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One Hell Of A Vacation - Chapter 88
2023.06.05 12:00 WaveOfWire One Hell Of A Vacation - Chapter 88
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The maw of the moss-wolf chomped down on the treat, its partner patiently waiting its turn, an eye trained on the Human providing the sustenance. Joseph reached into the pouch, counting out what he had left and mentally setting a few aside for the raven-like birds that Scarlet had trained to bother him.
Well, ‘bother’ might be a strong word. They would whistle at him and wait for food. Upon getting their hard sought quarry, they would return to share it with the rest. Surprisingly cooperative, all things considered. Scarlet had apparently been getting them to associate certain short melodies with members of the pack, allowing her to send the avians after whoever she wanted for more snacks.
If they didn’t get any, then they would yell something not dissimilar to a caw until either food was procured, or they grew bored. Given that they had taken to humouring Violet in her attempts to be a mobile perch, that usually took a while.
It drove Nalah nuts, which seemed to be part of the reason the blond-furred female was included in the ritual at all. Harrow was apparently the favourite target of the nuisance when she was outside the base, but he couldn’t say why.
The tell-tale scratching had been somewhat muted since the shift in medium, but Violet’s writing was always something he kept an ear out for, his daughter presenting her tablet excitedly. [It blinked!]
He turned his head to the cow-looking thing, the unwavering stare held until he gave up. “I swear you guys are just messing with me.”
“Or we merely enjoy your suffering,” Sahari suggested with a smirk, the black-furred female standing taller than him for a moment as she stretched her legs out. Settling into a height that was level with him, she attempted to offer the wolves food. Receiving a fearful retreat instead, the black-furred female frowned, the two canines shifting in their enclosure to be closer to Joseph and Violet. “They still seem to distrust any but yourselves.”
He shrugged, taking the scrap from her and giving it to the young Atmo to pass along, her chittering laugh when the wolves accepted the morsel breaking the soft sound of trickling rain outside the barn. “Faye was the one who started this. I guess they treat her like an alpha of sorts, and seeing her bow to the two of us so often told them that she’s lower on the pole. That’s my guess, anyway.”
“That is….rather intelligent of them, if so,” Sahari commented pensively.
The Grand Hunter tipped his head in agreement. If anything, it was an understatement. The six-legged canines were remarkably receptive to taming, though he couldn’t say how much of that was due to Faye taking to his suggestion so seriously. He had only offered it as a passing thought, but she had set to it like their god had mandated it.
He fought back a sigh at the reminder of his placement in the whole thing, his foot kicking the ground to adjust the new sandals he was wearing until Pan finished proper shoes.
One day, he was a divorcee flirting with random women on a cruise ship so that the rejection validated his own self-esteem issues. The next, he was a guy in charge of a settlement nearing one hundred people and had become a manifestation of religion condensed into the form of some random moron.
He snorted at a morbid thought. How would Emma react to his ‘rise to fame?’ His acquisition of more than they had ever thought for themselves back on Earth?
Owning a territory? They could only manage a nice apartment that could fit several times over inside the base. Friends? Hell, he had a group of people who have helped him through some of the worst the planet had to offer. Kids...well, nothing could replace Violet. He doubted Emma would see it the same way, though.
A paw enclosed his shoulder, dragging his mind from more sombre thoughts. It had been quite a while since everything fell through and he had moved on, but it still stung every now and again.
“What ails your mind, Joseph?” Sahari asked with a concerned inflection. He looked over at her, a smile becoming easier after a moment.
“Just wondering how my ex-wife would react to seeing what I’ve turned into. What she’d say to all of this,” he admitted honestly with a wide gesture to everything. She patted his back, a small pride in her gaze.
“You continue to heal, Grand Hunter, but you are still scarred. Your previous mate would curse her decisions were she to see what you have accomplished.”
He snorted, a wide dry grin breaking out. “I’d love to see her face going back with two alien wives and this sweetheart as a daughter,” he teased, giving Violet a thorough rub on the head. She purred, chittering between breaths as she fought off the rough affection playfully while keeping her blades tucked for safety.
The black-furred female tilted her head and shifted her weight to her other foot. “You’ve mentioned that there is a specific procedure for binding the lives of your people, no?”
He blinked, his mind flickering to the two rings he had prepared, yet held some modicum of expectation around before he whipped them out. Not least of all was the foreign sensation of doing it again twice, nor finding an appropriate time to do it. It was hard to pick a picturesque moment when each day was paperwork, punching people in the face during spars, and orchestrating the well-being of such a large group. Given that the closest thing he could get to a romantic occasion was laying down on the grass while Nalah barked orders at the construction crews in the distance, he didn’t feel like it was ever a good time to ask. It was even harder picturing himself doing it to the two of them, as if it cheapened the gesture in some way.
Then there was the part of himself that feared rejection—as stupid as it sounded. They could deny the alien practice, not share the same sentiment, or any number of disagreements that would render him kneeling like an idiot. As unlikely as it was, it could even be too great a commitment for them, the implication of their entire lives being pledged solely to him being a crushing weight, rather than a promise of mutual loving dedication.
Sure, now they were speaking as if it was the case, but the circumstances as they were lent themselves to it being a product of necessity. Who was to say that it would remain the same once they got off this rock and—hopefully—in touch with their own people again. Would they still feel the same way with an entire species back on the table as possible romantic partners? Would he still be enough?
“Joseph,” Sahari called out with worry and irritation in equal parts. “You are making me anxious.”
“Hm? Oh, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he was reminded that more than one person could be afflicted by his emotional state. She placed a paw to her hip.
“Are the proceedings really such a means for strife?”
“Ah, no, it’s just…” He averted his eyes, offering Violet a token smile when she seemed to be concerned about him. He inhaled deeply. “It’s just…I have reservations about it.”
She raised a brow. “I need not a bond to know you care for them deeply enough to toss your life to the Void for them.”
His weak smile faltered further. “Well, yeah. They mean everything to me, but I cant help but remember how things went last time, I guess. There’s a million and one ways it could go up in smoke, and I…” He fell quiet for a moment, Violet pressing herself into his side in an attempt to cheer him up. He rested a hand against her back, the texture comforting in a way. “I want it to be an important moment in our lives, rather than some disposable token that they accept without thinking much. It’s not like they’re swimming in potential romantic partners here, so it feels like they’d be agreeing for lack of options.”
She stared at him with a hesitant expression, her cheek pinched between her teeth and eyes narrowed in thought. “Pan would sooner end her own life than be separated from you, and Tel would end any who so much as suggested such,” she stated finally. “To you, the mark upon your flesh is but a sting that fades. To them, it is their declaration that they have found their reason to live. A declaration that is shown to all others of our people the moment they draw near. Though Pan lacks the means to impart her own, she is rather pleased that another is able to in her stead and treats it as her own for all intents.”
She grabbed him roughly by the arm, pulling him into her breast as she stood to her full height, a surprised yelp stifled by soft clothing and fur.
“Unfortunately for you, openly voiced or not, we all feel as such. Though you bear not the mark of everyone in the den, I assure you that to be removed from you would leave us lesser, regardless of bond.”
He shut his mouth at the last addition. There was a weight behind knowing that people were likely to simply give up on living if you were away for too long. It put the relationship in front of a loaded gun for both parties. They couldn’t afford to break it off from him because existing would become a living hell, and he couldn’t change his mind for any reason because it would be the same as killing them.
What kind of marriage was one built upon such fragile pillars? How could they be happy when every fight was tempered by the threat of the end of everything? What about Sahari? Could she ever pursue her own life with Nalah when she had the bond shackling her to him? How long until that became a stinging poison, rotting away the veins and arteries of her psyche? How long until death became preferable to being around him?
A strong impact to his stomach winded him, though the unnoticed hyperventilating left him little to eject as he fell to his knees. Violet clicked in surprise, the wolves backing away at the unexpected violence.
He coughed, sputtering spittle as he fought the urge to evacuate his breakfast. A pained glance up revealed Sahari still clutching a fist, her expression just as hurt.
“You hear my words and twist them, Joseph,” she chastised softly, crouching to look at him better. “We pledged our lives to you. Not because we had no choice, but because we believed you to be our future. From that moment on, our desire was to remain with you.” Her voice grew weak, almost pleading. She placed her forehead to his, the contact an intimate touch. “Your experiences may suggest our bond a prison, but for us, it is an ambrosia for our soul. It completes us like no equal. Jax and Harrow care for you immensely, Nalah and myself owe you everything that we are, and your mates will fight the Hunt Mother herself if it would mean even one more sun with you.”
He found himself speechless, wading through the emotions behind her words a syllable at a time. The feeling of Violet pressing into his back in an embrace stung as much as soothed, his mind rejecting the idea, yet so desperate to accept it.
“Do not desecrate our affections because you had been scorned by one who did not see within you that which we covet,” she implored sombrely, raw emotion oozing through the confines of speech. “Though you doubt it, none would know how much value you place in the ‘mark’ of your people more than your mates. If merely thinking about the unlikely event that they refuse tortures you so deeply, than the elation they would share with you when they agree would likely see Pan unable to contain herself for many suns after.”
He stayed on his knees, the warmth surrounding him from both sides seeping within and thawing the frozen excuses he held onto to prevent exposing himself to potential rejection. Every step of the way since he had met them, it had made him fearful of losing their company. At first, the thought of being left alone to brave the planet was too much to bear, but he would try. Now? Now he felt like he understood where the minds of those bonded Lilhuns had been. Even considering being away from his new loved ones pulled at a primal part of himself, each tug stronger than the last, each suggestion fanning the flames barricaded behind morals—the depths he would trudge to see it never come to pass.
Sahari nuzzled into his neck for a moment before parting, a somewhat satisfied smile given towards the emotionally fragile Human they had taken to depending on. He returned his own, though it was tinted with a bit of embarrassment.
Violet stepped back to allow him room to stand, the extended joint of her blade asking to be held like he did with her adoptive mother. His expression softening, he did as requested, lightly rubbing the smooth surface with his thumb. It soothed a part of him to be holding his daughter’s ‘hand’ while they watched the wolves slowly approach the front of their enclosure again, now that the momentary intensity had faded.
With a self-deprecating roll of his eyes, he nodded, promising himself to follow through with his small wish the next time the chance revealed itself. It didn’t need to be perfect, but it would be nice if it was at least private. The dull ache in his stomach would be a reminder not to second guess himself anyway.
The wolves yipped, ignoring Sahari as they moved towards the other corner. Joseph glanced at where they were focused, his curious gaze replaced by surprise, then shock.
Raine supported Faye over her shoulder, the deep gold-furred female’s breath short as she rested her weight over her brown-furred counterpart, their black leather coats dripping water onto the floor as it wrapped tightly around them, concealing their armour. A steady trickle of blood flowed from a long gash on Faye’s leg, her free arm clutching across her breast to keep her coat closed.
Without waiting for either to speak, he ran to pick up the Wraith, slinging her across his shoulders and tearing off to the base. He could barely hear Sahari over the rain and his own blood pounding through his ears, his heart hammering in his chest. Though they had established something of a clinic for minor injuries that were sustained constantly, his singular focus was getting Faye into the medbay.
Pack members cleared the way, some jumping to the side as he barrelled through the sparely populated routes between home and workplace. More than one tripped over themselves in shock, the Human never having a reason to go at a full sprint before. He was slower than a Lilhun like this, but he could make it the full distance before them. He didn’t need to slow down.
Harrow pushed open the doors to the hub, her distant expression as she examined thin ironwood tablets perking, his rapid heavy footfalls telling of his arrival before she had the chance to see him. Her eyes lit up, her brows furrowed, and a hurried pull of the door kept it open for him, all in sequence. He didn’t have the spare breath to explain or thank her.
The orange-furred female bolted across the hub, slamming into the crash-bar installed into the facilities wing entrance to force it open, only barely outpacing the Grand Hunter in his rush. She staggered to her feet behind him, rushing to collect herself and assisting in tearing the pants off of the injured female when Joseph laid her on the bed.
Modesty being the least of his concerns, he braced an arm across her pelvis to stop her hips from bucking as Harrow wiped off any dried blood to see the extent of the damage on her thigh.
“What happened?”
He tightened his hold on Faye as his friend tentatively spread the wound to check for debris. “Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Saw her bleeding, rushed her here,” he answered through deep breaths, each strike of his adrenaline-fuelled heart pressing against his lung capacity.
Harrow frowned, grabbing some sterile water to pour over the wound and picking out a stray splinter of wood that looked to be from her missing leg armour. Faye let out a small whine, but didn’t have it in her to talk yet, signs of exhaustion and pain unfocusing her eyes.
The Head of Technology—and current medical expert in the room—pursed her lips against her muzzle. “We need to stitch it. It’s too big for just healroot.”
Joseph nodded, easing his weight off the Wraith and wiping his sweat from his brow. “Pan!”
Noticing the urgency in his voice, he could hear her throw the door to the sewing room wide open and jog to the medbay, her wide eyes steeling as she assessed the situation.
“Idee with you?”
She nodded, ears turned perfectly towards him.
“One of you boil off some palm string, the other sterilize the thinnest quill you can get away stitching a wound closed with. I don’t care who, but we need one of you to close this up.” He glanced at Harrow. “Grab some alcohol. I keep a bit in the closet in my room, next to the old crossbow prototypes. We need to flush this out and kill off anything that might have gotten in.”
The orange-furred female tipped an ear in confusion as Pan took off to do as he asked. “I thought you didn’t have medical-”
“I’ve been around enough workplace injuries, okay? Go!”
His shout jolted her into action, a few steps required to gain traction as she ran out the door. Applying solid pressure to the wound with one hand, he used the other to lightly tap Faye’s cheek.
“Faye? Faye, you with me?”
Her eyes languidly turned to him, slow blinks and meaningless mouthing ceased, a soft smile forming under her pained expression. “Hello, sir.”
He exhaled a relieved huff. “Welcome home, Faye. What happened?”
She seemed confused by his question, glancing down to her leg after a few seconds. With widened eyes, she struggled to sit up, Joseph forcibly pressing her to the bed.
“Stay.”
All resistance disappeared in an instant, her body complying despite the obvious urgency. He hardened his expression.
“What happened?”
She breathed deeper a few times before speaking. Each word was hesitant, as if the memory was hazy and diluted, though he couldn’t tell if it was due to blood loss or exhaustion. “A large grey beast…teeth, large mouth...attacked wolves...”
His brow knitted, Faye’s coat moving. A small whine came from her again…no. Not her.
A small yellow canine head freed itself from the confines of black leather, a weak keening produced from a tiny moss-wolf. Faye looked at him guiltily, a pleading look in her eyes given as she composed herself.
“It lost its parents…”
His protest died in his voice, a distant memory of a wolf being torn in two came to mind. The time before they had even moved to the pod, let alone met the Lilhuns, him and Violet checking snares shortly after his ankle had healed. A time so long ago, yet remained with him under the surface.
“You saved this little guy, huh?” he asked gently, wincing in tandem with her own when he leaned heavier on the massive gash in her thigh. She nodded, averting her eyes. “Did you get the ‘beast?’”
Faye shook her head. “Raine lured it away, but it still remains.”
“That’s fine. You’re back, that’s all that matters right now.”
Harrow bumped into the doorway, failing to shed all of her speed as she returned from fetching a smaller container that Joseph kept in case the rest of the pack burned through their stores of alcohol. Her eyes flicked to the wolf pup before disregarding it to hand him the ethanol. He lifted his hand, Harrow pouring some water to wash off the blood. Volta would be busy later, it seemed.
Gesturing for the orange-furred female to hold the leg down, he poured the alcohol into the wound, grimacing at Faye’s pained gasp. They didn’t have anything for her to bite into, but that would be a future consideration.
Pan and Idee entered the medbay, the former moving like a machine with purpose while the visiting seamstress took a moment to size up the situation. The Paw fetched a tray from the shelf, laying out several strings of softened palm and a few thin quills, threading one and passing it to Idee. The light brown-furred female accepted it, Harrow making room as she stood next to Joseph.
Pan handed him a tough leather strip as wide as his palm. Seems like she saw the problem before he did.
“Open up,” he prodded, placing the leather between Faye’s teeth. “This is going to fucking suck. We don’t have anything to numb you, so you need to stay as still as possible, okay? I’ll be here the whole time.”
The Wraith nodded, staring at him for a moment before closing her eyes in acceptance, her grip on the pup firming.
“Want me to take the wolf?”
She lightly shook her head, him exhaling hesitantly in response. Idee readied herself, looking to him for confirmation, Pan holding Faye’s ankle flat to the bed.
“You’re good,” he responded, pressing an arm to Faye’s chest and hips to hold her down.
The deep gold-furred female managed a quiet muffled groan of pain as the quill pierced her flesh.
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He entered the hub, dropping himself on the couch and ignoring the sweat on his brow. He had only just managed to get the blood off of his hands after Idee finished, but it was still staining his clothing. Pan was off to rinse it out of her fur while Faye slept off her exhaustion. As far as they could tell, she had avoided any infection thanks to Raine half-dragging the female back to them as quickly as she did. The wolf pup was staying with her for now, since—even in her sleep—she refused to let it go. The little guy didn’t seem to be complaining, so they just left it where it was comfortable. Ferra would be by later to check it out, apparently, and he didn’t see a reason to complain; she was their animal expert.
Scarlet offered him some tea, the warm liquid whetting his pallet that had since dried. Sahari had checked on them during the process, leaving to keep anyone who had questions in the loop. Given that half the damn pack either saw or heard about the Grand Hunter running like a bat out of hell, pretty much everyone was worried. Either about some urgent threat that might befall them, or about one of the quiet servants they had grown used to seeing around.
Looked like the Wraiths had taken to offering small services and assistance to people who needed it when they didn’t have anything better to do, so the pack was curious about what had happened. It was a small blessing that the usual armour they wore when ‘on duty’ was covered by the cloaks, otherwise he would have more questions coming that he didn’t want answered.
Raine stood a few paces in front of him, her bowed posture holding a hint of fear under his unwavering stare. He waited for whoever else was going to show up for the report, Tel and Pan insisting that they be involved. Harrow followed behind the two entering from the facilities wing, either because she had gotten wrapped up in the whole thing, or because she wanted to be included.
Pan sat to his left, Tel taking a place behind him to remain standing. Harrow surprised him, her recently elusive presence firmly displaced as she dropped onto the couch to his right, her tail curling around his calf—not that she seemed to notice.
Given that both Tel and Pan trapped a limb or two with their tails regularly, he didn’t stop to put thought into it, the encapsulating appendage crossing him as a common occurrence.
“I don’t know how accurate it was, since she’s still pretty out of it, but Faye said one of those grey bear-deathtraps attacked some wolves before she stepped in to save the pup,” he opened, glancing at Scarlet. The almost black red-furred female was maintaining a surprisingly commanding presence, her attention laser-focused on Raine. The brown-furred Wraith kept her gaze fixed to the floor, too ashamed or nervous to move it.
“I apologize for her error in her stead,” she announced, the slightest of grip in her folded paws digging her claws into her skin. “The fault is also mine for not preventing her misstep. I will accept any punishment for our mistake.”
He exhaled heavily. “I’m not mad that you guys had an original thought, Raine. I’m worried about those iron-maiden-looking fucks being around again, and I’m concerned about you getting hurt.”
“Of course, sir. Forgive me for the arrogance of assuming your priorities.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, Pan squeezing his thigh in support. Tel rested her head on his, the weight somehow comforting despite the grin at his annoyance. “We can talk about not getting yourselves killed later. Are you injured at all?”
Raine’s ear twitched. “No, sir. I am whole.”
“Good,” he sighed, nodding lightly. “That’s good. Faye’s patched up for now, but she’ll be under observation to keep on top of any possible infection. How did the ‘mission’ go?”
The Wraith perked up a bit, the conversation moving away from her perceived failure. She produced a satchel, pulling a rather thick stack of tablets from it and passing them to Scarlet, the latter ferrying them to Harrow. He thought it was an odd choice, but the orange-furred female started giving him an abbreviated translation of the text.
Line after line of transactions. What was offered and received, any debts and who owed them, as well as small notes about what should be brought next time. It was a comprehensive copy of the ledger that the trading caravan kept. His brows raised at the sheer density of information, and for them getting it from something he was only partially sure existed.
“You managed to get this much?” he asked in disbelief. “Jesus. Were you caught?”
Raine shook her head. “If we were to be seen by them, we would be nothing more than a stain against our Blademaster.”
Compliment or boasting, doing this much was damn impressive. Especially with just the two of them.
“Shit. Well, good fucking job, I guess,” he managed, still reeling a bit from the unintended scope of the task. Harrow continued to dig through the report, though stopped voicing it aloud. Joseph turned his attention back to the Wraith. “Anything else of note? Rumours?”
The Wraith grew pensive. “Though we returned partially through their return trip to Grand Hunter Pernel, we did overhear some conversations. There were discussions of other packs simply no longer occupying their settlements.”
He leaned forward in his seat, dislodging Tel as his elbows rested against his knees. “What do you mean?”
“Some of their usual trade locations were purportedly burned down, others merely abandoned. A few were apparently littered with corpses,” she explained more steadily. “From what we could gather, the reason they came to trade with our settlement at all is that the others along the way were in such states. It seems they intended to restock and head back out immediately to accommodate the loss in trading partners.”
He bit his lip as he thought about it, letting himself fall back against the couch.
“What do you guys think of it?” he asked with a glance to his mates. Pan seemed to be mirroring his own apprehension openly, while Tel kept a more serious expression.
“I believe there is something larger happening,” Tel concluded, taking a few seconds before returning to using him as a headrest. Pan nodded her agreement, but didn’t have much to add to it otherwise.
“It would explain how desperate they were for food,” he mused aloud, raising a brow when Harrow shifted to lean against him, one foot placed on the edge of the seat forcing the posture. “Any details of interest, Harrow?”
The orange-furred female jolted, only just stopping from moving her foot back to the floor before committing to using him as a backrest. She turned back-on fully, stretching her legs over the remainder of the seat and placing tablets she had finished with on her lap.
“It didn’t take very long for the methods you sold to propagate,” she responded, holding up a few of the tablets before laying them in their own pile. “Looks like Pernel has been spreading it around by buying some from places that have bows and snares to sell where they don’t.”
“Supply and demand, or arming people with the tools that would help them survive?”
“Hard to trade with the dead,” Harrow commented dryly, starting a new pile. He nodded in exaggerated fashion.
“What about the Atmo?”
She tapped the small stack she just started. “I’m trying to separate these by inventory type. Give me a bit.”
Deciding to trust the woman in charge of managing this kind of thing while she was on the ship, he glanced back to Raine, the female easily mistaken for a statue if not for the subtle sway of her breathing. “The grey-bear-thing. How far away is it?”
“Too close,” she responded firmly. “We did not get a chance to verify their numbers, but there was evidence of at least that singular beast making our territory its hunting ground.”
“Fuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “We’re going to need to hunt that thing down.”
Pan looked worried at the prospect, Harrow stiffened in her sorting. The Wraiths were the only ones who seemed completely at ease with the suggestion, Tel not so much as twitching. Harrow laid down the tablets she had yet to categorize, her gaze aimed at her lap.
“Joe, don’t think that taking one out is easy.”
“We have ranged weapons and more than a few people who can use them,” he pointed out with a breath. “Ideally, we go as a larger hunting party and take the damn thing down through sheer volume of fire.”
“Their skin is tough,” Harrow replied with a shake of her head, her ears pivoting back towards him. “I don’t know if our bows could pierce it as easily as we might like.”
He furrowed his brow. “So, what? Let it close in until it eats everything and starves us out? Until it thinks we look tasty?”
“I don’t know. I’m just saying that this won’t be as simple as firing a few arrows and patting ourselves on the back for a job well done.”
Joseph felt the stiffness of his brow start to hurt from how tight they were knitted. A deep breath centred his thoughts. “We’ll arrange an armoured hunting party soon. Better to take it down before it becomes an issue.”
The orange-furred female nodded, quickly leafing through the remaining tablets and only pulling two more out for the pile she indicated earlier.
“Here,” she said, tapping the stack. “These are records for trading Atmo.”
He suppressed the sigh when he genuinely tried to read the mess they called a language. “How many? Who bought them?”
She hesitated, reforming the copy of the ledger—sans the relevant tablets—and placing it on the floor. The remainder in paw, she held them up over her shoulder, Tel accepting it and going over the contents with an interested tilt of her head.
“From what I can see here, Pernel traded two hundred.”
“Two…” he squeaked, his eyes wide. “Two hundred?”
She nodded, pacing around the couch to stop in front of Pan. “It seems others heard of his willingness to barter for them. He accepted quite a few deals before selling them off again.”
