we need is for them to get too advanced too early. And what does any of this have to do with what we agreed on?”
“I’m a doctor, but also a researcher. It is basic common sense to note down any information you come upon, and this is no different. Besides, I’m interested in what you had in mind regarding this project.”
“All I care about is whether you live up to your side of the agreement, I don’t care about anything else. You should be glad I decided to sit down and talk to you instead of informing the other sages of Lunarian immigrants.” Okina said with slight bitterness.
“I prefer you don’t refer to me or the princess with that kind of tone. We no longer live on the moon, nor do we have the same mindset as them. We are human.” Eirin said.
“Human you say? Sure, and I’m the housekeeper of some doorknob salesman.” Okina said.
“I don’t believe doorknobs are a usual sight in this country.”
“Great, you don’t know what sarcasm is… Just make sure you do your side of the deal well. I’ll make sure to check on your progress every time there’s a new shrine maiden. Do good, and I’ll make sure not to tell Yukari about your whereabouts. Fail, and… well you know what.” Okina said, standing up and leaving the room.
“Hah… So much for complete isolated peace with the princess.” Eirin mumbled to herself.
The video flickered a little, fading to static before something else popped up. That being once again, text.
"Project: Faith Preservation.
A conjoined effort between all the sages of Gensokyo to preserve the lineage of the Hakurei family in case of a catastrophe.
When I first arrived on Earth, the sages were initially against the idea of letting me, an enemy of their worst enemy, live in this land. However, they offered me a truce. In exchange for being hidden from the moon emissaries, I would spend the next centuries making sure that every woman and men who ever wore the Hakurei surname was preserved for a later use, may the current active one die, or be rendered useless by any reason."
The monitor turned off, and everyone was left staring at a black screen that reflected themselves. Then, the screen flickered, and showed a series of dots and lines in the screen for some seconds before turning off again.
"... .... . / .... .- ... / -... . - .-. .- -.-- . -.. / ..- ... .-.-.- / --. --- -.. / ... .- ...- . / ..- ... / .- .-.. .-.. .-.-.- / ... - .- -.-- / .- .-.. . .-. - .-.-.-"
*splat*
Everyone turned to where the wet sound came, and there she was. A woman in her elders, with wrinkles and grayish hair, wearing an old, more traditional shrine maiden outfit. She looked over at the group, when her sight was set on Suika. She looked at the Oni who wore the clothes of her lineage. It made her so confused…and angry. Very angry.
"You filthy Oni…why are you…wearing the Shrine Maiden's clothes?" She said, in a raspy yet intimidating tone of voice.
Suika didn't answer at all. She froze in place, and like it was a cruel joke, she remembered why she was crying.
"No…NO! This is bad…really bad!" She said, falling to the ground in terror. "She's awake…"
“W-what? Who?” Sumireko asked.
“Chihana…Hakurei.” Suika said. “We need to run now.”
“Run?” Satsujin asked. “Why do you-”
“We need to run!!! No questions asked!”
Suika didn’t waste time in grabbing both their hands, running down the hall and back towards the elevator. She practically threw the two in while she started pressing the up button rapidly. Chihana walked forward towards the group, pulling out a needle from her sleeve and gripping it tight and imbuing it with a certain type of magic. Right as the doors began to close, she threw it at eye-blinking speeds, only stopping in front of Suika by just a centimeter thanks to the doors closing in time.
But still the Oni was trembling, shaken, filled with the fear of the woman that pursued them slowly. For now they were safe, but how long.
“H-Hey… You said they were also a Hakurei? And you knew them?” Sumireko asked.
“Y-Yeah…” Suika said with a shaky voice. “S-she was the previous shrine maiden before Minako… You could s-say she’s Reimu’s grandmother.”
“Her…grandmother?” Sumireko asked.
*ding*
The elevator opened up to the third floor. Suika and the other two left and walked down the room filled with plants.
“Wait, how come no one else knew about her? I mean, thinking about it, it is a little strange how there is very little information on any of the previous Hakurei Shrine Maidens. Not even in the Gensokyo Chronicles.”
“That’s because they were erased from history; traces of their existence wiped off the books save for a handful of mentions. That was done on purpose because Yukari didn’t want anyone to remember the Hakurei Shrine Maiden as brutal or bloodfestive.” Suika said. “There’s a lot you don’t know about the predecessors.”
The floor on the ground burst open, and Chihana rose out of it, maintaining that same glare on Suika specifically. Suika looked back and her face stricken with horror.
“Why are you… running away you damn Oni!?” Chihana shouted, pointing a sharpened gohei at her.
Once again, Suika, Sumireko and Satsujin made a run for it, avoiding the talismans the elder Miko threw at them with vigor. The talismans stuck some of the nearby green; setting it ablaze with flames that sprouted from the paper charms, disintegrating the plants with no trace left behind. Fortunately none of them hit the trio as they made their way to the next elevator.
“You won’t get away this time!” Chihana shouted, running right at them. But the doors closed just in time as a fist-shaped dent was made in the thick steel.
“Hoooh…I guess we should be glad the elevator was reinforced like the rest of this lab.” Satsujin said.
“That’s not going to stop her.” Suika said. “She’s the type who never gives up until her target is lying dead on the ground. And in case they’re already dead, she’ll personally pursue you all the way to the afterlife to ensure you don’t reincarnate.” She looked back at Satsujin. "Heck, she would even go after your whole family if the circumstances required it."
“But why was she trying to kill us?” Satsujin asked. “The moment she saw you I could sense killing intent. Isn’t the spell card rules-”
“The spell card rules didn’t exist until Reimu you idiot!” Suika shouted at him. "It was kill or be killed! Gensokyo lived on a pecking order for centuries, and that was humans, youkai, demi-gods, actual gods, the Shrine Maiden, and then the Sages… And all the youkai were forced to accept that fact…or perish! That’s why most of us lived either underground or on Youkai Mountain because none of us were idiotic enough to dare go anywhere near the Human Village while she was around!" Suika said, letting out a sigh. “And I was the idiot who decided to leave.”
Neither Sumireko or Satsujin had words to comment on Suika's statement. They stood silent, until they arrived at the following floor.
*ding*
They walked out, and again they moved across the room over to the other elevator.
“Suika… If you don’t mind me asking… How do you know her anyway? And why does she not like you?” Sumireko asked.
Suika thought for a moment, as though she was wondering if she wanted to answer or not. But she did anyway, “I knew her daughter a long time ago, Minako Hakurei. When I first ventured up to the surface I did what any youkai would do and started scaring people at every chance I got. But when I met Minako by pure coincidence, she wasn’t scared. Rather she was infatuated with me. I guess it wasn’t everyday you meet someone with horns and capable of smashing trees with a single punch, hahaha… So, we met a few times, got to know each other, had fun like how any pair of friends would. But…her mother didn’t like seeing her daughter get close with an Oni. And then she tried to kill me, right in front of her daughter’s eyes.”
“She did what?” Sumireko said with shock in her eyes. “How could someone do that?”
*bang*
“Wait, hold on a minute.” Satsujin said. “Did you hear that?”
*bang*
“I think it’s coming from below.” Sumireko looked down at the ground.
*Bang*
“...Fuck.” Suika said.
*BANG*
Chihana bursted out of the floor, rising out of it and once again glaring at the others. The process repeated, this time with more speed. The group rushed for the next elevator door, and entered, as Chihana emerged from the ground once again, tossing away everything that was on her way, including metal shelves with a lot of fragile objects, which made a loud sound after impact.
“Close close close close close…” Suika spammed the button repeatedly.
The elevator fortunately closed right as Chihana approached. They all let out a sigh of relief… And then they returned to shock upon witnessing the door being forcefully opened with bare hands. The red-glow glare of the demonic Miko leering inside.
“You won’t get away this time, foul demon!” Chihana expressed.
“AAAH!” Sumireko screamed. She used her psychic powers to push her back, with great success. The elder shrine maiden didn’t expect to be hit with a burst of psychokinesis while she slid back on the ground. Then with a cry of frustration, she threw a handful of talismans at the trio. Fortunately most of them didn’t hit as the elevator doors shielded them; save for two which struck Sumireko’s hat and Satsujin’s shirt, one of which set Sumireko’s hat on fire.
"My hat is burning! Ow! Ow!" Sumireko said, tossing her hat into the floor, which had been struck with a talisman. Shortly after, the hat vanished in a violent blaze.
"Aw, I liked that hat too. Oh well, at least we-SATSUJIN!!! YOUR SHIRT!!!" Sumireko yelled loudly.
"Huh?" He said, unaware that a talisman had made its way into his white shirt, and was about to activate. With quick reflexes, Suika pulled the shirt with two hands, and ripped it from Satsujin's torso, as she wrapped the talisman in the cloth, and tossed it away. The end result was a burning pile of cloth which eventually disintegrated into nothing. The process left Satsujin with half of his shirt gone, revealing his slightly toned body.
"...damn it." Satsujin said, closing his cape to cover himself. "I don't like to be like this in front of someone else." As he said that, one of his eyes shined brightly.
"There was no need to be that dramatic, you know?"
"Still…I feel exposed." The layered voice said. Shortly after, the eye stopped glowing, going back to its previous state.
Suika didn’t say anything during the conversation. She was too focused breathing in and out repeatedly; hugging herself in the process. It was clear that she was feeling a large amount of anxiety.
“Hey, Suika? Are you still there?” Sumireko asked her.
“I’m…fine Sumireko.” Suika said. “I just want to get out of here and back with the others. I hope they’re doing better than how we are.”
The rest of the elevator ride went in silence. The three waited until they got back on the first floor, seeing the elevator doors open up…
And revealing Chihana standing there in front of them, holding her sharpened gohei, a pair of needles and talismans, and a face full of malice.

What you are about to read is both a confession and an apology. I don't know how much time I have so I will keep it as short as I can. I was coming back home from work a few nights ago. It was dark and I was tired from my shift when suddenly a deer ran out in front of my truck. I locked my brakes but couldn't stop in time. Feeling my heart pounding I just sat in my truck, staring at the motionless deer laying in the middle of the road. I had never killed anything before, intentionally or accidentally. As much as I wanted to get home, take a shower and go to bed, I couldn't just let it lay there. Someone could run it over causing real damage to their undercarriage or, God forbid, they swerve to avoid it and end up falling over a hundred feet into the river below, hitting dozens of trees on the way down. I couldn't let that be on my conscience, so I did what the good lord Jesus would have done. I put on my emergency lights and got out of the truck to pull the carcass off the road. However, as I was doing this I saw something move in the deers lower gut. Seeing this made my heart sink because at the time I thought maybe the dead deer was going to give birth. While holding in a gag and pulling the body to get it off the road, whatever was in the deer crawled out of its… backside, ran up the leg I was holding onto and bit my hand. It was too fast and the night was too dark so I have no idea what it could have been. Instinctively I flung the creature off of me and heard it scamper away through the grass. Wondering what the hell just attacked me, I inspected the wound. The wound produced very little blood and looked no worse than what a cat would do when it plays a little too roughly. Since my heart was pounding out of my chest and I had most of the deer carcass off the road, I figured I had done my duty and it was time to head home. As soon as I got home, I barely had the energy to take off my clothes, so all hopes I had of taking a shower were lost and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out like a light. The next morning I felt sluggish and cold. My teeth were chattering violently. It reminded me of a flu, however my nose wasn’t stuffed up and I wasn’t congested. The wound on my hand was red, but not swollen. Still, I was worried and made a call to set up a doctor's appointment. Thankfully I was able to get seen right away, however after the exam the doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me but the blood tests would take a few days before the results would come in. I am not the kind of person to tell someone how to do their job, especially if their job meant years of education and twice that many having their own practice. However I made it clear that I strongly disagreed with what the doctor said. When I got home, my stomach was complaining. I ate shortly before getting off work the day before so there was no reason for my stomach to complain as much as it was. I tried eating soup but it tasted like fermenting compost. No joke, that's what it tasted like. When I checked the expiration date, I was surprised that it still had eight months left before it was considered bad. At the time I figured that whatever was wrong with me was affecting my senses. My grandma said that 7Up and ginger ale was as close to magic as it gets when it comes to being sick, but since I didn't have any in the house, I made a few calls and had it delivered. However, that too tasted bad. My stomach kept complaining so in an attempt to silence it, I decided to make something that I could never resist. My moms specialty: meatloaf. If nothing else, it was comfort food and my favorite as a kid. Lo and behold, it tasted amazing. However when I tried adding ketchup like I always did, I nearly gagged from the smell of it. I ended up eating all of it in a single sitting and afterwards I felt really good. So good in fact that I decided to head into town to pick up a few groceries. As I walked around with the shopping cart, going down the same aisles as I always did, the items I usually got held no appeal. I love bananas, but they smelt like they had been soaking in gasoline for a few days, the vegetables stank of curdled milk and the cheese might as well have been… Well, I’ll let you imagine what that smelt like. The only thing that smelt good was the meat. No, it didnt smell good. It smelt divine, the way I imagine heaven smells like. I filled up my cart with hamburger, chicken breasts, pork chops, pork butt, whole turkeys, chicken legs, ribs, spiral hams, bacon, hotdogs and so much more. People looked at me funny as I went to pay for the items and some even asked if I was planning on having a cookout. I am ashamed to admit it, but I snapped at those people and told them it wasn't any of their business. When I got home I felt sick again and decided that some pork chops were in order. As I started to get everything ready, I opened the cream of mushroom and the smell that emerged from the can made me throw up in the sink. Later I checked the expiration date and saw that it still had a few months to go. The can wasn’t dented or punctured, so there was no reason for it to smell rancid. I cooked the pork chops plain only adding a little olive oil on the bottom of the glassware so it wouldn't stick. The wait seemed to take forever. At some point before the pork chops were done I found myself mindlessly eating away at the raw hamburger. Taking grape sized pinches here and there. I knew it was disgusting, but I couldn't stop myself. Each bite hit the spot and scratched an itch I didn't know I had. By this time it was after office hours but I called the general practitioner to see if there were any updates. All the while, I kept eating the raw meat. I was too embarrassed to tell them about my new eating habits and instead sounded like an idiot when I had nothing to say other than to ask about the blood test, which I knew the results would be in sometime next week. Because of this I could tell the person on the other line was annoyed. I spent the rest of the day eating and worrying. I must have paced for a few miles before I decided to go to bed. At the time I figured that I might be able to sleep off whatever was happening to me, and if this was not to be it would make the day that the blood test comes in arrive faster. However I couldn't go a few hours without food before the cravings made me wake up and rummage through the fridge. I blacked out at some point during the night and found myself outside at the wooden fence, trying to bait the neighbor's cat with a raw chicken leg that I already ate half of. I was scared. Paranoid that whatever bit my hand might have given me something really nasty. But I knew that worrying about it wasn't going to do me any favors so I decided to do what I normally do to clear my head and went for a drive. Usually this would have worked, but my stomach kept complaining. I had been eating for nearly a day straight, so I knew I wasn't hungry. What else could I do other than wait for the blood test to come back? Trying to distract myself, I decided to turn on the radio and listen to one of the three radio stations that worked in town. As I was fumbling with the knobs in my old beat up truck, I turned the corner and saw a man walking across the street to get his mail. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, but it was too little too late and he bounced off the grill and went flying through the air. Terrified, I ran out to see if there was anything I could do to help him, but when I drew close I could see that he was all sorts of messed up. A broken shoulder, wrist and his leg was bent at a horrible angle. He was conscious and asked me to give him a ride to the hospital because he would not be able to afford the bill for an ambulance. However, that was when I noticed that the femur was sticking out of his leg. I licked my lips and before I knew it I started biting and eating around the bone as the man screamed, and in his condition he was unable to get away or fight me off. I don't know how much time passed, but at some point I became aware that people were starting to gather. All of them were too shocked to do anything but stare. Embarrassed and terrified, I ran to the truck and drove off. It wasn't like I could go anywhere. Since Gray Hill is a small town, most of the onlookers knew who I was. So I did the only thing I could think of and went home. There is so much more I want to say, but I don't have much time. The sirens are getting louder. I am sorry. WAE

What you are about to read is both a confession and an apology. I don't know how much time I have so I will keep it as short as I can. I was coming back home from work a few nights ago. It was dark and I was tired from my shift when suddenly a deer ran out in front of my truck. I locked my brakes but couldn't stop in time. Feeling my heart pounding I just sat in my truck, staring at the motionless deer laying in the middle of the road. I had never killed anything before, intentionally or accidentally. As much as I wanted to get home, take a shower and go to bed, I couldn't just let it lay there. Someone could run it over causing real damage to their undercarriage or, God forbid, they swerve to avoid it and end up falling over a hundred feet into the river below, hitting dozens of trees on the way down. I couldn't let that be on my conscience, so I did what the good lord Jesus would have done. I put on my emergency lights and got out of the truck to pull the carcass off the road. However, as I was doing this I saw something move in the deers lower gut. Seeing this made my heart sink because at the time I thought maybe the dead deer was going to give birth. While holding in a gag and pulling the body to get it off the road, whatever was in the deer crawled out of its… backside, ran up the leg I was holding onto and bit my hand. It was too fast and the night was too dark so I have no idea what it could have been. Instinctively I flung the creature off of me and heard it scamper away through the grass. Wondering what the hell just attacked me, I inspected the wound. The wound produced very little blood and looked no worse than what a cat would do when it plays a little too roughly. Since my heart was pounding out of my chest and I had most of the deer carcass off the road, I figured I had done my duty and it was time to head home. As soon as I got home, I barely had the energy to take off my clothes, so all hopes I had of taking a shower were lost and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out like a light. The next morning I felt sluggish and cold. My teeth were chattering violently. It reminded me of a flu, however my nose wasn’t stuffed up and I wasn’t congested. The wound on my hand was red, but not swollen. Still, I was worried and made a call to set up a doctor's appointment. Thankfully I was able to get seen right away, however after the exam the doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me but the blood tests would take a few days before the results would come in. I am not the kind of person to tell someone how to do their job, especially if their job meant years of education and twice that many having their own practice. However I made it clear that I strongly disagreed with what the doctor said. When I got home, my stomach was complaining. I ate shortly before getting off work the day before so there was no reason for my stomach to complain as much as it was. I tried eating soup but it tasted like fermenting compost. No joke, that's what it tasted like. When I checked the expiration date, I was surprised that it still had eight months left before it was considered bad. At the time I figured that whatever was wrong with me was affecting my senses. My grandma said that 7Up and ginger ale was as close to magic as it gets when it comes to being sick, but since I didn't have any in the house, I made a few calls and had it delivered. However, that too tasted bad. My stomach kept complaining so in an attempt to silence it, I decided to make something that I could never resist. My moms specialty: meatloaf. If nothing else, it was comfort food and my favorite as a kid. Lo and behold, it tasted amazing. However when I tried adding ketchup like I always did, I nearly gagged from the smell of it. I ended up eating all of it in a single sitting and afterwards I felt really good. So good in fact that I decided to head into town to pick up a few groceries. As I walked around with the shopping cart, going down the same aisles as I always did, the items I usually got held no appeal. I love bananas, but they smelt like they had been soaking in gasoline for a few days, the vegetables stank of curdled milk and the cheese might as well have been… Well, I’ll let you imagine what that smelt like. The only thing that smelt good was the meat. No, it didnt smell good. It smelt divine, the way I imagine heaven smells like. I filled up my cart with hamburger, chicken breasts, pork chops, pork butt, whole turkeys, chicken legs, ribs, spiral hams, bacon, hotdogs and so much more. People looked at me funny as I went to pay for the items and some even asked if I was planning on having a cookout. I am ashamed to admit it, but I snapped at those people and told them it wasn't any of their business. When I got home I felt sick again and decided that some pork chops were in order. As I started to get everything ready, I opened the cream of mushroom and the smell that emerged from the can made me throw up in the sink. Later I checked the expiration date and saw that it still had a few months to go. The can wasn’t dented or punctured, so there was no reason for it to smell rancid. I cooked the pork chops plain only adding a little olive oil on the bottom of the glassware so it wouldn't stick. The wait seemed to take forever. At some point before the pork chops were done I found myself mindlessly eating away at the raw hamburger. Taking grape sized pinches here and there. I knew it was disgusting, but I couldn't stop myself. Each bite hit the spot and scratched an itch I didn't know I had. By this time it was after office hours but I called the general practitioner to see if there were any updates. All the while, I kept eating the raw meat. I was too embarrassed to tell them about my new eating habits and instead sounded like an idiot when I had nothing to say other than to ask about the blood test, which I knew the results would be in sometime next week. Because of this I could tell the person on the other line was annoyed. I spent the rest of the day eating and worrying. I must have paced for a few miles before I decided to go to bed. At the time I figured that I might be able to sleep off whatever was happening to me, and if this was not to be it would make the day that the blood test comes in arrive faster. However I couldn't go a few hours without food before the cravings made me wake up and rummage through the fridge. I blacked out at some point during the night and found myself outside at the wooden fence, trying to bait the neighbor's cat with a raw chicken leg that I already ate half of. I was scared. Paranoid that whatever bit my hand might have given me something really nasty. But I knew that worrying about it wasn't going to do me any favors so I decided to do what I normally do to clear my head and went for a drive. Usually this would have worked, but my stomach kept complaining. I had been eating for nearly a day straight, so I knew I wasn't hungry. What else could I do other than wait for the blood test to come back? Trying to distract myself, I decided to turn on the radio and listen to one of the three radio stations that worked in town. As I was fumbling with the knobs in my old beat up truck, I turned the corner and saw a man walking across the street to get his mail. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, but it was too little too late and he bounced off the grill and went flying through the air. Terrified, I ran out to see if there was anything I could do to help him, but when I drew close I could see that he was all sorts of messed up. A broken shoulder, wrist and his leg was bent at a horrible angle. He was conscious and asked me to give him a ride to the hospital because he would not be able to afford the bill for an ambulance. However, that was when I noticed that the femur was sticking out of his leg. I licked my lips and before I knew it I started biting and eating around the bone as the man screamed, and in his condition he was unable to get away or fight me off. I don't know how much time passed, but at some point I became aware that people were starting to gather. All of them were too shocked to do anything but stare. Embarrassed and terrified, I ran to the truck and drove off. It wasn't like I could go anywhere. Since Gray Hill is a small town, most of the onlookers knew who I was. So I did the only thing I could think of and went home. There is so much more I want to say, but I don't have much time. The sirens are getting louder. I am sorry. WAE

Hi -- to forewarn, this a long story that contains... a LOT. There is also a lot of background. Sorry for that.
To give some background, my (27F) father (65M) is very possibly dying from metastatic lung cancer. We found out less than three weeks ago. It has been very stressful for the family and emotions are not exactly level at the moment. I acknowledge that we are all very stressed. It is probably a large contributor to what went down.
So... Given that this is a three-day weekend and we are trying to do more as a family with whatever time we have left, we planned for a small family gathering. Me, my (ex?) fiance (27M), my dad, my mom (68F), my sister (29F), my cousin (38M), and my 2nd cousin (a minor).
Now, this is very important -- Everyone is the household has a dog. My parents have two dogs, one large (2-ishM) and one small (10-ishM). There is also my dog (7M). All of these dogs have met and get a long great and never had issues.
My cousin's dog (2-ishF) and the other dogs have never met. We planned to introduce them in the front yard of leashes and hope for the best. My sister's dog (2-ishF) cannot be around my parent's small dog because of aggressive issues from sister's dog. My sister's dog has undergone "training" to calm her anxiety and behavioral issues, but it has had minor success. The first introduction between my dog and my sister's dog was botched because of a planning issue caused by all sides. My dog holds grudges, so the next controlled introduction was also a failed attempt, and we have avoided having them near each other ever since.
. So, to summarize: There are five dogs in total. Three very young-adult dogs, two older dogs. One of these dogs is new and required proper introductions.
We arrive at The Parents' at almost 8:30pm. We do the usual Hellos and HowAreYous and then unload the car and get settled. Cousins arrive a little after 8:40PM and we get the dogs ready to meet each other.
NOTE: I will say that my dog is the most skittish around both new people and new dogs. He was a rescue, but we have had him since he was a puppy, and though he had never (EVER) had a violent confrontation with ANYONE, he barks and acts tough and we have always tried to take proper precautions to prevent something from happening, on the off-chance.
Well, the off-chance happened, but we're getting to that.
We introduce the dogs in the front yard and on leashes. There is the normal barking and growling; the obligatory butt-sniffing; and then the eventual cold-shoulder from my dog, which we took as complacency to the whole event.
We bring the dogs inside and realize that my dog is NOT complacent and is only getting more aggitated. At this point, there are four dogs in the house. My parents' large dog, their small dog, my dog and the cousin's dog. There is a lot of activity. The little dogs start to retreat. It is extremely over stimulating for everyone. My dog retreats to a corner and settles for barking if the two larger dogs start to play, or if the cousin's dog comes too close (then there is some baring of teeth involved) and after the third time of my dog displaying aggression for the cousin's dog, we remove him from the situation and put him behind a gate so there are no accidents. This briefly works, albeit more teeth and barking when the other dog gets too close.
Eventually, after everything had quieted down a little bit, the dog bones picked up, the dog food removed, and everyone had gotten most of their ya-ya's out, we introduced my dog back to the situation. It was fine, for the most part. We tried to let them figure out the "pecking order" and sometimes that means things getting a little ugly and toothy, but the scuffles were brief.
So, the next day (Saturday/ yesterday) (ex?) fiance and I wake up early to start our day. We run out to go to the gym, the store, and then my sister asks us to go to her house to help with something, which we do. It is important to mention that my cousin is not staying in my parent's house. Me and (ex?) fiance are, my 2nd cousin is, but my cousin has a bus he uses as a primary residence (go bus/ van life) and so he is staying in there with his dog.
It is also important to mention that at the point of us leaving that AM, everyone besides my parents were asleep. We get back about two-hours later.
When we return, my cousins are awake, the four dogs are all together, and I ask how everyone is getting along. I'm told everyone is fine with each other and that there have been no altercations. The dogs were even laying together for a moment. Me and (ex?) are told to hurry up and get showered and come back down, because we were late for breakfast, and it was getting cold.
We go, shower, get dressed.
(Ex?) goes down first, and comes back a few minutes later saying our dog is bleeding.
Apparently everyone downstairs is saying he banged his head into a table, and it must have happened from that. (Ex?) brings our dog upstairs, and it is very apparent that the bleeding is NOT from running into a table. There are at least four visible puncture wounds from a dog bite on his face. One gusher above his eye (1/2 inch), two superficial bites next to the big one around his eye, and one next to his mouth. My cousin's dog is bigger than our dog. His dog's mouth could absolutely fit most of my dog's head in it.
It is also relevant that my cousin made numerous comments the previous night about his dog being an alpha. He said that she has been known to, "put other dogs in their place" while at the dog park. He did not say any of these ended badly or bloody.
I will also mention here that I know my dog probably antagonized the situation by being a little shit. I know I should have just trusted my gut and removed him from the situation entirely. These are things I am aware of and things I regret.
At this point, we hear my sister come into the house with her dog, and it is pretty apparent that this arrangement is not going to work.
This only adds stress, but it’s not pressing. What is pressing is the fact that the puncture above my dog's eye is still bleeding, that it is larger than a superficial wound, and that I don't want it getting infected and it is a holiday weekend. I text my boss pictures of the bite and ask her to ask her vet if she would advise an emergency trip to the vet, and her vet responds that the bite would probably form an abscess before the weekend was over. So, that was our answer.
We take our dog to the emergency vet. All in all, it takes nearly seven hours. Our dog ended up having to have a sedative and five sutures over all (including two in his ear, which we hadn't previously noticed). We kept being told by the vet that it shouldn't take more than an hour, so we waited. Traffic in that area is BAD. I mean, it took thirty-minutes to go two miles, so we figure it best to wait for him instead of getting into traffic twice to go to my parents' house (20 mins away) and back. During this time, my sister is calling me asking me to run errands delegated to her, my mom is texting and calling asking for status, me and (ex?) had been holding it together pretty well, for the most part. That is until the wait started to get to us, and the constant pings from our phones, and my anxiety and stress about my dad, and my (ex?)’s anxiety and stress about the dogs (he was saying it was he thought it best to take our dog home, which means he would go home, and I know that would upset my dad, so I tell my mom ahead of time)...
Anyway....
After the seven hour wait, we finally get to go back to the house.
Now -- here's the real story now that the brief (HA!!) background has been established.
I call my mom on the way and ask what the current dog situation is, and what the plan is to avoid any more confrontations. Now, me and the (ex?) already discussed that we need to alternate my cousin's dog being in the house and my dog being downstairs. My cousin's dog lives in his bus, so we think that she needs to be in the bus half the day to let our dog be with everyone inside, and then the other half we would put our dog upstairs and let his dog be with everyone. As always, we think my sister's dog just shouldn't be there at all.
My mother pleasantly informs me that "all the big dogs are getting along GREAT!" She says that the plan is to keep all the big dogs outside together, and the little dogs sequestered together inside upstirs. I inform her that it will be raining, and therefore the big dogs cannot stay outside all day, and there is no way that I am OK with my dog being isolated while the other dogs are there barking and playing. She repeats her previous plan, and this is where I kind of lose it, because I'm not here to manage doggy daycare. I'm here for my dying father, and I have seen him for maybe a few hours total and the other time has been spent stressed about dogs.
All the rage and frustration boils to the top, and I go off. I tell my mother that if this was her plan then (ex?) would just take the dog home. She eventually concedes and says that we can do the alternating, but at this point I do NOT trust that this will actually happen. There is a lot of yelling going on, and there is still the variable of my sister's dog (who is still at parents' house). It is too much. I have had enough. I tell my mom that we will just go home if her plan is to keep ALL FIVE dogs on the same property. She explodes on me saying that was my plan from the beginning (mind you, I have been trying for a solid week to help coordinate everyone being there together and brought enough supplies and clothes to last me more than a week. I had planned activities to keep 2nd cousin busy, and there were meals planned as a family -- I, in NO way shape or form, had ANY intentions of dipping on this get together. I am pissed.)
Once I get back to their house, (ex?) stays in the car with our dog, and I run in to get our stuff. I am met with a barrage of blame and accusations as soon as I'm through the door. I am told that this dog bite situation was my fault for leaving my dog downstairs while I took a shower, that my dog was "under-socialized and aggressive." Mind you, my parents both love my dog and frequently have commented on what a good boy he is for the last SEVEN years. Never once mentioning that he was UNDERSOCIALIZED or aggressive. He's a prima donna, sure. He has had moments where he'll lash out when uncomfortable or feeling threatened by another dog, but he has, not ONCE, bitten anything or anyone, or even come close to it. He gets along with my (ex's) families dogs. All of them. And there's a lot.
He has only had two aggressive interactions. With my sister's dog through the fence, which everyone should share blame in, and now my cousin's.
There is a lot thrown around. My sister is smiling and mocking me about wanting everyone together.
My sister fuels the fight, smiling the whole while, and my mother regurgitates sentences that I know aren't coming from her.
It is obvious that there had been discussions that I was not privy too (because I have been stuck in an emergency vet for seven hours), and that everyone (barring the minor cousin and idk about my dad) has come to the conclusion that I am the villain in this scenario and that everything is my fault.
I am in a blind rage at this point. I feel like I am a dog backed into a corner, and everyone is yelling. I am probably yelling the loudest, because I just feel like I have not been heard since getting there. I wanted to keep the dogs separated from the first indication of trouble, and then was told I was overreacting. I specifically said that this would turn very ugly, and was then mocked by my cousin and mom as being overprotective and like a Karen in a dog park, who would jump in between fighting dogs to pull their dog out.
I feel sick at this point. I feel like my back is about to crumble and my head is going to explode. At one point, as I am putting my stuff outside so I can grab my shoes, I come back in to them saying something I can't put together, but I hear my sister say, "Shush! She's coming back" -- and that damn smile is still on her face. I tell my dad I'm sorry, that I would come back to pick him up and bring him to my house, I tell my 2nd cousin the same thing, and then I leave. There is a moment in-between there where I do slam the front door back open, and I admit to putting a hole through the closet door with the doorknob. That's my bad.
I am still fuming while in the car. I tell my (ex?) that when he went back inside to retrieve something he should have defended me, at least a little. Said that the fight was unnecessary on both sides. Something. Especially since I had spent the majority of the afternoon trying to calm him down (he doesn't rage like I do, his is quieter and filled with more anxiety that clouds his ability to think). I called my mom on his urging to begin with. I was just going to go inside and put the other dogs away, smuggle our dog inside and upstairs, and deal with the planning part afterwards. But (ex?) has diagnosed OCD, so sometimes going with the flow is the best option. So I did. I tried, at least.
During the ride back, my (ex?) boyfriend decides out of the blue and without saying anything to me to call my mom, tell her that he doesn't want to associate with them anymore, and that he doesn't plan to see them every again. Yes. We can all agree how childish that is. He would agree too. My terminally ill father is yelling and cussing him out in the background, and my (ex?) clarifies that he would have liked to see my father, but if he doesn't want to see him that that's what it is. My family is complicated. There is a lot of past trauma to unpack, but to put it simply my dad is the most unreasonable person sometimes, but also the one that I get along with the best. My (ex?) also agrees with that.
The call ends. I comment (because I just can't help myself) and tell him how stupid that was. I am in that rage-mode where everything I say is super calm and super condescending. (Ex?) says that I wanted him to defend me, so that's what he was doing.
My (ex?) then decides to take this as a very opportune moment to tell me that he had spent the previous week contemplating breaking up with me. Mind you, that Friday, the Friday that we went to my parents' house, was our eight year-anniversary.
I am mind-boggled.
I continue to drive and the hate in me grows a little more with every mile we go.
Eventually, I hear my (ex?) talking, but I know it's not meant for me. He has called my mom to apologize for everything, for the things that he said. He is the one crying now. Balling. He is so emotional with the things he's saying that I am forced to pull off the highway and into a gas station because the tone makes me uncomfortable to be in a moving vehicle. That was me projecting, but still...
He continues the conversation, continues the apologies, and then says, "I was in a no-win position and being told I didn't defend her (me) and so I called and made the worst mistake of my life."
Naturally, I am beside myself. I feel betrayed. I feel crazy. I feel so outside my body.
To be clear, I never once told him to call her. I just wanted him to defend me, because we both were in agreement about the situation and that their plan on how to handle to dogs was wrong. He was the one pushing the idea that my family was in the wrong.
There is a lot said afterwards. Nothing matters, at this point. He ends up calling my mom again (this time on my urging) to say he was apologizing for what he said on the phone, not the situation as a whole. He says he wasn't taking sides. He stops his conversation more times than I can count to ask me if that was what he was supposed to say. I am livid. I feel disgusting. I tell him repeatedly that I am NOT putting words into his mouth and that he is an adult and can speak for himself. He then proceeds to basically have a conversation with my mother in which he outlines the reasons why me and him may not be together anymore, and how we want to different things, etc...
I'm disassociating out of my body while going 70mph down the interstate in the rain, forced to listen to this conversation coming from the back.
We argue. I drive. He asks me to make permeant decisions about us and that he's going to quit his job and go back home to live with his parents if we aren't together. I tell him I am not continuing this discussion while under duress. He continues to ask. I continue to drive. I scream. It gets quiet.
We don't talk the rest of the drive. We only talk about the dog while we get him situated at the house. My (ex?) starts crying. I don't have the energy to cry..
We have spent the day isolated and away from each other. I have not spoke with my family. I don't know if I will ever again. My sister sent me a text of the door with the hole and a smiley face.
I feel like my entire world just crumbled at once.
I don't know where or who to turn to in this scenario. I feel the lowest and loneliest I have ever felt in my life.

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Memory transcription subject: Illia, Federation Communications Technician
Date [standardized human time]: October 21, 2136
Kiran and I embraced for what seemed like forever, idly sitting on the rainbow grass that colored the forest floor while huddled together in the darkness. The campfire near us was still full of life somehow, and provided a good amount of illumination throughout the campsite.
It was quite difficult to sit on my haunches upright, with nothing supporting my back. Despite that, It was well worth it and I would sympathize with her for as long as was needed. I remained alert, with my weapon still in my grip in case the human decided to return for round two. I gently massaged the girl’s back with one of my forehooves, hoping that my attempts at soothing her would ward away the trauma she had experienced.
“Illia..” Kiran sobbed into my chest, drenching the fabric of my jumpsuit. “T-thank you, thank you. I was scared that you didn't m-make it.. I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t. P-please don’t leave me.” She pleaded.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart, don’t worry.” I replied, my voice a faint whisper. “The only thing that matters now is that you’re safe. You don’t have to worry about that.. thing anymore. It’s gone.” I consoled her, wiping the still-wet tears off of her ruffled feathers. “More importantly, are you hurt?” I checked her over, examining her lithe body from multiple angles.
She thought about that for a little while, then sat up, stretching a wing. She let out a cry of pain once it was half-way extended and brought it back down gingerly, wrapping a wing around her upper shoulder. I reached forward out of sympathy, my maternal instincts moving me to comfort her.
“Oh, Jild.. L-Let me see, honey.” I crooned. She heavily reminded me of my eldest, only daughter, and it was amusing how alike they were, despite being of different species.
I tenderly prodded the dull side of my hoof-paw against her supposed injured appendage, trailing it up towards her shoulder, which earned a startled chirp from her, followed by a slight jump away from my touch. The area of where her wing met her shoulder was bruised a deep purple, visible even beneath her feathers from where she collided with the tree. I was beyond grateful that nothing had broken, or even shattered. That would require extensive care, and we were lightyears away from the nearest hospital.
“How d-does it look, Illia? W-Will I be ok?” She sniffled, caressing her discolored limb while being mindful of its positioning. Sadness etched itself across my face, but I forced a hopeful look in Kiran’s favor. Thankfully, the bruising was the extent of her injuries, none of which were life threatening, though were still in need of urgent medical attention. The most I would be able to do would be to give her painkillers and make a sling for her.
Our best option now is to find Orsik and the rest of the crew.
“It’s.. fine, honey. Don’t you worry. I’ll get you fixed up, and you’ll feel all better, ok?” I said while rummaging through my bag for my first aid kit. I had a thorough understanding of how to dress wounds, as well as the proper medical procedures that came with it. Kiran would need her arm immobilized so that any further injury could be avoided. We’d better find help soon, I can only help her so much. I internalized.
Pulling out the kit, I took out a bottle containing the painkillers and a small, square-shaped piece of cloth, which unfolded into a much longer strand of fabric. I cautiously draped the cloth along her shoulder, positioning her arm along her abdomen much to her discomfort, and tied it off. Her arm was now fully supported, and the risk of worsening the injury had decreased. Feeling satisfied with my work, I grabbed the vial of painkillers, urging her to take one. I then grabbed one of the large bottles of water from my pack, holding it a distance away from her beak. “Drink, sweetie.” She welcomed the fluid into her mouth, tilting her head back as I poured the bottle. She eagerly chugged down the substance in record time, unmistakably parched. It had probably been a while since her last drink of water.
I leaned back and returned the now empty bottle to my bag, and observed her checking out my handiwork. Her gaze met the ground suddenly, and she froze, her eyes glossing over. I waited for her to say something, anything. Her abrupt silence was starting to worry me.
“Sweetie?” She gazed off into the distance, no doubt reliving her near-death experience. “Are you alright?” I nudged her, snapping her attention back to me. Tears began to bubble in those wide eyes of hers again; her grip on my jumpsuit tightened, and her hackles raised. She was visibly shaking.
“It.. it came out of n-nowhere. I could feel it w-watching m-me, even before I s-saw it. It.. I knew it w-was there, and th-then.. She whimpered. T-there was so m-much blood, and I-I.. Her voice was hoarse, describing her contact with the predator. “I-I was.. Was so s-scared.. I-I’ve never been more scared b-before in my life..” She choked the words out. “I didn’t know what to do, I-I couldn’t m-move.”
I lay my head gently on top of her own. “That’s just your instincts kicking in, honey.” I assured her. “Everyone has them.” I felt her rapid heartbeat slow gradually as she listened to my words. “You’re safe. Relax, my sweet.” The corners of my mouth turned up in a smile. “I am very proud of you, setting up camp all by yourself. You’ve proven to be very strong and capable out on your own.” My smile died down a bit. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come sooner, but I didn’t forget our promise.”
She released her tight grip on me, reeling back and looking at me with one eye. She swallowed. “Neither did I. I-I knew you would come, so I w-waited.” There was a pause after that, the both of us glad to be in each other's presence. “Thank you, Illia.”
I flicked my ears toward her, and my grin grew wider. “Of course. Let’s get out of here.” I stood up on my hind hooves with a grunt, stretching out my tired muscles. I extended my paw downward towards her, and she took it with her uninjured wing. I helped the virtually weightless girl to her talons, and hefted my backpack over my shoulders. My poor spine ached in protest, practically begging for a break. “Ready?” I turned my head towards her.
“Illia?” She spoke after a moment, craning her neck up towards me.
“Yes, Kiran?”
“That thing, the h-human.. Did you k-kill it? Where did it go?” A worried look crossed her avian features, waiting for my response. I wouldn’t want to worry the poor girl, but I don’t want to lie to her, either.
I inhaled sharply after a moment, inadvertently giving away the answer to Kiran even before my admission. Her brows upturned slightly with worry. My own eyes latched onto hers, and I breathed a sigh, confirming her suspicion.
“Y-you.. You didn’t kill it?! It’s still out there?! Oh, Inatala..” Her feeble legs wobbled, and I kept her from falling over. “W-why? Illia.. Y-you should have killed it when you had the chance! How is it e-even here? Did it f-follow us?!” The distraught avian squawked in alarm, and my ears flattened in response from the sudden change in pitch.
The loud krakotl girl was likely to attract unwanted attention, with how boisterous she was currently. I gently clasped a hoof-paw around her beak, attempting to silence her. “Hey! Calm down, sweetie. Deep breaths. We’re not on Nishtal, or anywhere else. Remember? There’s bound to be predators around here, so we have to be quiet.” That silenced her instantly. “Please, for both of our sakes.” I concernedly whispered. Her frantic chirping died down, and I released my paw.
I inhaled deeply, my lungs pulling in the night’s chilly air. I’d have to answer the many questions that she has bombarded me with now, lest her little heart stops.
A long breath escaped my lips. “I hesitated. I.. I couldn’t pull the trigger, knowing that I would be ending the life of a sapient, living creature. Killing is wrong, regardless of whether it’s prey or predator. I refuse to stoop down to its level.” I explained my actions. “As to how it got here, we must have picked it up somewhere around the time when we boarded the bomber ship. I had a suspicion earlier, I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” I was sorely tempted to put the murderous bastard out of its misery then and there, but it didn’t sit right with me.
She clicked silently to herself, the gears slowly turning in her head.
“I-I thought something was wrong, on the ship, with how you were staring at the door. I was w-worried..” She nervously fidgeted, her talons puncturing the surface she stood on. “Uhm, why.. W-why does the human want to k-kill me? What d-did I do?” She timidly met my gaze again, glancing up at me with watery eyes.
I snorted, raising a four-digit paw and setting it down gently on her uninjured shoulder.
“It isn’t you, Kiran. Killing is in a predator’s nature, their bloodlust drives them crazy. They can’t help it even if they tried, that’s why we can’t live in peace.” I snorted, angering myself over my own rant. “I just wish that we had finished the job.” I muttered, referring to erasing humanity from existence.
Something else was plastered on her face now, something not dissimilar to a look of betrayal. “Illia?” She gulped. “D-do.. do you have predator disease?” Her voice was unsteady, but at the same time, nothing but a faint whisper.