“To who?”
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The door to the ship closed with a hiss, Willin shaking his head at Nav’s questioning gaze. “Nothing.”
Tech removed her CARDs, storing them in the weapons locker before shrugging off her AMR to place in its own unit. “Nothing living, anyway.”
“That bad?” Nav asked, deflating after yet another failed attempt to contact a settlement. The dark green-furred male stored his rifle, seating it into its receptacle with a click.
“Tell Comms to add another eighty to the count.”
“Four hundred eighty-two,” the purple-furred female supplied as she walked past Nav to enter the ship proper. Willin followed after, hanging his pistol holster on the side of his chair as he dropped into it.
“Thirty were covered in wounds, twenty or so were executed, twenty-five looked to have died of accumulated trauma, and the rest were found with singular cuts to the throat.”
“Not quite,” Tech remarked, interfacing with the systems. “Only eight of the ‘executed’ seem to have been done up close.”
“Sniper?” Comms asked as he entered the room, nodding his greetings and taking a seat at his station. Nav crossed their arms and leaned against the doorway as Tech Ops ran some numbers on her screen.
“Wounds are consistent with Anti Material Rifles, and debris suggest they took the ‘material’ part into consideration with their shots. There were a few holes in the buildings that didn’t quite get removed by the fires.”
“Covering evidence?” Willin mused aloud, receiving a thoughtful shake of her head.
“No, I don’t think so. My guess is that the buildings were already on fire when they did it, based on the splinters around the exit holes.”
Comms’ eyes widened in surprise. “Shooting through a burning building? That is rather impressive.”
“Blades?” Nav suggested. “Avalon is required to act against those who break the treaty, no?”
“Maybe,” Tech allowed tentatively. “If it was them, then that would explain the lack of targets.”
Willin scratched at his ear, furrowing his brow as Comms ran another scan for any communications being made. Though a few suns had passed since they had unwittingly agreed to involve themselves in what was likely the first case of war that this planet had ever seen, nothing was being sent anywhere. Regardless, the male kept the scans regular, just in case.
Nav switched the foot they were resting on. “Why not just dispose of everyone breaking the treaty?”
“Maybe they did,” Comms commented, turning back to the conversation as the program ran in the background. “Blades typically function under strict conditions. If they removed anyone who was commanding the hostile action, then they did as required of them. The moment the attack stopped, they completed the terms of the treaty.”
“Or if the Grand Hunter here surrendered and allowed their pack to be subsumed,” Willin proposed, the others glancing at him in curiosity. He waved a paw dismissively. “If everyone in the conflict becomes a single pack, then any fighting from those who still disagree with it is now an internal dispute, thus outside of the purview of the Blades. Check the notes on Grand Hunter Toril and High Hunter Bratik.”
Tech’s eyes unfocused for a moment as she accessed the system. “Avalon is forbidden from interfering with internal politics. Toril was sheltered by Bratik. Since Bratik was from outside of Toril’s pack, it counted as acting against their right to manage their own affairs. Hasen was given a perfect reason to take over, and it forced Grand Hunter Trill to exile the both of them to adhere.” She looked around the room aimlessly as she thought, her eyes snapping to Willin when he spoke.
“And a perfect loop-hole to exploit. Toril loses his supporters, Trill loses a member of his command structure, and Hasen rises in power while leaving Avalon to grit their teeth.” He shook his head, both impressed and disgusted. “Once he attacks another pack, he just forces a vassalage and subsequently executes the new High Hunter for whatever reason he wants. The Blades can’t act on a technicality.”
“So Grand Hunter Pernel….”
Willin nodded at Comms' unfinished question. “In the count.”
“There was a bit of a weird holding area,” Tech added after a moment. “Seemed like somewhere to hold livestock, but even then, it was a bit big. I’m not sure what used to be there, but tracks suggest carts left with whatever it was not long before everything went down, so probably a trade caravan.”
“Well, at least someone made it out,” Nav sighed, pushing off the wall to resume their station. “Where are we going next?”
Willin toyed with the odd silver tablet in his paw, the two unrecognizable scripts curious and alien. “The only pack left before we see what all the fuss is about. Let’s pay a visit to Grand Huntress Sunundra. Hopefully she knows something we don’t.”
Next
A/N: Been a while since we’ve had a proper A/N, huh. Welp, here’s this one. Patreon is currently set to ‘per post’ because i made the account ages ago. Waiting on support to help me switch it to monthly, then I’ll post the Silva render i have. RR is at 30k views and 100 followers.
Figured I’d ask how you guys are liking this arc, hows Willin’s team coming across, etc.
Final note: I’m thinking about rewriting the first ‘book’ so i can get it edited and published! Problem: i have no fucking clue where to cut book 1, and editors are expensive. Where should book 1 end? All i know is that I’d prob end up adding extra chapters to it, as well as lengthening the OG chaps. RR is a ‘touch-up’, not a final product, so those don’t count!
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u/KieveKRS providing the Trash certification of quality!
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The maw of the moss-wolf chomped down on the treat, its partner patiently waiting its turn, an eye trained on the Human providing the sustenance. Joseph reached into the pouch, counting out what he had left and mentally setting a few aside for the raven-like birds that Scarlet had trained to bother him.
Well, ‘bother’ might be a strong word. They would whistle at him and wait for food. Upon getting their hard sought quarry, they would return to share it with the rest. Surprisingly cooperative, all things considered. Scarlet had apparently been getting them to associate certain short melodies with members of the pack, allowing her to send the avians after whoever she wanted for more snacks.
If they didn’t get any, then they would yell something not dissimilar to a caw until either food was procured, or they grew bored. Given that they had taken to humouring Violet in her attempts to be a mobile perch, that usually took a while.
It drove Nalah nuts, which seemed to be part of the reason the blond-furred female was included in the ritual at all. Harrow was apparently the favourite target of the nuisance when she was outside the base, but he couldn’t say why.
The tell-tale scratching had been somewhat muted since the shift in medium, but Violet’s writing was always something he kept an ear out for, his daughter presenting her tablet excitedly. [It blinked!]
He turned his head to the cow-looking thing, the unwavering stare held until he gave up. “I swear you guys are just messing with me.”
“Or we merely enjoy your suffering,” Sahari suggested with a smirk, the black-furred female standing taller than him for a moment as she stretched her legs out. Settling into a height that was level with him, she attempted to offer the wolves food. Receiving a fearful retreat instead, the black-furred female frowned, the two canines shifting in their enclosure to be closer to Joseph and Violet. “They still seem to distrust any but yourselves.”
He shrugged, taking the scrap from her and giving it to the young Atmo to pass along, her chittering laugh when the wolves accepted the morsel breaking the soft sound of trickling rain outside the barn. “Faye was the one who started this. I guess they treat her like an alpha of sorts, and seeing her bow to the two of us so often told them that she’s lower on the pole. That’s my guess, anyway.”
“That is….rather intelligent of them, if so,” Sahari commented pensively.
The Grand Hunter tipped his head in agreement. If anything, it was an understatement. The six-legged canines were remarkably receptive to taming, though he couldn’t say how much of that was due to Faye taking to his suggestion so seriously. He had only offered it as a passing thought, but she had set to it like their god had mandated it.
He fought back a sigh at the reminder of his placement in the whole thing, his foot kicking the ground to adjust the new sandals he was wearing until Pan finished proper shoes.
One day, he was a divorcee flirting with random women on a cruise ship so that the rejection validated his own self-esteem issues. The next, he was a guy in charge of a settlement nearing one hundred people and had become a manifestation of religion condensed into the form of some random moron.
He snorted at a morbid thought. How would Emma react to his ‘rise to fame?’ His acquisition of more than they had ever thought for themselves back on Earth?
Owning a territory? They could only manage a nice apartment that could fit several times over inside the base. Friends? Hell, he had a group of people who have helped him through some of the worst the planet had to offer. Kids...well, nothing could replace Violet. He doubted Emma would see it the same way, though.
A paw enclosed his shoulder, dragging his mind from more sombre thoughts. It had been quite a while since everything fell through and he had moved on, but it still stung every now and again.
“What ails your mind, Joseph?” Sahari asked with a concerned inflection. He looked over at her, a smile becoming easier after a moment.
“Just wondering how my ex-wife would react to seeing what I’ve turned into. What she’d say to all of this,” he admitted honestly with a wide gesture to everything. She patted his back, a small pride in her gaze.
“You continue to heal, Grand Hunter, but you are still scarred. Your previous mate would curse her decisions were she to see what you have accomplished.”
He snorted, a wide dry grin breaking out. “I’d love to see her face going back with two alien wives and this sweetheart as a daughter,” he teased, giving Violet a thorough rub on the head. She purred, chittering between breaths as she fought off the rough affection playfully while keeping her blades tucked for safety.
The black-furred female tilted her head and shifted her weight to her other foot. “You’ve mentioned that there is a specific procedure for binding the lives of your people, no?”
He blinked, his mind flickering to the two rings he had prepared, yet held some modicum of expectation around before he whipped them out. Not least of all was the foreign sensation of doing it again twice, nor finding an appropriate time to do it. It was hard to pick a picturesque moment when each day was paperwork, punching people in the face during spars, and orchestrating the well-being of such a large group. Given that the closest thing he could get to a romantic occasion was laying down on the grass while Nalah barked orders at the construction crews in the distance, he didn’t feel like it was ever a good time to ask. It was even harder picturing himself doing it to the two of them, as if it cheapened the gesture in some way.
Then there was the part of himself that feared rejection—as stupid as it sounded. They could deny the alien practice, not share the same sentiment, or any number of disagreements that would render him kneeling like an idiot. As unlikely as it was, it could even be too great a commitment for them, the implication of their entire lives being pledged solely to him being a crushing weight, rather than a promise of mutual loving dedication.
Sure, now they were speaking as if it was the case, but the circumstances as they were lent themselves to it being a product of necessity. Who was to say that it would remain the same once they got off this rock and—hopefully—in touch with their own people again. Would they still feel the same way with an entire species back on the table as possible romantic partners? Would he still be enough?
“Joseph,” Sahari called out with worry and irritation in equal parts. “You are making me anxious.”
“Hm? Oh, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he was reminded that more than one person could be afflicted by his emotional state. She placed a paw to her hip.
“Are the proceedings really such a means for strife?”
“Ah, no, it’s just…” He averted his eyes, offering Violet a token smile when she seemed to be concerned about him. He inhaled deeply. “It’s just…I have reservations about it.”
She raised a brow. “I need not a bond to know you care for them deeply enough to toss your life to the Void for them.”
His weak smile faltered further. “Well, yeah. They mean everything to me, but I cant help but remember how things went last time, I guess. There’s a million and one ways it could go up in smoke, and I…” He fell quiet for a moment, Violet pressing herself into his side in an attempt to cheer him up. He rested a hand against her back, the texture comforting in a way. “I want it to be an important moment in our lives, rather than some disposable token that they accept without thinking much. It’s not like they’re swimming in potential romantic partners here, so it feels like they’d be agreeing for lack of options.”
She stared at him with a hesitant expression, her cheek pinched between her teeth and eyes narrowed in thought. “Pan would sooner end her own life than be separated from you, and Tel would end any who so much as suggested such,” she stated finally. “To you, the mark upon your flesh is but a sting that fades. To them, it is their declaration that they have found their reason to live. A declaration that is shown to all others of our people the moment they draw near. Though Pan lacks the means to impart her own, she is rather pleased that another is able to in her stead and treats it as her own for all intents.”
She grabbed him roughly by the arm, pulling him into her breast as she stood to her full height, a surprised yelp stifled by soft clothing and fur.
“Unfortunately for you, openly voiced or not, we all feel as such. Though you bear not the mark of everyone in the den, I assure you that to be removed from you would leave us lesser, regardless of bond.”
He shut his mouth at the last addition. There was a weight behind knowing that people were likely to simply give up on living if you were away for too long. It put the relationship in front of a loaded gun for both parties. They couldn’t afford to break it off from him because existing would become a living hell, and he couldn’t change his mind for any reason because it would be the same as killing them.
What kind of marriage was one built upon such fragile pillars? How could they be happy when every fight was tempered by the threat of the end of everything? What about Sahari? Could she ever pursue her own life with Nalah when she had the bond shackling her to him? How long until that became a stinging poison, rotting away the veins and arteries of her psyche? How long until death became preferable to being around him?
A strong impact to his stomach winded him, though the unnoticed hyperventilating left him little to eject as he fell to his knees. Violet clicked in surprise, the wolves backing away at the unexpected violence.
He coughed, sputtering spittle as he fought the urge to evacuate his breakfast. A pained glance up revealed Sahari still clutching a fist, her expression just as hurt.
“You hear my words and twist them, Joseph,” she chastised softly, crouching to look at him better. “We pledged our lives to you. Not because we had no choice, but because we believed you to be our future. From that moment on, our desire was to remain with you.” Her voice grew weak, almost pleading. She placed her forehead to his, the contact an intimate touch. “Your experiences may suggest our bond a prison, but for us, it is an ambrosia for our soul. It completes us like no equal. Jax and Harrow care for you immensely, Nalah and myself owe you everything that we are, and your mates will fight the Hunt Mother herself if it would mean even one more sun with you.”
He found himself speechless, wading through the emotions behind her words a syllable at a time. The feeling of Violet pressing into his back in an embrace stung as much as soothed, his mind rejecting the idea, yet so desperate to accept it.
“Do not desecrate our affections because you had been scorned by one who did not see within you that which we covet,” she implored sombrely, raw emotion oozing through the confines of speech. “Though you doubt it, none would know how much value you place in the ‘mark’ of your people more than your mates. If merely thinking about the unlikely event that they refuse tortures you so deeply, than the elation they would share with you when they agree would likely see Pan unable to contain herself for many suns after.”
He stayed on his knees, the warmth surrounding him from both sides seeping within and thawing the frozen excuses he held onto to prevent exposing himself to potential rejection. Every step of the way since he had met them, it had made him fearful of losing their company. At first, the thought of being left alone to brave the planet was too much to bear, but he would try. Now? Now he felt like he understood where the minds of those bonded Lilhuns had been. Even considering being away from his new loved ones pulled at a primal part of himself, each tug stronger than the last, each suggestion fanning the flames barricaded behind morals—the depths he would trudge to see it never come to pass.
Sahari nuzzled into his neck for a moment before parting, a somewhat satisfied smile given towards the emotionally fragile Human they had taken to depending on. He returned his own, though it was tinted with a bit of embarrassment.
Violet stepped back to allow him room to stand, the extended joint of her blade asking to be held like he did with her adoptive mother. His expression softening, he did as requested, lightly rubbing the smooth surface with his thumb. It soothed a part of him to be holding his daughter’s ‘hand’ while they watched the wolves slowly approach the front of their enclosure again, now that the momentary intensity had faded.
With a self-deprecating roll of his eyes, he nodded, promising himself to follow through with his small wish the next time the chance revealed itself. It didn’t need to be perfect, but it would be nice if it was at least private. The dull ache in his stomach would be a reminder not to second guess himself anyway.
The wolves yipped, ignoring Sahari as they moved towards the other corner. Joseph glanced at where they were focused, his curious gaze replaced by surprise, then shock.
Raine supported Faye over her shoulder, the deep gold-furred female’s breath short as she rested her weight over her brown-furred counterpart, their black leather coats dripping water onto the floor as it wrapped tightly around them, concealing their armour. A steady trickle of blood flowed from a long gash on Faye’s leg, her free arm clutching across her breast to keep her coat closed.
Without waiting for either to speak, he ran to pick up the Wraith, slinging her across his shoulders and tearing off to the base. He could barely hear Sahari over the rain and his own blood pounding through his ears, his heart hammering in his chest. Though they had established something of a clinic for minor injuries that were sustained constantly, his singular focus was getting Faye into the medbay.
Pack members cleared the way, some jumping to the side as he barrelled through the sparely populated routes between home and workplace. More than one tripped over themselves in shock, the Human never having a reason to go at a full sprint before. He was slower than a Lilhun like this, but he could make it the full distance before them. He didn’t need to slow down.
Harrow pushed open the doors to the hub, her distant expression as she examined thin ironwood tablets perking, his rapid heavy footfalls telling of his arrival before she had the chance to see him. Her eyes lit up, her brows furrowed, and a hurried pull of the door kept it open for him, all in sequence. He didn’t have the spare breath to explain or thank her.
The orange-furred female bolted across the hub, slamming into the crash-bar installed into the facilities wing entrance to force it open, only barely outpacing the Grand Hunter in his rush. She staggered to her feet behind him, rushing to collect herself and assisting in tearing the pants off of the injured female when Joseph laid her on the bed.
Modesty being the least of his concerns, he braced an arm across her pelvis to stop her hips from bucking as Harrow wiped off any dried blood to see the extent of the damage on her thigh.
“What happened?”
He tightened his hold on Faye as his friend tentatively spread the wound to check for debris. “Don’t know. Didn’t ask. Saw her bleeding, rushed her here,” he answered through deep breaths, each strike of his adrenaline-fuelled heart pressing against his lung capacity.
Harrow frowned, grabbing some sterile water to pour over the wound and picking out a stray splinter of wood that looked to be from her missing leg armour. Faye let out a small whine, but didn’t have it in her to talk yet, signs of exhaustion and pain unfocusing her eyes.
The Head of Technology—and current medical expert in the room—pursed her lips against her muzzle. “We need to stitch it. It’s too big for just healroot.”
Joseph nodded, easing his weight off the Wraith and wiping his sweat from his brow. “Pan!”
Noticing the urgency in his voice, he could hear her throw the door to the sewing room wide open and jog to the medbay, her wide eyes steeling as she assessed the situation.
“Idee with you?”
She nodded, ears turned perfectly towards him.
“One of you boil off some palm string, the other sterilize the thinnest quill you can get away stitching a wound closed with. I don’t care who, but we need one of you to close this up.” He glanced at Harrow. “Grab some alcohol. I keep a bit in the closet in my room, next to the old crossbow prototypes. We need to flush this out and kill off anything that might have gotten in.”
The orange-furred female tipped an ear in confusion as Pan took off to do as he asked. “I thought you didn’t have medical-”
“I’ve been around enough workplace injuries, okay? Go!”
His shout jolted her into action, a few steps required to gain traction as she ran out the door. Applying solid pressure to the wound with one hand, he used the other to lightly tap Faye’s cheek.
“Faye? Faye, you with me?”
Her eyes languidly turned to him, slow blinks and meaningless mouthing ceased, a soft smile forming under her pained expression. “Hello, sir.”
He exhaled a relieved huff. “Welcome home, Faye. What happened?”
She seemed confused by his question, glancing down to her leg after a few seconds. With widened eyes, she struggled to sit up, Joseph forcibly pressing her to the bed.
“Stay.”
All resistance disappeared in an instant, her body complying despite the obvious urgency. He hardened his expression.
“What happened?”
She breathed deeper a few times before speaking. Each word was hesitant, as if the memory was hazy and diluted, though he couldn’t tell if it was due to blood loss or exhaustion. “A large grey beast…teeth, large mouth...attacked wolves...”
His brow knitted, Faye’s coat moving. A small whine came from her again…no. Not her.
A small yellow canine head freed itself from the confines of black leather, a weak keening produced from a tiny moss-wolf. Faye looked at him guiltily, a pleading look in her eyes given as she composed herself.
“It lost its parents…”
His protest died in his voice, a distant memory of a wolf being torn in two came to mind. The time before they had even moved to the pod, let alone met the Lilhuns, him and Violet checking snares shortly after his ankle had healed. A time so long ago, yet remained with him under the surface.
“You saved this little guy, huh?” he asked gently, wincing in tandem with her own when he leaned heavier on the massive gash in her thigh. She nodded, averting her eyes. “Did you get the ‘beast?’”
Faye shook her head. “Raine lured it away, but it still remains.”
“That’s fine. You’re back, that’s all that matters right now.”
Harrow bumped into the doorway, failing to shed all of her speed as she returned from fetching a smaller container that Joseph kept in case the rest of the pack burned through their stores of alcohol. Her eyes flicked to the wolf pup before disregarding it to hand him the ethanol. He lifted his hand, Harrow pouring some water to wash off the blood. Volta would be busy later, it seemed.
Gesturing for the orange-furred female to hold the leg down, he poured the alcohol into the wound, grimacing at Faye’s pained gasp. They didn’t have anything for her to bite into, but that would be a future consideration.
Pan and Idee entered the medbay, the former moving like a machine with purpose while the visiting seamstress took a moment to size up the situation. The Paw fetched a tray from the shelf, laying out several strings of softened palm and a few thin quills, threading one and passing it to Idee. The light brown-furred female accepted it, Harrow making room as she stood next to Joseph.
Pan handed him a tough leather strip as wide as his palm. Seems like she saw the problem before he did.
“Open up,” he prodded, placing the leather between Faye’s teeth. “This is going to fucking suck. We don’t have anything to numb you, so you need to stay as still as possible, okay? I’ll be here the whole time.”
The Wraith nodded, staring at him for a moment before closing her eyes in acceptance, her grip on the pup firming.
“Want me to take the wolf?”
She lightly shook her head, him exhaling hesitantly in response. Idee readied herself, looking to him for confirmation, Pan holding Faye’s ankle flat to the bed.
“You’re good,” he responded, pressing an arm to Faye’s chest and hips to hold her down.
The deep gold-furred female managed a quiet muffled groan of pain as the quill pierced her flesh.
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He entered the hub, dropping himself on the couch and ignoring the sweat on his brow. He had only just managed to get the blood off of his hands after Idee finished, but it was still staining his clothing. Pan was off to rinse it out of her fur while Faye slept off her exhaustion. As far as they could tell, she had avoided any infection thanks to Raine half-dragging the female back to them as quickly as she did. The wolf pup was staying with her for now, since—even in her sleep—she refused to let it go. The little guy didn’t seem to be complaining, so they just left it where it was comfortable. Ferra would be by later to check it out, apparently, and he didn’t see a reason to complain; she was their animal expert.
Scarlet offered him some tea, the warm liquid whetting his pallet that had since dried. Sahari had checked on them during the process, leaving to keep anyone who had questions in the loop. Given that half the damn pack either saw or heard about the Grand Hunter running like a bat out of hell, pretty much everyone was worried. Either about some urgent threat that might befall them, or about one of the quiet servants they had grown used to seeing around.
Looked like the Wraiths had taken to offering small services and assistance to people who needed it when they didn’t have anything better to do, so the pack was curious about what had happened. It was a small blessing that the usual armour they wore when ‘on duty’ was covered by the cloaks, otherwise he would have more questions coming that he didn’t want answered.
Raine stood a few paces in front of him, her bowed posture holding a hint of fear under his unwavering stare. He waited for whoever else was going to show up for the report, Tel and Pan insisting that they be involved. Harrow followed behind the two entering from the facilities wing, either because she had gotten wrapped up in the whole thing, or because she wanted to be included.
Pan sat to his left, Tel taking a place behind him to remain standing. Harrow surprised him, her recently elusive presence firmly displaced as she dropped onto the couch to his right, her tail curling around his calf—not that she seemed to notice.
Given that both Tel and Pan trapped a limb or two with their tails regularly, he didn’t stop to put thought into it, the encapsulating appendage crossing him as a common occurrence.
“I don’t know how accurate it was, since she’s still pretty out of it, but Faye said one of those grey bear-deathtraps attacked some wolves before she stepped in to save the pup,” he opened, glancing at Scarlet. The almost black red-furred female was maintaining a surprisingly commanding presence, her attention laser-focused on Raine. The brown-furred Wraith kept her gaze fixed to the floor, too ashamed or nervous to move it.
“I apologize for her error in her stead,” she announced, the slightest of grip in her folded paws digging her claws into her skin. “The fault is also mine for not preventing her misstep. I will accept any punishment for our mistake.”
He exhaled heavily. “I’m not mad that you guys had an original thought, Raine. I’m worried about those iron-maiden-looking fucks being around again, and I’m concerned about you getting hurt.”
“Of course, sir. Forgive me for the arrogance of assuming your priorities.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, Pan squeezing his thigh in support. Tel rested her head on his, the weight somehow comforting despite the grin at his annoyance. “We can talk about not getting yourselves killed later. Are you injured at all?”
Raine’s ear twitched. “No, sir. I am whole.”
“Good,” he sighed, nodding lightly. “That’s good. Faye’s patched up for now, but she’ll be under observation to keep on top of any possible infection. How did the ‘mission’ go?”
The Wraith perked up a bit, the conversation moving away from her perceived failure. She produced a satchel, pulling a rather thick stack of tablets from it and passing them to Scarlet, the latter ferrying them to Harrow. He thought it was an odd choice, but the orange-furred female started giving him an abbreviated translation of the text.