Those words rekindled a flame in me that I thought to be snuffed out a while ago. I snorted angrily, outraged that she would even ask me such a thing, after I had saved her life. She would be dead if I hadn’t intervened, but here she was, accusing me of being the very thing that I had saved her from.
The adrenaline in my system dissipated as I stared into her frightened eyes, and I restrained myself from throwing a fit. Kiran was young, and couldn’t comprehend that predator disease wasn’t an actual illness, but instead was a way for the Federation to retain its chokehold over its citizenry. Though, I wasn’t about to berate the girl over flawed conspiracy theories. She clearly knew nothing of the pain it caused, as naive as she was.
But I knew it well.
She was as stiff as the trees surrounding us, eyeing me expectantly. I felt a pang of sadness as I noticed that she even stepped back a few paces, away from my reach. The Federation had indoctrinated her far beyond the point of recovery with their nonsensical rhetoric. It was insane to think that one misguided accusation was all it took to break apart the bond between two people. There was no use reasoning with her, but I could try.
Is that how she saw me? A predator? That caused me more pain than any weapon could physically inflict, especially coming from her. Where did this even come from? I was nowhere close to matching the Humans’ brutality, or even the Arxurs’, and yet, she still regarded me as one of them.
I released a snort, dismissing the indirect insult. “No.” I said sternly, clearly heartbroken, as much as I tried to mask it. “Honey, we’ve known each other for quite a while. If I truly had.. ‘Predator disease’, don’t you think I would have shown signs of it by now?” I left the question in the air as Kiran attempted to make sense of my reasonable statement. “Well?”
“T-That makes sense..” Her voice cracked.
“Don’t you trust me, Kiran? Why would you ask such a thing?” My own voice wavered as my heart split down the middle, waiting for her reply. Although, I knew what it would be.
“I do.” She squawked a little while after, catching me completely off-guard. “It’s just.. I-I heard you, threatening the p-predator. Y-You were so b-brave, and instead of running the other way, you just.. held it at gunpoint, and shooed it away from me. You weren’t s-scared at all, even when it wanted to kill you.” She gulped.
“Of course I was scared. I was terrified.” I pleaded. “But I couldn’t just stand back and do nothing, not while your life was at stake. I had to be strong, whatever the cost. It would forever haunt me if I had left you to die, to save myself. I would n-never, I c-couldn’t..” I whimpered through ragged breaths, a dam of emotion bursting through my guise of strength. “I have known nothing but pain and anguish since I set hoof on this planet. I’ve already lost so much, and losing you would absolutely destroy me.” I sobbed, gasping for air. I felt embarrassed, having Kiran see me in my current state. I had tried so hard to be strong for her, but the events of this past week have finally caught up to me.
I wept, hiding my tears in the crook of my elbow. I felt a warm touch caress my upper arm, and I moved my arm away from my eyes. Looking down, Kiran had moved closer to me with a comforting smile on her face. It would seem that she had discarded the ‘sulean predator’ claim after witnessing the humiliating waterworks display in front of her.
“I believe you.” She smiled with her eyes. Relief washed through me instantly. She was the one person in the Federation who had wanted to be my friend, let alone even talk to me. Despite being on a mystery planet with a slim chance of escape, she was a light in the darkness. I hope she knows what she means to me.
I grew a smile of my own and latched onto her in another embrace, being careful not to disturb her shoulder. I snorted through my nose contentedly. “Thank you.” I sniffed. Although startled at first, she returned the hug, squeezing me tightly. While embraced, for a brief moment all of my worries had faded away, replaced by a feeling of adoration and hope. We departed from each other, our bond reinstated.
“See? I’m not foaming at the mouth, am I? Guess I’m not a predator after all.” I joked, hoping it would be well received. I gently tickled her side with my hooved manipulators, causing her to giggle.
“Ok, ok! I trust you! The little one laughed, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. Her breathing returned to a calm pace. “So. Where to now?”
“What do you mean, little one?” I inquired. “It’s pitch black out there, surely you’re not thinking of heading out now, are you? The human is still out there, and it probably isn’t the only thing we have to worry about.” Wandering through the wilderness in the dead of night wasn’t the best idea, with the looming threat of predators. We’d have to make do here, where our chances of surviving the night were slim enough as it was.
“O-Oh, yeah, you’re right. I-I’m just.. scared that it may come back.” She sheepishly admitted.
“Listen to me.” I met her frightful gaze. “I will not let that thing hurt you ever again. Not while I’m still here.” A motherly tone painted my words, although sounding a bit too harsh.
“Promise?”
“Promise.” I smiled. “Is there only one tent?” I switched the subject.
“Uh, y-yeah, sorry. Is it ok if we share?” She asked while walking up to the circular formation, opening it up.
“Of course.” The exchange was awkward, but we had to make do with what little we had. I climbed inside of the tent after her after taking out my floodlight, switching it on and setting it down directly in front of the tent’s flap, facing towards the shadowy trees. That’d provide us extra security, I hoped. I set my bag down onto the tent’s floor, feeling much better now without it weighing me down.
I plopped down onto my natural state on all fours. I had been ambling on my hind hooves for most of my stay on this planet, and had forgotten the comfort of having my weight equally distributed throughout my body. The muscles in my back ached, and I slid down and rolled onto my side, being able to relax at long last. I scooted my backpack towards me, intending to use it as a makeshift pillow. I released a snort of contentment as I rested my skull on the surprisingly comfortable rucksack. , the tent floor being surprisingly comfortable. A tired yawn escaped me, and my tongue lolled out of my mouth on autopilot as I felt my eyelids droop.
As much as I had wanted to sleep, I wouldn’t be able to, not with the threat of danger still lurking in the forest. We were most vulnerable while sleeping, especially while it was still dark outside. The fire was still going and was fairly close to our tent, but I wouldn’t trust that it would completely protect us from predators. I groggily sat up from my makeshift restplace and shook myself awake, followed by a tired groan. I grasped my forehooves around the weapon that I had clumsily discarded onto the tent’s floor, checking the railgun’s ammunition. Dread hit me with the realization that I was down to a singular bolt. That didn’t make me feel entirely secure, but it was better than nothing at all.
I looked to Kiran, who was already tucked in and ready for the next day. She lay down on a blue sleeping bag, completely enveloped inside of it, except for her head. I chuckled to myself while watching the adorable child snuggle inside of the bag that was far too big for her size.
She caught me staring at her. “Illia?” She spoke, cutting out the crackling of burning wood for a moment.
“Yes, dear?” I yawned again, the tiredness taking over me became unbearable at this point.
“W-What’s the plan for tomorrow?” She asked me with an inquisitive inflection in her voice.
“Well, I would imagine that we’d try to find Orsik. That’s really the only option we have right now. That way, you can be treated by an actual doctor, and not a silly sulean.” I quipped.
“I-I don’t think you’re s-silly..” She admitted meekly.
I faced her, flattered by her comment. I smiled. “Thank you, sweetie. That is very nice of you to say.” A light in the darkness. I crawled over to her, resting on my side next to where she lay. I had my weapon at the ready with a forehoof resting on top of it. I looked down at her adoringly as she shuffled inside of her covers. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you in the morning. We’ll go looking for everyone else tomorrow.”
“What about the ship? Shouldn’t we go there?” One of her blue eyes studied me.
“I came from there, it’s nothing but a smoking heap of metal now.” I yawned. “We shouldn’t move too far away, Orsik said he’ll come to us. Besides, we’re safer here than out in the dark, right?”
Kiran whimpered, not satisfied with my answer. “Remember our promise?” I asked.
Her deflated look withered away. “Y-yes, I do..” She breathed. “O-ok, only if that means that we can leave as soon as they f-find us.”
“Of course. We won’t stay here longer than is absolutely necessary. I’ll get a signal started in the morning.”
“A-Aren’t you worried about predators? What if they come while w-we’re sleeping?”
I lay my head down onto my satchel. “I am.” I admitted. “And I would prefer not to meet them anytime soon. I think it’s a great sign that we haven’t already.” I gave a dismissive snort, hoping that was the last of her questions. “They won’t bother us, at least not tonight. The floodlight should keep them away, no worries.” I reassured her.
“Oh, ok. Good night, Illia.” She chirped.
“Good night. Sweet dreams, little one.” I caressed her feathers, then committed myself to watching the tent’s opening for the rest of the night.
- - -
I awoke, cursing after realizing that I had been asleep. I didn’t expect myself to be awake for the entire duration of the night, but I was still upset with myself for giving in to my fatigue. Something could have happened, but I was glad nothing did. I was still tired, having stayed awake for most of the night watching over Kiran. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes with a forepaw. My railgun was still grasped in my other forepaw, and I brought the gun up to my hip, holstering it.
Some of my worries over the human still being out there somewhere had faltered; perhaps it lost interest after witnessing my display of superior strength? Predators preferred a challenge when hunting, but their small brains understood when the odds were not in their favor. This human in particular probably saw our small group as easy pickings, and had developed a taste for krakotl flesh. That’d explain the blood spattered all over it, almost as if it were a trophy.
I looked at Kiran, who was still sound asleep. The beautiful orange of this planet’s sun filtered in through the translucent barrier surrounding us; its angelic rays permeated throughout the tent and casted a wondrous shine onto her dull blue feathers.
I yawned, standing up on all fours and leaned into a stretch. The soreness had worn off, and I was ready for another long journey, this time with the presence of my avian friend. I had another long day of strengthening my hind legs, no doubt. I just hope that the rest of the crew were close.
I unzipped my dirty jumpsuit, checking my small cuts. They seemed to be in relatively good shape and had scabbed over, leaving a soreness behind. After confirming that the wounds weren’t infected, I zipped my uniform back up.
I gently shook the sleeping Kiran awake. “Good morning, sleepy. It’s time to head out.” I whispered softly. She stirred and sat up. “Are you hungry? I have some rations.” I reached for my pack, snatching two cans of processed vegetable bars and handed one to her. “You need to eat to keep your strength up, honey.” I dug into my own helping quite quickly, stowing away the empty can. It wasn’t the best tasting thing in the galaxy as it was made specifically for the krakotls’ sophisticated palate. “How did you sleep?” I spoke between mouthfuls. She ate hers bit by bit, to the best of her ability. I imagine it would be difficult to eat something with a beak as narrow as hers was, so I patiently waited for her to finish.
“I slept well, actually.” She faced me, full of youthful vigor. It was almost as though her self confidence had drastically improved overnight. She stretched her good wing out, and checked the sling on the other. Once she was done with her helping, she got up, brushing her manipulators through her feathers. “How about you, Illia?”
“Good! I’m glad. Me, I slept like a fawn.” I fibbed, stifling another yawn. “Oh, let me take that from you, sweetheart.” I motioned to her empty vegetable bar container. I collected the tin from her, tossing it along with the other. I reached for my bag, leaving the heavy non-essentials inside the tent. I slugged it over my shoulder once more, my spine thanking me for lightening the load. The pack’s weight felt far more manageable than it did before. I might even be able to actually walk around with it this time. I wondered.
“Are we ready to go?” I stood in front of the tent, raising a forehoof to unzip us to freedom. The krakotl girl chirped her affirmative after checking herself over, and we both exited the tent, ready for another adventure. Upon leaving, I was extremely surprised to see that I didn’t even have to reignite the fire, as it was still burning, although not as strong as yesterday. The crimson tree that Kiran had made the campfire out of was highly flammable, if I had to guess. That would explain the randomly scorched trees throughout the landscape that I saw earlier. I was relieved that none of them combusted while we were asleep.
“Alright. Let’s head this way, shall we?” I plucked some of the damp yellow moss from a neighboring tree with a spare piece of fabric in between my hooves in case it was an irritant, which was smart thinking on my behalf. I chucked the large bundle into the blaze, smothering the few flames that remained. The fire choked for a moment, then began eating away at the moss, emitting a white column of smoke that snaked towards the light orange of the morning sky.
We checked if we had everything, then started on our expedition. I wasn’t sure where we’d go first, but it would have to be relatively close to where the campfire was in case anyone was nearby. I eyed the skyline before us, the mountains in the distance were a wonderful gradient of bright reds, purples, and yellows, perfectly blending together.
I breathed in the fresh morning air. This would have been a delightful trip, were we on a civilized planet. It still was, to an extent. The native organisms of this untouched wonder of a planet were truly a sight to behold, regardless of its many dangers. From the vivid colors of the flora to the deep red sky watching overhead, everything about this world was eye-catching.
We ventured throughout the crimson woods, encircling the campsite while keeping an eye on the smoke signal so that we wouldn’t veer off-course too much. I also was wary of the tall grass and dense shrubs around us, concentrating on even the slightest noise or movement. Today was particularly windy, so my efforts were in vain. We kept to the more open areas, even if that meant making sharp detours around areas where a predator could be concealed in.
Every now and then we would stop for a break, as I had done before. Kiran fared well during our hike, if not even better than I. We stopped underneath the shade of some crimson trees for another rest after a long while. I unpacked one of our water bottles, taking a small swig before handing it to Kiran. We rationed our supplies as best as we could, but we were quickly running out of food. We would soon have to resort to checking if the local flora were edible.
The smoke signal was still in my sight, and we only had a small distance to go in order to complete our full circle. I had thought about calling out into the woods, but decided against it, as it was likely that we would attract unwanted attention. I felt extremely uncomfortable within the dark woodland, despite having a firearm in my possession.
I lay on the grassy floor on my side, attempting to cool myself off. Kiran was doing much of the same, though in a sitting posture. I lifted my head up, snorting through my nostrils to get her attention.
“Having fun?” I smirked playfully. She clicked her beak together with amusement.
“I would be, if the sun wasn’t burning into my feathers.” She squawked between pants. She rested her head against a rock that put even the brightest of rainbows to shame.
“It’s not all bad, is it? It's all about perspective; look at the positives! You have to learn to appreciate the little things in life.”
“Ok, I appreciate..” She glanced around her surroundings, looking for something of value. “I appreciate this rock, does that count?” She gestured behind her. I couldn’t help but chuckle. “It is quite the rock, isn’t it?” She giggled in response. I adored bonding with the girl, she was almost an extension of my own child, in a way.
I didn’t find it odd or strange at the time to fawn over the beauty of an inanimate object, as we both admired its various colors. “Alright, that’s enough geology for me, I think.” I stood, dusting myself off. I heard a faint snapping sound, and my eyes traveled back to the avian, who now looked absolutely petrified, a lone eye focusing on me. She looked almost as scared as she had been when the human attacked her, but this is far worse. Is she looking at me?
I tilted my head in confusion. “Honey? Y-you’re scaring me.” I chuckled nervously. “What’s wrong?” She gave no response. I suddenly felt a massive surge of anxiety wrack my brain, and my ears perked up. The same feeling that haunted me on the ship returned for a comeback, and this time, my question didn’t have to be answered. I heard shuffling a good distance away from me, and I whipped my head in that direction, following her blank stare. My ribcage tightened as I struggled to breathe. I watched the tall grass adjacent from our position, waiting for something to happen.
The first thing I saw were its horrible forward-facing eyes with slit pupils, instantly recognizing it as a predator. They both were dilated, intent on feasting on our bloody flesh. The feral predator observed me with its piercing golden orbs as it slunk closer. It stalked towards us with its head low to the ground, stray droplets of drool spilling out of its long, gaping maw of which were lined with dozens of razor-sharp teeth capable of effortlessly crushing bone.
I didn’t know what exactly I was looking at, but I knew it was there. The beast prowled out of the tall grass in short strides with its ghastly head low to the ground, drooling over our new and alien scent. The lengthy blades of grass combed over its rainbow-colored hide as it revealed itself. Both it and the grass were a near match in terms of coloration, as I strained my eyes to focus on its appearance.
As it moved further into the light, I was able to get a better glimpse of it. The creature itself was covered in skin instead of fur, which was odd. The upper body of the animal was speckled with various bright colors that mimicked the grass, only for it to darken as the pattern stretched towards its underbelly, and morphed into a full jet black where it reached its clawed feet. I had never feared death before as much as I did right now.
I snapped myself out of my terrified stupor, jumping up to my hind hooves and quickly yanking my railgun out of its holster, jabbing it towards the thing with shaky hooves. I gasped for air as my lungs felt heavy, staring down the freak of nature. My heart sank even further and nearly burst out of my chest as I saw two other predators just like the first emerge from behind it. Oh, fuck. The weapon in my hoof suddenly seemed insignificant.
My eyes widened. We have to leave, now. I grabbed Kiran without a word, pulling her along rather roughly. I dashed as fast as my legs could take me while gripping around the length of Kiran’s wing. I didn’t look back once, only focused on making it back to the tent. There was no guarantee that the fire at the campsite would dissuade them from indulging in their hunger at all, but what other option did we have? I glanced back, and was horrified to realize that the reason why they didn’t already tear us apart was because they were giving us a head start. The monstrous things were playing with their ‘food’, for fun.
I looked down to Kiran, then up to the smoke rising from the campsite. We wouldn’t make it in time. I had to make a choice. I swallowed with teary eyes. ‘’G-go.” I flicked an ear towards the campsite. “Now!” I squealed. She obeyed my order without hesitation, and fluttered over that way.
I was not at all prepared for what I was about to do, and doing so would most definitely result in my death. Weeping, I stood in place as the grayish-blue feathered girl escaped to safety.
“H-hey!” I bleated at the top of my lungs while hopping around vigorously, doing everything in my power to attract the predator’s attention towards me. “Over here!” My voice was hoarse, filled with a mixture of emotions. I hope Kiran will be able to forgive me.
All three of their large heads whipped towards me, my diversion evidently working. I holstered my weapon and turned tail, speeding the opposite way and galloping wherever my legs would take me. I leaped through twisted trees only large enough for me to fit through, and hopped over large rocks, hoping it would slow the monsters down.
Just when I thought I was clear, my hind leg unfortunately latched underneath a root peeking out of the ground, forcing me into a halt. I stopped moving instantly as my momentum ceased, and a sharp pain shot through my ankle. I yelped in distress, my upper body smacking onto the dirt with a hard thud. I whined as my weapon was flung out of its holster, landing in front of me. I crawled towards the weapon with all of my remaining strength.
The predators sauntered over, a threatening growl reverberating through the pack’s leader. I crawled towards my last chance at living, finally reaching it. I fitted my fumbling fingers around the weapon as the predator leader charged toward me while I turned around, leveling the weapon with the rainbow demon’s skull. I expelled a single and final shot as the round soared through its nose, expelling a fountain of brain matter behind it as it fell limp, a couple of feet away from me. The other two creatures were taken aback at first, but were now furious that I had dispatched their leader. I was hit with the horrific realization that I had just used the last of my ammunition.
They slowly pressed onward as I lay on my back, a hideous expression of hunger plastered on their flesh-eating faces. I shut my eyes tight, bracing for an excruciating death. Is this it? Is this how I die? At least I can rest well knowing that Kiran is safe. Please, don’t let my death be for nothing. I prayed to whatever deity was listening. Let my family I lo-
My thoughts were interrupted by a sickening crack, followed by the predator closest to me snapping its head back and toppling over, painted by its own viscous blood that spilled out of a gaping wound in its skull. It had taken a clean shot to the side of the head, dying as soon as the projectile had landed. The third predator scampered away after hearing the loud noise, staring daggers into whatever it was that ended the life of its friend. It tucked its tail between its legs in submission, hissing towards my savior before retreating back to where it came from. What on Jild just happened?
I turned my head to my side slowly, still wary of my surroundings. Right next to me was the same human whom I had spared earlier, with its signature metal pipe still strapped to its back. Its arm was outstretched towards the dead predator, with a terran-made weapon grasped in its paw. It lowered the gun down to its side, and I screamed as it began stomping towards me, intending to claim its stolen kill. “O-Oh, Jild, no! P-please, don-don’t eat me!” I cried, trying to reason with the predator. Without thinking, I mindlessly raised the spent railgun up to the thing in an attempt to shoot it, and it retaliated, wrapping its gloved fingers around my own. It effortlessly ripped the useless gun away from my grasp with a mighty paw, tossed it to the side, and wrapped its paw around my body.
My nightmares were coming true. I would be eaten alive, without remorse. I would much rather have died at the fangs of the feral predators instead of the human’s. The human would take its time, and enjoy every second of my suffering.
I was lifted up slightly with incredible strength while screaming my head off, struggling to worm away from its mighty grasp. I squirmed violently, not having enough air in me to continue screaming. The murderer held the gun’s muzzle up to my neck and uttered a single sentence with a deep, growling rumble: “Stop fucking moving.”
My translator implant belted out the meaning to me and I stupidly followed its orders. I shut up, both terrified and surprised that it could understand me or even articulate comprehensive words. I was fully expecting it to sink its fangs into me, but instead, the masked figure slipped the straps of my bag off of my shoulders, dropping me onto the ground and taking my satchel. It began to search through it diligently, tossing out what wasn’t to its liking. The human took out the last of my water supply and interestingly enough, a few of my vegetable bars. It tossed my near-empty bag back to me and slung its own massive bag around, stuffing the supplies inside.
I could only watch as it stole what little supplies I had left. For a moment, I was filled with pure, unbridled rage, replacing my fear with anger. “You m-monster!” I stood on my hind hooves, ignoring the pain burning through my right ankle and attempted to make myself appear as big as I could. “Y-you killed them!” I shouted at the emotionless predator. It had ripped my colleagues to shreds until they were unrecognizable, and it would pay. It in turn slightly tilted its mask towards me, unimpressed. I shrunk back down as its gaze fell upon me, and my ears flattened to my skull.
A low rumble came from it, which my translator picked up on as a chuckle. It was laughing. How dare you?! I snorted angrily. “You.. you’re.. Laughing? Wh-What is wrong with you?!” I yelled at the deranged predator. At that moment I wished I could go back in time and pull the trigger.
“I’m the monster. That’s funny.” It sadistically remarked. “I’m not the one who bombed an entire planet full of billions of innocent women and children.” It turned to face me fully, stalking over to me. My posture tightened as I cowered in fear; its hulking shadow loomed over me. This was the closest I had ever been to the human, or any predator, really. It could probably smell the copious amount of fear that my body was producing.
“I should kill you right fucking now.” It growled, practically spitting venom. It gripped its weapon tightly, threatening to break it. The being relented, apparently deciding against it. Wasn’t it going to eat me?
It stood there, staring down at me, unmoving. “W-why?” I whined. “Why did you.. k-kill them?!”
“You’ll have to be more specific.” It taunted me. My anger only grew.
“The.. the forest. Admit it! You killed them! I s-saw, I was there! Only a predator can do what you d-did!” I gasped, not meeting its gaze.
“Forest?” It scoffed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
What?! That made no sense.. Assuming it really didn’t know what I was referring to.. Had it not killed that group of krakotl? No, that can’t be. Is this a case of predatory deceit?
“Wh-wha..” I stammered, confused.
“If you’re referring to the ship, that was me.” It spoke of the murderous act almost as if it was proud of it, which sickened me to the core. “I enjoyed every second of watching those featherfucks gasping for air, pawing at the airlock. I’d do it again, if I could.” Its grating voice resonated through my bones.
I was enraged at the monster’s admittance of murdering the bomber ship's crew. I felt a wealth of emotions coursing through me, none of which I could openly express. I could only stand there, waiting for its next move. I heard my name being called in the distance, but absent-mindedly ignored it.
It leaned forward until I could see my own reflection in its reflective face mask.
“I’ll give you one last chance: you stay far away from your friends, especially that fucking bird, unless you want to die. If I see you again, next time I won’t hesitate to kill you.” It proclaimed with a gravelly voice. It unfolded upward, straightening its spine. It then turned, walking away with its bounty into the wilderness once again, leaving me alone and confused.
Why on Jild did it save me? That made no sense whatsoever, and went against everything I had been taught. Did it really hold back its bloodlust just to taunt me over how much it loved killing? Why didn’t it eat me while I was vulnerable?
Multiple questions flooded my mind, and I had developed a headache that was worsening by the second. Today was quite the adrenaline booster, I would need a long rest after all of this.
With the human gone, I was left to my own devices. I picked up the scattered contents of my pack, recollecting them.
I heard the rustling of leaves across from me, and I faced the source of the noise. I was spent emotionally, the constant adrenaline rushes taking its toll on me. I could do nothing but lean against a lone stump as I accepted my fate.
I had a good run.
- - -
V V V [STORY IS CONTINUED IN THE COMMENTS!!!] V V V
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Start of Alex Series Start of Teacher Series: Lesson 1 Previous: Meet the Parents: Fated Victory Party Next Royal Road / Class Picture Alex and Freki Artwork /Sub: Random3X (lore and more) Discord
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July 20th, year 024 Angels Descent
The class, with two of their teachers, were en route to the Ironwoodlands. They had been on the road for a few days as the Ironwoods themselves were at the far west of Greed’s domain, and the gate was more central to the region.
“So, you kids ever been to the Ironwoods?” All but Tasha and Alex shook their heads to indicate no.
“I’ve apparently only been once when I met Elissa’s father… at least that’s what my journal said… memory is still hazy for me… Yuu, you’ve been here a few times, right?”
“Yeah, when master got tired of me making machines that destroyed buildings, he threw me to the elves to ‘play’, as he called it.”
“Any advice? Elissa hasn’t really talked about her home much, so I’m kind of in the dark myself.” The class focused their attention on Yuu, who held her hands to her hips and puffed her chest with pride.
“Of course, young one, I shall educate you as you do your students. After all, I am an expert in interacting with Ironwood Elves!!”
“Yuu… you are like a few hours older than me; I wouldn’t call me young?”
“Silence, young one!”
“So what should we do then? Are there any rules like for courting an Ironwood elf?” Maxwell asked, glancing at Tasha.
“Well, first off, ignore Tasha,” Yuu said bluntly. “Second, a big thing to remember is there are three clans of Ironwood elves. First are the worker folk; they do the everyday stuff. The second is the warrior clans; they are self-explanatory. Finally, there are the outside clans.”
“Outside clans?” Bea repeated.
“Oh, I’m part of that!!!” Tasha said, beaming a smile at everyone.
“They are clans not taught the normal ways of Ironwood elves. This is so they can actually interact with the outside world and not cause a diplomatic incident.”
“Uh… what do you mean?” Daisy asked, only to follow Yuu’s gaze towards Alex.
“Oh yeah… Elissa is part of the Warrior Clan, and the first time I met her, she gave me a friendly little bump to the chest.”
“That sounds cute,” Daisy muttered, thinking of all the times she had seen the pair be so lovey-dovey.
“Cute bit was when he flew through three walls and shattered his spine.”
“WHAT?!!!”
“Yeah, the warrior clan greet people they consider as friends with a full-force punch. It’s why their warriors are weirdly durable and able to endure considerable pain,” Yuu explained, glancing at Tasha, who had learnt such a skill from Elissa herself.
“So first rule, you see any elf with a weapon, flip them off, stick out your tongue and be as rude as possible. The second they think you are a friend, you will suffer for it.”
“My brother has been brought here?” Daisy muttered, feeling a pang of panic about her brother receiving such treatment.
“Oh, don’t worry; Elissa will keep them safe.”
“So, will they treat the Big Chief like a friend?”
“Oh yeah, certainly… this one, however,” Yuu said, gesturing to Alex.
“I’m technically rather hated by the Ironwood elves.”
“Why? Aren’t you marrying their princess?” Daisy asked, shocked.
“Well, need I remind you her brother took an arena full of noble children with high-ranking lords hostage to rescue her? They adore Elissa. I’m just the human bastard who stole her away.”
“To be honest, sir, from what Miss Yuu has told us, why don’t they just kill you?”
“Blunt question Maxwell but a thing to remember Elves live for a very long time. They see me more as a short fling that’ll last a few decades, maybe a century or two. After which, I’ll die, and she’ll move back.”
“And you’re ok with this?”
“Maxwell… a thing you’ll learn when you find the one… you will never care what the world thinks so long as you can be with her,” Alex replied as he looked out the window wistfully.
“We’re almost at the first town,” the carriage driver announced. “I ain’t gonna take you any further.”
“Good, we can get some rest in a real bed,” Kline grumbled.
Stepping out of the carriage, the class came face to face with their first experience of an elf settlement. They had originally had the image of what had always been written about elven homes. Buildings entwined with trees. Great structures as if moulding nature itself.
The image before them was an entirely metallic set-up. Every building was coated in metal plates and had countless spikes. Worse still was the severed monster heads resting on each building's roof.
“Big Chief?”
“You won’t get much rest outside the Ironwoods capital. This region is infested with monsters that attack every night.”
“Why would they settle in a region with monsters?!!!” Kline cried out.
“The majority of their population are warriors. Where else can they get a good fight?” Yuu replied.
“So Miss Elissa had to fight every night since she was a child?” Daisy asked once again, feeling worry begin to bubble up.
“You didn’t?” Tasha asked, looking perplexed. “Everyone around here, regardless of clans, learns how to fight monsters from when we first can walk. Only the warrior clan focuses on it and gets all the fun.”
The class decidedly ignored Tasha’s comment and chose a fortress-looking inn for where they would rest for the evening. Though they weren’t certain how much rest they’d get, especially after seeing the monster head hanging near the entrance. The innkeeper welcomed them with open fists, only to be rebuffed as they had been instructed to do.
“Fine, here’s your keys, you ungrateful pieces of crap!”
Throwing the key at the class, they only barely dodged as they lodged themselves into the wall behind them. A wall they couldn’t help but notice had numerous holes from past throws of the keys.
“Me and Yuu are gonna settle in at the tavern and have a few. You can get some rest,” Alex said as he sat at a table, ignoring the baleful glares pointed in his direction.
“Come get us if you need help,” Yuu added as she ignored an elf actively punching her in the face.
The class settled into a large room with bunkbeds enough for the whole class and their teachers. As they rested, trying to clear away the fatigue of a long journey, the hours began to pass.
“So Tasha… what are your parents like?” Maxwell asked, looking up from his spot on a bottom bunk.
“They are rather boring. Daddy works as a clerk in Hades seat. Mum works as a monster cleaner.”
“Monster cleaner?” Daisy repeated.
“Yeah, the dead bodies of monsters we slay we display on our buildings to show how strong a monster we beat. Well, after a while, they go icky and need cleaning. Mum handles that.”
“So, the really big monster head we saw near the entrance?”
“Yeah, means the guys here must be really strong.”
“I’m starting to wonder what I should fear more, the monsters or the elves,” Bea muttered as she snuggled on Gunter’s chest.
“Not sure what you mean… but I’m sure my family will love Stampy,” Tasha proudly took the small creature out of her travel bag, where it proceeded to munch on a piece of plant she offered it.
“Kwooooon!!!”
“I’m more wondering what they’ll think of me,” Maxwell muttered to himself.
“What was that?”
“Nothing!”
“Sparky… come on, boy, I got some snakkums for you,” Daisy said as she held out a piece of travel jerky for her duck-sized dragon. The small creature poked its head out of her travel pack and snatched the dried meat before retreating.
“He’s been rather scared lately,” Daisy muttered.
“Probably the field of danger here,” Tasha replied as she scratched Stampy’s long neck.
“Danger field?” Kline echoed, looking nervous.
“Can’t you feel it?” Tasha asked, looking confused. “Try to feel the aura.”
Relaxing, the class focused their senses, and that was when the pressure began to rise. They had been able to ignore it so far as it had become more like background noise. It was nowhere near as bad as when their instructors pressured them directly. But it was enough to cause minor discomfort.
“What is that, Tasha?” Bea asked.
“That is, um… it's all the monsters' aura getting spread across the woods.”
“So what we are feeling is…” Kline began before trailing off with a look of horror.
In one of their lectures with Alex, he had taught them you can increase the density of aura in an area by focusing and compacting it, but the problem with that is it reduced the range. Another option was you could increase the number of people releasing aura. Experiencing this pressure from a vague distance meant the numbers must be considerable or very strong. Likely both from what had been described.
“Why in the hell would people live here?!!!”
“Well, the trees were the original reason,” Tasha replied, oblivious to how nervous Kline was starting to become.
“The trees are really big, and iron whatsits grow through them. That’s why they call them ironwood trees. Also, my ancestors liked fighting and making friends, so here they could do both.”
As the class began to ponder who unhinged and crazy Tasha’s people must actually be, the entire inn violently shook. Jumping from their beds, the class immediately went into action mode and rushed down the stairs to find several of the inn’s staff rushing out the front door with weapons.
Looking around, they found their teachers relaxing with drinks, still having a friendly conversation as if they were oblivious to the dangers outside. Running towards the pair, they stood at the ready.
“Oh hey kids, me and Yuu were about to grab a deck of cards. Want to join in a game or two?”
“Sir, the inn is under attack!” Daisy shouted indignantly.
“And?” Alex replied, tilting his head.
“We should help!” Maxwell answered as if stating the obvious.
“Why?” Yuu answered this time. Both teachers looked confused. Ignoring the cries for help and pained screams coming from outside.
“Because, sir, you have the power to help!!!” Daisy shouted.
“And that makes me beholden to them? Daisy, I gained this power to ensure my freedom to do what I wanted. It may seem callous, but just because I have the power to help does not mean I or anyone else are under any obligation to help.”
“Big Chief, please help!!” Gunter pleaded.
“Sorry, but the dork is right. We may have the strength to help resolve many situations, but people do not grow if someone else solves every little thing.”
“Kids… this is a lesson you will need to learn someday… You can’t help everyone, and in reality, you shouldn’t. You will either run yourself ragged or become someone else’s tool. Gain power to ensure freedom. If you kids want to help, you can go and help. But me and Yuu here will be starting a professional game of snap.”
“Fine, we will go out and help them!” Bea shouted indignantly as the class stormed out of the tavern and out into the town.
The sight that greeted them was one of abject chaos. There were already a few collapsed buildings, and they could see people running around in a panic. Down the road from their inn, they could even see the remains of one of the attacking monsters.
It was a giant beast about the size of a two-storey tall building. It was covered in boney plates that, even from how far away they were standing, looked needlessly thick. While its tail looked like a massive boney club, the kind used by giants.
“Earthen Drakes… Armoursauses, if I had to guess,” Maxwell said, looking at the remains.
“What can we do then?” Bea asked as she channelled her energy into bringing out her possession summon.
“We can spread out in teams of two. One enhancer and one projection and focus on the small fry,” Kline suggested as he fired an accurate shot that took the head off a small turkey-sized lizard monster.
“Ok, Kline and Tasha, you go that way. Gunter and Bea, you go to the south. Maxwell, you and me will head east,” Daisy declared. Maxwell hesitated for a moment looking at Tasha before nodding. With their plans decided, the class split up to face the attack.

What you are about to read is both a confession and an apology. I don't know how much time I have so I will keep it as short as I can. I was coming back home from work a few nights ago. It was dark and I was tired from my shift when suddenly a deer ran out in front of my truck. I locked my brakes but couldn't stop in time. Feeling my heart pounding I just sat in my truck, staring at the motionless deer laying in the middle of the road. I had never killed anything before, intentionally or accidentally. As much as I wanted to get home, take a shower and go to bed, I couldn't just let it lay there. Someone could run it over causing real damage to their undercarriage or, God forbid, they swerve to avoid it and end up falling over a hundred feet into the river below, hitting dozens of trees on the way down. I couldn't let that be on my conscience, so I did what the good lord Jesus would have done. I put on my emergency lights and got out of the truck to pull the carcass off the road. However, as I was doing this I saw something move in the deers lower gut. Seeing this made my heart sink because at the time I thought maybe the dead deer was going to give birth. While holding in a gag and pulling the body to get it off the road, whatever was in the deer crawled out of its… backside, ran up the leg I was holding onto and bit my hand. It was too fast and the night was too dark so I have no idea what it could have been. Instinctively I flung the creature off of me and heard it scamper away through the grass. Wondering what the hell just attacked me, I inspected the wound. The wound produced very little blood and looked no worse than what a cat would do when it plays a little too roughly. Since my heart was pounding out of my chest and I had most of the deer carcass off the road, I figured I had done my duty and it was time to head home. As soon as I got home, I barely had the energy to take off my clothes, so all hopes I had of taking a shower were lost and as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out like a light. The next morning I felt sluggish and cold. My teeth were chattering violently. It reminded me of a flu, however my nose wasn’t stuffed up and I wasn’t congested. The wound on my hand was red, but not swollen. Still, I was worried and made a call to set up a doctor's appointment. Thankfully I was able to get seen right away, however after the exam the doctor said he could find nothing wrong with me but the blood tests would take a few days before the results would come in. I am not the kind of person to tell someone how to do their job, especially if their job meant years of education and twice that many having their own practice. However I made it clear that I strongly disagreed with what the doctor said. When I got home, my stomach was complaining. I ate shortly before getting off work the day before so there was no reason for my stomach to complain as much as it was. I tried eating soup but it tasted like fermenting compost. No joke, that's what it tasted like. When I checked the expiration date, I was surprised that it still had eight months left before it was considered bad. At the time I figured that whatever was wrong with me was affecting my senses. My grandma said that 7Up and ginger ale was as close to magic as it gets when it comes to being sick, but since I didn't have any in the house, I made a few calls and had it delivered. However, that too tasted bad. My stomach kept complaining so in an attempt to silence it, I decided to make something that I could never resist. My moms specialty: meatloaf. If nothing else, it was comfort food and my favorite as a kid. Lo and behold, it tasted amazing. However when I tried adding ketchup like I always did, I nearly gagged from the smell of it. I ended up eating all of it in a single sitting and afterwards I felt really good. So good in fact that I decided to head into town to pick up a few groceries. As I walked around with the shopping cart, going down the same aisles as I always did, the items I usually got held no appeal. I love bananas, but they smelt like they had been soaking in gasoline for a few days, the vegetables stank of curdled milk and the cheese might as well have been… Well, I’ll let you imagine what that smelt like. The only thing that smelt good was the meat. No, it didnt smell good. It smelt divine, the way I imagine heaven smells like. I filled up my cart with hamburger, chicken breasts, pork chops, pork butt, whole turkeys, chicken legs, ribs, spiral hams, bacon, hotdogs and so much more. People looked at me funny as I went to pay for the items and some even asked if I was planning on having a cookout. I am ashamed to admit it, but I snapped at those people and told them it wasn't any of their business. When I got home I felt sick again and decided that some pork chops were in order. As I started to get everything ready, I opened the cream of mushroom and the smell that emerged from the can made me throw up in the sink. Later I checked the expiration date and saw that it still had a few months to go. The can wasn’t dented or punctured, so there was no reason for it to smell rancid. I cooked the pork chops plain only adding a little olive oil on the bottom of the glassware so it wouldn't stick. The wait seemed to take forever. At some point before the pork chops were done I found myself mindlessly eating away at the raw hamburger. Taking grape sized pinches here and there. I knew it was disgusting, but I couldn't stop myself. Each bite hit the spot and scratched an itch I didn't know I had. By this time it was after office hours but I called the general practitioner to see if there were any updates. All the while, I kept eating the raw meat. I was too embarrassed to tell them about my new eating habits and instead sounded like an idiot when I had nothing to say other than to ask about the blood test, which I knew the results would be in sometime next week. Because of this I could tell the person on the other line was annoyed. I spent the rest of the day eating and worrying. I must have paced for a few miles before I decided to go to bed. At the time I figured that I might be able to sleep off whatever was happening to me, and if this was not to be it would make the day that the blood test comes in arrive faster. However I couldn't go a few hours without food before the cravings made me wake up and rummage through the fridge. I blacked out at some point during the night and found myself outside at the wooden fence, trying to bait the neighbor's cat with a raw chicken leg that I already ate half of. I was scared. Paranoid that whatever bit my hand might have given me something really nasty. But I knew that worrying about it wasn't going to do me any favors so I decided to do what I normally do to clear my head and went for a drive. Usually this would have worked, but my stomach kept complaining. I had been eating for nearly a day straight, so I knew I wasn't hungry. What else could I do other than wait for the blood test to come back? Trying to distract myself, I decided to turn on the radio and listen to one of the three radio stations that worked in town. As I was fumbling with the knobs in my old beat up truck, I turned the corner and saw a man walking across the street to get his mail. I hit the brakes as hard as I could, but it was too little too late and he bounced off the grill and went flying through the air. Terrified, I ran out to see if there was anything I could do to help him, but when I drew close I could see that he was all sorts of messed up. He was conscious and asked me to give him a ride to the hospital because he would not be able to afford the bill for an ambulance. However, that was when I noticed that the femur was sticking out of his leg. I licked my lips and before I knew it I started biting and eating around the bone as the man screamed, and in his condition he was unable to get away or fight me off. I don't know how much time passed, but at some point I became aware that people were starting to gather. All of them were too shocked to do anything but stare. Embarrassed and terrified, I ran to the truck and drove off. It wasn't like I could go anywhere. Since Gray Hill is a small town, most of the onlookers knew who I was. So I did the only thing I could think of and went home. There is so much more I want to say, but I don't have much time. The sirens are getting louder. I am sorry.

First Previous
After waiting a few moments, I poke the double door once again to check if the static electricity has finally faded away. Thankfully it had so I grabbed on to the door handles and with a wretched scream emanating from the door being pulled open. As I did this, some rubble collapsed through the opening and fell down onto my feet.
Finally, after many chunks of debris fall onto me, I am able to create a hole large enough for my drones and I to fit through after we move the rest of the rubble out of the way. After we are done with that, I have the ants go in to make sure that there are no enemies in the vicinity. After they signal that the room is clear, my drones and I, save the hornets due to their larger frame and wings, walk in.
Looking around, the room was in complete shambles with holes in the ceiling leading to the second floor, various burn marks along the walls, and a few piles of slag which I assumed were previously drones of some kind. There were two side rooms and another pair of doors opposite of the entrance doors. Moving to the room on the right, I found a small room filled with containers of various sizes. Looking through them, I found that most of the containers held some fabricator alloys and a handful of electronics.
Making a mental note to come back for those supplies, I walk over to the other room and open the door to find a still functioning small drone work. Just by looking at it I could see that the drone works was recently used from the fact that dust on the top has just begun to settle. As I continue to examine the machine a new notification appears on top of it.
"Convert Small Drone Works away from Ratling Scout Platoon. Y/N."
Convert? Wait ratling scout platoon? Is that where those rats came from? Deciding that I would not mind gaining a free production structure I converted it to my control. As I do this I hear scuttling from the ceiling and then a large group of scouts drops on top of one of my ant drones. They are quickly dispatched by the spider escorts thankfully but I wonder why they decided to attack after I took their base, assuming that the one drone works was their only one.
Walking over to the pair of doors opposite of the entrance doors I pushed them open and greeted with a hallway. Moving down it I find a familiar room that was where my scout rats once crawled out of the vents and discovered the medium drone works. Continuing on to the next set of doors I reach the room with the flame shooting beetle.
Keeping close to the edge of the room I have my drones set up facing the fire spitting beetle. Ordering my scorpion to do its thing I get ready to sprint forward. The hum from the charging scorpion beam comes to a halt and then the beam of energy blasts out and hits the beetle right in the side. As it gets hit, the flame thrower part of the drone retracts into the safety of its carapace.
Rushing forward with my ants following close behind I grab a chunk of concrete from the ground and slam it into the midsection of the fire spitter. This knocks the drone back and seems to slightly lessen the effects of the stun beam and it seems to gain some control of its many legs as it clamps down onto the concrete floor.