Line after line of transactions. What was offered and received, any debts and who owed them, as well as small notes about what should be brought next time. It was a comprehensive copy of the ledger that the trading caravan kept. His brows raised at the sheer density of information, and for them getting it from something he was only partially sure existed.
“You managed to get this much?” he asked in disbelief. “Jesus. Were you caught?”
Raine shook her head. “If we were to be seen by them, we would be nothing more than a stain against our Blademaster.”
Compliment or boasting, doing this much was damn impressive. Especially with just the two of them.
“Shit. Well, good fucking job, I guess,” he managed, still reeling a bit from the unintended scope of the task. Harrow continued to dig through the report, though stopped voicing it aloud. Joseph turned his attention back to the Wraith. “Anything else of note? Rumours?”
The Wraith grew pensive. “Though we returned partially through their return trip to Grand Hunter Pernel, we did overhear some conversations. There were discussions of other packs simply no longer occupying their settlements.”
He leaned forward in his seat, dislodging Tel as his elbows rested against his knees. “What do you mean?”
“Some of their usual trade locations were purportedly burned down, others merely abandoned. A few were apparently littered with corpses,” she explained more steadily. “From what we could gather, the reason they came to trade with our settlement at all is that the others along the way were in such states. It seems they intended to restock and head back out immediately to accommodate the loss in trading partners.”
He bit his lip as he thought about it, letting himself fall back against the couch.
“What do you guys think of it?” he asked with a glance to his mates. Pan seemed to be mirroring his own apprehension openly, while Tel kept a more serious expression.
“I believe there is something larger happening,” Tel concluded, taking a few seconds before returning to using him as a headrest. Pan nodded her agreement, but didn’t have much to add to it otherwise.
“It would explain how desperate they were for food,” he mused aloud, raising a brow when Harrow shifted to lean against him, one foot placed on the edge of the seat forcing the posture. “Any details of interest, Harrow?”
The orange-furred female jolted, only just stopping from moving her foot back to the floor before committing to using him as a backrest. She turned back-on fully, stretching her legs over the remainder of the seat and placing tablets she had finished with on her lap.
“It didn’t take very long for the methods you sold to propagate,” she responded, holding up a few of the tablets before laying them in their own pile. “Looks like Pernel has been spreading it around by buying some from places that have bows and snares to sell where they don’t.”
“Supply and demand, or arming people with the tools that would help them survive?”
“Hard to trade with the dead,” Harrow commented dryly, starting a new pile. He nodded in exaggerated fashion.
“What about the Atmo?”
She tapped the small stack she just started. “I’m trying to separate these by inventory type. Give me a bit.”
Deciding to trust the woman in charge of managing this kind of thing while she was on the ship, he glanced back to Raine, the female easily mistaken for a statue if not for the subtle sway of her breathing. “The grey-bear-thing. How far away is it?”
“Too close,” she responded firmly. “We did not get a chance to verify their numbers, but there was evidence of at least that singular beast making our territory its hunting ground.”
“Fuck,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “We’re going to need to hunt that thing down.”
Pan looked worried at the prospect, Harrow stiffened in her sorting. The Wraiths were the only ones who seemed completely at ease with the suggestion, Tel not so much as twitching. Harrow laid down the tablets she had yet to categorize, her gaze aimed at her lap.
“Joe, don’t think that taking one out is easy.”
“We have ranged weapons and more than a few people who can use them,” he pointed out with a breath. “Ideally, we go as a larger hunting party and take the damn thing down through sheer volume of fire.”
“Their skin is tough,” Harrow replied with a shake of her head, her ears pivoting back towards him. “I don’t know if our bows could pierce it as easily as we might like.”
He furrowed his brow. “So, what? Let it close in until it eats everything and starves us out? Until it thinks we look tasty?”
“I don’t know. I’m just saying that this won’t be as simple as firing a few arrows and patting ourselves on the back for a job well done.”
Joseph felt the stiffness of his brow start to hurt from how tight they were knitted. A deep breath centred his thoughts. “We’ll arrange an armoured hunting party soon. Better to take it down before it becomes an issue.”
The orange-furred female nodded, quickly leafing through the remaining tablets and only pulling two more out for the pile she indicated earlier.
“Here,” she said, tapping the stack. “These are records for trading Atmo.”
He suppressed the sigh when he genuinely tried to read the mess they called a language. “How many? Who bought them?”
She hesitated, reforming the copy of the ledger—sans the relevant tablets—and placing it on the floor. The remainder in paw, she held them up over her shoulder, Tel accepting it and going over the contents with an interested tilt of her head.
“From what I can see here, Pernel traded two hundred.”
“Two…” he squeaked, his eyes wide. “Two hundred?”
She nodded, pacing around the couch to stop in front of Pan. “It seems others heard of his willingness to barter for them. He accepted quite a few deals before selling them off again.”
“To who?”
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The door to the ship closed with a hiss, Willin shaking his head at Nav’s questioning gaze. “Nothing.”
Tech removed her CARDs, storing them in the weapons locker before shrugging off her AMR to place in its own unit. “Nothing living, anyway.”
“That bad?” Nav asked, deflating after yet another failed attempt to contact a settlement. The dark green-furred male stored his rifle, seating it into its receptacle with a click.
“Tell Comms to add another eighty to the count.”
“Four hundred eighty-two,” the purple-furred female supplied as she walked past Nav to enter the ship proper. Willin followed after, hanging his pistol holster on the side of his chair as he dropped into it.
“Thirty were covered in wounds, twenty or so were executed, twenty-five looked to have died of accumulated trauma, and the rest were found with singular cuts to the throat.”
“Not quite,” Tech remarked, interfacing with the systems. “Only eight of the ‘executed’ seem to have been done up close.”
“Sniper?” Comms asked as he entered the room, nodding his greetings and taking a seat at his station. Nav crossed their arms and leaned against the doorway as Tech Ops ran some numbers on her screen.
“Wounds are consistent with Anti Material Rifles, and debris suggest they took the ‘material’ part into consideration with their shots. There were a few holes in the buildings that didn’t quite get removed by the fires.”
“Covering evidence?” Willin mused aloud, receiving a thoughtful shake of her head.
“No, I don’t think so. My guess is that the buildings were already on fire when they did it, based on the splinters around the exit holes.”
Comms’ eyes widened in surprise. “Shooting through a burning building? That is rather impressive.”
“Blades?” Nav suggested. “Avalon is required to act against those who break the treaty, no?”
“Maybe,” Tech allowed tentatively. “If it was them, then that would explain the lack of targets.”
Willin scratched at his ear, furrowing his brow as Comms ran another scan for any communications being made. Though a few suns had passed since they had unwittingly agreed to involve themselves in what was likely the first case of war that this planet had ever seen, nothing was being sent anywhere. Regardless, the male kept the scans regular, just in case.
Nav switched the foot they were resting on. “Why not just dispose of everyone breaking the treaty?”
“Maybe they did,” Comms commented, turning back to the conversation as the program ran in the background. “Blades typically function under strict conditions. If they removed anyone who was commanding the hostile action, then they did as required of them. The moment the attack stopped, they completed the terms of the treaty.”
“Or if the Grand Hunter here surrendered and allowed their pack to be subsumed,” Willin proposed, the others glancing at him in curiosity. He waved a paw dismissively. “If everyone in the conflict becomes a single pack, then any fighting from those who still disagree with it is now an internal dispute, thus outside of the purview of the Blades. Check the notes on Grand Hunter Toril and High Hunter Bratik.”
Tech’s eyes unfocused for a moment as she accessed the system. “Avalon is forbidden from interfering with internal politics. Toril was sheltered by Bratik. Since Bratik was from outside of Toril’s pack, it counted as acting against their right to manage their own affairs. Hasen was given a perfect reason to take over, and it forced Grand Hunter Trill to exile the both of them to adhere.” She looked around the room aimlessly as she thought, her eyes snapping to Willin when he spoke.
“And a perfect loop-hole to exploit. Toril loses his supporters, Trill loses a member of his command structure, and Hasen rises in power while leaving Avalon to grit their teeth.” He shook his head, both impressed and disgusted. “Once he attacks another pack, he just forces a vassalage and subsequently executes the new High Hunter for whatever reason he wants. The Blades can’t act on a technicality.”
“So Grand Hunter Pernel….”
Willin nodded at Comms' unfinished question. “In the count.”
“There was a bit of a weird holding area,” Tech added after a moment. “Seemed like somewhere to hold livestock, but even then, it was a bit big. I’m not sure what used to be there, but tracks suggest carts left with whatever it was not long before everything went down, so probably a trade caravan.”
“Well, at least someone made it out,” Nav sighed, pushing off the wall to resume their station. “Where are we going next?”
Willin toyed with the odd silver tablet in his paw, the two unrecognizable scripts curious and alien. “The only pack left before we see what all the fuss is about. Let’s pay a visit to Grand Huntress Sunundra. Hopefully she knows something we don’t.”
Next
A/N: Been a while since we’ve had a proper A/N, huh. Welp, here’s this one. Patreon is currently set to ‘per post’ because i made the account ages ago. Waiting on support to help me switch it to monthly, then I’ll post the Silva render i have. RR is at 30k views and 100 followers.
Figured I’d ask how you guys are liking this arc, hows Willin’s team coming across, etc.
Final note: I’m thinking about rewriting the first ‘book’ so i can get it edited and published! Problem: i have no fucking clue where to cut book 1, and editors are expensive. Where should book 1 end? All i know is that I’d prob end up adding extra chapters to it, as well as lengthening the OG chaps. RR is a ‘touch-up’, not a final product, so those don’t count!
2023.06.05 07:36 scarlet2248 Wedding Venue in The US: Our Recommendation Part II
Popular wedding venues in the western and central states were featured in Part 1 of US wedding venues. So in part two, we'll focus on wedding venues in the eastern states. Whether it's a luxurious hotel, a rustic barn, or a spacious meadow, all are included. Again, the features of these venues and the approximate prices will be written. Let's explore these beautiful wedding venues!
📷
(Hildene - The Lincoln Family Home)
Finally, we've rounded up our recommendations for wedding venues in each of the remaining states. Choosing the perfect wedding venue is an important step in creating your dream wedding. It sets the tone for the entire celebration and provides the backdrop for your special day. No matter what style of wedding venue you prefer, there is a venue above that perfectly suits your style and preferences.
Last but not least, don't forget to check out Quictent's wedding tent. we offer quality wedding tents for your outdoor wedding, containing various types and sizes.
submitted by scarlet2248 to u/scarlet2248 [link] [comments]
Wisconsin Wedding Venues
The Paine Art Center and Gardens
This is an art museum located at 1410 Algoma Blvd, Oshkosh. It is an English-style country estate and has nearly four acres of gardens. It has perennial plants and is a great outdoor ceremony venue. Also, there is a historic mansion, charming carriage house, and greenhouse. The venue can accommodate up to 200 people and costs approximately $3000 to $4000 For 100 Guests.The Lageret
This is a professional event venue located at 515 E Main St, Stoughton. This historic venue offers industrial and rustic charm with exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and wood beams. It has ample space for ceremonies and receptions. The venue offers event coordination, customizable lighting options, a bridal suite, and access to preferred vendors. Accommodations for up to 250 people start at $3,500 for a 12-hour rental.The Enchanted Barn
Located at 1543 6 1/2 Ave, Hillsdale, this barn has an old-world rustic atmosphere around every corner. Featuring several indoor and outdoor venues, one of the most popular ceremony locations is located in Barn's upper-level Hayloft, featuring old wood timbers. Several wedding package options are available here and can accommodate up to 220 people. Off-season all-inclusive wedding packages are $5,000 plus $21 per person.Illinois Wedding Venues
Danada House
This is a historic mansion located at 3S501 Naperville Rd, Wheaton. a short drive from Chicago. The mansion is also surrounded by a forest preserve that allows for nature-filled photos. There are seven ceremony locations in total, and the largest Magnolia Garden can accommodate up to 300 guests. Venue rentals start at $3,500.The Morton Arboretum
This is a public nature garden and outdoor museum located at 4100 IL-53, Lisle. Inside there are not only mature trees and flowers but also a playground for children. Offering beautiful woodland and lakeside views. The large garden has a total of 12 venues to choose from and the largest room can accommodate up to 300 guests. Prices range from $600 to $9,000 depending on the size of the room and the time of year it is held.Salvage One
Located at 1840 W Hubbard St, Chicago, this is a very unique location that serves as a store besides being a wedding venue. It preserves treasured furniture from the past. This old Chicago warehouse offers an enchanting vintage atmosphere. The ceremony and banquet space can accommodate about 200 people and space rentals start at $4,000.Kentucky Wedding Venues
The Barn at Cedar Grove
The address is 1000 Brockman Keltner Rd, Greensburg, which has a rustic barn setting with picturesque scenery. Offering outdoor ceremony space, climate-controlled reception space, bridal suite, groom's quarters, and fire pit. The venue in the barn can accommodate up to 230 people. For fewer guests, the average budget for a wedding here is between $6,000 and $9,000.The Brown Hotel
This 100-year-old hotel is located at 335 W Broadway, Louisville. The hotel has a striking Georgian Revival look and offers elegant ballrooms, luxurious accommodations, and a gorgeous rooftop garden. The hotel also has extensive experience in hosting weddings of different cultures, such as Jewish and Indian weddings. Prices are $18,000 in the off-season and can accommodate up to 300 guests.Talon Winery & Vineyards
This winery has a large outdoor space at 7086 Tates Creek Rd, Lexington. Offers vineyard and winery backdrop, outdoor ceremony space, and rustic barn. The best part is the wine-tasting and vineyard tours. The venue can accommodate up to 250 guests and prices for ceremonies start at $1500.Tennessee Wedding Venues
Butterfly Hollow
Located at 28 Bussell Rd, Gordonsville, our vacation accommodations are perfect for small weddings. Surrounded by scenic walking trails, mountains, and woods. This venue specializes in small weddings of 30 people or less, with a focus on an intimate and cozy experience. Wedding packages range from $1795 to $5000.Dixon Gallery and Gardens
An art gallery on 17 acres of gardens located at 4339 Park Ave, Memphis, offers a romantic and artistic setting for weddings. The gallery offers two indoor reception venues as well as woodlands and gardens, both of which can accommodate up to 200 guests. Prices are approximately $4000 to $5000 For 100 guests.The Bell Tower
The Bell Tower, located at 400 4th Ave S, Nashville, is almost 140 years old. The ballroom features large windows that provide plenty of natural light, creating a charming and historic setting for weddings. There are two floors beside the lobby. Seated dinners for up to 400 people range from $3,500 to $16,000 depending on time and venue.Mississippi Wedding Venues
The Cedars
The site at 4145 Old Canton Rd, Jackson is the oldest residential building in Jackson, with a history of 175 years. The courtyard in front of the house with trees such as cedar, oak, and magnolia provides a natural backdrop for weddings. The venue can accommodate up to 300 people and costs $3,500 for a two-day weekend rental.Dunleith Historic Inn
A National Historic Landmark located at 84 Homochitto St, Natchez, the mansion features Greek Revival columns and original pine floors. The event space has a main floor, courtyard, and South Lawn, which can accommodate up to 700 people. Wedding packages start at $6,500, not including catering.The Gin at Flora Station
The address is 4819 MS-22, Flora. The refurbished cotton gin blends rustic charm with modern amenities. It offers indoor and outdoor spaces, including a covered gazebo and a patio with an old-fashioned truck bar. Rentals for ceremonies and receptions start at $3,500.Alabama Wedding Venues
B&A Warehouse
This building, located at 1531 1st Ave S, Birmingham, is historic from the outside. With its industrial-inspired design and high ceilings along with red brick walls. Three indoor venues can accommodate up to 300 guests, and the cost of a ceremony starts at $4,000.The Sterling Castle
This castle is located at 389 Deseret Dr, Shelby, and has been voted the best wedding venue in Alabama. The fairytale-style castle, elegant ballroom, charming courtyard, and lakeside and drawbridge venues. This beautiful venue can accommodate up to 300 guests and all-inclusive weddings are priced at $10,000+.Huntsville Museum of Art
This is an art museum located at 300 Church St SW, Huntsville. With unique indoor and outdoor spaces, the museum is a contemporary art gallery. Offering outdoor spaces with a rooftop terrace, and five indoor hospitality venues. The starting venue fee for a wedding reception in high season is $1,500.Michigan Wedding Venues
Colony Club Detroit
Located at 2310 Park Ave, Detroit, this Georgian-style, historic venue features stunning architecture and gorgeous interiors. The hotel features a grand ballroom decorated with crystal chandeliers and intricate details. The ballroom can accommodate up to 350 guests and is priced between $12,000 and $15,000.Castle Farms
This historic building, built in 1918, is located at 5052 M-66, Charlevoix. With a total of four site combinations in the summer. It offers several ceremony and reception spaces, including a charming outdoor garden and a majestic stone courtyard. The largest of these, the East Garden and Queen's Courtyard can host up to 300 guests. And the price range is between $6,750 and $9,250.The Inn at Stonecliffe
This is a Victorian village located at 8593 Cudahy Cir, Mackinac Island. away from the hustle and bustle of the area. With beautiful gardens and breathtaking views of Lake Huron and the Mackinaw Bridge. Accommodates up to 300 people and prices range from $4000 to $10,000.Ohio Wedding Venues
Franklin Park Conservatory
This is a horticultural and educational institution located at 1777 E Broad St, Columbus. The most popular venue is the indoor garden with an all-glass ceiling. Besides, there is an industrial-style venue and a 200-year-old barn. The venue has plenty of space and can accommodate up to 500 people, with prices ranging from $7,000 to $11,000 for a wedding of 100 guests.The Columbus Athenaeum
The historic building at 32 N 4th St, Columbus, was built in 1899. With a total of ten venues to choose from, the Grand Ballroom boasts gorgeous details and a stunning atrium. It is decorated with classical Greek art as well as soaring ornate ceilings. It can accommodate up to 230 guests. Prices for receptions start at $3,000.Gervasi Vineyard
An oversized wine estate located at 1700 55th St NE, Canton. Picturesque vineyard setting and sparkling lake views. The open-air venue can accommodate up to 300 people, while the indoor venue can accommodate up to 120 guests. Full-service event planning, vineyard tours, and wine tastings are available. Prices for receptions will start at $1,450.Georgia Wedding Venues
Barnsley Resort
This resort is located at 597 Barnsley Gardens Rd NW, Adairsville. With over 3,000 acres of land, it is a historic southern estate. With lush gardens, luxurious cabins, and grounds that can accommodate up to 250 people. Three wedding packages are available: $275 per person, $320 per person, and $350 per person. And a least of 150 people is required.Summerour Studio
This is a renovated warehouse located at 409 Bishop St NW, Atlanta. The roof is supported by massive bow trusses, which allow for a spacious, open floor plan without columns or supports. Through a wall of windows running the length of the space, there are breathtaking views of Atlantic Station and the downtown skyline. Accommodating up to 425 people, prices start at $4,000.The Biltmore Ballrooms
The ballroom is located at 817 W Peachtree St NW 208, Atlanta, and was established in 1924. The ballroom features a handcrafted plaster relief ceiling, ornate crystal lighting, and a marble floor. Capacity ranges from 50 to 1,500 people and offers eleven caterers. Rental rates range from $3,500 to $5,000, depending on the day of the week.Florida Wedding Venues
The Ancient Spanish Monastery
Located at 16711 W Dixie Hwy, North Miami Beach. This monastery was dismantled piece by piece from northern Spain and shipped to the United States, then rebuilt over 19 months. It offers a chapel and gardens for ceremonies. The garden can accommodate up to 300 guests for $6,500 and includes only the cost of the reception.The Breakers Palm Beach
This is a luxury resort located at 1 S County Rd, Palm Beach. This luxury resort is located in Palm Beach and enjoys magnificent beachfront views, lush gardens, and an exquisite ballroom. It boasts a timeless and elegant ambiance. It can host weddings for a maximum of less than 500 people, and detailed prices need to be communicated with the hotel.The Ringling Museum
The museum is located at 5401 Bay Shore Rd, Sarasota, with a breathtaking view of Sarasota Bay. This venue offers unique views of art, culture, and the stunning waterfront. It includes many event spaces, including a large courtyard and an elegant ballroom. The largest art gallery courtyard can accommodate up to 125 guests and prices start at $20,000.New York Wedding Venues
Mohonk Mountain House
Located at 1000 Mountain Rest Rd, New Paltz, this historic resort is surrounded by 40,000 acres of pristine forest. Featuring a majestic Victorian castle with panoramic mountain views. Choose from lakeside, garden, and mountain views for your ceremony. Wedding packages range from $275 to $375 per person.The Foundry
The address is 42-38 9th Street, Long Island City, with a history dating back to the 19th century. Offering an industrial chic atmosphere, a garden courtyard and conservatory, a stunning main space, plus rustic interiors. Accommodates up to 180 guests, with receptions starting at $14,000.The Garrison
Estate at 2015 US-9, Garrison, with superb Hudson River views and Catskill Mountain views. The venue offers a modern ballroom, outdoor ceremony space, and golf course. The venue can accommodate up to 200 guests for $12,000.Pennsylvania Wedding Venues
The Curtis Atrium
The historic building at 699 Walnut St, Philadelphia used to be the Curtis Publishing Company. It is now a building with a mix of residential, office, and retail space. It features a stunning atrium, marble columns, and a stunning rotunda. Space rentals start at $8,000.The Cork Factory Hotel
This boutique hotel is located at 480 New Holland Ave 3000, Lancaster, a converted historic cork mill with exposed brick walls. Offering industrial charm and modern amenities. The venue has a ballroom, a terrace, and a 2,300-square-foot warehouse. Space is available for up to 200 guests, and wedding packages start at $7,000.Terrain Gardens at Devon Yard
A stunning garden is located at 138 W Lancaster Ave Suite 130, Devon. The venue is decorated with elements such as reclaimed barn wood floors, raised holiday lights, and skylights to create a unique aesthetic. Of course, there is an essential gardening setting and open-air venue that can accommodate up to 140 guests. Prices for receptions start at $4,525.West Virginia Wedding Venues
Stonewall Resort
The entire resort is nestled beside a tranquil lake at 940 Resort Drive Roanoke, a place of scenic beauty and rustic charm. Wedding venues are available on the lakeside lawn or in the courtyard, with an indoor grand hall and stone-walled ballroom. Spa services, golf courses, and entertainment can also be experienced with wedding packages ranging from $3,500 to $12,000.The Greenbrier
A luxury resort located at 101 W Main St, White Sulphur Springs. With stunning architecture, beautiful gardens, and breathtaking mountain views. The indoor venue has a dramatic chandelier and stage. The outdoor grounds feature expansive lawns and rustic cabins. Packages start at $10,000 and vary depending on the number of guests, season, and customization.Sleepy Hollow Golf Club
The Club at 3780 Sleepy Hollow Dr, Hurricane. It is a private golf club for families. Featuring a scenic golf course, elegant ballroom, outdoor lawn ceremony venue, and picturesque countryside views. Wedding packages start at $3,500.Virginia Wedding Venues
Maymont
Historic Manor River Park at 1700 Hampton St, Richmond. Inside are gardens, botanical gardens, and native wildlife habitats. The scenic setting includes 100-year-old Italian gardens, European-style manor houses, pavilions, expansive lawns, and the Robbins Nature Center. Prices range from $3,500 to $6,100.Inn At Willow Grove
This is a rustic accommodation located at 14079 Plantation Way, Orange. It is unusually peaceful and romantic, surrounded by ancient trees and beautiful gardens. One of the gardens, Boxwood, can accommodate up to 175 guests and offers idyllic views. A versatile barn is also available as a hospitality venue, with rates starting at $7,500.The Tides Inn
Located at 480 King Carter Dr, Irvington, the entire hotel is situated on a beautiful body of water with views of the Chesapeake Bay. It is a waterfront resort. You can also come here to take part in fun activities such as tennis, golf, paddle boarding, biking, and kayaking. Weddings start at $3,100.North Carolina Wedding Venues
The Bradford
Professional wedding venue located at 523 Pea Ridge Rd, New Hill. It resembles a European town building with charming gardens and rustic barns. It can accommodate up to 250 guests for a ceremony in the gardens. Wedding packages will vary depending on the time of year and are priced at $8,000 on Fridays and $9,800 on Saturdays.The Merrimon-Wynne House
The mansion located at 500 N Blount St, Raleigh was built in 1876 and has been well maintained and is now a venue for various events. The building has a main floor full of Southern charm. Inside are original floors and mantelshelves, ornate chandeliers, and a wide porch. The outdoor area is also large enough to host ceremonies in the garden and can accommodate up to 250 guests. Prices for receptions start at $5,000.Fearrington Village