Smashing it once more I realize that the armored shell of the beetle was incredibly resilient and that I have only made small dents in its carapace. As my ants reach the beetle they also find much difficulty in damaging the droid as many of their bites were struggling to find purchase on any part of the drone. The beetle attempts to fight back against the ant assault by having its flame thrower part peek out and it fires a few bursts of flame before retracting again to avoid the flurry of chomps that come soon after.
Looking around for something to help deal with the surprisingly stubborn beetle, I see a crowbar leaning on a nearby wall. Quickly grabbing it, I wedge the, well, wedge of the crowbar in the small gap between each pair of legs. Pushing as hard as I could, I managed to dislodge the drone and topple it over.
One of my ants quickly rushed over to the, now upside-down, drone and opened its mandibles to get ready to chomp down. But then I heard a short burst of beeps which caused me to quickly jump out of the way and into the cover of some support pillars. Right as I do this, the beetle drone explodes violently and unfortunately one of my ants and its spider escorts were caught in the blast. Peeking out from cover after the dust settles all I can see the burt armor of the beetle and my ant and the only thing left of the spiders was ash.
Sighing to myself I start looking around the room for anything that might be useful. After a quick check around I only find a few bits of metal and components so I start moving up the stairs to the next floor. Glancing around the room I could not find much of note inside of any containers. There were two doorways, one on the left side of the room and one on the right. Since right is always right I open that door first which leads to the collapsed walkway connecting to the main segment of the factory. Moving over to the left door I open it to find a small room with a few scattered chairs and a desk along with a computer sitting on it. Around the floor of the room was the occasional hole as I made a mental note to walk carefully in that room.
I try to lighten my steps as I slowly walk over to the desk with the computer on it. Thankfully I make it there without falling through the floor and so I first check the drawers. In the first few they were mostly barren asides from the piles of collected dust that have likely not been touched in years. In one of the last drawers I found a blueprint snuggled under some various blank papers and empty folders. Stuffing the blueprint between my left arm I check the last of the drawers before making my way back outside of the room. I decide to grab the blueprint and pop open the description of the likely new drone.
"The Self-Detonation Combustion Sprayer or the SDCS is a small, heavily armored, flamekamikaze drone meant to burn away small swarms of enemies and to detonate if overwhelmed. Due to their armored carapace they are incredibly hard to damage once deployed, although they are very slow due to the same reason. Also, most of the blast when detonated can be directed downward to the base of the drone which makes them excellent at breaching armored vehicles and or inplacements. Can be constructed at a Small Drone Works."
Well that will certainly be useful when I reach MAI's other outposts or even their main base. Walking back to the main base I order to have three of the beetles to be constructed on my new drone works on the way back. When I do get back to base I also order up ten of those swarm lancer drones on my other small drown works.
After a quick look around to make sure nothing else needs anything else to be looked at I decide to take the three new scorpions with me as I start making my way over to the mining Outpost. As my drones and I marched, I could see some of the woodpecker drones that I made for the Flock fly around in the sky.
———
A few hours of walking later, I see that the sun has nearly reached the horizon. Deciding that now would be a good time to find shelter for the night. Although my drones nor I may not need to sleep we still can be ambushed, doubly so during the night.
Taking refuge in a nearby, mostly intact, building I begin searching around the structure to see if there is anything of use. Not finding anything of note, I head back to my scorpion in the main room, who are all sitting down in a circle. Taking a seat in the middle I order my drones to guard my body. And with that I hop out of my vessel drone and snap back over to the factory. Looking at the drones that have been completed I order the lancer woodpeckers to carry the explosive beetles and once daytime arrives to fly off to the Outpost.
Speaking of which I hop over to the Outpost to see what is going on over here. After a quick inspection it seems that nothing much is going on. The hounds and hornets are still patrolling the area and keeping the spiders safe and the spiders have decided to start trying to dislodge some of the looser chunks of ores in the mineshaft. Not really going to complain, any passive resource gain is better than no gain.
Hopping back into my vessel drone I look around to see that my scorpions are still fine and are continuing to guard me. Not really seeing much to do I just sit there not really thinking about anything in particular. I close my eyes and remember even with my ability to go days without sleep it is still a good idea to get some rest if you can.
Next

TW for some scary (but ultimately fine) cord issues.
I'm writing this up with my baby in my arms. Contact naps are definitely the best part of the newborn experience.
We had to be induced at week 39 because of my gestational diabetes - he wasn’t trending large, but I also had a bilobed placenta with a marginal cord insertion, plus the standard of practice for GD here is induction at 39 weeks because the risk of stillbirth goes up. Since this was an IVF pregnancy, I was a) very risk-averse and b) completely fine with any and all medical interventions. I'm the type of person who is reassured by being surrounded by competent medical personnel and never considered a home birth in the first place.
On May 17, we waited around on tenterhooks all day until we got a call from the hospital, asking us if we could be there in the next half hour. This was to check my cervix (which hadn’t been done at all up to this point) and most likely get that process going, so they told us not to bring anything in with us. Once checked in and popped into a bed, they hooked up the NST monitors to my belly and we waited for an hour listening to the baby’s heartbeat. (In Canada regular NSTs are not a thing as much as they seem to be in the States, so this was my first one.) I read a bit and eavesdropped on the people in the beds next to us. One guy kept asking his wife riddles, I guess as a distraction method. Very annoying. There was another woman in for some kind of reassurance check, and all the doctors and nurses were so kind about it, telling her to absolutely come on in any time she had concerns. I found this reassuring!
My cervical check showed that nothing at all was happening, so the OBGYN on duty inserted Cervidil, which is basically prostaglandins on a shoelace that gets poked into my cervix. This process was pretty uncomfortable, given that I wasn’t dilated or effaced. Then we did another hour of NST, and were directed to come back the next morning at 7:30. “Don’t bring anything in with you,” they said, because most likely I wouldn’t be far enough along to be admitted, or would even need another dose of Cervidil. They also said I could come back any time if I needed pain relief, because while it was super rare to go into labour just from the Cervidil, it was not completely unheard of.
Went home, ate spaghetti, dropped the dog at the sitter, and started to feel kind of achey and uncomfortable, like a bad period. I woke up around 1:30 and wasn’t able to get back to sleep because of the cramping, but it wasn’t like contractions - just a constant ache with occasional ten-second breaks. I watched many episodes of Friends, feeling progressively worse. At 5 I woke my husband up and said I couldn’t take it anymore, we should go in before our 7:30 time for that pain relief. He got up and started making us eggs (the theory being I did not know when I would next be able to eat real food), and I went to the bathroom. After a bowel movement, my cramps started to lessen…at least at times. I began to wonder if I were actually having contractions, and the cramping from the Cervidil had been masking them all along. So at this point I was actually feeling a little better, because at least I was in less pain between the maybe-contractions.
I sat at the dining table waiting for the eggs and started to feel extra leaky, so I headed back to the bathroom, but I did not make it to the toilet before my water broke. So cinematic! And so much for my hospital sweatpants. This was 6 a.m. I managed a few bites of eggs and toast and we headed off to the hospital. By this point there was absolutely no doubt I was having contractions, so I started timing them with an app my husband had. To my alarm, they were a minute and a half apart (though only 30-40 seconds long). We put our bags in the car against instructions, because I was starting to think there was a non-zero chance we wouldn’t be coming back to the house today.
When we got to the hospital, they had me call my midwife, and set me up in the same bed I’d been in last night. Gloria, my midwife, called me back and said she’d head in once I’d had my cervical check, because for all we knew I hadn’t progressed much and it would be a while before they’d even start Pitocin. But when I got checked, it turned out I was already 5 centimeters dilated. This was a huge relief! All that morning’s pain wasn’t for nothing! I was definitely not going to be sent home! I was making amazing, if terrifyingly fast, progress, and I got to be one of those rare cases who went into labour just from Cervidil! So I hung out on the triage ward for a while, unpleasantly contracting and asking when I could get an epidural and when my midwife was going to get there, and being lectured about proper breathing technique by one of the nurses (this made me cry, ridiculously; she wasn’t actually mean about it but I felt criticized).
Then we headed up to my labour room to get settled in. On foot! The hospital here is not super nice, it’s very dated and too small for the population, but the room I was in was great - pretty large with two big windows. I was able to move around more here than I could in triage, so I did a lot of hanging onto things while bending over, vs. labouring in bed. Gloria showed up pretty soon after we got into this room, and helped coach me through the contractions I had before the epidural could happen (basically, squatting lower than I’d been doing). She tried to set up my IV but blew two of the veins in my left hand, so had the nurse try my right; the nurse blew a vein in my right hand. This process was much more painful than I would have expected. Fortunately, everyone knew their limits and decided to wait for the anesthesiologist, who placed the IV in my wrist instead in about five seconds flat. The backs of my hands are just enormous sensitive bruises now.
After all that, getting the epidural itself was almost nothing. I hunched over a pillow and pressed my head into my husband's chest, felt the freezing needle, but that was about it. The doctor wanted us to make a note that I had a “shallow” epidural for any future epidural needs. It worked incredibly well - I had a few more contractions, but then they petered out (I would just need to make a face to get through them), and then disappeared completely. I took a nap. That was always the part in other people’s birth stories that sounded unbelievable to me, but I had been up since 2 am and it was now about 10 or 11. I could still feel my legs and move them around - it felt like they had lightly fallen asleep, or like I’d been walking in the Canadian cold weather and they were slightly numb to the touch. “This isn’t your mama’s epidural,” somebody told me. Five stars for this part of the labour experience.
So we hung out for a while, rested, ate a little bit (a muffin and some yogurt), and chatted. Gloria checked my progress and unfortunately I was still just 5 cm. The OBGYN on call also checked, and she thought I was a bit more effaced, but still I had clearly stalled out since getting to the hospital, and since my water had broken on its own, I was on a ticking 24-hour clock. My fluids were all still clear and the baby's heart rate was great, so they weren’t too stressed, but they did think it was time to hang Pitocin after all. Since I had thought this was the plan all along, I was fine with it.
They started my Pitocin drip at the lowest possible setting and slowly dialed it up over the next few hours. I was starting to feel contractions again - mildly, then less mild. I had to get a catheter, which I was pretty nervous about, but it wasn’t too bad. Gloria said she didn’t want to do too many cervical checks - again, because of my broken water, they wanted to minimize infection risk - but that if I needed the epidural topped up, I should say so, not be a hero, and she’d go ahead and check me beforehand. Shortly after this I said yes, I would in fact like a top-up, so she checked me - and I was 10 centimeters and ready to go. This was about 4:30 pm. “Do you want to give a little push?” she asked, and I nearly panicked right there and then. I was not ready! And they also did not want to top up my epidural at that point, because I needed to feel the contractions in order to know what to do. Things got rapidly less pleasant from this point on. I threw up three times and the trainee midwife said that one good vomit is worth three contractions. I hadn’t thrown up in a decade before then.
I laboured on my knees for a while, my top half draped over the raised-up part of the bed, gripping my husband’s hands or the bed bars. I liked this position (and being fed ice chips) but my legs were getting tired, so I moved to lying on my right side, then my left. All through this entire process, I’d been getting hourly blood sugar checks. The hospital lancing device was way more violent than my home version, and my fingertips were basically all dripping blood, which the various staff members found mildly concerning. I cannot recommend being in labour with GD. Towards the latter stages when the trainee midwife came towards me with the lancing device I said “SERIOUSLY?” and yes, seriously, it had to be done. I also was getting pretty annoyed with the monitoring, just because it kept slipping out of position and I’d have to have it repositioned, and I was tired of all the fussing about my person.
I ended up in sort of a classic position, on my back with my legs in the air, the bed braced up behind me. I don’t know if I had “less” epidural because they didn’t top it up, or if this is the whole “you’ll feel the pressure but not the pain” thing, or if women who go without epidurals are actually insane superheroes, because this was easily the worst pain of my life (previous high water mark was my egg retrieval which gave me panic attacks weeks later). And it seemed to be going on forever. I was very purposely not asking for progress reports, because I knew it wouldn’t be as much progress as I hoped, and I needed to believe that my next push could be THE push. This was very much not the case. My husband said that Gloria was working super hard, her arms shaking as she tried to stretch out my vagina as much as possible, and she and her trainee were giving me all kinds of coaching about how and where to push and how to change my guttural moans to something more productive, and I was not paying a lot of attention to any of it.
I registered that things were perhaps not going swimmingly when there started to be more people in the room. The OBGYN came in and took over from my midwife (I drew the line at including her Doogie-Howser-esque resident), and I laboured with her for a while. She said perhaps I would want to think about using a vacuum, that I might just need a little help getting the baby out, and here were the extra risks involved, and it was totally up to me. It is hard to wrap your head around a list of risks in that situation, but we had covered vacuum extraction in my prenatal course. Maybe ten minutes later, she brought it up again, again emphasizing that it was up to me, but that I probably had another hour of pushing to go if I didn’t. At this point I’d been pushing for two hours and most of my pushes were ending on exhausted tearless sobs. My husband said he could see the point where people started to think the vacuum was a good idea, because after a contraction/push I just collapsed like a limp noodle.
What I really wanted to avoid was an exhaustion c-section, so I said yes to the vacuum, and a whole bunch more people streamed into the room. Because there are slightly more risks to the baby, they needed to have a pediatrician team in place. This was more people in the room than I planned on by a mile, but I could not have cared less. Gloria had to insert a new catheter urgently, which was significantly more unpleasant than the first time, and then the vacuum went in. And then…my contractions slowed right down, with major breaks in between them. It was weird to have these several-minute-long breaks all of a sudden, but it did allow me to catch my breath. Once the vacuum was in place, I think it took two more contractions - three pushes each - to get him out. On the last few I was just flat-out screaming. I heard them say that the cord was wrapped around his neck, but they seemed calm about it. After the last set my husband told me, “Look!” and I opened my eyes and there was a baby on my belly. Born at 7:16. He wasn’t crying at first so my midwife was giving him a vigorous towel rub, and I said, “Why isn’t he crying?” and they assured me he was fine, and then he cried. I wasn’t particularly emotional; I was mostly just relieved that the worst was over.
We had delayed cord clamping for about a minute but couldn’t do longer because he needed to get checked out by the pediatrics team. My husband had been semi-planning on cutting the cord, but because he’d seen the baby coming out with the cord around his neck and then not cry for a minute, he was too freaked out to do so. Also at this point I registered that the midwives were marveling at the “true knot” in the baby’s cord. It looked absolutely wild. I am so glad I didn’t know in advance. Both the neck loop and the knot were loose enough that the baby was fine, but how scary. It is very rare, less than 1% of births, and when I googled it later I cried for half an hour because of how much higher the stillbirth rates are (4x!!!), and how lucky I feel at every turn. I am keenly aware that things could have been otherwise at any point. I think a lot of us in infertility world feel a bit of survivor's guilt. But here I am, with a healthy baby.
Six pounds, eight ounces, and 22 inches long - a skinny baby, despite the GD. He looks like an old man turtle. While we did skin-to-skin, they were working on me - because of my bilobed placenta, they had to be super careful in getting it out; this part seemed to take a very long time. Then the OBGYN set about stitching me up; they claim not to count stitches, but I had a second-degree tear (skin and tissue), and they gave me a few injections of local anesthetic. The OBGYN said something about me having a fair bit of sensation still despite the epidural. I certainly did feel the anesthetic go in near my butthole, which I also don’t recommend as a feeling, but getting the stitches was basically painless, just a tugging sensation. I was very ready to get my vagina back to myself by the time all this was done.
Then Gloria took me on a tour of my placenta, showing me how the two lobes were connected by a few vessels, and where the cord was marginally inserted, and how it was a good thing my water broke on its own because manually breaking the water when you have a placenta like this carried a not-insignificant risk of hemorrhage. It looked like raw meat, which is of course exactly what it was. They asked if I wanted to keep it, which, no thanks. But very cool to see! There were parts of it they could not be 100% sure had all come out, though. They also had a few minutes of restrained panic while they counted up the gauze - they could only find nine pieces of the ten for a while - but then they found the tenth in the trash. I was just relieved nobody was going to have to touch my vagina again.
I don’t know the details, but it seems I had above-average bleeding, whether because of retained placenta or just one of those things, so they gave me a dose of misoprostal (sublingual) and TXA (IV). We tried latching and the baby did pretty well. Then my mouth and tongue started feeling weird, and then I started shaking - then I was shaking so violently I needed them to take the baby ASAP because I was afraid I would hurt him. I was also bawling in fear at this point because the uncontrollable shaking was like having a fully-aware seizure. Apparently this is a semi-common reaction to the miso but I kept thinking it meant something was seriously wrong, despite what they kept telling me. I got covered in many warm blankets (and they cranked up the room heat to the point the midwives’ masks were sweaty at the edges) but I kept shaking for about an hour.
Meanwhile the baby failed his blood sugar test and needed dextrose in his cheek. My husband was holding him for his own skin-to-skin while I shivered. Ideally, I would have breastfed him after the dextrose (or had stored colostrum, which I hadn’t done), but I was still shaking so badly and so freaked out that I clearly could not. My midwife said in this case, formula was medically indicated. Her tone was such that you’d think she was suggesting giving my baby heroin. I am strongly fed-is-best and anyway, it was clear that this is what he needed, so my husband gave him a tiny bottle.
Around 10 we were well enough to move to our postpartum suite. I stood on this fun little cart thing and they scooted me over. It was nice to be in a new room where nothing scary had happened. We ordered Harvey’s but I could barely eat it; I had talked a big game about all the GD-unfriendly things I planned to eat but I didn’t have much appetite. Still don’t, really. The baby stayed with us in his little bassinet, all swaddled tight, and we made it through the first night. Gloria wanted us to stay two nights because of my bleeding and complications and asked us to PLEASE not leave against medical advice. No chance we would have done that. I could barely get out of bed that whole second day. We just napped and did skin-to-skin and made it through. Lots of testing (blood pressure, temp, his various needs and blood sugar many times, poor thing). He had another borderline blood sugar reading and had to get some more dextrose just in case, but this time I could feed him afterwards. This was his last concerning reading.
In the afternoon/evening I noticed that I was having trouble peeing - while I fed him, I would get these strong uterine cramps, which is normal because the oxytocin of feeding was helping compress my uterus back to normal size, and then I would have the strong urge to pee, but when I went to the bathroom very little would come out. I could get a little more by leaning forward and pressing on my stomach with my hand, but still not much. I mentioned this to the nurse and to Gloria on the phone, but nobody seemed super concerned - Gloria figured it was irritation from the second catheterization.
Cut to: 2 a.m. I was feeding the baby and feeling that same strong cramping/urge, pretty painful, but I had nowhere to put the baby (he was loosely wrapped so I couldn’t safely put him in the bassinet) and I didn’t want to wake my husband, plus I knew from experience that only a tiny bit of pee would come out even if I did go to the bathroom, so I stayed in bed and applied pressure to my vulva to alleviate the pain of the cramps. When I took my hand away, there was a gush of fluid I could feel leaking through my diaper onto the bed. I assumed it was blood, but when I looked, it was just light pink, and after a minute of contemplation I realized I had peed myself, and what was more, I would need to call the nurses and tell them I had wet the bed.
The nurse who arrived to help was not very nice about it. She told me I should not be trying to hold my pee and if I wasn’t careful I would need major surgery when I was 40. It’s not like I intended to hold my pee, and also I was in a very vulnerable position and did not need a lecture at that moment. I said, should I try to empty my bladder further? and she said I might as well, so I went to the bathroom with the usual lackluster results. My husband was awake by then with all the commotion. I put on a new diaper, realized it was backwards, stood halfway up to swap it around, and something truly enormous slithered out of me into the toilet. For a few seconds I honestly thought my uterus had fallen out, but it was a blood clot the size of a grapefruit. Immediately after this I peed, involuntarily. I freaked out completely and my husband ran out into the hallway to get the nurse back. Fortunately the one who found me in the bathroom was a different, nicer one, who helped me get back in bed and try to calm down. I was hyperventilating and shaking again and my blood pressure was 166/something else startlingly high, but this came down pretty quickly. The nurses seemed to think my full bladder was impeding the blood from coming out, but I am confident that the blood clot was what was causing me to be unable to fully empty my bladder. After I had calmed down from this, I realized I was feeling a lot better; less cramping and so on.
Saturday morning was discharge day! We slowly got ourselves ready (I put on clothes for the first time in two days, I’d been living in a bralette and diapers, which my husband said “looked cute, like Mowgli”) and left the hospital with a bunch of paperwork. They do not send you out in a wheelchair anymore and frankly I could have used one. I didn’t really anticipate how difficult it would be just to move around, but I suppose it makes sense considering all my guts had been violently rearranged. Plus, either because of the shaking or the two hours of pushing, all my muscles were sore, including my arms.
And since then we have been home! The midwives have been a godsend, visiting every other day for the first six days, weighing him and checking his bili levels and taking my blood pressure and answering all our questions. Next time we see them we go to the clinic and it seems impossible to take this baby anywhere. I had another large blood clot a few days after coming home, this one the size of a lime, and it seems like I’m still bleeding a bit heavier than the internet thinks is right, but the midwives are not super worried just yet, though definitely keeping an eye.
Emotionally, it is a wild ride of hormones. I cry almost every day, whether it’s exhaustion/frustration or “I love him so much and cannot stand the thought of anything bad ever happening to him.” The juxtaposition between my bleeding, crying, beaten-up, exhausted state and everyone around me being like “omg a baby, the most wonderful thing ever” is quite remarkable. And honestly I think he’s a pretty easy baby (so far, anyway). Sleep obviously leaves a lot to be desired but he’s not overly fussy and I do not mind the daytime contact naps one bit. Breastfeeding is going well outside of nipple pain, and he's gained back an appropriate amount of weight. He is so soft and small and we love him so much.

[←Chapter 46] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 48→]
Efrain was left, more or less, with two things left to teach. First was the more complex magical motion, how to draw flows and glide things along them. The second was how that applied to the wondrous black metal, and then to shape it into whatever she had seen.
Efrain, not for the first time, wished that he’d seen the knife, that way he wouldn’t have to rely on the girl’s amateur talents. There was a good chance that she would not be able to construct it soundly or missed crucial details that were essential. It was a risk, giving her this greatly expedited tutelage, then making her build a magic tool with nothing but educated guesswork. Practically like explaining pulleys and counterweights, and then asking a student to design an elevator.
He didn’t let his mind rest on it for too long - he had enough horrors today without contemplating what lay beyond the stone. Still, it weighed on him, as even moving the water around was noticeably more difficult than it would’ve been in the free air. He set out another filled bucket and an empty one, provided gratis by the workers.
“Are you having fun yet?” he said aloud, drawing the attention and a few nervous chuckles.
“It might be good for you to listen in,” he continued, “magic is here, has been here, and will continue to be here long after any of us are gone. One of these principles might save your life one day?”
After a few moments, a younger member hesitantly spoke.
“Are there any schools? To teach magic,” he said, before immediately trying to shrink back into the crowd.
Efrain regarded him as he considered the question.
“Why? Do you have an interest?”
The men around him laughed, and the boy’s face flushed as he locked eyes with what must’ve been a very attractive bench.
“Yes. There are, and were, schools. The greatest was the Angorrah Academy in the capital, but it has long been ransacked and converted to other uses. Centuries ago, now.”
The men were listening with interest now. Efrain wasn’t surprised, given the way the church stepped on the toes of history when writing its edicts.
“Yes. Angorrah used to be a heart of learning of all kinds,” he said, gesturing off to the western mountains, “magic, science, the arts, craftsmanship. The academy was beautiful, in its way. Still… what happened happened.”
“The night of the burning tree?” one of the older men ventured.
“Indeed,” Efrain said, “the night of the burning tree. A bunch of hotblooded youths getting involved in open rebellion. Anyone care to take a guess at what the seniors were doing?”
No one responded, all were looking on with bated breath.
“Nothing. Sitting in their towers, sipping their wine. All the while a bunch of idiots painted a target on all of our backs, and they did nothing to stop them.”
He was conscious of the potential hypocrisy he was engaged in. It was only a couple of years after the night of the burning tree when he had awoken in his new body. For all he knew, he could’ve been one of the idiots involved. He would like to think that he was not so stupid as to burn the most holy symbol of the church. But there was no way to know for certain.
“Then the purges began,” he said, “I had left the city before. I saw the writing on the wall.”
“But that would mean you’re hundreds of years old,” protested one of the men.
Efrain looked at him, the other men looked at him, and the man faded back with a quiet ‘oh’.
“Yes, I’ve lived for a very, very long time,” he said, stretching as he did, “there’s several different ways you can go about it, but… well, the results speak for themselves.”
Now that caught their attention, as tales of immortality often did.
“Before you ask, there’s a steep price for extended life, regardless of which way you do it. Not to mention, it’ll most likely take decades upon decades of study, and help from others besides. Even with all that, it’s still a very risky business. One mistake, and you’ll be greeting death early.”
That seemed to quell most of the curiosity, though not extinguish it completely.
“Well,” he said, “back to the original question. As for the remaining schools of magic, you’re not likely to find anything west of the mountains. The church’s hold is too strong for any sort of formal study to flourish there. The best one would be…”
Efrain tapped his mask as he ran through the locations, hoping that two centuries hadn’t wiped them away.
“Karkos, to the south east,” he said, “though I haven’t been there for many years. I recall… well, there was the idea of a school once. If you’re really interested, that would be the place to try.”
Some of the men nodded thoughtfully, though Efrain doubted any of them were actually vying to go.
“What can magic do?” said one of the younger ones again, “can it make swords sharp, or on fire or…”
He stuttered out as he reached the limits of his creativity. Efrain didn’t mind - it was nice to have queries to take his minds off of recent events.
“Magic weapons?” he said, mentally thumbing through his collection of knowledge on the topic, “yes, you could. Most ordinary weapons can be infused with magic, with appropriate skill. As for things custom made for the purposes of handling magic, well…”
He thought back to his vault in his holdfast, missing home, as cold and isolated as it might’ve been. There were a handful of weapons in his collections, usually cursed, but little that he would actually use. They were mostly there for preservation and study, rather than actual warfare. His armoury on the other hand had enchanted items, but they tended to be more along alchemical lines rather than physical ones.
“They are rare, quite rare. Some of you are steel workers, I would think?” he said, witnessing a few nods, “well then, how many years would it take to become a good one, usually?”
There was a smattering of guesses, until a big, keg-chested man offered “five or tener’ years, depends.”
“Then I’m sure you can imagine, my friend,” Efrain said nodding, “combine learning magic and smithing, then learning how to weave the latter into the former. Many, many years. True master enchanters and magesmiths are not something seen since Angorrah’s golden years, and that was centuries ago.”
He remembered the site of the great forge works under the academy, situated near the cistern so that they had a constant supply of water to fuel engines and quenching pools. The smell of hot metal and burning wood barely eclipse the stench of sewage. There had been several doddering craftsmen by the time he’d left, though the days of their magnum opuses were long past.
“Even in my time, they were dying out, and when the Academy was ‘decommissioned’, well, most of their works and knowledge was destroyed. I only knew barely beyond the basics. In any case, most magic weapons are too expensive to be practical. However you could ‘enhance’ in the way you’re thinking’ - holding edges for longer and so on.”
He paused, trying to recall the few examples he’d witnessed first-hand.
“Why, they even used to pre-enchant metal at the academy, so you could temper them faster at higher temperatures, without risking warping or weakening.”
The men began to nod more fervently - this was a subject they were more familiar with.
“But nothing dramatic. To be sure, there are tales. Weapons of light, tools to replant forests and cure illness,” he said, reaching over for the cube.
Watching the streams and rivers of metal form and reform in his hands, he began to recite.
“Long lost, long lost, across the waves,
Past brothers’ tombs and fathers’ graves.
Long lost, long lost, across the sea.
Lands old and rich and everfree.
The first lands where we long to be,
Long lost, long lost, across the sea.
Where all are found, where all is saved.
Long lost, long lost, across the waves.”
“I know that!” one of the men said, “it’s in one of the church books the priest used to sing.”
“Aieadda. It’s an old poem, one of the oldest. It’s one of the few surviving writings from the times of Eblem.”
The name of Angorrah’s founding king turned the last of the bowed heads.
“You’ve been?” said a number of astonished labourers, drawing a mental grin from Efrain. The ‘first lands’ must’ve been a legend to them, something spoken about in terms of gods and myths.
“No, no I’ve not,” he said, “they do exist, far to the south west. Several weeks by ship, if the wind is in your favour. It’s a hazardous crossing. But, if the verses are to be believed, ‘anything’ can be found there. Magic runs strong in that country.”
He lifted up the now solid cube as an example.
“For instance,” he said, “and if this is the metalwork they could do, who knows what else they could create?”
The men were enchanted now, transfixed by stories they’d never heard. But it’d have to wait for later, he thought, as he saw Sorore led by Lillian cut around the corner.
“Right then, back to work. Though you are welcome to listen in as you wish,” he said, as Sorore sat down in front of him, frowning at the two buckets.
“You ready?” he said, and she nodded, “very well, let’s begin.”
“The second lesson of magical motion is as follows…”
For the next half-hour he taught her about the process of drawing flows. How to imagine an invisible line, like carving a channel for the water to follow. How to start from before the mass, and move magic through it, simultaneously pushing the magic through it, and pushing the mass on the magic.
“And to practise that, I’ve brought back your favourite teaching aid,” he said, gesturing to the pair of buckets in front of them.
He thought he detected the hint of a scowl on the girl’s face.
“Quite simple, really, just draw an arc between the two points. We’ll stop when you’ve filled the empty bucket to the best of your ability.”
The hour after that was relatively simple, Sorore imagined a line, drew magic across it, then drew the water across that. A few false starts and water explosions later, she had a steady stream falling into the bucket.
“That’d be useful,” said one of the men, “wouldn’t have to move around the smithy too much.”
“Solid objects get a little more tricky,” said Efrain, “if I taught you how, you’d spend just as much time learning how to dodge wayward tools.”
There was genuine, not nervous laughter this time. Sorore was sitting there, quite focused on the stream, though not particularly tense, watching as the water slowly filtered from one to the other.
“A fun minor lesson,” he said, “try to make a flow with right angles only.”
The girl’s concentration lapsed, spilling water on the cobbles to her annoyance. But regardless, she tried, and largely succeeded in the first part. When she attempted to push water up, it sprayed off past one of the men, leading to it being quickly dropped.
“Any object has mass, and thus momentum. Think of running and rapidly turning around. Takes a lot more effort, doesn’t it? Curves are almost always more efficient. Now, back to it.”
Within another twenty minutes or so, she had filled up the second bucket. The last of the drops were drawn over the arc, and vanished under the surface.
“Well done,” he said, “you now know the basics of moving liquids like water, and even gas like the air around us. Solids get a little more tricky, so there’s really no time to teach you that. When we get to forging the knife, let me handle that part.”
She nodded, beaming at the bucket that was empty less than an hour ago.
“You’re ready,” he said, “now for one little note about this material. This has no resistance to magic. You’ll have to create your own, for reasons that we can discuss later. Two forces, equal, pushing against one another. Are you ready?”
She nodded, fingers twitching in excitement as he handed her the cube.
“Merely make them equal as you can,” he said, “don’t try and-”
The partially liquid cube shot out to the left, which Efrain caught and circled around into the main mass. The girl’s magic was still quite chaotic, and it was potent.
“Try again, two opposite forces at the same time. Like pressing your finger tips against each other. You’re holding it under tension.”
She did so, and a couple of tries later, the cube collapsed into fluid.
“Well done,” he said, despite the gasp she made as she attempted to grab at the fluid, “now comes the hard part. You need to maintain that tension as you guide it along the flow.”
He demonstrated, letting the material pool and coalesce into a streamer that floated into the air.
“This will be tricky. We’ll work at it,” he said, letting it spatter back onto the pavement.
The girl tried, and tried, and tried, and tried. For hours and hours as her face grew pale and sweat once more dripped from her chin. They were well past midday before she managed to get a decent grip on the technique, even though it still vibrated violently.
Efrain was completely unsurprised by the imperfection. Working with material like this was a challenge even for senior students. She had managed it in an afternoon. On its own, she would be considered exceptional, even if she had years worth of theory to catch up on. Efrain seized control and moulded it back into a cube, letting it solidify once more.
“Well,” he said, “you’ve gotten the gist of it. Not so easy, hm?”
She nodded, brushing her hair back and rubbing at her eyes.
“Now comes the really hard part,” he said, with less sadistic, teacherly mirth than he might want to, “You need to create a flow that is the shape of the blade.”
Sorore’s eyes widened at the proposition, and she audibly gulped.
“How?” she said.
“Imagine the shape of the blade in space, and divide it up into flows that you can guide the metal to. Simple in theory. But far, far from easy. This is the challenge we’ve been leading up to. You need not worry about making it solid, just let me handle that. You need only to work on the shape.”
Sorore was eager to try, if a little daunted perhaps by the complexity of the task. First Efrain managed to make a concept wire piece of the blade with her. They discussed features, the chisel tip, the furled blades, the tang of the blade. The small rivulets and channels she’d seen in her ‘visions’ of it.
Then came the actual ‘forging’ of it, and by the Lost, was it difficult. Attempt after attempt after attempt fell apart, the girl growing grey by the exhaustion. As the light around them began to darken, they stopped, adjusted and retired. All to no avail.
“I just can’t…” she said, face red with effort after the latest attempt, “there’s too much to keep track of.”
Efrain had watched, with occasionally gentle prodding, as the girl attempted to fill in the gaps. The actual flow wasn’t particularly difficult, but forming the total structure of the blade, while maintaining cardinal paths for the metal to follow was clearly beyond her level. Efrain sighed - at least now, he had an idea of what the shape was and could make a good approximation of what was needed.
It was unfortunate that the young girl didn't manage to fully develop the skill over the afternoon’s course, but it was hardly unexpected. He had been pushing her far too hard, and at this point it was probably going to be more economical to just simply create the blade himself. It wouldn't be perfect, but he had to hope that it would be enough for the door.
"Well,” he said, “ it would appear that we’ve run out of time. Good progress despite. I think I'll try to finish the rest of it.”
As he’d expected, the dismissal made the young woman's shoulders slump further. He was almost tempted to reach out to her, but the ever-present glare of Lillian dissuaded him. She would get over it, assuming they all survived, and for that, he needed the knife. Soroe was led away into the afternoon, and Efrain was left to find a solution he wasn’t entirely sure existed.
Within a few minutes he had managed to get the basic shape, the details, however, were an entirely different story. Try after try after try, he spent what hours he had attempting to get every single detail he could. Night was oncoming before he had something he thought might work. The actual utilisation and technique he hoped weren’t as important as the structure. Efrain was not looking forward to the most likely outcome - the first usage of magic would immediately revert the solid metal to fluid.
Sighing, he finally rose, bizarre blade in his hand. With a nod to the rest of the labourers, well at work repairing blades and mending armour, he departed to the church. The remainder of the townsfolk were littered about, preparing for the siege. If they were lucky, they had a few more hours before the attacks began, but that did not still the fear obvious in their eyes.
Efrain crossed into the main hold of the church, and made his way to the stair door. Innie picked herself up off the stones and walked beside him.
“The child?” Efrain said, looking back towards the medic bay.
“Leave her,” said the cat, “she’s needed, and the happiest I’ve ever seen her. Did you have any luck?”
“She came close. Somewhat,” Efrain said, letting the black blade catch the light, “I finished it.”
“Oh that’s comforting,” said Innie, “using a tool you finished.”
“If you have a better suggestion,” Efrain responded with a snort, “we can’t get much more desperate than we are now. Is this or roof.”
“I'd rather fight them here on, at least that way I can burn the church down while I die,” she said.
The catacombs greeted them - dark, cold, and smothering. The duo came before the black stone wall, Efrain glancing over to check if there was nothing he’d missed. Finding that his powers of observation were sound, he raised the blade tip to the smooth black stone.
“Here we go,” he said.
[←Chapter 46] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 48→]

Wretched screams were they that once filled this house. Horrible, blood curdling cries. The type that would pierce the ears and vibrate right through the chest. But it wasn’t just the cries themselves that scarred my existence. There were the workers too; always bumbling through the corridors, trampling around with their syringes and vials. “Help” is what they claimed to be. Yet, they deprive this house—MY house—of its serenity. I suppose some might say their sympathy and purpose was honorable, but the honor of such things is lost when they are applied to such a decrepit being. Upon such creatures, only death is honor—is mercy.
Now, only regret fills my time. Just a single recollection of the moment and it is as if my mouth were filled with ashes. It is not with ego that I say I am a man of great scholarly accomplishment. Certainly, a man of my station would never let madness cloud his mind. Surely, you will see that truth when I recount what started this all.
From the pounding of hooves in the night, I had awoken. It was a grave matter; they had said then. Only a man of standing, of academic connection could provide the aid for which they so badly wanted. How can one deny their own flesh and blood, especially when that hospitality was to be repaid? It was with the best, purest faith that I called in those resources that they lacked. A doctor in practice I am no longer, but the Hippocratic oath is still my code.
I stake my reputation on the fact that inheritances never entered my mind. How could one ever desire to take fortunes tainted by the ownership of that...that thing? I promise that it has never been said that I am unkind. Wounds never have I inflicted upon another human being. Not even to my hound I was cruel. But what kindness do we give the pests that have felled the tree? What care do we give the maggot that spoils meat? What empathy do we give the disease that rots a man’s flesh?
From the first I witnessed it enter my sight, clawing its way out the carriage and across the road to my halls all garbed in black shawls, my heart grew cold. At that instant, it became clear that the only action—the only rational action—was to cry that the agreement was voided, and that my doors would be shut to them, until it was once again corralled in a wayward carriage. But with my reputation, I had already drawn the finest of those in practice to my secluded home, and I would be breaking a vow to my own flesh and blood.
My life I would stake into the hands of every specialist who undertook this work. Perhaps, in the most fantastic of circumstances, a single physician of caliber could find themselves unwittingly misguided in their intuition. Within a league of such caliber, an already extraordinary possibility becomes so miniscule that it is rendered entirely impossible. Of course, as utmost professionals with a healthy level of respect—even admiration—of my work coloring their disposition towards me, they danced around it, never landing on the coarse truth at the heart of the matter. However, I could see it in their eyes—yes, I could see it—as clearly as I tell this tale to you now. A revulsion so all-consuming, that it was as if something of the soul had wasted away during their time in that room. With the most artful eye and mute foot, I observed them when they thought themselves out of my sight, their lips trembling with a truth unspoken.
One by one, they all left my house. Always, there was some polite excuse. Something or other about some important work they must return to. Like a sheet over a corpse, the real truth was obvious. In time, only a scant few of their interns were left with me, poor fools stumbling around the corridors of the house, trying to forget each breath they had taken from the sickening air of the room it had burrowed itself in to.
Ask anyone with which I’ve made contact, my word is my bond. Not a SINGLE stain is painted upon my history. Betrayal is a sin so horrible, that I endured months of this torment praying that nature would do my labor for me. It was with terrible weight of obligation pounding through my practiced hands that I arranged the right course—the only course—for full satisfaction of my promise. How many of those with not a third of the experience, utterly repugnant of any medicinal sense, would slander me as a quack, while they stand behind their little desks in clean linen? HA! Would a quack’s hand move with a maestro’s grace, divining the exact formulation to silence the beast? To those who would call me inhumane, do we not lance a boil? Cauterize a wound with searing flame? Slice through the bone of a decaying limb? As you can see, my methods were so merciful, so virtuous, that it is a credit to my character that I chose them in the first place.
With passionate clarity reserved only for those desperate times when a man must complete his task to live, I set upon my work with a meticulousness that surely couldn’t be considered anything less than logical. There were only 3 hours of the day in which it creeped back under its lair in the covers, the shrill shrieking traded for an unsettling wheezing moan. In only one of those three hours was it not under watch by the exhausted, empty eyes of whichever of the few attendants left who could bear it that night. Thus, I ascended the stairs only when I was absolutely certain the assistant unlucky enough to be on watch had retired to an uneasy slumber; stepping in time with the howling wind that battered the exterior of the house with a precision almost unnatural. Upon reaching the top of the creaking staircase, I paused with a soundless breath. I felt like a shadow gliding soundlessly towards the door, as if guided by the movement of some divine hand. There, I rested my handle gently—oh so gently—upon the iron knob of the door, preparing myself for the sight to come. I dared not peek through the glass opening in the door, not wishing to see any more of the thing than necessary. With a motion so slight it was barely perceptible; my fingers turned the heavy knob. The process was so painstakingly done that I couldn’t help but feel a small surge of pride at my composure.
Finally, the door lurched slowly forward, but I dared not move it more than an inch. A seeping stench invaded my nostrils, so moist it felt like it had left a dew inside me. It took all the fortitude I had to not be repelled backwards from the sensation. I lurched, stifling gags for what felt like an hour as I—ever so slowly—poked my head through the opening of the door. Mustering all the tolerance humanly possible, I gradually pushed the door open, the low grind of its movement against the wood floor masked by the raging storm outside.
Having numbed my senses to the room, I crept forward. My steps were slow and methodical, calculated for complete silence. As I approached the bed, I was unshaken about the deed before me. And why should I be? I was a veteran of countless surgeries. Balancing life and death at the tip of my finger was nothing new to me, nor was staking my livelihood on my capacity to do it successfully. If anything, this should have been easier. There was no tightrope to walk here—none indeed. I only needed to drip a few drops from my vial, and the whole operation would be over.
At the same moment as I hunched over to the bedside, a sudden spree of lightning bathed the windows pale blue. With the room momentarily lit, my destination took on a discernibility both terrible and ugly. Its fat lips quivered in a wheeze, surrounded by mottled flesh and blighted features. Every pore in sight spoke its putrefaction soundlessly. My eyes I kept locked in place—singularly focused. Even physicians have limits; Mine was taking in anymore of this deformity than necessary. Thankfully—oh so thankfully—muscle memory jolted in. The contents of the vial were dispensed in the creature before I could even consciously register it.
It was there that I thought my ordeal over, but before I could breathe a foolhardy sigh of relief, bony, calloused fingers wrapped tight around my wrist—tight with animal desperation. Instinctually, I drew my arm back in surprise, yet I only helped it rise to chest level. With its claws still digging deep into my wrist, it fought against my escape from its death bed. I dared not glance back, unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to protect my ears.
The last ounce of its strength was driven into a shattering scream, the most violent attack on my senses in all its time infesting my manor. Before that night, I had borne witness to many dying patients. Death was rarely a peaceful visitor, but this was something different—entirely different. What the thing produced in death, as in life, grouped it in its own class. The screech seemed to drill through my ears and then rattle across the caverns of my skull. It was not just heard—it was felt—and I speak not only of volume when I relay this to you. A wet spattering sprayed upon my head in enough bulk that beads of it oozed down my neck. Perhaps even worse than the physical assault was the spiritual; the cry was filled with an unfathomably deep anguish and venom. It was as if the thing, in its final revenge on life, had poured out every drop of darkness it had gathered from it.
Finally, the assault was alleviated by the silence of death’s departure, although I was so thoroughly shell shocked by the creature’s calamitous final act that several moments passed before I realized it. My ears still rung with an unheard echo as I finally glanced over and noticed the attendant at my side. For the slightest moment, I stared blankly, feeling my plans exposed, but I quickly regained my composure, despite the growing concern on his face as he continued to repeat his questioning. There was a certain authority I had, as not just a member of a respected field, but a distinguished one. I had the leverage here. Even so, the ease with which I evaded and disarmed the attendant’s concerns proved to myself that my sanity had not transpired with the creature.