It's an English-style country hotel located at 2000 Fearrington Village Center. Besides the quaint country setting there are dense gardens with water features. The largest venue is the barn, which offers spacious dining and dancing space and can accommodate up to 250 people guests. Prices for ceremonies start at $2500.South Carolina Wedding Venues
Middleton Place
This National Historic Landmark is located at 4300 Ashley River Rd, Charleston. You can experience daily life on an 18th-century plantation and enjoy 65 acres of unobstructed views and private garden rooms. Also, enjoy the oldest landscaped gardens on the property. There are 7 ceremony venues, ranging from small weddings of 50 to 400 guests. Prices start at $5,000.William Aiken House
The 1807 mansion is located at 456 King St, Charleston, a restored mansion that showcases Southern charm and architectural elegance. The yard features a magnolia tree that is over two hundred years old and an elegant terrace. It is also rated as one of South Carolina's premier wedding venues. The cost of a ceremony starts at $3,000.The Cedar Room
Modern industrial event space at 701 E Bay St, Charleston. Featuring exposed brick walls, high ceilings, and large windows overlooking the cityscape. The indoor Cedar Room venue can accommodate up to 500 people for events, and the outdoor yard can seat up to 200. Events on Fridays or Sundays start at $3,500.Vermont Wedding Venues
Inn at Mountain View Farm
The Inn at 3383 Darling Hill Rd, East Burke, has breathtaking mountaintop views. Enjoy mountain biking, cross-country skiing, and visits to animal farms, among many other activities. Venues can range from beautiful fields to cozy campfires. Weekend wedding packages start at $3,500.Hildene - The Lincoln Family Home
The building at 1005 Hildene Rd, Manchester is full of meaning. The Lincolns built Hildene as a summer home at the turn of the 20th century. Here you can look out over the Taconic Mountains to the west and the Green Mountains to the east. The outdoor venue can accommodate up to 200 people and wedding reception prices start at $8,000.📷
(Hildene - The Lincoln Family Home)
The Henry House
The historic house at 1338 Murphy Rd, North Bennington, built in 1769, is one of the oldest surviving houses in Vermont. Overlooks the authentic red-covered Henry Bridge. The site offers several vendors for you to consider. The large trees outside the house make for the best wedding photos. The venue needs to be contacted for a specific quote.Massachusetts Wedding Venues
The Crane Estate
This is a Tudor Revival mansion located at 290 Argilla Rd, Ipswich. It was the summer home of Mr. and Mrs. Richard Taylor Crane, Jr. with winding salt marshes, miles of barrier beaches, and a beautiful hilltop mansion. And of course the rolling lawns and gardens. There are three sites to choose from in all, with the beachfront site accommodating 200 to 500 people. Weekend weddings are priced at $6500.Red Lion Inn
The Inn at 30 Main St, Stockbridge has a 250-year history. The entire Inn combines traditional New England hospitality with the amenities of a modern hotel. The largest Hitchcock room capacity is capacity 30-175 people. Venue rentals start at $4,000.Liberty Hotel
A sophisticated hotel located at 215 Charles St, Boston. Located in the heart of downtown, just steps from shopping, dining, Boston Parks, and more. The hotel offers a private secret garden that can accommodate up to 200 people outdoors and an indoor 3000-square-foot ballroom. Wedding venue rates start at $26,000 for up to 100 guests.Connecticut Wedding Venues
The Lace Factory
This historic factory is located at 161 River St, Deep River, and offers a charming and rustic atmosphere for a wedding venue. It has wood floors, high ceilings, and large windows overlooking the river. The Lace Factory offers event planning services, on-site catering, and a variety of rental options for weddings of all sizes. The Factory can accommodate up to 225 people and prices start at $5,000.Eolia Mansion at Harkness State
The address is 275 Great Neck Rd, Waterford. Nestled on the shoreline of Waterford, Connecticut, this elegant mansion offers breathtaking views of Long Island Sound. It has manicured gardens, a stone terrace, and a beautiful ballroom. The price of $5,100 includes exclusive use of the mansion's first floor and south courtyard tent for 5 hours.The Society Room of Hartford
This event venue is located at 31 Pratt St, Hartford, and the historic venue boasts magnificent architecture. It includes a marble staircase, beautifully frescoed ceilings, and crystal chandeliers. It provides a luxurious and timeless setting for weddings. The venue can accommodate up to 300 guests and prices start at 15,000.New Hampshire Wedding Venues
Wentworth By The Sea Country Club
Country Club at 60 Wentworth Rd, Rye. This private club is near the shore and enjoys magnificent waterfront views and a romantic atmosphere. The hotel has manicured grounds and a historic clubhouse. It can accommodate up to 250 guests in this setting. Three options are available: lawn, clubhouse, and tent weddings. Reception prices start at $30,000.The Preserve at Chocorua
This venue, located at 88 Philbrick Neighborhood Rd, Tamworth, is a rustic and secluded wedding venue nestled in the White Mountains. It offers scenic views, a charming barn, and plenty of outdoor space for the ceremony. Outdoor activities such as sleigh rides and hiking are also available. Approximate prices will start at $1000.Bishop Farm
The Farmhouse, located at 33 Bishop Cutoff, Lisbon, is a historic and beautifully landscaped site in the White Mountains. It offers a restored 1876 farmhouse, a barn, and lush greenery. There is also a romantic bistro with a terrace to relax in. Accommodating up to 200 guests, prices start at $15,000.Rhode Island Wedding Venues
The Chanler at Cliff Walk
A luxury hotel located at 117 Memorial Blvd, Newport. The Chanler offers luxurious accommodations and a grand mansion setting with stunning views of the Atlantic Ocean and access to their world-class restaurant. Specializing in weddings for up to 120 guests with access to their world-class restaurant. Site rentals start at $10,000.Blithewold Mansion, Gardens & Arboretum
Historic mansion on 33 acres located at 101 Ferry Rd, Bristol with breathtaking views of Narragansett Bay. Large tents are available in the outdoor area, followed by sunset views. Accommodating up to 225 guests, weekend wedding rates start at $12,995.The Dorrance
Situated in the heart of Providence, The Dorrance is a restored bank building with a sophisticated atmosphere and elegant decor. The most special feature is the long, luxurious bar, which can accommodate up to 200 guests throughout the venue. Venue rentals start at $7,500.New Jersey Wedding Venues
The Ashford Estate
Located at 637 Province Line Rd, Allentown, this elegant property is nestled in a picturesque setting. Surrounded by hundreds of acres of beautifully preserved farmland, it features sparkling fountains, waterfalls, garden pavilions, expansive views, and of course, luxurious private suites. The wedding venue can accommodate up to 300 guests. Starting at $10,000.Mallard Island Yacht Club
A club surrounded by water at 1450 NJ-72, Manahawkin. six more venues to choose from in the luxurious private island mansion. The center plaza boasts grand arches and ornate ceilings reminiscent of old-world glamour. The ballroom can accommodate up to 250 people, and prices for receptions start at $20,000.Liberty House Restaurant & Events
This waterfront event venue is located at 76 Audrey Zapp Dr, Jersey City. It features unparalleled views of the New York City skyline, Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, and the Liberty Landing Pier. The Grand Ballroom features a marble floor and floor-to-ceiling windows. The venue can accommodate up to 300 people and venue rental fees start at $8,000.Delaware Wedding Venues
The Queen Wilmington
This dazzling venue is located at 500 N Market St, Wilmington is downtown. It is a historic music venue that offers a unique and eclectic atmosphere. The venue features a grand ballroom with a stage, state-of-the-art sound system, and elegant décor. The venue can accommodate up to 200 guests and wedding reception prices start from $3,000.The Cordrey Center
The address is 30366 Cordrey Rd, Millsboro, and its restored barn and surrounding gardens provide a rustic and charming setting. The venue offers a range of services, including in-house catering, bar service, and event coordination. It has indoor and outdoor options and can accommodate up to 200 guests. Venue rental rates start at $3,500.The Waterfall Catering and Special Events
With an address at 3416 Philadelphia Pike, Claymont, The Waterfall has a modern venue. Centered around a stunning indoor waterfall. The spacious ballroom features contemporary décor and customizable LED lighting systems. The venue can accommodate up to 500 guests. Prices for venue rentals start at $6,000.Maryland Wedding Venues
Belvedere Hotel
Located at 1 East Chase Street and built-in 1902 as a historic landmark in Baltimore, The Belvedere showcases stunning architecture and classic charm. It offers a variety of event spaces, including a rooftop ballroom with panoramic views of the city. Inside, the décor is more vintage and ornate. Accommodating up to 500 guests, venue rentals start at $8,000.Evergreen Museum & Library
This grand Gilded Age mansion is located at 4545 N Charles St, Baltimore. It is full of history with a house museum and research library. With beautiful gardens, this venue offers a mix of elegance and history. It's architectural details and scenic surroundings provide a unique backdrop. As well as a tour of the museum's collection. Accommodates up to 200 guests and starts at $6,000.Chesapeake Bay Beach Club
Located at 500 Marina Club Rd, Stevensville, this venue offers stunning waterfront views and an elegant ballroom. It also has an oceanfront ceremony venue and luxurious accommodations. There are four ballrooms in total, three indoor and one outdoor. Accommodations for up to 300 guests start at $10,000.District of Columbia Wedding Venues
Larz Anderson House
Located at 2118 Massachusetts Ave NW, Washington, the Anderson House, established in 1905, is a stunning Beaux-Arts mansion that offers a romantic and intimate setting for weddings. The venue features beautiful gardens, a grand staircase, and gorgeous rooms decorated with historic artwork. It can accommodate up to 200 guests and has access to the house's magnificent library. Prices start from $8,000.The Hay-Adams
Located at 800 16th St NW, Washington, across from the White House, the hotel offers magnificent views of the iconic landmark. This venue has many event spaces, including a rooftop terrace from which the White House can be used as a photo backdrop. Wedding venues can accommodate up to 250 guests and prices start at $15,000.National Museum of Women in the Arts
Located at 1250 New York Ave NW, Washington, this unique venue celebrates women artists and offers a distinctive setting for weddings. With its stunning architecture and world-class art collection, it provides an exquisite atmosphere for your special day. The venue offers a variety of event spaces, including an assembly hall and mezzanine level, and can accommodate up to 400 guests. However, the museum is temporarily closed for renovations.Maine Wedding Venues
Hidden Pond
The resort's address is 354 Goose Rocks Rd, Kennebunkport, and is nestled in a secluded wooded area. Featuring elegant indoor and outdoor spaces. Surrounded by 60 acres of birch and balsam fir, it features two outdoor pools and a three-room treetop spa. It ensures an unforgettable wedding experience. Prices start from US$10,000.Hardy Farm
The farm is located at 254 W Fryeburg Rd, Fryeburg. This rustic and chic site features a restored 18th-century farmhouse and a spacious barn with panoramic mountain views. Of course, there are also seasonal gardens and a woodland church. The most special feature is the provision of a cable car to reach the top of the mountain, which is also a popular backdrop for photos. It can accommodate up to 250 guests and prices start from $6,500.Portland Regency Hotel & Spa
The address is 20 Milk St, Portland, and is centrally located, offering a blend of classic elegance and modern amenities. With many event spaces, on-site catering, and a spa, it can accommodate intimate and large weddings. Accommodations range from 10 to 220 guests, with rates starting at $3,500.Conclusion
"When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." When Harry Met SallyFinally, we've rounded up our recommendations for wedding venues in each of the remaining states. Choosing the perfect wedding venue is an important step in creating your dream wedding. It sets the tone for the entire celebration and provides the backdrop for your special day. No matter what style of wedding venue you prefer, there is a venue above that perfectly suits your style and preferences.
Last but not least, don't forget to check out Quictent's wedding tent. we offer quality wedding tents for your outdoor wedding, containing various types and sizes.
2023.06.05 03:13 marchives The US position on Taiwan is rational from a realist American perspective
This was written in response to the posts on the potential rationalist merits of the Chinese position on Taiwan to reflect in turn on the potential rationalist merits of the American position. Like all great sweeping geopolitical takes, this was inspired by binge-watching pop television. For anyone bummed out that our modern era only has the risk of global conflict to worry about, rather than the childhood prospects of inter-planetary warfare that Starcraft promised us for our adulthood, I recommend "The Expanse.”
In that show, humanity on Earth and Mars have outsourced the art of war to the comfortably distant territory of the asteroid belt. The Belters eventually unite to resist these outsider-engineered conflicts and one faction comes up with the idea to take the devastation to the inner planets by attacking them. The people of the Belt are so used to the norm of the inner planets being untouchable by retaliation that when this man asks someone to guess at his plan, they can't because it's simply "unimaginable" in his own words: "You still don't see it. Can't even imagine it. This has always been a problem for our kind. Even our dreams are small."
From the American strategic perspective, maintaining its global hegemony serves the objective of similarly keeping such a nightmare idea "unimaginable" in regards to the CONUS, which has successfully escaped the reach of war since the end of their Civil War over a century and a half ago (until it was recently shattered in Spring 2023 by a visit from Goodyear's China office).
Unless a military conflict with China reaches the level of a ICBM/nuclear exchange, it will continue to be "unimaginable." The triumph of American grand strategy is that a PLA plan to invade CONUS has been reduced to being just as unrealistic as the declassified Pentagon plans to invade Canada and defend against aliens. The simple logic of US policy in East Asia is that if you pre-emptively stand in front of your opponent's house and threaten the man from stepping a foot out from his doorstep and enlist his next-door neighbors to oppose their every step down the lawn towards the street in turn, he'll be too preoccupied to ever walk across town to your own street.
This is the simple strategic logic of why the US will not concede its position on Taiwan. American hegemony has created an unprecedented safety net for the CONUS. CONUS has enjoyed this extreme latitude of conventionally untouchable safety for too long to give it up so freely and so, the plain truth is that there is no reason why the US should give away even an inch of its hegemonic presence in the Asia-Pacific in the present circumstance. All those counter-scenarios on the encirclement of China used to point out the unreasonable or hypocritical nature of the US position of "How would you feel if a PLAN naval group sailed off the coast of California in US EEZ" or "How would you feel if a PLA base was across the Rio Grande" are precisely why the US holds its "concede-no-inch" stance, because this policy continues to preserve those scenarios as perpetually hypothetical in nature.
If a war between the two does come, it'll be fought over Taiwan. Even if the US loses, it can simply retreat to the Second Island Chain and so forth. The hypothetical World War III, sans nuclear exchange ,at most would be an existential threat against American hegemony through its hold on the Western Pacific, but not actually America itself. Accomplishing wresting WestPac control from America as a military objective would be both arduous and satisfactory enough for China that it would take (disregarding nukes) a further World War IV for conflict on CONUS to be seriously imaginable as a plausible possibility.
Contrary to popular belief, the abdication of Britain's superpower position to the US was not a voluntary decision based on "It's okay since you're also white," though Brits might now use that to justify it as post-game locker room cope. America coerced Britain's surrender as a result of the latter's weak hand in the middle of World War II and the existential specter of the Battle of Britain as a demand of American Lend Lease (which was more transactional than the "we did this out of the goodness of our hearts for our civilizational Anglo brethren" charity take that worldnews likes to trot out to guilt-trip any Euros whenever they criticize US policy).
The purpose of this tangent is to show that unless a geopolitical scenario arises where China would be able in a position to draw similar concessions from the US, there is no incentive and no rationale for the US to concede from its Taiwan position in the current context.
submitted by marchives to LessCredibleDefence [link] [comments]
In that show, humanity on Earth and Mars have outsourced the art of war to the comfortably distant territory of the asteroid belt. The Belters eventually unite to resist these outsider-engineered conflicts and one faction comes up with the idea to take the devastation to the inner planets by attacking them. The people of the Belt are so used to the norm of the inner planets being untouchable by retaliation that when this man asks someone to guess at his plan, they can't because it's simply "unimaginable" in his own words: "You still don't see it. Can't even imagine it. This has always been a problem for our kind. Even our dreams are small."
From the American strategic perspective, maintaining its global hegemony serves the objective of similarly keeping such a nightmare idea "unimaginable" in regards to the CONUS, which has successfully escaped the reach of war since the end of their Civil War over a century and a half ago (until it was recently shattered in Spring 2023 by a visit from Goodyear's China office).
Unless a military conflict with China reaches the level of a ICBM/nuclear exchange, it will continue to be "unimaginable." The triumph of American grand strategy is that a PLA plan to invade CONUS has been reduced to being just as unrealistic as the declassified Pentagon plans to invade Canada and defend against aliens. The simple logic of US policy in East Asia is that if you pre-emptively stand in front of your opponent's house and threaten the man from stepping a foot out from his doorstep and enlist his next-door neighbors to oppose their every step down the lawn towards the street in turn, he'll be too preoccupied to ever walk across town to your own street.
This is the simple strategic logic of why the US will not concede its position on Taiwan. American hegemony has created an unprecedented safety net for the CONUS. CONUS has enjoyed this extreme latitude of conventionally untouchable safety for too long to give it up so freely and so, the plain truth is that there is no reason why the US should give away even an inch of its hegemonic presence in the Asia-Pacific in the present circumstance. All those counter-scenarios on the encirclement of China used to point out the unreasonable or hypocritical nature of the US position of "How would you feel if a PLAN naval group sailed off the coast of California in US EEZ" or "How would you feel if a PLA base was across the Rio Grande" are precisely why the US holds its "concede-no-inch" stance, because this policy continues to preserve those scenarios as perpetually hypothetical in nature.
If a war between the two does come, it'll be fought over Taiwan. Even if the US loses, it can simply retreat to the Second Island Chain and so forth. The hypothetical World War III, sans nuclear exchange ,at most would be an existential threat against American hegemony through its hold on the Western Pacific, but not actually America itself. Accomplishing wresting WestPac control from America as a military objective would be both arduous and satisfactory enough for China that it would take (disregarding nukes) a further World War IV for conflict on CONUS to be seriously imaginable as a plausible possibility.
Contrary to popular belief, the abdication of Britain's superpower position to the US was not a voluntary decision based on "It's okay since you're also white," though Brits might now use that to justify it as post-game locker room cope. America coerced Britain's surrender as a result of the latter's weak hand in the middle of World War II and the existential specter of the Battle of Britain as a demand of American Lend Lease (which was more transactional than the "we did this out of the goodness of our hearts for our civilizational Anglo brethren" charity take that worldnews likes to trot out to guilt-trip any Euros whenever they criticize US policy).
The purpose of this tangent is to show that unless a geopolitical scenario arises where China would be able in a position to draw similar concessions from the US, there is no incentive and no rationale for the US to concede from its Taiwan position in the current context.
2023.06.04 19:55 The_Purple_Platypus A few weeks ago, Osborne Village BIZ released a list of suggested improvements for the area. Here's a link to the full document. Lots of great ideas in here like widening the sidewalks on Osborne St and removing the right turn slip lane onto River Ave.
Here's a link to the full document which was prepared by the consultants Scatliff+Miller+Murray:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/17pdB5c0XcQPRN5t66pD67DJVorTU71yA/view
And here's some news articles about the plan:
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/osborne-village-pedestrian-scramble-1.6837862
https://winnipeg.ctvnews.ca/pedestrian-scramble-part-of-proposed-new-vision-for-osborne-village-1.6392688
The plan highlights 9 key initiatives to help support local businesses in Osborne Village and ultimately make the neighbourhood more livable:
https://clkapps.winnipeg.ca/DMIS/DocExt/ViewDoc.asp?DocumentTypeId=1&DocId=3303
-The Waterfront: Linking the Village to the River
-The Village Plaza: Supporting the Heart of the Village
-Osborne Street: Restoring a Character Main Street
-The Pedestrian Network: Activating Lanes
-The Village Green: Renewing a Neighbourhood Park
-Connecting Community Facilities: Creating a Neighbourhood Hub
-An Iconic Entry: Building a Gateway
I think the most exciting improvements are widening the sidewalks on Osborne Street, improvements to the plazas where Osborne meets River and Stradbrook, new connections to the Assiniboine River, and improvements to the Osborne Village Green.
To be clear, this isn't an official City of Winnipeg plan, it's just a list of suggested improvements put out by Osborne Village BIZ. But hopefully when the Local Area Plan for Osborne Village (which is from 2006) comes up for renewal, most of these ideas are implemented into the plan.
submitted by The_Purple_Platypus to Winnipeg [link] [comments]
https://drive.google.com/file/d/17pdB5c0XcQPRN5t66pD67DJVorTU71yA/view
And here's some news articles about the plan:
https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/manitoba/osborne-village-pedestrian-scramble-1.6837862
https://winnipeg.ctvnews.ca/pedestrian-scramble-part-of-proposed-new-vision-for-osborne-village-1.6392688
The plan highlights 9 key initiatives to help support local businesses in Osborne Village and ultimately make the neighbourhood more livable:
- Advocate for Secondary Plan Updates
https://clkapps.winnipeg.ca/DMIS/DocExt/ViewDoc.asp?DocumentTypeId=1&DocId=3303
- Advocate for Osborne Street Reconfigurations
- Pursue BIZ Boundary Expansion
- Enhance Neighbourhood Safety
- Develop and Communicate Route and Parking Information
- Advocate for a Public Washroom Strategy
- Review, Enhance and Expand Existing Programming
- Gather, Analyze, and Share Data
- Strategic Placemaking Projects
-The Waterfront: Linking the Village to the River
-The Village Plaza: Supporting the Heart of the Village
-Osborne Street: Restoring a Character Main Street
-The Pedestrian Network: Activating Lanes
-The Village Green: Renewing a Neighbourhood Park
-Connecting Community Facilities: Creating a Neighbourhood Hub
-An Iconic Entry: Building a Gateway
I think the most exciting improvements are widening the sidewalks on Osborne Street, improvements to the plazas where Osborne meets River and Stradbrook, new connections to the Assiniboine River, and improvements to the Osborne Village Green.
To be clear, this isn't an official City of Winnipeg plan, it's just a list of suggested improvements put out by Osborne Village BIZ. But hopefully when the Local Area Plan for Osborne Village (which is from 2006) comes up for renewal, most of these ideas are implemented into the plan.
2023.06.04 17:37 barefootslavegirl01 22 [F4F] submissive female seeking Dominant female for role play
Hi! I’m a 22 year old submissive female, seeking Dominant female for role play.
I play as myself, in first person. I’m 5’ 2” 85 pounds (I’m really petite) B-cup, size 5 feet, long dark blonde hair and brown eyes.
Don’t just send a reply to the starter, say hi and let’s discuss plots and kinks, then we can jump in. Here are some starter plots/scenarios that I’m interested in playing…
The pickup: I’m walking back from the beach on a hot summer evening. The hot wind blowing my hair as I walk along the desolate back road away from the beach. Walking in nothing more that a little white bikini, the soles of my barefeet stained black from walking barefoot on the asphalt, “Damn it’s really hot” I continue to walk down the long, deserted road…
This plot could go a lot of ways, I’m pretty willing, submissive and naive, so I don’t really like anything forced. Maybe you target me because of the way I look, maybe you like feet abs target me because I’m barefoot. Definitely lots of possibilities. Maybe you’re gonna keep me all to yourself, locking me up in your basement or secret dungeon. We can work out a scenario
The farm: I’m coming to your farm in the Deep South, it’s a hot, humid, moonless night. I already know this isn’t a ‘normal’ farm and I’m not ordinary farm help. I already know what’s in store for me. Under the cover of darkness, I make my way from the town deep into the countryside. Bringing nothing with me as instructed, I make my way to your farm in nothing but the little black bikini you sent me prior to this arrangement. I spot the farmhouse and make my way towards the porch light, “that’s the farm” my barefeet kicking up dust as I walk up the dust road…
Another fun plot I like. I love dirty places so a farm is awesome. Maybe I had seen your ad online about being kept and used for breast milking, maybe you’re just looking for a girl to keep her ankles and wrists in those old rusty slave shackles you don’t have keys for, maybe you’re just sadistic and you’re going to use and torture me. Let’s work out the details!
Meeting online: Meeting a partner online is the norm nowadays, I found your posting about looking for a girl, which was very appealing to me and too good to pass up. After some email exchange, you offer to take me…permanently. I excitedly accept and being the trip to your destination. Walking to the address, wearing a white tank top, no bra, a short black skirt, white panties and barefoot, I walk towards the door “this is it, no turning back now” I say to myself as I ring the doorbell…
This is really open ended. Did you offer to keep me in your dungeon? Maybe you have an asylum where I’m going to be kept, so many different ideas here.
The road/camping trip: We’ve been planning this for a long time, a summer trip. I’m excited and can’t wait for you to get home. I’m waiting around in my white bikini, already packed for the trip with my shall bag. Considering how long the trip is, I packed very little. “I can wait until she gets home” I say eagerly awaiting you…
This is more a non bdsm related plot but we can definitely include it! Maybe we card going camping deep in the woods, or by a lake, maybe tent camping in the rolling hills and we have to hike in. Let’s figure out an awesome trip!
The BDSM resort: Being the kinky girl I am, I naturally stumbled onto a kinky resort. I eagerly book a month long excursion into my ultimate desires. I arrive and check in. Off the lobby is the holding room. A grey, bare room with a locker and bench, I close the door and open my locker. Inside the locker is a pair of handcuffs and ankle cuffs, the chain in just long enough for me to walk. I place all my belongings and clothing in the locker and close it “I should be out in a month” I say to myself, knowing there is no turning back. I sit on the floor and lock the cuffs around my ankles, followed by cuffing my hands behind my back, following instructions, I wait on the timer for my host to enter, little did I know, I’d be here much longer than a month…
So much fun. What a vacation! But what’s in store for me? Did I sign up for multiple things, where I would be kept and how? Maybe I signed up to be kept in one place and one kind of restraint/position the whole time? How did I end up there longer? Maybe as punishment for something, violating the rules of a session, a computer glitch? Let’s come up with something together!
My kinks are, but not limited to: Bondage, Cuffs, Shackles, Mummification, Stocks/pillory, Straightjackets, Chastity, Bastinado, Tickling, Plugs, Gags, Oral, Anal, Vibrators, Dildos, Hoods, Blindfolds, Pee/scat, Barefeet (I love going barefoot and getting my feet dirty, I’m a regular barefooter) Foot worship (barefeet) sensory depravation, hoods, blindfolds, branding, tattoo, name calling, dirty talk, impact play, dirty/musk, verbal humiliation, Long term/permanent chastity, Long term/permanent bondage, Long term/permanent captivity/imprisonment, Predicament bondage, Kidnapping, Isolation, Being kept as a captive/prisoner, Stuck fetish (eg, having my feet stuck in mud, clay, tar, cement, quicksand, glue, etc)
Hard limits: Footwear (I stay barefoot), animals, drugs, broken bones, males,
Places I like to be kept: Dungeon, Basement, Garage, Farm, Old prison, Old asylum
I’m sure I left things out, so if you don’t see a particular kink or you have questions, please ask.
Only looking to roleplay with females, trans or futa as long as it’s not focused on a certain body part and it doesn’t go right to that.
All characters are 18+
I use Reddit chat
Kik: barefootslavegirl01
Discord: barefoot👣slavegirl#2957
submitted by barefootslavegirl01 to KikRoleplayers [link] [comments]
I play as myself, in first person. I’m 5’ 2” 85 pounds (I’m really petite) B-cup, size 5 feet, long dark blonde hair and brown eyes.
Don’t just send a reply to the starter, say hi and let’s discuss plots and kinks, then we can jump in. Here are some starter plots/scenarios that I’m interested in playing…
The pickup: I’m walking back from the beach on a hot summer evening. The hot wind blowing my hair as I walk along the desolate back road away from the beach. Walking in nothing more that a little white bikini, the soles of my barefeet stained black from walking barefoot on the asphalt, “Damn it’s really hot” I continue to walk down the long, deserted road…
This plot could go a lot of ways, I’m pretty willing, submissive and naive, so I don’t really like anything forced. Maybe you target me because of the way I look, maybe you like feet abs target me because I’m barefoot. Definitely lots of possibilities. Maybe you’re gonna keep me all to yourself, locking me up in your basement or secret dungeon. We can work out a scenario
The farm: I’m coming to your farm in the Deep South, it’s a hot, humid, moonless night. I already know this isn’t a ‘normal’ farm and I’m not ordinary farm help. I already know what’s in store for me. Under the cover of darkness, I make my way from the town deep into the countryside. Bringing nothing with me as instructed, I make my way to your farm in nothing but the little black bikini you sent me prior to this arrangement. I spot the farmhouse and make my way towards the porch light, “that’s the farm” my barefeet kicking up dust as I walk up the dust road…
Another fun plot I like. I love dirty places so a farm is awesome. Maybe I had seen your ad online about being kept and used for breast milking, maybe you’re just looking for a girl to keep her ankles and wrists in those old rusty slave shackles you don’t have keys for, maybe you’re just sadistic and you’re going to use and torture me. Let’s work out the details!
Meeting online: Meeting a partner online is the norm nowadays, I found your posting about looking for a girl, which was very appealing to me and too good to pass up. After some email exchange, you offer to take me…permanently. I excitedly accept and being the trip to your destination. Walking to the address, wearing a white tank top, no bra, a short black skirt, white panties and barefoot, I walk towards the door “this is it, no turning back now” I say to myself as I ring the doorbell…
This is really open ended. Did you offer to keep me in your dungeon? Maybe you have an asylum where I’m going to be kept, so many different ideas here.
The road/camping trip: We’ve been planning this for a long time, a summer trip. I’m excited and can’t wait for you to get home. I’m waiting around in my white bikini, already packed for the trip with my shall bag. Considering how long the trip is, I packed very little. “I can wait until she gets home” I say eagerly awaiting you…
This is more a non bdsm related plot but we can definitely include it! Maybe we card going camping deep in the woods, or by a lake, maybe tent camping in the rolling hills and we have to hike in. Let’s figure out an awesome trip!
The BDSM resort: Being the kinky girl I am, I naturally stumbled onto a kinky resort. I eagerly book a month long excursion into my ultimate desires. I arrive and check in. Off the lobby is the holding room. A grey, bare room with a locker and bench, I close the door and open my locker. Inside the locker is a pair of handcuffs and ankle cuffs, the chain in just long enough for me to walk. I place all my belongings and clothing in the locker and close it “I should be out in a month” I say to myself, knowing there is no turning back. I sit on the floor and lock the cuffs around my ankles, followed by cuffing my hands behind my back, following instructions, I wait on the timer for my host to enter, little did I know, I’d be here much longer than a month…
So much fun. What a vacation! But what’s in store for me? Did I sign up for multiple things, where I would be kept and how? Maybe I signed up to be kept in one place and one kind of restraint/position the whole time? How did I end up there longer? Maybe as punishment for something, violating the rules of a session, a computer glitch? Let’s come up with something together!
My kinks are, but not limited to: Bondage, Cuffs, Shackles, Mummification, Stocks/pillory, Straightjackets, Chastity, Bastinado, Tickling, Plugs, Gags, Oral, Anal, Vibrators, Dildos, Hoods, Blindfolds, Pee/scat, Barefeet (I love going barefoot and getting my feet dirty, I’m a regular barefooter) Foot worship (barefeet) sensory depravation, hoods, blindfolds, branding, tattoo, name calling, dirty talk, impact play, dirty/musk, verbal humiliation, Long term/permanent chastity, Long term/permanent bondage, Long term/permanent captivity/imprisonment, Predicament bondage, Kidnapping, Isolation, Being kept as a captive/prisoner, Stuck fetish (eg, having my feet stuck in mud, clay, tar, cement, quicksand, glue, etc)
Hard limits: Footwear (I stay barefoot), animals, drugs, broken bones, males,
Places I like to be kept: Dungeon, Basement, Garage, Farm, Old prison, Old asylum
I’m sure I left things out, so if you don’t see a particular kink or you have questions, please ask.
Only looking to roleplay with females, trans or futa as long as it’s not focused on a certain body part and it doesn’t go right to that.
All characters are 18+
I use Reddit chat
Kik: barefootslavegirl01
Discord: barefoot👣slavegirl#2957
2023.06.04 05:30 PunkrockPopeye Beat Em'!
 | "Beat Em'!" submitted by PunkrockPopeye to funny [link] [comments] Sometime among the events of the very first Kinder Cosmic... The director of the United States Space Force marches back and forth before a gathered group of several hardened space marines all standing at attention within a large training room as he addresses the group with a general Patton like speech. USSF Director: Ladies and gentlemen...We are at the precipice of the dawn of a new age! *The group murmurs amongst one another curiously. USSF Director: Time and time again threats from opposing galaxies, dimensions, and outer worlds; some beyond the very realm of human comprehension have descended upon our little blue marble suspended in space and threatened our quality of life, our society, our safety, our sovereignty and our very existence! *Several members of the group shudder and gasp as the director continues his sermon. USSF Director: If the citizens of this United States, no...The very world itself are to maintain our status qu- *The group diverts their attention behind the director towards the sound of a loud, laborious sigh. *The director shoots a disapproving glare at the alien grey known as Alpha as he continues to speak. USSF Director: As of late, the only force standing between the citizens of this planet and total annihilation has been... The lady astronaut and appointed liaison to the greys; one Luna Valentina gently pushes the little grey alien known as Jorg towards the middle of the room as she whispers in his earholes. Luna: ...Go ahead, Jorg! *Dressed in a bright red silk dress and miniskirt with a purple bandanna tied tightly around the crown of his head; Jorg stares at the hem of his dress with either side clasped tightly within his hands as he swings his hips from side to side and hums happily as the dress flutters back and forth. The USSF Director sighs apathetically as he continues to speak, pointing at the little grey now standing beside him. USSF Director: W-What... *The Director shields his mouth and whispers to Alpha and Luna as Jorg continues swaying unmoved and unbothered. USSF Director: What th-....What is this? *Luna laughs and smiles as she replies patiently. Luna: The only way I could get him to cooperate is if I let him wear his dress! *The Director stares at Jorg still humming and fluttering from side to side and then Alpha confusedly. Alpha: He thinks it makes him stronger... *Luna giggles as she follows Alpha’s words. Luna: He...he doesn't understand how feminism works! *The Director stares at the flamboyant grey and then Alpha once more. *Alpha throws his hands up as he replies. Alpha: Who the hell am I to tell him otherwise? As far as I know it probably does! *The USSF Director sighs frustratedly as he quips. USSF Director: Jesus fucking Christ...Can he fight wearing it? *Alpha smirks mischievously as he speaks. Alpha: ...Jorg? Jorg can fight in anything, anywhere, at anytime! USSF Director: Fine...Well I guess we'll conti- *Suddenly the Director is interrupted by a massive, muscled and imposing Sergeant who addresses the group obnoxiously. Sergeant: Why is that little alien wearing a fuckin' miniskirt!? Luna snaps defensively. Luna: HE'S IN TOUCH WITH HIS FEMININE SIDE! *A private nearby mutters knowingly. Private: Well, I heard that lil' shit is completely unhinged! *The group of hardened space marines murmur amongst one another as Luna plants her hands on her hips and speaks once more. Luna: NO HE ISN’T! HE SAVED YOUR IGNORANT ASSES! *The Sergeant points at the preoccupied grey as he speaks once again. Sergeant: That scrawny, 80 lbs, ugly ass little critter? Saved what? Ru Paul's drag race? *The private glares at the Sergeant standing beside him confusedly as he continues to speak. Private: Where the hell have you been man!? You didn't hear about what happened in Tulsa? *The Sergeant cuts a sidelong glance at the private as he continues to speak. Sargeant: Stationed abroad... No phones, or internet, or TV, or electricity, or running water...not even a fuckin working toilet! So no...I don't know "what happened in Tulsa". Private: ...Oh. Well I HEARD he leveled half a city fighting some interstellar Lovecraftian planet killer... USSF Director: OFFICIALLY THAT WAS A LEVEL 4 EARTHQUAKE! Private: SURE BOSS! whatever y'all say, it's not like it hasn't been cycling all over Tiktok for months... USSF Director: RUSSIAN PROPAGANDA! A DIVERSIONARY TACTIC TO UNDERMINE UNITED ST- *Alpha sighs again loudly. *As the group continues to bicker incessantly the USSF Commander from "Kinder Cosmic: Paradise Lost" strolls into the training room and smiles with a large grin as he leans against a supply depots consignment widow and addresses it's quartermaster casually. Commander: Has it started yet!? QuarterMaster: ....Has what started yet? *The Commander grins mischievously as he continues to speak. Commander: Say...Are you a bettin' man? Quarter Master: On what exactly? Commander: Costello over there of course! *The Quarter Master stares at the grey still preoccupied with his pretty dress and then the Commander once again. Quarter Master: That sick lookin, effeminate little space midget against ALL OF THEM!? *The Commander smiles knowingly. Commander: You bet your ass! *The QuarterMaster doubles a glance back and forth between the grey and the Commander as he speaks. QuarterMaster: How drunk are you? Commander: VERY! QuarterMaster: How much do you wanna put down on him? *The Commander reaches into his pocket then slams several stacks of money upon the window's table as he speaks. Commander: My ENTIRE goddamned pension! *The Quarter Master stares at the little grey smiling as he swings in his pretty red dress and then the hardened military veterans and finally, the grinning Commander once more. Quarter Master: You're on! *The USSF Director silences the gathered, bickering and murmuring group as he interjects. USSF Director: QUIET! *The group of military commandos quickly stand at attention as the USSF Director commences pacing and continues his addressment once again while Luna smiles knowingly and Alpha shakes his head from side to side...also knowingly. USSF Director: THE POINT IS! That we're facing a potential threat that is completely out of human understanding, the very laws of physics itself and our current martial capabilities! *The USSF Director points at the greys; Alpha’s arms folded as he stands like a solemn statue and Jorg still hyperfocused as he busily plays with his red dress. USSF Director: Although they ARE friendl- *Alpha’s face sours distastefully as he hisses underbreath. Alpha: Pshhh... *The Director darts a sharp glare at Alpha who returns it with a twisted, smug expression and then at Luna who shrugs her shoulders casually. USSF Director: ....Although they ARE NOT THE ENEMY we can not let the future of humanity... *The Director stares at Jorg who is still absolutely lost within his own world as he continues to speak. USSF Director: ...Rest upon the strapless shoulder blades of one four and a half foot; morally and mentally compromised little...whatever in the hell this thing is. *The Director points towards Jorg as he flutters and sways repeatedly. *Luna retorts defensively as Alpha comments sarcastically. Luna: HEY! Alpha: Well...I mean, he's right. Man's still kinda a misguided idiot but when he's right he's right! *The Director glares at Alpha once more as his subordinates murmur and contemplate his directive aloud amongst one another. Private: We are so, so, so completely and utterly screwed... *The Sergeant standing besides the private shrugs apathetically as he speaks. Sergeant: I don't see what the big deal is... *The director marches to and fro once again as he continues to speak. USSF Director: That being said! The ONLY WAY to adjust our combat to this new enemy is simulated combat WITH THE ENEMY! Private: I'M NOT FIGHTING THOSE THINGS! *Alpha smiles slyly and quips sarcastically as The Director retorts with a commanding tone. Alpha: ....Sissy! USSF Director: Oh yes you will private! Unless of course you want... AN EXTRA WORK DETAIL! Private: GOD-DAMNIT! *The Director grins as he continues to speak. USSF Director: Besides! You'll only be facing a single extraterrestrial opponent today, Alpha has adamantly refused to participate in this exercise... *Alpha retorts sharply. Alpha: I said, "You can go fuck yourself", that's what I said. *Luna erupts with a riotous laughter as the USSF Director glares at Alpha in return. *The Sergeant points towards Jorg still playing with his fluttering dress. Sergeant: And lil' Miss Doubtfire over here? HE'S supposed to be our opponent!? *Luna beams with pride as she retorts. Luna: I wouldn't underestimate Jorg! He's wildly talented! Sergeant: At what!? Martha Stewart style homesteading? *The group snickers as Luna giggles and returns a mischievous grin and then quips once more. Luna: THAT TOO! *Alpha clarifies casually as the group murmurs and looks on at the little grey still lost amongst the surrounding atmosphere. Alpha: Consent for Jorg is kind of a non-issue, he's barely aware of where he is half the time. When goaded he does have a certain instinctive enthusiasm for martial combat under the right conditions. I don't even know where he learned it, he just came back one day and knew it innately. Like a telekinetic amalgamation of something between Ong-Bak and Jet Li... *The Private stares at the little grey in suspended disbelief. Private: Under...what conditions? *Alpha grins knowingly; as he responds. Alpha: Basically...You've got to manage to piss him off. Private: "Piss him off?" *The Sergeant cracks his knuckles as he smiles belligerently. Sergeant: Well this should be easy! *Alpha shrugs unknowingly. Alpha: Maybe...Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn't! To evoke this reaction from Jorg or to "Piss him off"; it is like this ingrained psychological trigger. It isn't so much guided as a form of premeditated anger as a kind of pro-active defense mechanism. He's not even really fully aware when he does it. I think it may be a kind of "Fight or Flight" reaction he just does. Except Jorg...well...Jorg pretty much always chooses to fight. *The privates eyes widen curiously as he stares the little grey up and down before him. Private: Is he...is he dangerous!? *The USSF Commander laughs heartily as he slams his hand upon the provisional warehouse window and retorts excitedly. USSF Commander: YOU CAN BET YOUR ASS HE IS! *The QuarterMaster glares at the USSF Commander as he chimes in. QuarterMaster: I wanna replace my bet! *The USSF Commander replies snarkily. USSF Commander: TOO LATE ASSHOLE! *Alpha, Luna, The Director and the group of soldiers all divert their attention towards the Commander and QuarterMaster until Alpha continues speaking. Alpha: Jorg!? Dangerous? I mean...IF YOU DESERVE IT then I dunno... *Alpha shrugs apathetically. Alpha: ...Maybe? I really doubt he'd actively kill anyone though. *The private throws his hands into the air and addresses Alpha frustratedly as the group murmurs amongst themselves once more. Private: THE FUCK YOU MEAN "MAYBE" AND YOU "DOUBT HE'LL KILL ANYONE"!? *Alpha shrugs once more... Alpha: It's Jorg...Jorg is Jorg! You'll see... *The private stares at the two greys one after another then retorts underbreath as he turns to walk away. Private: I'm so not fuckin doing this... USSF Director: MORE WORK DETAIL! Private: GODDAMNIT! Sergeant: Well I think they're full of shit... Private: THEY TORE APART AN ENTIRE MILITARY BASE "JUST BECAUSE". Sergeant: Of Non-combatant "week-long warriors" I bet! Might as well be a buncha national guardsmen...I mean...JUST LOOK AT HIM! *The Sergeant points towards Jorg still swaying giddily. Sergeant: ...There's no way in hell that little queer fella could take a seasoned soldier! *Luna retorts defensively. Luna: JORG ISN’T GAY! HE'S JUST SENSITIVE AND HE'S VERY SPECIAL! *Luna cuts her gaze towards Alpha seeking confirmation. Luna: He isn't...is he? *Alpha shrugs unknowingly and apathetically as the group murmurs amongst themselves once more. *The Private suddenly turns then approaches a series of lockers and containment bins stowing riot gear, defensive equipment and padded suits much like one that would be used to disarm a bomb or train a K-9 attack dog as nearly all of his peers follow suit... Private: I'm not fucking with this lil dude without my PPE! *The Sergeant snorts obnoxiously in response as he watches. Sergeant: I don't need that crap...Besides, it's hard to move or fight with all that bullshit on! Whatchu gonna do? Bumper car bang him to death with it? *The Private shrugs undisturbed. Private: ....Whatever! The crowd gathers all around the little grey warily; some armed with things like MMA gloves, hand-wraps, Batons and extended martial defense metallic rods as they all approach the grey from all angles. Suspicious and cautious at exactly what the little grey might do and exactly how he might respond. That is all but one, the boisterous military Sergeant who readies himself and then throws the very first strike at the seemingly defenseless and unsuspecting Jorg. Without ever even lifting his eyes from the hem of his dress, in a matter of moments warping the surrounding spectators very perception of time; Jorg shifts his head slightly towards the left as the Sergeant's fist narrowly misses the grey by a hair's length. *The USSF Commander slams his hand upon the provisional warehouses window once more as he retorts giddily. USSF Commander: HAH! What happens next can best be described through the conveyance of a matter of collective very short-lived and somewhat difficulty perceived moments. The next soldier and the next and the next and the next; all of them simultaneously rush towards the little grey slinging their fists and their weapons towards the inattentive and unbothered little grey. Jorg bobs, weaves, and feints his big grey bandanna wrapped head not unlike a hyperactive, super-powered Muhammad Ali; as fist and all flies from every perceivable angle, not ever touching him...not even once, his attention still diverted towards his fluttering dress all the while. Another military combatant rushes forewords and thrusts a kick towards the grey; to which he spins out of reach with seamless grace as yet another kick comes flying from it's opposing direction to which the grey quickly ducks then loops his body around from underneath...still playing with the hem of his pretty red dress still humming to himself gleefully as Luna erupts with laughter. Sergeant: What...what the hell IS THIS!? Luna: I TOLD YOU! Private: He....He never even LOOKED at us...NOT ONCE! *The Director stares at Luna and Alpha then questions them curiously. USSF Director: Why isn't he defending himself? Alpha: ...Probably because Jorg doesn't see any of you as a threat. *The boisterous military Sergeant walks towards Jorg then plants a single finger upon his forehead then slowly pushes him backwards; to which Jorg sways back then forwards then rests in the exact same position of which he'd originally been. Sergeant: What do you mean he doesn't see us as a threat? *Alpha responds casually. Alpha: I mean exactly what I said! Jorg only reacts when driven towards it from an outside stimulus; when he himself, someone he cares about, or perhaps even others are under certain conditions of diress such as a threat or pressure or the friction of oncoming conflict. It is very difficult to tell exactly when this trigger will set off from an outside perspective but FOR JORG these lines are ingrained within his very being. It's like a reflex, he doesn't even have to think about it. Private: How is it he can move so quickly like that? I could barely even see him doing it! Alpha: Part of it is because Jorg instinctively compounds his telekinesis with Kinetic energy. The other is because he's clairvoyant, prophetic even. This doesn't just apply to the precepts of time or it's passage through the universe itself but also to an outside stimulus. But just like almost all things concerning Jorg; he isn't fully aware of what he's doing and what he does it its all interdependent on outside stimulus and outside perception and interpretation. In short, Jorg is like a living mirror in everything he does and reasons for doing them. A reflection of one's self whether they even realize it or not. He could punch through a two inch steel wall or bulletproof plate glass window faster than you could blink if he wanted to... *Alpha shrugs casually. Alpha: ...Only problem is it takes alot for Jorg to actively feel inclined to do so. Well...sometimes. All that being said apparently he sees absolutely none of you as an inclination for him to act...and so...he doesn't. He doesn't see any of you as a threat! *The Sergeant fumes angrily and frustratedly as he stares at the preoccupied little alien frustratedly and then speaks angrily. Sergeant: WHADDYA MEAN "HE DOESN'T SEE ME AS A THREAT"!? I'M A GODDAMNED NAVY SEAL! I DID TWO TOURS IN AZKABAN! *Alpha replies to the Sergeant flatly and unflinching. Alpha: Exactly what I just said...Your limited human capabilities and physicality to Jorg is a non-issue. You're not big enough, strong enough, forceful enough or physically capable through your own recognizance of being a perceivable threat to him. *The Sergeant stands from the opposing side of the playful grey in the little red dress then angrily unbuttons and unholsters his service weapon as he holds it in both hands, pointed towards the ground. *The USSF Commander laughs a riotous laugh as he spectates from the warehouse window some distance away then pounds the desk upon it once more as he goads the Sergeant playfully. USSF Commander: YOU GET EM HOSS! *The Commander quickly turns towards it's QuarterMaster then whispers as he winks towards his glare. USSF Commander: ....Fucking idjit! *Luna’s eyes widen with worry as she begins to speak. Luna: I WOULDN'T DO TH- *Alpha calmly places a gentle hand upon Luna’s shoulder as he knowingly interjects solemnly yet very mischievously. Alpha: Nah....Let em'. The Sergeant steadies his firearm upon the grey methodically as all of his compatriots watch onwards nervously. And what happens next, again...Can best be explained by a breakdown of a series of events that through our perception of time unfolded within a matter of moments. ...But to Jorg himself? Well, that's another matter entirely. Just like one perceptive light switch suddenly being flicked on from deep, deep, deep within Jorg’s psyche. The little grey suddenly raises his head; his black, saucer shaped eyes widened with a perfectly aligned subconscious awareness. One of them twitching erratically above a maddened grin as above and all throughout this training room; the loud deafening roar of electric guitar reverberates one ear-splitting and most deafening melody. Loudly cutting through the awkward silence not unlike a high-powered circular saw this melody is that of the song "Beat It" the cover of an infamous Michael Jackson tune preformed by the band "Fall Out Boy". https://youtu.be/Qt54wA7Z2LY And as this guitar melody drones and roars throughout the intercom and sirens of the facility all around; As Alpha smirks smugly and Luna laughs...and then gasps. What follows suit could be quite accurately articulated as a series of movements so perceivably fast, powerful, and deadly accurate that one could quite convincingly say that Jorg DID move faster than a human could blink. He quickly utilizes his telekinetic energy with one hand to jerk the firearm out from within the Sergeant's grasp not unlike a vaulted football ripped from between a running back's fingers. And as this pistol flies and spins towards Jorg he launches himself into the air, quickly preforming a spinning back kick that smacks against the gun sending it ricocheting and flipping once more until it hurtles directly dead center of the Sergeant's face sending him spiraling and sprawled out upon the ground nearby while the gun itself deflects, is thrown against a nearby wall and then misfires. Space Marine: SHIT...MY LEG! And as the lyrics of the song echo and vibrates all throughout this training room, quaking its walls and cushioned floormats with every progressing spoken word; the frightened private quickly turns to sprint in the other direction, absolutely ANY direction away from Jorg. But little did he know; it was far, far, far too late... Jorg harnesses his telekinetic energy to rip the man's legs out from beneath him, as he does Jorg quickly sprints forward, leaps into the air again like a telekinetic grasshopper then dead drops his knee into the private's back. As Jorg "ground and pounds" the back of the privates combat protective headgear repeatedly in rapid succession; not unlike quick repeating Wing-Chun punches into the back of the man's head, striking and bouncing his forehead off of the training floor's cushioned material all to the rhythm of this melody. The surrounding marines look around at one another, murmuring in a stunned confusion as the private cries for help. Private: G-G-GET I- *WHACK! *BANG! *POW! *WHOMP! *THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! Private: GET IT OFFA ME! *The USSF Director points at the private then addresses the fearful combatants sternly. USSF Director: ...WELL!? HELP HIM! *One of the remaining combatants turns to kick Jorg off of the private when the grey quickly stops then pivots as if in anticipation of said strike; catches the man's ankle then smiles with a malevolent grin before twisting it with a loud *CRACK! *Luna squints her eyes closed and winces painfully as Alpha grins a grin very much reflective of Jorg’s and they both comment. Luna: Oooooooh! Alpha: Fuck em'... Elsewhere at the provisional warehouse window the USSF Commander slams his hand down upon the table once more as he also comments; smiling at the QuarterMaster with a shit eating grin all the while. USSF Commander: That looked like it HURT LIKE HELL! GET EM' HOSS! *The QuarterMaster also comments, sneering distastefully. QuarterMaster: I fuckin' hate you... Elsewhere amongst the whirlwind of rapid, successful strikes and all to a melody; Jorg now stands his miniskirt fluttering in training room's AC cooled air along with the motion of his movements with the Marine's now broken ankle held between the palms of his hands; the man still wailing with pain. In an amount of time accumulating to less than the passage of a few seconds; the grey spins and leg sweeps the other man's remaining limb, tossing him upwards into the air before kicking him in the abdomen with a telekinetically reinforced strike that sends the man hurtling into and bouncing off of the nearest wall. As another approaching soldier moves in to strike Jorg the grey quickly hops a foot into the air once more; then quickly plants a deflective side kick in rapid, fluid succession into the center of the man's chest which sends him staggering back just a few paces. *The soldier hardens himself as he pounds his chest then closes in on Jorg once more. Space Marine: IS THAT ALL YOU GOT!? And as this melody continues to pound with a thunderous roar all throughout the training room; Jorg smiles a sadistic smile. While the man races forwards to preform a takedown upon the little grey, Jorg quickly and acrobatically dips his head and upper abdomen towards the ground. With a certain level of martial flexibility mirroring that of a Shaolin Monk the grey lifts the pad of his foot from behind towards where his head originally was, arching it upwards and from behind his backside with his torso now angled downwards, he then slams the bottom of his foot into the Marine's forehead; stunning him instantaneously. Jorg quickly rights his equilibrium and with a fluid, unceasing movement uses that very same leg to plant a telekinetically charged front kick into the man's sternum; sending him flying backwards and crashing into yet another padded wall. Space Marine: YOU CRAZY LITTLE SHIT! A remaining marine shouts at Jorg and then races towards him from a flanked position sending his own angled "axe kick" towards the grey's abdomen. And as this melody pounds and reverberates the ether all around from every perceivable direction; without so much as a moments hesitation, forethought, or consideration Jorg side steps then archs his own leg around the own man's "Axe Kick" locking it into place. *The Marine's eyes meet the grey's; whose deep, darkened saucer shaped eyes are deadlocked onto his own. Shining with a glossy, detached madness as the grey's smile widens. And with their legs locked in place, Jorg intentionally restricts the man's movement; the Marine's remaining free leg trembles as he utters words of fear and astonishment. Space Marine: Oh....SHI- *Before the man can even get the words out the grey hops into the air with his remaining leg with the other still locked in place, then uses his free leg to dropkick the soldier dead center of his chest with another telekinetically reinforced strike before quickly releasing his leglock to send the man vaulting into another padded wall not unlike a human bullet. And as this resounding melody finally tolls onwards towards it's completion; the little grey still stands in the middle of this training room. In the exact spot in which he'd originally began; surrounded by moaning, bloody, blackened and bruised human cadavers. Who at this point are each and all very, very much alive; though perhaps their pride...not so much. *Luna shakes her head from side to side as the USSF Director speaks. USSF Director: Well...we're never doing that again! *Alpha stares at the director and smiles with an air of apathy. Alpha: I could have told you but you'd never have listened... *The private spits a mouthful of blood onto the ground as he slowly gathers his strength to try to lift himself from it, next to the still unconscious Sergeant lying face down on the floormat beside him. Private: We are so...so...so fucked. *At the provisional warehouse window the QuarterMaster counts out the last of his debt and then slams it upon the table towards the USSF Commander's outstretched smile now grinning from ear to ear. USSF Commander: It was nice doin' business with you! QuarterMaster: Shut the hell up... |
2023.06.04 03:57 RadRyan527 I belonged to the same gym as Russillo.