By the time I—at last—departed from the room, the attendant was a willing—perhaps even eager—participant in removing the body. We wrapped its corpse in sheets—several layers deep—and delivered it for incineration with pace. The disposal was finished by the morning, and within days, my home was returned to its prior state. It felt as if I had awoken from a nightmare to serenity that seemed so long past it was almost forgotten. In my ignorance, I began to fall into an unearned sense of comfort. If only I could have remained in that ignorant bliss, but my mind was too active—my eye too discerning.
From what I’ve recounted thus far, it must be clear that I was stressed, but even clearer that I kept my faculties intact to complete the necessary cruelties a doctor cannot shrink from. Even with all that accepted—even with what trust has been earned—I expect doubt to overwhelm your reading as I confess my part in the tragedy that consumed this town. Lend your ear, for just a moment longer, and you’ll find I have saved lives—not taken them.
It was from within that my all too brief respite was broken. A gnawing sense of malaise, both of the body and mind, grew in such strength that it overwhelmed the peace I had rediscovered. Even with my acute perception and training, its source I could not immediately place. Only with the irritation and congestion did I finally come to the terrible realization—as a subtle wheeze began to creep into each breath I took. Surely, some who read this will think I am mistaken. That alternative explanations exist and what I read into the symptom was simply a delusion of paranoia. Were they privy to its breathing day and night? Do they have the rattled burned in their memory? No…this connection was not coincidental. As terrifying as it was to consider my own infection, worse yet were my thoughts when I began to consider the extent of its exposure beyond myself.
An awful, crushing weight had fallen on my shoulders. Undoubtably, many will say my response was criminal. You may feel the urge to join their ranks—to cry out damning the madman that destroyed your town. Yet, once you can see the whole story—see it from my eyes, you will find there was not a sliver of madness painting my actions. I had to make the ultimate sacrifice, and under this burden, I locked myself in my chamber for hours—perhaps days. No man—inside which self-preservation is natural instinct—could ever take my course without bone grating internal conflict. Only with the confidence uniquely obtained by suffering through meticulous consideration, did I finally move back into waking life.
Intervention was the only course to prevent an even bleaker fate, and I set upon it with scientific efficiency. I hired local stage drivers to help me enter into correspondence with all who had moved on from my manor out of town, then I drew up a route to hand deliver, from my personal stagecoach, an invitation to all who remained locally. While on that journey, I employed several former assistants. I made sure those I used were in the early stages—if sick at all. They were sent to secure accommodation for a feast while I secured its occupants.
It was the wait to complete this second task that created a wave of anxiousness in me. It rose to such an extent that it threatened to crack the stoic veneer I had learned to maintain from professional experience. Stress ate at me as much or more than sickness, as I awaited confirmation of attendance from those I invited and hoped I could continue to be convincing in my communications with them. It was imperative my net reach as far as possible, and despite the creeping doubt in the pit of my stomach, I soon learned my efforts were not in vain.
At last, the night came. My fears were unfounded, as the vast majority of those I invited were in attendance. The spread could still be contained. Surely, it will be suspected by doubters that I operated without discernment; that I went about my operation indiscriminately—WRONG! Every single invitee was admitted to the hall only after deliberate inspection—nobody’s eye is as sharply tuned to this affliction as I. Sadly, scarce few escaped the quarantine. Nearly all those invited were in the structure when I slipped out—having already addressed the crowd with a few perfunctory remarks on the value of their work and set them forward to enjoy the banquet free of expense. So cleverly had I set the attendees at ease, that they hardly noticed my disappearance, remaining entirely absorbed in the event as I barred the exits.
Most died happy as a silent cleanser passed to them via cup and plate. The few stragglers that remained met a less tranquil end via the chemical ignition of the entire building. All met a fate better than what the untreated progression of their illness would have achieved. As I prepare to join them and put an end to this procedure, I leave this letter to remain as a testament that my judgement never faltered.

TW for some scary cord issues with completely fine outcomes. Also TW if you don't like to read because this turned into a novel.
Typing this up with my baby in my arms!
Because of the GD, we were induced at 39 weeks exactly. The baby wasn’t trending large, but I also had a bilobed placenta with a marginal cord insertion (so regular growth scans). As this was an IVF pregnancy, I was a) very risk-averse and b) completely fine with any and all medical interventions.
On May 17, we waited around on tenterhooks all day until we got a call from the hospital, asking us if we could be there in the next half hour. This was to check my cervix (which hadn’t been done at all up to this point) and manually start dilation if it hadn't on its own. Once checked in and popped into a bed, they hooked up the NST monitors to my belly and we waited for an hour listening to the baby’s heartbeat. (In Canada regular NSTs are not a thing as much as they seem to be in the States, so this was my first one.)
My cervical check showed that nothing at all was happening, so the OBGYN on duty inserted Cervidil, which is basically prostaglandins on a shoelace that gets poked into my cervix. This process was pretty uncomfortable, given that I wasn’t dilated or effaced at all. Then we did another hour of NST, and were directed to come back the next morning at 7:30. “Don’t bring anything in with you,” they said, because most likely I wouldn’t be far enough along to be admitted, or I might even need another dose of Cervidil. They also said I could come back any time if I needed pain relief, because while it was super rare to go into labour just from the Cervidil, it was not completely unheard of.
Went home, ate spaghetti and meatballs, dropped the dog at the sitter, and started to feel kind of achey and uncomfortable, like a bad period. I woke up around 1:30 and wasn’t able to get back to sleep because of the cramping, but it wasn’t like contractions - just a constant bad-period ache with occasional ten-second breaks. I watched many episodes of Friends, feeling progressively worse. At 5:30 I woke my husband up and said I couldn’t take it anymore, we should go in before our 7:30 time for that pain relief.
I started to feel extra leaky, so I headed back to the bathroom, but I did not make it to the toilet before my water broke. So much for my hospital sweatpants. This was 6 a.m. I managed a few bites of eggs and toast and we headed off to the hospital. By this point there was absolutely no doubt I was having contractions, so I started timing them with an app. To my alarm, they were a minute and a half apart (though only 30-40 seconds long). We brought our stuff with us.
When we got to the hospital, they had me call my midwife, and set me up in the same bed I’d been in last night. It turned out I was already 5 centimeters dilated. This was a huge relief! All that morning’s pain wasn’t for nothing! I was definitely not going to be sent home! I was making amazing, if terrifyingly fast, progress, and I got to be one of those rare cases who went into labour just from Cervidil! So I hung out on the triage ward for a while, unpleasantly contracting and asking when I could get an epidural.
Then we headed up to my labour room to get settled in. My midwife showed up pretty soon after we got into this room, and helped coach me through the contractions I had before the epidural could happen (basically, squatting lower than I’d been doing). She tried to set up my IV but blew two of the veins in my left hand, so had the nurse try my right; the nurse blew a vein in my right hand. This process was much more painful than I would have expected. Fortunately, everyone knew their limits and decided to wait for the anesthesiologist, who placed the IV in my wrist instead in about five seconds flat. The back of my hands are just enormous sensitive bruises now.
After all that, getting the epidural itself was almost nothing. I hunched over a pillow and pressed my head into my husband's chest, felt the freezing needle, but that was about it. It worked incredibly well - I had a few more contractions, but then they petered out (I would just need to make a face to get through them), and then disappeared completely. I took a nap. That was always the part in other people’s birth stories that sounded unbelievable to me, but I had been up since 2 am and it was now about 10 or 11. I could still feel my legs and move them around - it felt like they had lightly fallen asleep, or like I’d been walking in the Canadian cold weather and they were slightly numb to the touch. “This isn’t your mama’s epidural,” somebody told me. Five stars for this part of the labour experience.
So we hung out for a while, rested, ate a little bit (a muffin and some yogurt), and chatted. Unfortunately I was still just 5 cm and had clearly stalled out since getting to the hospital, and since my water had broken on its own, I was on a ticking 24-hour clock. My fluids were all still clear and the baby's heart rate was great, so they weren’t too stressed, but they did think it was time to hang Pitocin after all. Since I had thought this was the plan all along, I was fine with it.
They started my Pitocin drip at the lowest possible setting and slowly dialed it up over the next few hours. I was starting to feel contractions again - mildly, then less mild. I had to get a catheter, which I was pretty nervous about, but it wasn’t too bad. My midwife said she didn’t want to do too many cervical checks - again, because of my broken water, they wanted to minimize infection risk - but that if I needed the epidural topped up, I should say so, not be a hero, and she’d go ahead and check me beforehand. Shortly after this I said yes, I would in fact like a top-up, so she checked me - and I was 10 centimeters and ready to go. This was about 4:30 pm. “Do you want to give a little push?” she asked, and I nearly panicked right there and then. I was not ready! And they also did not want to top up my epidural at that point, because I needed to feel the contractions in order to know what to do. Things got rapidly less pleasant from this point on. I threw up three times and the trainee midwife said that one good vomit is worth three contractions. I hadn’t thrown up in a decade before then.
I laboured in a few different positions for a while. All through this entire process, I’d been getting hourly blood sugar checks. The hospital lancing device was way more violent than my home version, and my fingertips were basically all dripping blood, which the various staff members found mildly concerning. I cannot recommend being in labour with GD. Towards the latter stages when the trainee midwife came towards me with the lancing device I said “SERIOUSLY?” and yes, seriously, it had to be done. I also was getting pretty annoyed with the monitoring, just because it kept slipping out of position and I’d have to have it repositioned, and I was tired of all the fussing about my person.
I registered that things were perhaps not going swimmingly when there started to be more people in the room. The OBGYN came in and took over from my midwife, and I laboured with her for a while. She said perhaps I would want to think about using a vacuum, that I might just need a little help getting the baby out, and here were the extra risks involved, and it was totally up to me. It is hard to wrap your head around a list of risks in that situation, but we had covered vacuum extraction in my prenatal course. Maybe ten minutes later, she brought it up again, again emphasizing that it was up to me, but that I probably had another hour of pushing to go if I didn’t. At this point I’d been pushing for two hours and most of my pushes were ending on exhausted tearless sobs.
What I really wanted to avoid was an exhaustion c-section, so I said yes to the vacuum, and a whole bunch more people streamed into the room. Because there are slightly more risks to the baby, they needed to have a pediatrician team in place. This was more people in the room than I planned on by a mile, but I could not have cared less. My midwife had to insert a new catheter urgently, which was significantly more unpleasant than the first time, and then the vacuum went in. And then…my contractions slowed right down, with major breaks in between them. It was weird to have these several-minute long breaks all of a sudden, but it did allow me to catch my breath. Once the vacuum was in place, I think it took two more contractions - three pushes each - to get him out. He had the cord wrapped around his neck, but they were able to untangle it without any issue, and he had a "true knot" in the cord! Apparently that's less than 1% of births, so all the midwives were really fascinated. I'm just glad I didn't know about this beforehand as the stillbirth risk goes up 4x.
When the baby was plopped on my belly, I wasn’ t particularly emotional; I was mostly just relieved that the worst was over. We had delayed cord clamping for about a minute but couldn’t do longer because he needed to get checked out by the pediatrics team. His conehead looked wild but it went back to normal really fast. Six pounds, eight ounces, and 22 inches long - a long skinny baby. He looks like an old man turtle. At the same time, they were working on me - because of my bilobed placenta, they had to be super careful in getting it out; this part seemed to take a very long time. Then the OBGYN set about stitching me up; they claim not to count stitches, but I had a second-degree tear (skin and tissue), and they gave me a few injections of local anesthetic.
Unfortunately the baby failed his blood sugar test and needed dextrose in his cheek. Ideally, I would have breastfed him after the dextrose (or had stored colostrum, which I hadn’t done), but I was having a violent reaction to the misoprostol and couldn't, so we gave him some formula, which I was completely fine with. So I do recommend freezing and bringing some colostrum with you, if you can.
I had talked a big game about all the GD-unfriendly things I planned to eat right after but I didn’t have much appetite. Still don’t, really. Because of my bleeding and complications we stayed in the hospital two nights. The baby had another borderline sugar reading and needed a bit more dextrose followed by breastfeeding, but after that he was totally fine. I had an enormous grapefruit-sized clot but have otherwise been recovering well. I haven't really been testing my sugar at home regularly but will start again once a day soon, now that we've survived our first week! I did take a few readings (as did the hospital) and it's looking pretty normal, thank goodness. Now that I can eat whatever I want I haven't actually done much of it, except for the baby birthweight bread we ordered from our favourite bakery - yes, they baked us a loaf that was 6 pounds and 8 ounces of bread! It turns out that is a TON of bread so we gave away a lot to our neighbors.
Now that it's done, the GD portion of the pregnancy seems so short in retrospect. It definitely did not feel that way at the time. But there is light at the end of the tunnel, and that light is a cute squirmy baby.

My savior human is distraught. I alone would have trouble enough coping with Kit Sutton's absence, but with Nettie Peterson's grief added to mine, it's been impossible to go about my day with any semblance of serenity.
It's quite simple; when Nettie's unhappy, I cannot be content. She finally let me visit her earlier today. That doesn’t mean her overall state has improved, though. We went to talk in the garden, only there wasn’t much talking involved—she merely sat in her mother’s chair, staring blankly at the storm-tossed flower chaos.
“Didn’t you want to fix your plants back up?” I inquired.
“M-hm,” she muttered.
“It’d be a shame if your pretty garden was gonna stay like this.”
“M-hm.”
“If you need help, you let me know, okay?”
“M-hm.”
“I won’t try to eat the geraniums again.”
“M-hm.”
I leaned forward to try and catch her deep brown gaze. “Nettie, please say something. I thought we wanted to share our feelings more.”
“There’s nothing to share,” my savior human answered, her voice dry and monotone. “Kit’s not here anymore.”
“Yes, and I’m upset, too. But either I’m a horribly poor judge of human behavior or there's more to this.” I tilted my head at her. “I’ve never seen you this way. You said you didn’t always want a solution to your problems, and I’d be happy to just sit and listen as well, but you’re not talking either.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Clearly not.”
Nettie let go of a soft breath. “I didn’t wanna tell you. Not until… It’s just that in the last couple days, Kit and I were getting kind of…” She faltered and trailed off.
“Kind of what?” I prompted.
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Please try, if you can. I want to understand.”
My best friend refused to meet my gaze. “See, that’s what I envy you for sometimes. You have an outsider’s perspective. You only see what’s in front of you and you don’t concern yourself with the rest.”
“I am concerned! I’m really concerned about you right now. You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like my caretaker, but I wanna be here for you now. Please. Let me.”
“I… I know, that’s not what I was saying…” She adjusted her bra strap, her hand coming to rest on her shoulder as though she was hugging herself. “If there was something I’d kept secret from you—nothing bad, just something personal—would you be mad at me?”
“I can’t even imagine being mad at you,” I replied.
"That's good to know," she murmured, finally lifting her head to meet my gaze. "It doesn't change things for now, but it's… good to know."
After that, she fell silent again, and I left not much later. I was setting out for a pretty gloomy rest of the day when Frankie Preston texted me, asking to come hang out at the hotel. I've only stayed at a hotel twice, when Nettie took me on vacation with her. The first time was to Croatia, the other to the south of France. My savior human speaks fluent French.
Anyways, I was glad to follow up on the server's invitation. I won't describe the exact location of the hotel he'd chosen, but it was a fairly nice place. I took Kit Sutton's car there, which definitely gave me a weird feeling. In a way, it was nice. It felt like her. The worn seats, the ancient scent tree, the assortment of guitar picks in the cup holder. The empty takeout bag lying in the footwell. When I pulled up to the hotel parking lot, I was almost reluctant to get out. When I eventually did and entered the lobby, I found that I didn't quite know where to go. I opted to simply walk up to the front desk. There was a man sitting behind it, but he didn't look up from his computer screen upon my approach.
"Mm-yes?" he muttered, and it took me a moment to realize he was addressing me.
"Hi," I began.
Something about my voice must have caught his attention, as he abruptly lifted his head to meet my gaze. "Hi," he echoed, a smile forming on his face. I couldn't help but take note of the silvery gleam of his blond hair. It was long and wavy, tied back behind his head. I wondered how it felt. "And you are…?" he prompted, taking me in.
"Sunshine," a voice rang out from behind me. I whirled around, giving Fran a bright smile which, to my delight, he reciprocated. "You have no idea the kind of acquaintance you just made."
I glanced between the two in confusion. The receptionist spoke up first. "Oh. Oh, I see! This is her, isn't it?"
"Yes. Eva, this is… one of the many banes of my existence. He's my younger brother, but only in the most remote sense of the word, I assure you." The waiter gave the receptionist a look that was somewhere between contemptuous fondness and pure contempt.
The other man grinned. "Oh Frankie, my Frankie, you are just the most bitter piece of work there is."
"Younger? You look far older than Frank," I remarked.
"Ouch. But what are looks, really?" He waved me off. "And what is age with creatures like us? Frankie tells everyone he's twenty-two, I say I'm twenty-seven. We just made up these numbers to match our faces. He's existed for way longer, though. That's probably why he's so miserable." He leaned forward, twinkling at me. "Me, I see the world through fresher eyes."
I didn't quite know what to say, so I kept my mouth shut.
"Frankie, won't you introduce me?"
The waiter sighed deeply. "This is… Zion. Zion Boyd. I told him it's a perfectly silly name, but he wouldn't listen. I'm glad Rhonda picked mine for me."
Zion Boyd laughed quietly. "You're an asshole."
"You're an idiot."
"You wanted to hang out?" I reminded Fran.
"Right!" He grabbed my wrist and began steering me towards the winding flight of stairs in the back of the hall. "Ignore him. Forget him entirely, if possible. You're not missing out.”
He brought me up to his suite, a pleasantly large, open space. The tall windows let in the light of the setting sun, painting blushing hues upon the wallpaper. I sat down on the living room couch, switching on the TV not because I was in the mood to watch anything but rather for the background noise. Frankie joined me after a second, placing before me a glass of cold coconut water as he regarded me through thick lashes. "You got something on your mind, don’t you?”
"Your brother."
"Aw crap. That smarmy, handsome piece of shit…" Fran clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly. "I knew this would happen."
"What? No. I was wondering about what he said," I clarified, shifting uneasily in my seat.
His hands stilled. "Oh." He smiled brightly. "Do tell."
"He called you creatures. And there was something else in there about your ages."
"So? What do you think? Any grand theories?"
I shrugged. "I could probably try to piece things together. But I'd rather hear it from you."
"Ah, would you. Well, I'm sorry, Sunshine, but it doesn't work like that."
"Don't you think I need to know?"
He reached out to poke my sternum with his finger. "No. I give you everything you need. When I decide you need more information, I'll give that to you, too."
I frowned at him, but hadn't yet regained the ability to speak when my phone rang. I reluctantly fumbled it out. It was an unknown number, but I recognized the voice that greeted me from the other end. “Mary Markov?”
“Miss Shirley! Nice talking to you again.”
“To be honest, this is a bad time…”
“That’s of no relevance. Remember when I told you I might get back to you?”
“Yes.” I exchanged meaningful looks with Frankie, who rolled his eyes. He scooted closer to me and pressed his cheek up to mine to listen to the phone call. His skin was almost unnaturally smooth. I swallowed thickly when I felt his jaw working on his bubble gum, moving against mine.
"Miss Shirley?" Mary Markov asked. "Are you still there?"
"Did you say something?"
A sigh. "Look. You want money, I want your help. Come to the address I’m sending you now. It’s a big parking lot by a hiking trail in the woods. I have business there, and I could use the extra manpower.”
“Right now? I’m kind of on a…”
“You can bring the misanthropist with you.”
“What’s a misanthropist?” I inquired.
“She means me,” Fran supplied.
"She does," Miss Markov confirmed.
"We're coming." I ended the call, turning to Frankie. "That's okay, right? Are you with me?"
"Sure. Money's important. It'll be better if you have your own so I won't have to give you mine." He got up to collect our jackets. "At least this way, you won't get stabbed for it."
We took Kit's car over to the meet-up spot. Mary Markov was waiting for us beside a black pickup truck that seemed rather ill-suited for her. She was wearing a blazer, suit pants and dress shoes that were somehow pristine despite the muddy ground.
"There you are," she said, her tone crisp. Pointing her chin at the woods behind her, she added, "I hope you're ready for a bit of a hike."
"What do you need me for?" I asked.
"The Collective you came into contact with. We have reason to believe that they are meeting up here, among other places. There are probably hideouts to be found, and other things, too."
"Like what?" Fran raised a skeptical brow.
"The objects you were hired to guard. They're important; we don't rightly know what they are but they're constantly being kept on the move. There's no doubt the Collective wants them to remain obscure, and they're being clever about it."
"And you're hoping we'll go in there unprepared and just stumble across them?" the waiter inquired.
"Not exactly. There's a particular member of the cult we've managed to keep our eye on, and we followed her here. She's with at least two others, so we believe they're up to something important," Mary Markov explained. "Go in and find them. When you do, stay low and observe. I'll stay here. If anything goes wrong, call me and I will send for reinforcement."
"Why don't you let your agents go in? Why pull Eva into this? Again?"
"Frankie, I'm fine," I assured him, taking a step towards the newsreader. "What do I get paid?"
"You won't be disappointed in the money," she promised, smiling thinly. "To answer your friend's legitimate question—," she glanced over at Frank Preston as though she didn't consider his query legitimate at all, "—you are quite handy. Normally, when humans have to defend themselves and it comes to an altercation, there's… screams. Blood. Gunshots. Bullets are costly. Personnel even more so. When our agents get hurt, it might take months for them to recover. You don't need that kind of time. You're altogether less likely to be injured fatally. Employing you might end up saving us some lives and we'll be sure to make it worth your while."