This was when he was at ESPN. The gym was New York Sports Club in West Hartford, CT. Not too far from the Bristol studios.
I WANT to tell you we were lifting buddies. Like, "How much you bench today, brah?" was a frequent exchange between us. But that never happened. I was always over by the cardio equipment or doing laps in the pool like all the other beta cucks.
But I did see/hear him in the locker room a few times. He was always on his phone. I would catch snippets of convo. The one I remember is, "The NBA is boring". Okay...........so this is unfair of course. I'm taking an out of context statement from a conversation with God knows who. And this was probably in late winteearly spring, so maybe he just meant it was boring with teams coasting to the playoffs or tanking. BUT I still wonder if this was a startling confession! Maybe Russillo is actually bored to tears by the league he makes his living discussing!? This might explain a lot actually.......
PS--Bill Walton also belonged to this same gym. Heard him one day talking to another dude in the locker room. Same super upbeat attitude you hear on the air. I also walked into the bathroom while he was walking out of the shower totally butt naked. He had the towel wrapped around his shoulders! If you've never seen a 7 foot pasty white redhead walking out of a shower, let me just say that's something you won't easily unsee.
submitted by RadRyan527 to billsimmons [link] [comments]
I WANT to tell you we were lifting buddies. Like, "How much you bench today, brah?" was a frequent exchange between us. But that never happened. I was always over by the cardio equipment or doing laps in the pool like all the other beta cucks.
But I did see/hear him in the locker room a few times. He was always on his phone. I would catch snippets of convo. The one I remember is, "The NBA is boring". Okay...........so this is unfair of course. I'm taking an out of context statement from a conversation with God knows who. And this was probably in late winteearly spring, so maybe he just meant it was boring with teams coasting to the playoffs or tanking. BUT I still wonder if this was a startling confession! Maybe Russillo is actually bored to tears by the league he makes his living discussing!? This might explain a lot actually.......
PS--Bill Walton also belonged to this same gym. Heard him one day talking to another dude in the locker room. Same super upbeat attitude you hear on the air. I also walked into the bathroom while he was walking out of the shower totally butt naked. He had the towel wrapped around his shoulders! If you've never seen a 7 foot pasty white redhead walking out of a shower, let me just say that's something you won't easily unsee.
2023.06.04 02:43 RedReflection06 What 3 people that are high on the popularity hierarchy would you like to see on KT? My 3 are Aubrey Plaza, Dave Chapelle and Undertaker. I say Taker because Tony's got a foot in the combat world. And Taker is from Austin. His social awkwardness would be a lot of fun on that panel.
Knowing Tony, just know one day he is going to get a wrestler on here.
submitted by RedReflection06 to Killtony [link] [comments]
2023.06.04 02:06 hobbit_life Multi day markets and storage/security
I’m doing my first two day market next weekend and I was wondering what some of you do for overnight storage of products? My space is indoors, so the space should be locked up at night, but I’m still wary of leaving my products out unsecured. Is it worth purchasing a lockable foot locker that would be stored in the space overnight? Granted someone could just grab it and walk off with it overnight anyway, but it’d be a lot more of a pain in the ass. I sell pins, stickers, and post it notes, so while the individual items themselves aren’t high value, if they all went missing, I’d be out a substantial amount of money.
The other option is to pack up all my items and haul them back to my car at the end of the first night, but I’m trying to avoid that since I’d have to set it up very early the next morning before the market opens for the second day.
ETA: Thanks for all the suggestions! The fitted sheet or tarp seems to be the winning option so I'll do that!
submitted by hobbit_life to EtsySellers [link] [comments]
The other option is to pack up all my items and haul them back to my car at the end of the first night, but I’m trying to avoid that since I’d have to set it up very early the next morning before the market opens for the second day.
ETA: Thanks for all the suggestions! The fitted sheet or tarp seems to be the winning option so I'll do that!
2023.06.04 00:46 kpbennett02 Am I the jerk for choosing not to date a guy because his allergies are in direct opposition to my career choice?
I tried to keep this short and failed miserably. So buckle up, guys. This one is long. I (20f) don't want to be in a romantic relationship with a 20m because of his allergies. I will admit there's a bit more to it, but thats the jist of this particular predicament. A little bit of context: I grew up in a small rural area where (I kid you not) all the guys my age were in a relationship and/or were total creeps. I'm not the most attractive person by social standards, but I'm happy with how I am. But I attracted a fair share of creeps in school. For this reason, I haven't been on a date since I was 16, after the guy I had dated said on both of those dates that he was going to marry me (Keep in mind, this was the closest thing to my first boyfriend). After I called off the relationship, he stalked me for 6 months. There were other creeps, but this legitimately scared me. And I am a very skittish person. I've only very recently gotten interested in dating again, and as a New Years Resolution. Last year, I haf joined my sister's friend group, after 2 of them asked for my help pranking my sister. I knew many of their faces and names already, because most of them were in the grade below me in high school. We all became very close, very quickly. They got me into Magic the Gathering (we play Commander), we have random group outings when we're all free, and now I'm going to be an honorary aunt to one of the friends' future baby. One of the guys in the friend group (lets call him A) is the subject of this story. A was in the grade below mine (he's like 9 months younger than me). We didn't talk in high school, though apparently I asked him to be my driving buddy once in drivers' ed. But since I've joined the friend group, we, in particular, have gotten close. We talk about everything. And A is a gentleman. He will literally run to the register to pay for everyone's food (or tell the waiter it's on him), he fixed my tire without me telling him it had a slow leak, he gives everyone rides, and (as stereotypical as it sounds) his smile makes my heart melt. For Christmas, he took the whole group up to the Shedd Aquarium and paid for EVERYTHING, including good parking, and a locker to put our stuff in. I mean, holy crap, thats the nicest thing anyone's ever done. All-in-all, A's just an amazing guy, and I do like him a lot. Now, here's my dilemma: I dropped community college for personal reasons almost a year and a half ago. Since then, I've been working 1-2 part time jobs plus odd jobs in order to slowly save money so I could attend a good cosmetology school in my area. I adore makeup and hair! I dye my hair some outrageous color (usually a vibrant red) at least twice a year; I wear fun, dramatic, heavy, dark makeup whenever I go out; I've even done a full-body cosplay of Harley Quinn (which involved using a good white body paint mixed with a light foundation on my arms and legs). The problem? A is allergic to makeup. Like, l-brush-on-a-tiny-bit-of -foundation-and-break-out-into-hives, allergic. He showed me a picture from a while back when his now-ex kissed him on the side of the mouth. From what A told me, it was just a lip plumpegloss, but half of his mouth and parts of his cheek and jaw had swelled, and a good extra chunk of his face and neck had been covered in hives. And I knew this girl in school. She uses hypoallergenic makeup! And yes, you can be allergic to mypoallergenic makeup. Somewhat-luckily, though, A's allergy is the type of allergy where if he touches it, it causes a reaction, so it's a relief that I can usually be in the same room as him without causing a reaction. Still, this scares me. A few hours ago he came by my workplace and asked what I wanted for my birthday (I turn 21 in a week). After trying to convince him that a giftcard to Starbucks would be perfect (since I use the app to get deals, and get a small drink and a cake pop every week anyway), I half-jokingly said I want a tattoo of a butterfly on my foot, and he said something along the lines of, "That's more of a gift you get after a year of dating, don't you think?" The way he phrased it was much smoother. But if that wasn't a confession of some kind, I don't know what is. I was dumbfounded, but then went back to tell him a Starbucks card would be perfect. Now, I don't know what to do. I was willing to let this crush die out, but now I'm 80% sure he's into me. A is one of the kindest guys I've met, certainly one of the only decent single guys in my age group in my area (like I said, in my area a lot of the guys are either taken or very creepy), but he's allergic not only to one of my favorite hobbies, but what will be my entire career! Irony at its finest. The last thing I want is be a legitimate health risk to a man I have come to care for so deeply. I'd love to continue being friends with A, but I don't want to be in a relationship where I could hurt him with a simple kiss. So, am I the asshole for not dating a guy because his allergies are in opposition to my future career?
submitted by kpbennett02 to amithejerkpodcast [link] [comments]
2023.06.03 23:56 Moncurs_rightboot Season Review 22/23
 | Wow wow wow wow wow. Somebody pinch me, I must be dreaming. Ow ow ow ow ow, stop pinching me, OK, I'm obviously not dreaming. submitted by Moncurs_rightboot to COYH [link] [comments] We actually did it. We managed to get promoted through the playoffs. It's absolute madness. I had watched us compete in 6 playoffs, and who would have thought that 7th time is the charm! Before I start you can read the 21/22 season review here from our season where we finished 6th and got dumped out the playoffs by Huddersfield. You can also read the 22/23 season preview here where I predicted a very optimistic top 8 finish. No one could have predicted the season we were about to have. I'm not going to discuss promotion in depth, because it was only a week ago and probably won't sink in until the fixtures are released on June 15th. In case you didn't know, this is what our away end looks like Overview and Pre season thoughtsAs mentioned above, I knew we would manage to keep the momentum going into this season. I just didn't expect us to gain this much momentum. Having finished 6th and on 75 points in the 21/22 season. Everything was kept steady in the off season, we recruited well, and only lost one significant player (discussed below). Throughout the off season though social media was awash with speculation that Luton Town would do a Barnsley (meaning losing in the playoffs and then battling relegation/getting relegated the following season, which Barnsley did in the 21/22 season), this was speculation was further fuelled by the signing of two of Barnsley's relegated front three (more on that later). However, one bright spark in the off season was the lads from the Second Tier Pod who went bold and predicted a solid season for Luton Town, with Ryan predicting 2nd and Justin predicting 3rd. These guys know ball. Nathan Jones was keen to kick on with the squad, and was 110% committed to the cause...Who left, and who did we sign?The most significant outgoing was that of Kal Naismith, who was the fans player of the season in 21/22. The manner in which he joined Bristol City left a sour taste in the mouth of the Hatters, with the club not knowing he had agreed terms, with the Welsh wannabes announcing him a whole 24 hours before Luton Town. Also the fact that he was chatting some boilerplate shite in his introduction interview, about being excited about getting to work with "the best manager in the league". A truly absurd statement that even Stevie Wonder could see was the dumbest thing that anyone could ever say in the history of mankind. Regardless, Hatters were annoyed and concerned, mostly because Kal was a good player, he made that LCB role his own, and was a vital cog in our 21/22 playoff machine, and scored a significant and wonderful goal against Bournemouth that pretty much kickstarted our playoff push after the long covid/midseason break - hey guys, remember covid?Less significant outgoings on the pitch were Peter "I should be starting every game" Kioso (to Rotherham) and Danny Hylton (to Northampton). With Kioso leaving, we were losing depth in the defensive unit, whereas with Danny Hylton, we were losing part of the furniture at the Kenny. Sure Danny had never hit the heights of his League 2 bagsman days after his nasty injury in League 1, but he scored some vital goals in 21/22 - grabbed the point at Bristol City and sealed the win against Derby with a wonderful strike. Also his head of hair is one of the greatest come back stories in modern times. We brought in some numbers in the off season, although as discussed on social media, these players seemed to be "for the future":
How did we do?I write this with a big smirk on my face. Because it still hasn't sunk in.Like the 21/22 season, it was a season of two halves (and two managers), unlike last season whereby there was a covid break, this season we had a conveniently placed World Cup. I always thought Winter World Cups were the greatest idea, and certainly never ever criticised FIFA, The Qatar WC bidding buddies, or the countless executives that have become incredibly wealthy from the previous World Cup who effortlessly and repeatedly moved not only the goal posts but mountains in order to give us what we all wanted, the first World Cup in the Middle East - in the middle of fucking winter. Anyway, I'm veering off topic. I'm not doing a monthly breakdown by the way, you can get that off wikipedia. I'm sure the 10 people who read this will be wildly disappointed. We can break the season down in two ways - Luton under Nathan Jones and Luton under Rob Edwards. I'll do the stats after this overview. Nathan Jones took us almost the whole way to the World Cup break, but he was just itching to move. Our start to the season was mediocre, we were struggling to win games. In fact we didn't win a game until our 5th game of the season against Swansea, with 2 draws and 2 losses to start the season, including the second worst performance of the season against Bristol City, leaving us 23rd in the table. After that we had a mini purple patch, completing the welsh double beating Cardiff and drawing with Sheffield United. Which took us up to 9th in the table. Before throwing the game away against Wigan "prompt wage payment" Athletic. Fortunately we then hit a 7 game unbeaten run, which shot us up to 4th in the table. Which took us into the match against them lot down the road. We were in great form, they were already on their second manager (more on that first manager in a bit), everything was aligned for us to go there and turn them over. But disaster struck, we were utter shit and lost 4 - 0. On the bright side it gave them a high point for the season. Post match, Nathan Jones had plenty of excuses, mentioning stomach bugs, he couldn't fill the bench etc, but the eventual reality was more concerning. We only picked up 1 win from the next 4 games, culminating in an abject display against his former side Stoke, where it all but confirmed that Jones would be leaving the club. This would take us to the end of Nathan Jones' tenure. Jones moved (amicably and with massive compensation) to Southampton - where he wouldn't stay for long, but reports surfaced after his move that Southampton had been in negotiations with him for 5 weeks prior. No surprise he didn't give a shit post match against Watford. Regardless, he moved in in better faith than when he did against Stoke, He left the club in 9th place, and paved the way for Mick Harford to coach for the last game before the World Cup break, a 1 - 1 draw against Rotherham. We entered the World Cup break in 10th place, and it gave us time to pick our manager properly. Nathan Jones stats P20 - W7 - D8 - L5 - GF 22 - GA 21 - Pts 29 - WinP 35% - PpG 1.45 Mick Harford stats P1 - W0 - D1 - L0 - GF 1 - GA 1 - Pts 1 - WinP 0% - PpG 1.0 At the end of last season (I know this narrative has been done to death, but keep with me here). Watford appointed Rob Edwards from Forest Green Rovers, a young up and coming manager, to take over from Roy Hodgson, a legend who got Watford relegated at Selhurst Park, and then had the balls to clap the Crystal Palace fans (as his last season there was behind closed doors), whilst ignoring the Watford fans who had travelled to South London, because they were too far away. This is made even funnier due to the fact that he returned to Palace, and absolutely turned their season around. Anyway, Rob Edwards was the man to replace the Hodge. Scott Duxbury, Watford CEO stated "Rob will be backed through hell and high water". It turned out that translated to 10 league matches, of which he had only lost 2, this included beating Burnley, who would go on to leave the Championship quivering in their wake. During the winter break, the Luton board were very impressed with Rob Edwards as a candidate, and made the bold decision to employ him. In addition to this our January window included the loss of James Bree, who moved to Southampton to join up with Nathan Jones and Harry Cornick to Bristol City, fair play to them, they signed our best striker. Cameron Jerome also left by mutual termination, as he wanted to move back up North to his family. We replaced Bree with Cody Drameh on loan from Leeds and replaced Cornick with Joe Taylor, an unproven striker who was yet to break into the first team at Peterborough. However, Big Mick swore by him, and has been tracking him for years. We also brought in Marvelous Nakamba on loan from Aston Villa (who would turn out to be the difference maker, more on him later). Although, the general consensus was that we were too threadbare at the back, and up top, as injury could expose our lack of depth. But in Rob we trust, and we haven't looked back since. Since his appointment, we have only lost 3 matches in the league, one of which was his first game in charge, and even in that game we played sensational stuff for the first 35 minutes against Middlesbrough, To cap off a totally wizard season, we then had the playoffs, and the rest as they say, is history. Rob Edwards stats P25 - W14 - D8 - L3 - GF 34 - GA 16 - Pts 50 - WinP 56% - PpG 2.0 *Excluding playoff results Time for some RAPID STATS
How did our players do?As per my writer idol Mister PDW, these ratings were picked on a whim, don't shoot the messenger. This shows appearances (sub appearances), minutes played, goals, assists and WhoScored rating. I'm using a letter grade system for the squad, this is down to a whim and may contain some bias, take the ratings with a pinch of salt. Stats from WhoScored - League stats only (including playoffs). Sorted by most minutes played.Ethan Horvath 47 appearances/4261 minutes 19 clean sheets - 6.48 B It was a steady enough season from the US Stopper. He did make some absolute howlers at some points during the season, but never went full 19/20 Sluga (look it up, his howlers were legendary). Although he finished with 19 clean sheets, a lot of his shortcomings were covered up by how the team defended as a whole, shown by our very low xG conceded. I appreciate his time at the club, but I wouldn't take him back here permanently. Amari'i Bell 46(1) appearances/4167 minutes 1G/1A - 6.78 A+ Amari'i is quite literally the unsung hero of the playoff winning campaign. Having played at left wing back last season, and filling in for Alfie Doughty when he was unavailable this season. He played the majority of the season at left centre back, the position vacated by Kal Naismith. He was spectacular and offered so much more from that position than Kal did. He could carry the ball infield, he had the athleticism to make penetrating underlaps into the box and after all the stick he got from Blackburn fans, he can now stick two fingers up at them, and show off his medal. Carlton Morris 44(3) appearances/3693 minutes 20G/7A - 7.21 A+ It was a slow start for Carlton as he bedded into the Luton lineup. He didn't make an impact until he scored his first goal of the season against Swansea, which was also our first win. But, after that goal he didn't look back. He also managed to kick on further under Rob Edwards. He is simply a player that has a bit of everything in his locker, able to score from 3 yards or 30 yards. Tom Lockyer 42 appearances/3638 minutes 4G/1A - 7.13 A+ Considering Locks couldn't buy a game at the beginning of the season, having only come in to the squad for the Carabao Cup game against Newport, where we lost. Swansea was also a watershed moment for him, just like Carlton. This season Hatters saw the finest defensive displays courtesy of Locks, and absolute colossus at the back. It was very concerning when he collapsed during the playoff final. However, we have been told that he is absolutely fine, and will be ready for pre season. Hopefully meaning we will tie him down with a longer contract. Elijah Adebayo 42(3) appearances/3523 minutes 8G/4A - 6.72 A Sure Elijah didn't hit the heights (goalwise) that he did last season. However, he formed a solid partnership up top with Morris. Fortunately it meant that the heavy burden didn't all sit on Elijah's shoulders. If anyone doubts what Elijah brings to the team, just watch his assist for Jordan Clark's goal in the playoff final. His run, his feet, his turning Kyle McFadzean inside out before his pass to find Clark, shows you what he brings to the team. Even playing a three at the back system, any defenders are going to have a shit day trying to stop Elijah and Carlton from executing their movement. Also, it was great to see him get a stab at the playoffs this season after cruelly missing out last season. Jordan Clark 37(4) appearances/3390 minutes 3G/4A - 6.83 A This season, we all saw what Clicker was about, his movement, intelligence and passing were fully on display. It's remarkable that he was signed as a right winger and has been reboxed as an attacking midfielders, he brings the attributes and movement of a winger and takes it between the lines, making him nigh on impossible to pick up for the opposition. Having a similar trajectory to Luton, having been playing for Hyde against Luton in our final conference match. He deserves a shot at the Premier League, and his journey is also remarkable. Just like Luton making it from conference to Premier League in 9 seasons. Allan Campbell 38(5) appearances/3273 minutes 3G/2A - 6.52 B+ I'm being incredibly tight with these scores. Sorry Wee Al. He had a good season, not as stellar as last season, but he brought the same attitude on the pitch, he runs and presses like he has 5 lungs. He also has an eye for goal from midfield with some spectacular hits, most importantly putting the cherry on top of the Watford game, and forever writing himself into Hatters folklore. Unfortunately, with Nakamba entering the fray in January, he was the unfortunate one to miss out on those two remaining midfield spots. Alfie Doughty 28(3) appearances/2438 minutes 2G/5A - 7.14 A+ What a player we have on our hands with Alfie, he will seamlessly move up to the Premier League like he's easing himself into a nice warm bath. Pace, trickery and a delivery to match, he has been a joy to watch play this season. Fans were concerned about the speed at which he was being eased in at the start of the season, but I guess when you have had the injury record that Alfie has, it just makes sense. Also, that goal against QPR was just spectacular. James Bree 27 appearances/2430 minutes 0G/4A - 6.99 A Football can be a cruel game, it can also be incredibly ironic, and that irony can be absolutely hilarious. James Bree was both promoted and relegated this season. He did well for the first half of the season, needing to fill in right centre back, which he did well, whilst also contributing many key passes to the Hatters cause. However, the simple fact is, when Osho came in to the right centre back role, we looked a lot better defensively, and that showed with our climb up the table. I'm still disgruntled about the fee being £750k, what with his contract expiring. But sometimes the grass isn't always greener, is it, James!? Well, at least he's getting a promotion medal. Pelly-Ruddock Mpanzu 27(6) appearances/2394 minutes 3G/1A - 6.62 A This man is a modern Luton Legend. He gets better every season, and he has been worth every penny of the £50,000 that John Still paid for him as a 19 year old back in the Conference. Did you know if plays one minute in the Premier League, he would be the first player in history to have played in the top 5 levels of the English Pyramid for one club? Of course you did, it's been all over the news. He deserves everything he gets, and I'm delighted the club have offered him new terms, Pelly deserves the world. Gabe Osho 25(5) appearances/2273 minutes 3G/0A - 6.64 A The only reason this isn't an A+ is because of his first half of the season. He is the biggest beneficiary of Rob Edwards coming in at Luton. Under Nathan Jones he looked edgy and shit scared to make a mistake, however, under Edwards he was calmness personified with his big runs out of defence with the ball seemingly glued to his foot. He also scored some vital goals, the first against Watford, and then the goal against Sunderland in the away playoff leg to get us up and running. He is another that his currently being negotiated with for a new deal, and he deserves it. Dan Potts 24(2) appearances/2020 minutes 1G/0A - 6.84 B Another player who has been on a spectacular journey with Luton after being signed by John Still in League 2. He started as a left back, but with our formation change over the last two seasons has been re-engineered as a left centre back, which in my opinion is a much better position for him. He doesn't give you the athleticism that Bell gives, but if a ball comes into the box, he will get his absolutely beautiful head onto that ball. He had solid performances this season, however, the emergence of Bell as well as a pesky back injury kept him out for a good chunk of the season. He also scored what turned out to be the winning penalty in the playoff final. Marvelous Nakamba 19(1) appearances/1726 minutes 0G/0A - 6.93 A+ I remember saying on the Oak Road Hatter podcast when Marv came in, he was the difference between getting into the playoffs and not getting into the playoffs. How wrong I was. He was an instrumental cog in the machine that got us promoted. I hope Villa are sensible with their valuation for a player that they simply don't want, so we don't have to shoot our transfer load prematurely on a player that wants to be at Luton. Marv also stepped up in the playoff final shootout and cooly slotted away his pen, which was remarkable considering during games he would always pass the ball rather than shoot. Cody Drameh 19 appearances/1581 minutes 0G/2A - 7.19 A We were all very nervous when Bree left, because were losing a solid option at right wing back. However, enter Cody Drameh. Another bitten by the cruel irony of football, with Leeds being relegated as he makes the step up to Premier League. However, Cody will be alright, with Luton attempting to re-sign him as well as Burnley having a go too, he's got a Premier League move lined up. As he started with Luton you could see he had not played a lot of football, but he found his feet very quickly. Reece Burke 15(7) appearances/1417 minutes 2G/0A - 6.71 B+ At the start of the season, if you had asked me who our best centre back was, it would have been Reece Burke. However, he seemingly has hamstring issues that have prevented him from being a top defender. Remember Hull signed him for £2m as a highly rated 21 year old. Regardless, this season he has scored 2 sensational goals; the piledriver against Blackburn, and then the intricate passing play against Huddersfield where he was instrumental throughout the build up. It would have been a B, if it had not been for his display in the playoff final, where he came on much earlier than expected for Tom Lockyer. If we can stay injury free, we have a Premier League quality defender on our hands. Sonny Bradley 14(5) appearances/1219 minutes 0G/0A - 6.56 B- Sonny is leaving Luton Town at the end of his contract, and he has been a stellar figure for Luton Town. We won promotion to the Championship in his first season at the club, he was key in stabilising the club in the Championship, before pushing on up the league, and eventually winning this second promotion. However, it is known the personal issues he has been experiencing off the field, with his father Ray passing, suffering from long covid and issues with his child's health. No matter who you are, if you are hit with that many gut punches, you will stay down. But Bradley didn't because he's a hard bastard. The cherry on this cake was, a disgusting aerial challenge from Yakou Meite, from which Bradley landed horrendously, and it looked like a season ending injury. But Bradley being the hard bastard he is, he recovered, and plugged gaps in our defence towards the end of the season. Regardless, Sonny was getting exposed by some of the better strikers in the league, Gyokeres and then Archer had a lot of luck running beyond him, but in all fairness, they are both exceptional players. I'm delighted he's leaving us on a high, as he deserves it, and I hope he stays in the Championship and gets a move that works for him. Luke Freeman 10(16) appearances/988 minutes 2G/1A - 6.41 C+ I wasn't expecting Luke Freeman to pull up trees this season, we all know about his injury history that restricting his appearances at Sheffield United. He showed glimpses of what he could do, the goal against QPR was a highlight for me. However, a troublesome groin kept him out for the majority of the season. He does a good job of looking busy on the pitch, without he had a flurry of creating chances at the beginning of the season, but went off the boil fast as his groin caught up with him. The + is purely because he managed to bag some goals and an assist. Cauley Woodrow 5(22) appearances/741 minutes 2G/1A - 6.35 C+ I was expecting a lot from Cauley this season. Certainly more rotation with the front two, who ended up playing a tonne of games, because Cauley was picking up niggling injuries, with the last one keeping him out of the playoffs completely, he couldn't get any momentum during the season. He offers something completely different to our attack and his special touches can be seen at times. Regarding Nathan Jones deciding to play him as a 10, no. Just no. He is not a 10. Look at the goal against Norwich, what a strike. I hope he stays fit next season, because he has unfinished business in the Premier League. Harry Cornick 7(12) appearances/740 minutes 1G/3A - 6.31 C- After his barnstormer of 21/22 I thought maybe Harry would kick on, but unfortunately not. He has always been very streaky in front of goal, but his finishing looked to have gone up a notch. Regardless, he wasn't getting enough first team minutes here and Bristol City needed a striker. So they signed Harry. Allegedly he went for more money than James Bree, which is absolutely criminal, considering they both had 6 months remaining on their contracts. Regardless Bristol City got a good, honest, hard working lad, and I hope he has a good season next year. Fortunately we sold him for more than we bought him, which is a great return on investment. Fred Onyedinma 6(13) appearances/696 minutes 0G/2A - 6.35 C There is most certainly a player in there. Unfortunately with Fred, he is such an athlete he is prone to many injures. When he sets off one on of his sprints you just worry that he's going to pull a hamstring. If he can get through an entire season without injuries he would be flying. Perhaps his best role is as an impact sub, because currently he is unable to string back to back 90 minutes together. Luke Berry 4(19) appearances/695 minutes 3G/0A - 6.43 B We know that Luke Berry is now mostly an impact player, who will happily step into the starting lineup when required. He is yet another that has been on a fantastic journey with us from League 2, and for him it's even more impressive because like Clark and Pelly he has made it from Conference football too. He is a scorer of vital goals, his three vital goals this season were; the late levellers against Rotherham and Millwall, as well as the winer against Blackpool. Love Bezza. Henri Lansbury 6(4) appearances/458 minutes 1G/0A - 6.65 B When required Henri did a job, however, it is clear to see that he has lost his legs and maybe his passion for football, considering he has a new passion, mowing lawns. Although, he will be remembered this season for his absolute shitpinger against Hull City. He's now leaving the club, I don't see him joining another team, I reckon he's going full time lawn lad now. Cameron Jerome 0(21) appearances/333 minutes 1G/1A - 6.22 C+ Considering his extremely limited role purely as an impact sub, Cammy J was an exceptional professional. Unfortunately the distance between his family up north was too much, therefore we agreed to mutually terminate his agreement. Shame he missed out on promotion with Bolton. I feel he would have continued to be a great depth option for us in the second half of the season. His legs have most certainly not gone, he is still a supreme athlete at 36 years old. Louie Watson 3(2) appearances/220 minutes 0G/0A - 6.51 B- Most definitely one for the future, but in his little flurry of starts around the time of Rob Edwards first games was a great indicator of the tidy passing he could bring. However, the signing of Nakamba pretty much put a ceiling on his minutes with the first team, also I think the Grimsby FA cup replay might have given Rob Edwards second thoughts about playing him, I don't know, I'm not part of the Luton coaching staff! He can still continue to develop, and I would like to see him get first team minutes next season in the Championship. Joe Taylor 1(5) appearances/130 minutes 0G/0A - 6.02 B- Definitely the best beneficiary of Cornick and Jerome leaving in January and Cauley's injury issues, as it immediately propelled him to third choice striker. However, Edwards was very reluctant to chuck him on the pitch. He was highly spoken of by Mick Harford and Darren MacAnthony, I don't put stock in what DMac says (although he does have an eye for attacking talent), but Mick knows recruitment and had been tracking him for years prior to the move. Joe was unfortunate to have his strike ruled out in the playoff final, but he showed great big balls to step up and take the second penalty. I reckon a championship/league 1 loan is in the pipeline for next season. Admiral Muskwe 1(1) appearances/105 minutes 0G/0A - 6.51 F I'm at a loss with Muskwe, considering he is more senior than Joe Taylor and was recalled from Fleetwood on the same day we signed Joe, why wasn't he anywhere near the squad? He's most definitely one that we will be looking to cut our losses on next season. He had one flurry of good form, prior to AFCON last season, and since then, he has not hit the heights expected. His loan spell at Fleetwood consisted of 14 games, 3 goals (2 of those being pens). I wouldn't expect to see him here next season. Harry Isted 1 appearance/90 minutes - 5.78 D I like Harry, but his only match this season was the 2-0 loss against Stoke, sure the rest of the team didn't do him any favours, by letting Stoke score two unmarked strikes from two crosses that were allowed to be sent in. I feel the club have done him a disservice, he has obvious talent, reflexes and shot stopping ability, he has shown that at Barnsley, and against Chelsea last season in the FA Cup. However, we opted to bring in emergency loans instead of giving him a chance (I know it was risky considering in 21/22 we were going through keepers like Spinal Tap go through drummers). He's left the club now, and I hope he gets a chance with a Championship club, he could do it. James Shea 1 appearance/90 minutes - 6.54 C Shea got a chance with the final game of the season against Hull and managed to keep a clean sheet. He did really well to come back from an awful injury. However, I do not see him being first choice next season. Potentially second or third choice depending on how good Jack Walton is... Elliot Thorpe 0(3) appearances/68 minutes - 6.19 C His season got off to a shit start, being loaned to Burton and not played. However, I don't know what we do with Elliot Thorpe, he was brought in with high expectations from Tottenham, he dropped down so he could stand a better chance of playing first team football, and he's ended up getting shunted out to the right wing back position. He look great in his cameo against Hull, but I thought we were getting a box to box midfielder. We've triggered an extension in his contract, I don't know if that means we are looking to get a fee by selling him, or whether we want to keep him about for further development. Joe Johnson 0(2) appearances/38 minutes - 6.28 B I'm very excited about JJ, he's 17 and managed to not only break onto the bench, but get some vital first team minutes, with his first minutes coming in a high pressure game against What next?One thing that is guaranteed is that we will be finishing higher than we did this season, Even if we finish 20th. You know what, I'm sure we are going to give it a good go. I don't think we will try and sign proven Premier League talent, but we are more likely to hoover up some of the hot talent in the Championship and League 1/League 2 for further development.I expect quite a big clearout with lots of the players who haven't gotten near our squad to be moved on; Glen Rea is all but gone (well done to him for recovering from his horrendous injury too), Aribim Pepple needs a loan and Dion Pereira, who Bradford were begging to rejoin has barely played this season. Carlos Mendes Gomes is one I would like to see around the first team squad next season. Lots of headaches for Rob Edwards, Richie Kyle and Paul Trollope. Exiting news to look forward to, the renovations are under way at the Kenny to welcome Premier League cameras and media teams, and ground will be broken at Power Court on 19th December 2023. These are amazing times to be a Hatter. Bold early early early pre pre season prediction. Luton Town are finishing 17th next season! I hope you enjoyed reading this. COYH |
2023.06.03 17:57 tryna_write DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE
I parked in the tower's lot, letting my headlights bore into the amalgam of twisted metal and glass for a few moments before shutting them off.
Josh muttered, his voice low. "We're really doing this, huh?"
He ran a hand through his mop of curly hair— a dumb tic he developed last summer when his girlfriend, Annabeth, told him it was sexy. She was beside him now, cuddled up in the backseat across his lap.
I glanced at my own girlfriend, Ellie, in the passenger seat. She was trying her damndest to appear brave, but I knew better. There was no way she was comfortable with trespassing tonight.
I sighed, realizing that Josh would also chicken out.
"We're doing this? You sure you want to come?" I prodded.
Josh shifted in his seat, hand running through his hair yet again. "Maybe it's better if I stay in the truck.”
Annabeth shrugged next to him, unsurprised.
"Me, too,” Ellie chimed in, nodding at Josh.
Annabeth met my eyes, a glimmer of understanding passing between us. Our partners were both boring, god-awful goody two shoes.
"Pussies," I jabbed, swinging open my door without giving them a moment to respond.
Annabeth hopped out behind me, waving at the two losers in the truck before spinning towards me with a grin on her face.
"They're weird," she said, rolling her eyes.
For a moment, I was drinking in the way her golden hair shimmered in the moonlight. A light breeze tickled at our faces, sending sparkles of her moon-lit hair between us.
"Yup," I mustered.
I turned, strolling towards the chain link fence that formed a circular perimeter around the base of Sabe's Tower.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of abandoned potential, whispering of times past when our town's inhabitants thought we'd hit a population boom, becoming the Houston of West Virginia. In the 70s, our success was tied to coal. Jobs flooded in, and with them, a myriad of people trying to make their way in life. Then the mines abruptly ran dry, decimating our town's economy. Since that time, our population has done nothing but dwindle.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of decaying grandeur, silently rotting from the inside out. Some say that's what happened to Sabe himself— a rot took hold in his core, spreading and spreading until nothing but rot was left. In the end, he took his own life, which some say was for the best. He was a greedy fool, the wealthiest man for miles, owning half the surrounding countryside before the mining industry took off. Made a fortune selling his family's land to coal companies, putting every ounce of profit into making his towering hotel more luxurious than a Ritz Carlton.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of failed dreams, now screaming vulgar obscenities at our eyes. It is a truly ugly behemoth, domineering our town's skyline with unmerited arrogance. Sabe thought painting the tower purple would give it an air of majesty, like royalties of the past, swaddled in silky lavender robes. His aspiration, after all, was nothing less than to emulate the sacred Tabernacle of Moses, to make his hotel a dwelling place for gods among men. In its current state of disrepair, however, the tower was no more than an eyesore— a visual cacophony of broken glass, peeling sickly-purple paint, and rusted steel inlays.
Adding to the hotel's disgrace, it was cylindrical in form, perched atop the highest peak for miles, jutting into the sky like a middle finger to the gods. Its phallic outline stood in stark contrast to the run-down strip malls lying in its wake.
The fence surrounding the tower was a bit too tall and a bit too wobbly to safely scale, so we circled, looking for an entry point. Every few yards, a DO NOT TRESPASS sign hung, tied to the fence with zip-ties in each corner. Someone had taken the liberty to spray paint a word underneath each sign, now making them all read:
DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE.
"Good thing you're coming with me," I joked, pointing at one of the signs.
Annabeth paused to read it for a moment. "Yeah... kinda weird that someone did that. I wonder why?"
I shrugged, continuing around the perimeter.
Eventually, we found a gate in the fence, held closed with chains at waist level. The gate's post careened steeply outward, creating a manageable gap near the top. The gate post was only held in place by the chains, not even slightly anchored to the ground. Without too much of a struggle, we hoisted ourselves up and through the gap.
Once inside the fence, I found myself spellbound by the abandoned hotel. The stars in the night sky reflected across the windows, bending and warping around the curved perimeter. Each glimmer of starlight turned into dizzying fractals, melding together and slipping between the shards of broken glass with each shift of my gaze.
The result was honestly breathtaking.
At night, the eyesoriffic tower was beautiful. Its silhouette dared to embrace the star-studded cosmos, standing with a quiet dignity that defied its daytime mockery.
I felt Annabeth shuffle beside me.
Suddenly, her phone flashlight was on, illuminating a path through overgrown concrete to the tower. At the end of the path was the structure’s entrance— a gaping hole with no attempt to conceal the darkness within.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" I yelled, spinning to face her.
"W... What do you mean?" she stuttered.
"Turn that off, you idiot," I explained, lowering my voice. "Someone might see the light and call the cops."
The light flicked off, Annabeth mumbling apologies.
I blinked away the afterimage of weeds eating through the concrete lot, silently cursing myself for being so ridiculously hostile toward her.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"You're good, Donovan" she whispered, brushing her hand across my arm.
As we continued to the open doorway, the outside of the tower came into focus. It was far further dilapidated than I had realized— each accent of purple paint, faded and peeling, was bulging out from between the glass and steel like it was trying to escape. I rubbed a fingernail on the paint, revealing a soft, rotting wood beneath.
I entered the tower first, pausing to let my eyes adjust. The darkness of the doorway opened up into an atrium that must have once made for a magnificent entrance. It was shaped like a slice of pie, us standing near the crust, peering inward toward the center. Above was pitch black, not yielding any answers to just how high up this mighty room's ceiling stretched.
The musty scent that filled my nose was surprisingly welcoming— somewhere between the smell of fishing trips and century old bookstores. I took a deep breath, relishing in the soft stench.
I could vaguely make out wires dangling down from the ceiling of the atrium. They were impossibly long, stretching upward into the infinite gloom.
"They look like vines," Annabeth whispered, her voice a soft purr.
The air was thick with falling dust, filtering down from the abyss above, twirling between the wires in satisfyingly slow-motion. The falling dust made it even harder to see in the dark, leaving the walls on either side of the room foggy blobs. I waved my hand, sending fleeting dust spirals through the air.
I remembered seeing photos of the atrium online, taken on some of the earliest digital cameras ever made. Those pictures showed marble countertops, intricate wooden carvings, and lushly carpeted floors.
The room, as it stands today, is a barren husk of Sabe's vision. The carpet, only present in scattered clumps, was impossibly dark, soiled to the point of true black. It clung to the concrete foundation, viciously holding on for dear life in a losing battle.
I bent down to examine a clump of carpet in front of me, amazed by the absence of light reflecting back. It was like staring into a pit of nothing, a vague absence, an outline of something that should be there.
I poked the toe of my boot at it.
FPOOSH.
It exploded, erupting into my face.
I gagged instinctively, tasting the vile substance mix into my lungs. Annabeth slapped my back as I continued gagging and coughing, begging the mucus to tear itself free from my lungs and just fucking get out of my body because it feels like I'm dying oh GOD.
And eventually, it did.
The violent hacking subsided into slight wretching, then was gone.
"Are you okay?" Annabeth tested.
Do you think I'm fucking okay?
"What the fuck was that?" I spewed.
She bent over the clump of carpet. Underneath the blackened top layer that just violently erupted was a pale network of matted spiderwebs.
"Hmm..." she began, "It kind of looks like mycelium."
She met my raised eyebrow with an eye roll.
"You know, like the roots of a fungus or some shit, I don't know. I just saw the shrooms growing in Bryce's closet that one time he showed me his stash. This white stuff looks just like it. So I guess that makes this black stuff like the part of the shroom we eat, or whatever."
"Oh dip," I responded, nodding. "That makes sense. One time I saw a nature show about some plants that shoot their seeds everywhere when something touches them. It's probably just spreading its spores when we touch it."
"Yeah," she breathed, "pretty gnarly."
We shuffled deeper into the gloom, weaving between dangling cables and clumps of fungus. I felt a drop of moisture flick off a cable, sliding onto my arm.
I groaned. "Fuck. That cable was wet."
"Disgusting," she whispered back.
We made our way to the apex of the room, the center of the tower, revealing a rusted set of elevator doors leaning together like drunks at a quinceanera. The doorway to the stairs, however, beckoned to us with the same unobstructed, pitch-black allure that the tower's entrance emanated just minutes before.
In the dark, it's truly amazing how utterly void all open doorways look.
Upon stepping inside the stairwell, the world vanished. The only proof of having working eyes was a faint, vertical glow of light filtering through the door, abruptly fading into all-consuming black.
Every sound in the entire building bored through my soul, bouncing from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, echoing on and on for all of eternity. The stairwell, directly in the center of the decrepit hotel, was the focal point of every creaking floorboard, every popping nail, every howling gust of wind. It was as if I was holding up a monstrous conch shell to my ear— a deafening murmur of echoes in disarray, smelting together to form satanic harmonies.
"Whoa," Annabeth mumbled.
Her word cut through the other echoes, impossibly loud against their monotonous hum.
Instantly, the echo of her voice filled the stairwell, rising like the build up of a dubstep song until peaking, impossibly overwhelming for a few brief seconds. The echoes of her voice then faded as quickly as they arrived.
She put a hand to her mouth, the whites of her eyes barely visible in the glow coming from the doorway.
I reached out, placing a hand where her shoulder should be. There was not enough space for us to stand abreast in the stairwell, leaving us in a comically squished proximity. She was breathing rapidly, barely managing to stay silent. I squeezed, and her breathing quickly slowed. I felt her hand creep onto mine, and we stood for a minute, simply listening to the cries of the dying building echo around us.
As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a staircase spiraling up the curved wall. Clearly this was a service stairwell, as it is much too cramped for the likes of Sabe's guests. Only a few steps were visible through the darkness at a time, making the staircase feel even tinier than it already was. Luckily, no fungus grew on the stairs themselves, leaving the metal alone to rust.
Annabeth shuffled onto the first step, producing a small object from her pocket. She handed it to me, then pointed up the stairwell, careful to not send echoes through the cylindrical chamber again.
I brought it close to my eyes for inspection, straining against the lack of light.
A joint...
She wants to go to the roof and smoke.
A smile cracked my lips. Classic Annabeth.
Every couple stairsteps, there would be a doorway. Most of them let in a dim glow, offering a glimpse into what must have once been a custodial closet on each floor.
On floor 9, I tugged at Annabeth's hand. We made eye contact in the faint light coming from the doorway. I motioned through it, pointing to the nearly fungus free floor. I wanted to explore at least a little bit, to see if the closet circled around the stairwell or not.
I poked my head through the doorway, freeing myself from the overwhelming cacophony of echoes in the stairwell.
I verified that the closet did, in fact, curve around the circular staircase like a donut. A few steps in one direction led to a terrifying drop— the elevator shaft. Next to it, a sidewalk sized ledge led to an open door, giving a view of the floor's main hallway. The path looked safe— no fungus, cracks, or otherwise obvious defects— so I proceeded, treading as light as a fox, fumbling for Annabeth's hand behind me.
The main hallway ran between the custodial closet and the guest rooms, creating another donut ring around the central stairwell. Throughout the hallway, patches of fungus grew alarmingly close together, threatening to overtake the concrete.
"That stairwell was insane," Annabeth whispered.