That's, in short, why I found myself trudging through the mud and brushes alongside a very grudging Frank Preston that night. The storm had taken its toll in the woods, too—our chaotic surroundings reminded me of a larger-scale version of Nettie's garden. Trees had been uprooted and were lying dead in our path like organic roadblocks. The ground was covered with broken branches, twigs and young leaves. The wet soil squashed beneath our shoes every step of the way. With nightfall approaching, there was not much light reaching the forest floor. This certainly protected us from visibility, but it came at the price of my vision. I couldn't really see what was beneath me, so I kept tripping and staggering.
Frankie was somehow as graceful as ever, unbothered as he stepped over roots and rocks as if he could sense them before placing his feet. He was much quieter than me, but he thankfully wasn't smug about it. He kept one hand steady on my shoulder, aptly guiding me away from obstacles and protrusions. After a while, this began to work very well, and I became less noisy the deeper we proceeded into the woods. The server’s grip suddenly turned painfully tight, stopping me in my tracks. I realized why when I caught a glimpse of brightness not too far ahead. My chest tightened when I spotted the beam of a flashlight traveling the forest floor.
“Hush,” Frankie murmured into my ear. “Don’t. Move.”
I stood stock-still, trusting the fingers still digging into my skin.
The light passed over us, nearly reaching us but not quite. I breathed a silent sigh of relief, which died in my throat when a familiar voice carried over to us on the breeze.
“Hurry up already, would you?”
“Don’t… don’t stress me. Why aren’t you helping?” a young woman replied.
“Because it’s your fucking job.”
I felt myself break into a cold sweat. My heart was thumping so fiercely it was beginning to hurt; my pulse racing. Breaking from my rigor, I leaned over to whisper to Frankie. “That’s them.”
“What?”
“The one who stabbed me.”
Fran’s hand disappeared from my shoulder, moving down to quickly grasp mine. The pair before us was still on the move, the light of their torch slowly fading into the distance. “Listen to me,” my partner proceeded to hiss into my ear. “There’s two of them and two of us, but technically it’ll just be you. I’m not gonna leave you on your own, but the most I can do is hold one of them down.”
“But you’re strong…”
“I can’t actually hurt anybody. I gladly would, but it’s literally physically impossible for me. Do you still want to follow them?”
I paused. I didn’t want to. In fact, every fiber of my being was yelling at me to run, to get out of those woods, and yet… “We have to.”
A sigh. “I really feel like I ought to talk you out of this.”
“Don’t.”
“If things get dire, I’ll grab you and bail.”
“I’ll allow it. I’m still doing this.”
“Guess I was wrong. You might get stabbed for your pay this time around, too.”
“This is bigger than just money, Fran.”
His hand wandered back to my shoulder, nudging me forward. “I know. You want to tear this creep apart.”
I paused. “If Markov asks, we didn’t plan on it.”
“Finally, some murderous tendencies in that sunny mind of yours.” The cheer in Frankie’s voice was only a little forced.
I steeled myself as we took up walking once more. Soon enough, we caught up with the two cultists, trailing behind them at a safe distance. I could hear the faint scraping of a wheelbarrow on the uneven ground. The eerie creaking noise was enough to speed up my heartrate once more. Frankie’s words still echoing through my mind, my thoughts were racing. A part of me was convinced I was making a terrible mistake, but there was something driving me on. Whether it was curiosity, an underlying thirst for revenge or illusions of grandeur, I’ll never know. Yet forwards I went. Abruptly, the pair stopped, the wheelbarrow grating to a halt. Frankie instantly dragged me down to hide behind a dead, uprooted tree, and not one second too soon.
The beam of the flashlight roamed the underbrush, its owners remaining blissfully unaware of our presence. “Here we are,” the person who’d attacked me spoke up again.
“Woah,” the woman pushing the cart answered eloquently. Whatever they were looking at was undoubtedly rather impressive.
“You’ve never been here before, have you?”
“No… Does it go as deep as they say?”
“Deeper. It’s a whole-ass tunnel system down there. We’ve spent years prepping for this, remember?”
“Okay. Whew. Well then, off we go. Can you help me lift him up, at least?”
The other person groaned. “Fine.”
Frankie Preston had grabbed my arm. The distant shine from the cultists’ torch bathed him in an almost unearthly glow. He was cowering beside me with tense shoulders, his face a cold, concentrated mask. He wasn’t even chewing on his gum anymore. His wired posture reminded me of a lurking wildcat in a nature documentary. When he turned to look at me, I could almost tell what he was thinking.
Whatever these two had come here to do, it was happening now, meaning that this was our last chance to intervene.
Trying to free my mind from all thoughts of flight, I rose to my feet. Step by step, I made my way out of our hiding spot, instantly drawing the pair’s attention. Two heads whipped around to face me. The flashlight dropped and rolled a little ways across the ground, its wide beam illuminating the small clearing and revealing the reason for the cultists’ venture. There was a dark hole in the ground at our feet, the opening reminiscent of a gaping, toothless maw. My gaze wandered over to the pushcart. Its bulky contents were covered by a large, green tarp. The tall, lanky person slowly raised their hands to their hips, uttering a low, mildly surprised “huh”. The woman, who was stockier and far shorter in stature than them, stood frozen in shock. The eyes that stared at me from behind her black mask were blown wide.
“Hey you,” the tall one said. “I had a feeling we’d meet again soon.”
I didn’t respond. My stomach suddenly burned with a phantom pain. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the person’s gloved hands, trying not to jump when their fingers twitched into the direction of their pocket. Trying to keep my breathing steady, I reached up to unzip my jacket. As it fell to the ground, I felt my tentacles pierce my skin. Simultaneously, my teeth began to elongate, curving outward as they uncomfortably stretched out my gums.
“I had a feeling something like this was gonna happen, too,” my former assailant added, tilting their head at me. “I do love being right.”
The woman, who had been stunned speechless up to that point, let out an ear-shattering scream, but before anything coherent could emerge from her throat, the other person had spun around and struck her square across the face. The blow had come with such force that she crumbled immediately, her shriek dying in a strangled whimper before she hit the ground unconscious. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My mind was spinning, but I forced my eyes to remain hard, praying that my large fangs were twisting my face enough to veil my terror. I lifted myself over the fallen tree, partly employing my extra limbs. The cultist didn’t shrink away, instead taking a large step towards me. Before I knew it, the surface of their mask was scraping against my teeth. Too startled to move, I held their gaze for several seconds. Up close, I could see the only part of them that wasn’t obscured.
There was something very, very wrong with their eyes.
At first, I couldn’t put my finger on it. Their iris was of a pale, watery color that could not quite be defined as blue. Their surreal milky sheen was enough to send a chill up my spine. And then I realized it. There were only the irises. That black dot that all humans and most other known lifeforms typically have in their eyes, the pupil, it simply wasn’t there.
I stood rooted to the ground, staring into the stranger’s eyes. I thought I could see different colors swirling around in those not-quite-blue orbs. I was abruptly noticing a sudden inability to move on my part. I wanted to lift my arm and shove the cultist away, I wanted to unhinge my jaw and sink my teeth into their flesh, but I couldn’t. I was distantly aware of the heavy rising and falling of my chest, of my heart thundering in my ribcage, but it didn’t feel real somehow. Nothing felt real anymore. The world had turned iridescently turquoise and violent, flashing lights dotting my vision as my breathing grew quicker.
Somewhere in the back of my head, the last waking part of me was screaming.
And then, all of a sudden, everything turned dark again. I blinked furiously, trying to orient myself as the outlines of trees and bushes swam into focus again. The sweet smell of pine needles and damp soil hit me as I emerged from the hypnotic half-slumber. Before me, ramrod straight, stood Frankie Preston, and somehow, the sight of him had triggered the flight instinct in the cultist I had failed to provoke. Our eye contact broken, they staggered back, just as Fran stepped aside. This time, I didn’t throw away my shot. I threw myself at the stranger, lunging forward with my teeth bared. They dodged me by a hair’s breadth, bolting towards the manhole and, within a split second, they had disappeared down the pitch-black shaft. No sound of impact met our pricked ears.
Frankie wordlessly took out his phone, proceeding to place the call to Mary Markov. He walked over to me as they talked, grabbing my hand with his free one and pumping it almost rhythmically like he was trying an unconventional method of resuscitation. His voice and that of the newsreader on the other end sounded strangely far away. After hanging up, he hastily typed something before finally shoving the device back into his pocket. With an almost methodical precision, he wrapped his arms around me and picked me up, holding me close to his chest. My tentacles were hanging limply from my back as my teeth slowly began to reassume their normal size and length. Entangling my trembling fingers in his curls, I must have looked absolutely pitiful. The server sat down on the fallen tree, his grip on me unfaltering as I adjusted to sit on his lap, feeling myself unwind.
We remained like this, not speaking, until we heard steps draw closer. Mary Markov and two of her agents were walking towards us at a speedy pace, the newsreader crouching down in front of us while the two men immediately took to the unconscious female cultist.
“You were in here for quite a while,” she began, her voice drifting in and out of my ears while Frankie’s soothing touch curled around the edge of my senses. “I had a feeling something had gone wrong, so I’d already sent for backup. Good thing, too, I guess.” Her voice held a barely hidden note of accusation.
“Leave her be. She’s obviously in no condition to speak,” the waiter growled.
I would have confirmed this, but I was in no condition to speak.
Mary sighed. “Nevermind then, we’ll discuss this later. For now, let’s check what they were transporting.”
I patted Fran on the back to alert him.
“Feeling curious? Even after all of this?”
I nodded into his nape.
A grunt. “Well, fine. Not like this could have gone any worse, huh.” He stood up and walked us over to the wheelbarrow, closely followed by Mary. The newsreader inspected the tarp, then grabbed one corner and flung it off the cart. A sharp gasp escaped her and I craned my neck to look. Frankie instantly turned around, trying to avert my eyes from the sight that had just been revealed to us, but it was too late. I had already seen the contents. The headless body lying folded in the barrow.
A human with their head removed doesn't look entirely human anymore. I could tell from the stature that it was a male body, but its condition made him feel less like a person. I couldn't help drawing this distinction, even though it made my stomach turn. Rigor mortis having washed over the carcass, he was in a bent, twisted position that would have been painful to anyone still alive. One of his arms, freed from the tarp, was dangling loosely over the side of the cart. One of Mary’s agents gagged and covered his mouth. I shot him a sympathetic glance, though I don’t think he caught it. I was too tired to scream or throw up. Thus quenching any visceral reaction to the gruesome sight, I buried my face in Fran’s shirt once more, closing my eyes.
X
1
2: deadbeat roommate
3: creepy crush
4: relocation
5: beach concert
6: First date
7: Temp work
8: roommate talk
9: a dismal worldview
10: warehouse
11: staircase
12: explanation
13: hurt
14: hospital
15: ocean
16: diner

There is some violence in this one. Struggle snuggles are briefly mentioned, but nothing descriptive. There is nothing bad enough to warrant a NSFW tag.
The Nature of Predators is made by u/SpacePaladin15
Previous/ First/
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Memory transcription subject: Varce, Cattle Farm Δ12
Date [standardized human time]: January 1, 2137
Delicious, succulent piles of meat laid before me. Fresh yellow blood still dripped from fatty livers. Chitin appendages were begging me to crunch into them. Stacks of scrumptious eggs oozed with slime, undoubtedly laid last night. I could barely contain myself as we all sat down to begin our morning breakfast.
Tarth, being the greedy Arxur that he is, started begging. “So. Your sharing, right? I mean, you do have three days worth of food in front of you.”
I gave him a curt “No” as I began digging into my mountain of food. Al and Kyra snickered at the abrupt rejection. The tender liver broke down into small fragments as my teeth sunk through it. My starved brain exploded with endorphins as the rich, flavorful food slid down my throat. Every drop of tangy blood felt like absolute bliss, seasoned by near crippling hunger. I was so enraptured by the delights before me, I barely even noticed Al watching me with a stupid grin.
I looked him over. “What?”
He broke out snickering. “Sorry. I can’t help it. I don’t quite have a word for it, but it’s nice to watch you enjoy yourself so much.”
Eh. Weird human stuff. I continued to feast on a crunchy appendage when my human callously stole an egg from one of my plates.
I snapped at him. “Hey! Put that back. You’ve got your own eggs.”
He continued to smile like an idiot. “Open your mouth.”
I humored him, albeit somewhat annoyed. Once my mouth was agape, he tossed the egg he was holding onto my tongue. My jaws slammed shut with a pop.
Al excitedly did a little cheer. “Aw. That was awesome.”
Tarth tried to get in on the action. “Do me now.”
Before I could say anything, Al responded. “No. You’re not getting any of Varce’s food.”
Tarth replied with an overly dramatic head turn. “I see how it is.”
--------------------------------
My division sat around the “kitchen” after a long morning of work. All of our equipment had been cleaned and stowed for the time being. Al’s injury brought his productivity to a crawl despite his best efforts. He couldn’t cut, carry, or clean with just one arm so he mostly just acted as moral support. He answered any human questions that were in my inbox, but it had been almost a month since the guide was put out. Barely anyone had any interest in humans at this point.
I sat with my back against the wall while casually scrolling through my news feed. My human was sitting to my left with his head propped against my ribs. He was focused on my screen as I had various images slide by. We were looking for any updates on the situation with the UN armed forces.
Apparently, a few thousand humans were being reported to be under federation custody. A planet with a human shipyard was captured by prey. I’d hazard a guess that not many of those humans are still alive, though I wouldn’t say such a thing with Al around. While he has made it thoroughly clear that he is team Arxur, he still cares for the well being of his own species.
Al let out a slow exaggerated sigh as he slumped further into me. “Hey Varce. Do you think humans are going to survive?”
I considered lying, but decided against it. “Probably not. You did say some ark ships got sent out though. So there’s that.”
“I’m probably going to be the last living human in this part of the galaxy here pretty soon.” He strummed his fingers against my knee. “It’s… A really weird feeling.”
I took one of my hands away from my holopad and ran it through his blonde hair. I looked at his blue eyes for a moment before returning to the holopad.
“For what it’s worth. You’ll always be welcome to stay with me.” A small condolence, but it was what came naturally.
“Thanks”
After about a half-hour, a live broadcast forced itself onto everyone’s holopad, including mine. The image displayed 23 restrained Arxur on their knees with armed guards standing behind them. Chief Hunter Shaza entered the screen and stood at a podium.
She looked over them before speaking. “Today I will pass judgment and punishment onto these Arxur before me. Due to their negligence and incompetence, a total of 508 captive humans have died with an unknown amount of humans dying while being captured. In addition to this, 35 loyal Arxur have died along with an additional 112 being wounded.”
Al and I looked to each other in concern. That was upwards of a quarter of the humans that we had captured in total. What the hell happened?
Shaza continued. “First, you three that were in charge of testing and approval of the tranquilizers used on humans. You falsified data and gave approval to a tranquilizer that has led to deaths in almost every cattlefarm. These tranquilizers were used by human capture parties and resulted in an unknown number of human fatalities that could have been used for trading. Your sentence is death.”
She pulled a ceremonial sword from out of the podium and walked behind the three. She took a swing at the first ones neck and cleanly passed through. However, she over swung and got the tip lodged into the skull of the second one. The second one violently spasmed and screamed as he tried to get away. He fell to the floor when Shaza jammed the blade further into his brain. She extracted the sword and cut down the third with no issue. She walked back to the podium, sat down her sword, and continued with her judgment.
“Vice Admiral and Human Welfare Officer of Cattlefarm Δ9. You disregarded any recommendations about human nutrition and fed them raw herbivore food. Then, when it was discovered that the herbivore food is toxic to humans. You continued to feed them herbivore food and ate the water bug meat that was sent to you. All 225 humans under you care have died due to the toxicity of the herbivore food. Your punishment is death.”
Shaza walked to the two with sword in hand. She carefully swung at each of their necks, being sure to not over-swing again. She walked back to her podium and readied herself to speak again.
Al spoke up while his eyes were locked on the holopad. “She’s nervous. I mean, she was a little nervous before that fuck up. Now she’s even more nervous. I think it’s a safe bet that Prophet Descendant is watching this.”
Shaza scowled this time. “Vice Admiral, Master-at-arms, and Human Welfare officer of Cattlefarm Δ2. You three disregarded all security recommendations and placed all 241 of your humans in a single cage. They crafted weapons known as shanks and killed guards. They then claimed the guard’s firearms and ultimately immolated themselves in the facility. This resulted in the deaths of 35 Arxur, severe injury of 112 Arxur, and the loss of an estimated 800,000 pounds of food and breeding stock. Your punishment is death.”
With sword in hand, she walked behind them. She held the tip of the weapon with her off hand and drove it through. The metal stuck out of the first one’s upper abdomen. His liver was most certainly cut open. She violently yanked out the blade and repeated the process two more times. She left them to bleed out and returned to the podium.
Words could not describe to sheer anger on her face as she addressed the last 15 Arxur. “You disgusting degenerates of Cattlefarm Δ6. A total of 34 human females committed suicide while under your custody. If we find more evidence, I promise more will be executed by my hand. 34 human females are dead because you forcibly mated with them. You destroyed all video evidence, so you knew exactly what you were all doing. Your punishment is death.”
She walked away from the podium without her sword this time. She strolled past the line of corpses and looked over the first Arxur. Shaza turned to the closest guard and took the rifle from their grasp. She placed the muzzle of the weapon into the lower center of the creep’s back. She pulled the trigger with a splatter of blood. She destroy his spine and ruptured his intestines. He wouldn’t be going anywhere while he had his slow death. Shaza repeated this over and over until all 15 of them were crumpled on the ground slowly dying. She returned the rifle to the guard and took her position on the podium.
She stared into the camera. “This fleet functions because I have confidence in those that operate below me. When there are errors, I expect those to be reported to me. The people here lied and hid things from me. Those that reported incidents to me still have their heads and positions because they did not betray my trust. As Chief Hunter, all of you are my responsibility. All I ask is that you do not violate my trust. Now get back to work.”
With that said, the live stream ended. Everyone in the room was dead silent after witnessing the execution. I wasn’t really certain on how to process what I just witnessed. Especially that last group. What would even bring an Arxur to even consider doing something like that with a human? I wouldn't be surprised if they did that kind of stuff with their prey too. Putrid fucking animals.
Al interrupted my train of thought when he started talking. “Those that self reported didn’t lose their positions? That’s a load of shit. She totally tried to boot you. What a fucking liar.”
My holopad began pinging me with an incoming video call from my vice admiral. I accepted it without hesitation and was presented with an image of vice admiral in his stateroom. He raised an eye ridge before speaking.
“Human Welfare Officer Varce and Hall” Al nodded his head in submission. Oh right, he’s more or less cuddling with me right now. Not a great look. “Did you see the live execution just now?
I replied. “Yes vice admiral. It appears you’re suspicions were correct. Though I wish they weren’t.”
“Over 500 captive humans dead. If you’d like, you can pat yourself on the back.”
The hell is he implying? “I’m sorry sir. I don’t think I follow.”
“We just got a view of what would have happened at all of the cattlefarms had it not been for you and Hall. I just felt it appropriate to congratulate you on all of the humans you effectively saved.”
“Huh… That’s one way to look at it sir.”
The vice admiral gave me a grin. “Don’t sell yourself short. If you hadn’t become my Human Welfare Officer, I might have been in that line up. I’ll have you know that I strongly prefer my head attached to my body. Could you imagine the disaster that would have happened if that idiot had been in charge?”
Al forced himself into the conversation. “Speaking of. How’s the brig treating the spoon smuggler?”
Spoon Smuggler? The shithead? Why the hell does Al know about what happened to that moron when I don’t even know?
Vice admiral continued. “The half rations are thinning the troublemaker down. I’ve yet to find an unfortunate ship to pawn him off onto. I am however, considering the possibility of sending him to work on a waste management ship.”
Al started giggling. “Do it. That sounds hilarious.”
I re-entered the conversation. “I second the waste management idea.”
Vice admiral decided to wrap up our conversation. “As much as I’d like to rejoice over the fact that I’m alive. I have much work to do still. So have a good day Officer Varce. You as well Hall.”
With that said, the call cut out leaving me with my human. Over 500 captive humans dead. Their care was in the hands of the Dominion. And well… We failed them. They suffered abuse and mistreatment at the hands of Arxur. They were treated like cattle. Some even worse… I understand why Arxur go through the struggles that we do. We have more people then meat. It’s simple math… But this is just outright wrong. They were given the supplies they needed. It was just the torture and death of sapients for the sake of it. What is wrong with some of these people. Sure, humans aren’t as impressive as an Arxur physically, but that doesn’t mean they’re some mindless prey. Ouch!
I looked down to my human who was pinching the softer scales around my armpit. “What was that for?”
Al smiled at me. “You were spacing out there. I figured I’d drag you back to reality.”
I sighed a little. Might as well not dwell on the human thing. “How did you know what happened to the ‘spoon smuggler’? I thought he just disappeared.”
Al continued to tug at my loose skin. “The guards told me. Unlike you, I make a point of rubbing elbows with the folks around here. I know all of the gossip and rumors.”
A perk of being born a social predator I suppose. I’d tire of the endless chitchat long before any human would. I wrapped my left arm around the goofy human’s neck and brought him into a loose choke hold of sorts. My other hand grabbed at his hair and pulled at it lightly.
I put on the best sarcastic voice that I could. “Are you suggesting that you are better at social interactions than me? I’ll have you know that I am an Arxur, the apex predator of the universe. I’m perfect at everything all the time. To even suggest otherwise would be peak foolishness. I-”
Al started to poke at my muzzle with his good hand. Naturally, I retaliated by “biting” down on his hand to keep it still.
“Eww. You have no idea where that thing has been. Seriously. I only have one functional arm right now, so what do you think I’ve been using that thing for?”
I promptly spit out the filthy appendage. It was nice to see him enjoying himself. With all the death that’s going on right now, I’d imagine that he’s probably really stressed out.
I released his head. “So. How are you holding up?”
“I’m doing as well as I could hope to.” He softly rammed his head into my ribs. “Thanks.”
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