I nodded. "Fuck yeah, I wonder what it was like when the hotel was actually open. Must have been miserable for the staff."
We weaved through the fungus filled hallway, coming to room 901. I glanced at Annabeth, raising my eyebrows. The door was slightly ajar, hanging from its one remaining door hinge. I pushed gently, eliciting a monstrous creak.
The room was empty, extending away to the outside in a familiar pie shape. The mold seemed to grow thinner in the room, leaving most of the exposed concrete safe to cross. At the far side, a floor to ceiling panel of windows looked out over our town.
I gasped, taking in the view. Never before had I seen our town from this high up. My eyes drew to the smokestacks by the river, their blinking lights ominously flickering over downtown. Individual streets ran in parallel lines away from the tower, lit with yellowing streetlights. Between the roads, tiny lights cast from window panes twinkled, blending with one another into a starscape of their own.
"Dude," I said. "Look at this."
No response.
I spun, looking for Annabeth, frantically scanning the room. My eyes had adjusted to the outside light, leaving me sightless.
"Annabeth," I hissed.
A cold tingle went up my spine, pulling at hairs on the back of my neck.
"Annabeth?"
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
I crept back across the floor, now aware of the entire room at once. There was nowhere for her to be hiding. No desks, cans of paint, ladders, nothing. Just an empty room with patchy fungus growing on the cement.
Something must have happened.
I studied each fungal growth in the room as I passed by. Even with the light cast from the windows, the tops remained impossibly dark. Not a single feature was discernible— only an outline was visible.
Halfway to the door, a three foot wide hole led straight to floor 8. I could have sworn it wasn't there before. I peered into the opening, seeing straight through to the room below. From what I could see, it was identically empty.
"Annabeth," I tried again, nearing the door to the hallway.
"BOO!"
I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet. I landed squarely on a patch of fungus.
FPOOSH.
I remembered to hold my breath, close my eyes, and plug my nose.
Annabeth cackled from the threshold of the doorway, standing over me with both hands on her forehead.
"You should have seen the look—" she began, breaking off into another fit of laughter.
"Shut up," I groaned, pushing to my feet. My entire body was covered in squishy fungus gunk. I pointed at the hole behind me, continuing. "You could have killed me."
"Blah, blah, blah," she mocked. "You're fine... you're just being a baby."
Annabeth gave me a playful shove, hands lingering for a moment overdue. Swatting her paws off me, I marched back to the stairwell. I led the rest of the way to floor 13, followed by her snickers.
As I reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the 13th floor, my jaw dropped. It was a scene straight out of a surrealist painting. An enormous pool room lay before us. Glass walls extended up from the tile floors, creating a massive, clear domed perimeter. A swath of stars twinkled brilliantly through the clear ceiling, their light refracting through the glass, casting ethereal patterns onto the room's otherwise bleak surroundings.
The pool itself was a semi-circular cutout covering half the floor space, starting at ground level and deepening in a corkscrew motion. Its ceramic tiles, once probably a bright blue, were now tinged with patches of the same fungal growth we had come across on the lower floors. The growth was sparse here, though, letting the original floor design take prominence.
In the center of the room— on top of the staircase we just stepped out of— stood a circular pillar that extended up to the middle of the glass dome, like a spine holding up the entire tower. A small antenna jutted out from above the pillar atop the dome. Surrounding the antenna was a low fence, perhaps a safety measure for maintenance workers.
Annabeth, having finally contained her laughter, stepped beside me, her face illuminated by the soft starlight filtering in through the dome. She too stood silent, taken aback by the unexpected beauty of this forgotten space.
As we moved around the room, our steps echoed across the vast emptiness. With every patch of fungus we passed, the same eerie darkness hovered, the undulating mold standing stark against the ceramic tiles.
We made our way back to the central pillar. A ladder, carved into the pillar, connected to the glass ceiling with a trapdoor.
"To the roof?" Annabeth sang, rubbing her hands together in a goblin-like motion.
"Ladies first."
As she climbed above me, I couldn't help but crane my neck and drool. She slammed open the trapdoor, and we burst through to the roof.
The fenced-in area was covered with a dark spongy surface, gripping at my knees when I stood up. Wind whipped around us, carrying a chill that cut through my clothes and bit into my skin. With each gust, the antenna above us groaned and swayed, almost as if it were joining in a dance with an unseen partner.
We sat on the squishy rubber surface, comfortably in silence. I met her eyes, smiling dumbly. We passed the joint back and forth until it dwindled down, its ember glow flickering one last time before extinguishing completely. A familiar haze crawled through my thoughts, slowing the passage of time to a languishing crawl.
"Hey..." she started, "I think I've finally found inspiration for my next album."
I scooted closer to her, taking her hand. I knew the topic brought about an unusual timidity in her— a blemish in the badass persona she's so keen on presenting. She won't even talk to her own boyfriend about her music career.
"Yeah?" I floated.
She hesitated for a second, settling into the moment. I felt a tug at my crotch, suddenly all too aware of how pretty she looked in the moonlight. I took in every detail— the way her hair fell across her face, the pattern of her freckles, the soft speckling of stars reflecting across her eyes.
"I think you need to take off your shirt, first, though," she whispered, now inches from my face. "You're filthy."
I glanced down, remembering the fungal gunk that had soiled my clothes when she scared me.
Without warning, her hands slid under my shirt, warm and sure. I helped her yank it off, collapsing into her lips.
***
When we got back to the truck, I was still high enough to see everything in slow motion. Before pulling out of the parking lot, Annabeth and I regurgitated the events of our urban exploration, trying to show our significant others what fun they missed out on. It goes without saying that part of the story was intentionally omitted.
Ellie and Josh were unamused. Their lack of adventure will forever be a mystery to me.
We swung out of the lot, hopping onto the highway headed into town. I swayed between lanes, struggling to keep the double-yellow lines in focus.
"Are you sure you're good to drive?" Ellie asked, gripping the armrest.
"I'm fine," I slurred.
Seconds later, another truck materialized in front of us. I swerved to avoid it, then everything went black.
***
I woke up to a strong hand pulling me out of the window. My truck was upside down, the roof completely caved in.
I groaned. "Aww... fuck...."
The person who pulled me out looked like the kind of guy to chew tobacco and spit wisdom. His fishing cap cast a deep shadow across his eyes in the moon's glow, concealing his gaze. He was an old timer, that's for sure, one of those folk who came during the coal rush and decided to stay when all was said and done. I could see his truck— the same truck I saw moments before the crash— pulled into the shoulder of the highway with its blinkers on.
"Easy now," he reassured, his voice like gravel under a boot. "Anyone else inside?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
I plopped onto the grassy slope embarking off the side of the road. The old man pulled their mangled bodies out, one by one.
The countryside shrank around me. I felt the corners of my vision pulling in, the weed in my system straining the limits of shock I could take before melting down.
"I'm sorry, son," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of my guilt. "The police will be here soon. Don't you worry."
The police.
I stood up. I knew exactly how the police treated people with my skin color in this town.
I ran.
"Hey now!" the man hollered.
I kept running.
Away from my truck, away from my dead friends, away from the police.
I ran until my breath came in ragged, uncontrollable huffs. I flopped to the ground, laying on the cool concrete, cradling my head with my hands. Blood flowed between my fingertips, pooling onto the pavement.
I laid there until police sirens wailed through the night, rapidly approaching. They stopped at the wreck, leaving me in silence. Moments later, the sirens picked up their mournful song again, heading toward me.
I sat up.
I was back in the lot of Sabe's Tower. Only then did I realize how little distance I really ran from the wreck— a couple hundred yards at most.
Four, five, maybe even six sirens filled the air. They were all coming for me. They knew what I had done.
I bolted from my position on the concrete. I could hide in the tower. No way the cops would look for me in that rotting place. They wouldn't dare.
I squeezed through the gap in the fence, same as before, vaulting past the
DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE
signs in a fluid lunge. The sirens behind me screamed into the night, melding together into a continuous doomsday chant.
Red and blue lights filled the lot. I hit the ground right in front of the gaping entrance to the tower, praying that the weeds poking through the concrete would be enough to mask my form. I army crawled, inch by inch, dragging myself across broken bottles and plywood shrapnell, until I was safely in the darkness of the tower.
In.
Out.
I breathed.
In.
Out.
A police cruiser parked in the lot. Its siren drowned out all other wails for a moment before shutting off. A chubby white officer hopped out, surveying the scene. His gaze came to rest on the spot where I had lain. He squatted down, raking a finger through the pool of blood I left behind. He took a few steps toward the tower, squatting down yet again. Another splotch of blood, no doubt.
His voice floated through the plaza, slightly nasal and a little out of breath. "Dispatch, this is officer Chetty, badge number 741. I'm on the scene at 1019 Pleasant Valley Lane, in the lot of Sabe's Tower. I've located a pool of fresh blood that may be linked to our hit-and-run suspect. Possible injury, suspect could be close. Requesting immediate backup and forensics for evidence collection."
Fuck.
I wormed my way further into the tower's belly, sliding between patches of fungus like a mouse in a snake pit, heading for the stairwell. I had to ascend, to find some nook or cranny out of reach of the pursuing officers. The godforsaken tower was one big game of hide and seek, only this time, losing meant far worse than a bruised ego.
Something gurgled in the darkness.
My blood froze. I halted, my heart hammering a tattoo against my ribs. Holding my breath, I strained my senses, eyes peering into the graying murk, searching for the source of the sound.
It came again, a wretched retching, like an animal choking on its own vomit. Hacking, gurgling, bubbling wetness bursting through strained vocal chords, a sound of fading vitality. It was coming from near the door, just outside the meager halo of light slipping through the hole.
A wet line smeared across the back of my neck. A yelp escaped my lips before I realized it was just a cord dangling from the ceiling.
At my yelp, the gurgling paused.
A heavy hush fell over the place, the quietude of the hunted.
I could faintly make out echoes emanating from the stairwell, only a few feet behind me.
The gurgling continued, sucking at the thick air. It began to drag itself forward through the fungus covered floor— a slow, steady, rhythmic drag against the concrete.
FPOOSH.
A geyser of spores bloomed, mingling with swirls of dust in the meager light. The creature, or whatever it was, did not slow its approach. Out of the darkness, a form began to shape— a silhouette clawing its way toward me.
FPOOSH.
I could see this eruption envelop the mass on the floor. One hand appeared, then another. Its fingers scrabbled over the concrete, searching for any purchase to grip. They flexed, heaving the thing even closer.
A mop of curly hair appeared between the hands. A body, face down. It pulled itself closer, into another fungal growth, grinding its face through the rough concrete.
FPOOSH.
A knife protruded from its back. The handle jutted upward, a grim totem amidst the grime and gore. I shuddered, involuntarily taking a step closer to the stairwell.
It looked up at me.
Or rather, Josh looked up at me.
I stared back, mouth agape.
His face was nearly sanded off from the concrete. His nose took the worst of it, ground down to the bone, leaving only two sucking, gurgling holes between his eyes. His cheeks were a mangled mess of blood and rocks, viscous red flowing freely to the tip of his chin before dribbling off. The chunks of meat hanging where lips should have been flapped against his teeth with every jerky motion, tethered to his face by all too little strands of flesh. Beneath them, his teeth showed bright red and white in a perpetual grimacing smile.
"Josh?" I managed to whisper, my voice a frightened squeak.
Josh opened his mouth as if to respond, ripping both cheeks in half. He hacked, gurgling, spitting up blood that came from deep within his torso. He slowly cocked his head to the side, but instead of stopping at a slant, he kept twisting his neck until bones started to crack and his head dangled upside down.
His mangled, upside down head swung limply as he pulled himself to his knees, his neck like jelly. He wasn't wearing the same clothes he was wearing earlier tonight— no, he was wearing clothes from the night Annabeth first cheated on him with me. He was at a Villanova game, supporting his favorite team since birth. Annabeth knew he would be gone for the weekend, so we took our chance. I was still at her place when he came back, wearing his Collin Gillespie jersey and reeking of beer.
Now in front of me, his prized jersey was in tatters, torn to ribbons by the concrete. He groaned, shuffling and reaching for me with bloody fingers.
I bolted into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. I pushed myself faster and faster until the door to floor 9 loomed to my side. I didn't pause for a moment, pushed forward by the gurgling echoes reverberating from below.
My thighs, weak from the frantic climb, begged for a break. I wobbled into the hallway, painfully tip-toeing through the fungus. The door to 901 beckoned ahead, hanging open like it had been awaiting my hasty return.
I stumbled over the threshold when Annabeth's singing filled the room. "Oh, Donovan!"
I froze.
Outlined against the window was a two-headed beast. One face belonged to Annabeth, the other to Ellie. The creature swayed, an obscene dance of bare, fused flesh. It wore no clothes, as if to mock God himself. It had two sets of everything— eight appendages total, like a humanoid arachnid. Annabeth's breasts, now side by side with Ellie's, put Ellie to shame, even now.
Annabeth crooned again, "Oh, Donovan!" each syllable laced with acid and honey. The sound made my skin crawl as it floated through the silent room.
"You always did want more, didn't you Donovan?" Ellie sneered, a harsh grin splitting her face.
Annabeth spat, "More than Ellie could give. More than anyone could give."
The thing dropped to the floor with a thud. All eight limbs moved in unison as it crawled.
"Isn't this what you wanted? Both of us at the same time?" Their voices tumbled over each other, mouths moving in synchrony. Together, their laughter filled the hollow room. "Don't you like the thrill, Donovan? Don't you like playing with fire?"
The thing scurried at me, jumping over fungal growths with powerful leaps. The sudden movement broke my paralyzation, spurring my legs to action. I darted into the closet and through the stairwell door, into the gurgling echoes.
Back down the stairwell I ran, the two headed beast in pursuit. Both girls snarled, hindered by their conjoined size in the narrow passageway. Their struggle echoed through the stairwell, mixing with the gurgling. I fled further down, needing to put distance between that thing and me.
I stopped dead in my tracks between floors 2 and 3.
Josh was there, leaning against the wall with the knife removed from his back, now grasped tightly in his hand. I staggered back up the stairs, instinctively retreating, narrowly avoiding the blade as he lunged at me.
Glancing up, I caught a flash of pale skin bearing down on me, cutting off my escape. My only way out was the door to floor 3. I charged through the closet, leaving the echoes behind me.
Floor 3 was empty— no walls, only fungus and windows. The atrium loomed to my left, a pie shaped hole missing from the floor and ceiling. I backed away from the door, eyeing the dangling cords hanging in the atrium.
Maybe... Just maybe....
Josh stumbled from the stairwell, filling the air with his wet slurping. Annabeth and Ellie followed, scrambling toward me.
I didn't have time to think.
I jumped, grasping at the dangling wires, praying they would hold my weight.
Time stuttered, hanging suspended like an icicle on a winter's morning. The world spun in a dizzying blur as I twisted, fingers stretching for a grip. Panic clawed its icy fingers up my spine, but it was the surprise that struck me most. The simple disbelief that this was happening.
A wire found its way into my hand, snapping without slowing my fall.
The wind whooshed past, ripping the breath from my lungs. Above me, the third floor retreated, its grimy concrete replaced by a view of the atrium's ceiling, wires swinging back and forth from my desperate escape.
Then came the sensation of falling. It's a feeling that strikes a primal chord, an orchestra of fear and adrenaline that means the end of a life. My stomach lurched, free-falling alongside me, while the rest of my body seemed to hover in a state of disbelief.
The impact came as both a shock and an inevitability. There was a moment of sheer, undiluted pain, a soundless scream reverberating through my very bones. It felt like being shattered from the inside out, an explosion of agony that started from my back and radiated outwards. An iron-hot spike of pain shot through me, and then, a chilling void as everything below my waist slipped into a terrifying numbness.
The echo of my body's collision rang in my ears as the world spun into a disorienting whirl of blurs, shadows, and pain. The cold concrete beneath me felt real, solid, a chilling contrast to the sudden loss of sensation in my legs.
In the throbbing silence that followed, I understood. I had fallen. I was broken. I lay sprawled on the atrium floor, gasping, the world tilting dangerously in my vision.
Annabeth and Ellie emerged from the staircase, scrambling across the atrium floor. Red and blue police lights filtered through the tower’s windows, making shadows dance between the monster's eight limbs. Josh wasn't far behind, still clutching onto the bloody knife, head rolling upside down between his shoulders.
"Police, we're coming in!" a familiar nasally voice shouted.
The moment officers stepped foot in the tower, the monsters vanished in a spray of spores.
X
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Josh muttered, his voice low. "We're really doing this, huh?"
He ran a hand through his mop of curly hair— a dumb tic he developed last summer when his girlfriend, Annabeth, told him it was sexy. She was beside him now, cuddled up in the backseat across his lap.
I glanced at my own girlfriend, Ellie, in the passenger seat. She was trying her damndest to appear brave, but I knew better. There was no way she was comfortable with trespassing tonight.
I sighed, realizing that Josh would also chicken out.
"We're doing this? You sure you want to come?" I prodded.
Josh shifted in his seat, hand running through his hair yet again. "Maybe it's better if I stay in the truck.”
Annabeth shrugged next to him, unsurprised.
"Me, too,” Ellie chimed in, nodding at Josh.
Annabeth met my eyes, a glimmer of understanding passing between us. Our partners were both boring, god-awful goody two shoes.
"Pussies," I jabbed, swinging open my door without giving them a moment to respond.
Annabeth hopped out behind me, waving at the two losers in the truck before spinning towards me with a grin on her face.
"They're weird," she said, rolling her eyes.
For a moment, I was drinking in the way her golden hair shimmered in the moonlight. A light breeze tickled at our faces, sending sparkles of her moon-lit hair between us.
"Yup," I mustered.
I turned, strolling towards the chain link fence that formed a circular perimeter around the base of Sabe's Tower.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of abandoned potential, whispering of times past when our town's inhabitants thought we'd hit a population boom, becoming the Houston of West Virginia. In the 70s, our success was tied to coal. Jobs flooded in, and with them, a myriad of people trying to make their way in life. Then the mines abruptly ran dry, decimating our town's economy. Since that time, our population has done nothing but dwindle.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of decaying grandeur, silently rotting from the inside out. Some say that's what happened to Sabe himself— a rot took hold in his core, spreading and spreading until nothing but rot was left. In the end, he took his own life, which some say was for the best. He was a greedy fool, the wealthiest man for miles, owning half the surrounding countryside before the mining industry took off. Made a fortune selling his family's land to coal companies, putting every ounce of profit into making his towering hotel more luxurious than a Ritz Carlton.
Sabe’s Tower. Thirteen stories of failed dreams, now screaming vulgar obscenities at our eyes. It is a truly ugly behemoth, domineering our town's skyline with unmerited arrogance. Sabe thought painting the tower purple would give it an air of majesty, like royalties of the past, swaddled in silky lavender robes. His aspiration, after all, was nothing less than to emulate the sacred Tabernacle of Moses, to make his hotel a dwelling place for gods among men. In its current state of disrepair, however, the tower was no more than an eyesore— a visual cacophony of broken glass, peeling sickly-purple paint, and rusted steel inlays.
Adding to the hotel's disgrace, it was cylindrical in form, perched atop the highest peak for miles, jutting into the sky like a middle finger to the gods. Its phallic outline stood in stark contrast to the run-down strip malls lying in its wake.
The fence surrounding the tower was a bit too tall and a bit too wobbly to safely scale, so we circled, looking for an entry point. Every few yards, a DO NOT TRESPASS sign hung, tied to the fence with zip-ties in each corner. Someone had taken the liberty to spray paint a word underneath each sign, now making them all read:
DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE.
"Good thing you're coming with me," I joked, pointing at one of the signs.
Annabeth paused to read it for a moment. "Yeah... kinda weird that someone did that. I wonder why?"
I shrugged, continuing around the perimeter.
Eventually, we found a gate in the fence, held closed with chains at waist level. The gate's post careened steeply outward, creating a manageable gap near the top. The gate post was only held in place by the chains, not even slightly anchored to the ground. Without too much of a struggle, we hoisted ourselves up and through the gap.
Once inside the fence, I found myself spellbound by the abandoned hotel. The stars in the night sky reflected across the windows, bending and warping around the curved perimeter. Each glimmer of starlight turned into dizzying fractals, melding together and slipping between the shards of broken glass with each shift of my gaze.
The result was honestly breathtaking.
At night, the eyesoriffic tower was beautiful. Its silhouette dared to embrace the star-studded cosmos, standing with a quiet dignity that defied its daytime mockery.
I felt Annabeth shuffle beside me.
Suddenly, her phone flashlight was on, illuminating a path through overgrown concrete to the tower. At the end of the path was the structure’s entrance— a gaping hole with no attempt to conceal the darkness within.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" I yelled, spinning to face her.
"W... What do you mean?" she stuttered.
"Turn that off, you idiot," I explained, lowering my voice. "Someone might see the light and call the cops."
The light flicked off, Annabeth mumbling apologies.
I blinked away the afterimage of weeds eating through the concrete lot, silently cursing myself for being so ridiculously hostile toward her.
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"You're good, Donovan" she whispered, brushing her hand across my arm.
As we continued to the open doorway, the outside of the tower came into focus. It was far further dilapidated than I had realized— each accent of purple paint, faded and peeling, was bulging out from between the glass and steel like it was trying to escape. I rubbed a fingernail on the paint, revealing a soft, rotting wood beneath.
I entered the tower first, pausing to let my eyes adjust. The darkness of the doorway opened up into an atrium that must have once made for a magnificent entrance. It was shaped like a slice of pie, us standing near the crust, peering inward toward the center. Above was pitch black, not yielding any answers to just how high up this mighty room's ceiling stretched.
The musty scent that filled my nose was surprisingly welcoming— somewhere between the smell of fishing trips and century old bookstores. I took a deep breath, relishing in the soft stench.
I could vaguely make out wires dangling down from the ceiling of the atrium. They were impossibly long, stretching upward into the infinite gloom.
"They look like vines," Annabeth whispered, her voice a soft purr.
The air was thick with falling dust, filtering down from the abyss above, twirling between the wires in satisfyingly slow-motion. The falling dust made it even harder to see in the dark, leaving the walls on either side of the room foggy blobs. I waved my hand, sending fleeting dust spirals through the air.
I remembered seeing photos of the atrium online, taken on some of the earliest digital cameras ever made. Those pictures showed marble countertops, intricate wooden carvings, and lushly carpeted floors.
The room, as it stands today, is a barren husk of Sabe's vision. The carpet, only present in scattered clumps, was impossibly dark, soiled to the point of true black. It clung to the concrete foundation, viciously holding on for dear life in a losing battle.
I bent down to examine a clump of carpet in front of me, amazed by the absence of light reflecting back. It was like staring into a pit of nothing, a vague absence, an outline of something that should be there.
I poked the toe of my boot at it.
FPOOSH.
It exploded, erupting into my face.
I gagged instinctively, tasting the vile substance mix into my lungs. Annabeth slapped my back as I continued gagging and coughing, begging the mucus to tear itself free from my lungs and just fucking get out of my body because it feels like I'm dying oh GOD.
And eventually, it did.
The violent hacking subsided into slight wretching, then was gone.
"Are you okay?" Annabeth tested.
Do you think I'm fucking okay?
"What the fuck was that?" I spewed.
She bent over the clump of carpet. Underneath the blackened top layer that just violently erupted was a pale network of matted spiderwebs.
"Hmm..." she began, "It kind of looks like mycelium."
She met my raised eyebrow with an eye roll.
"You know, like the roots of a fungus or some shit, I don't know. I just saw the shrooms growing in Bryce's closet that one time he showed me his stash. This white stuff looks just like it. So I guess that makes this black stuff like the part of the shroom we eat, or whatever."
"Oh dip," I responded, nodding. "That makes sense. One time I saw a nature show about some plants that shoot their seeds everywhere when something touches them. It's probably just spreading its spores when we touch it."
"Yeah," she breathed, "pretty gnarly."
We shuffled deeper into the gloom, weaving between dangling cables and clumps of fungus. I felt a drop of moisture flick off a cable, sliding onto my arm.
I groaned. "Fuck. That cable was wet."
"Disgusting," she whispered back.
We made our way to the apex of the room, the center of the tower, revealing a rusted set of elevator doors leaning together like drunks at a quinceanera. The doorway to the stairs, however, beckoned to us with the same unobstructed, pitch-black allure that the tower's entrance emanated just minutes before.
In the dark, it's truly amazing how utterly void all open doorways look.
Upon stepping inside the stairwell, the world vanished. The only proof of having working eyes was a faint, vertical glow of light filtering through the door, abruptly fading into all-consuming black.
Every sound in the entire building bored through my soul, bouncing from wall to wall, ceiling to floor, echoing on and on for all of eternity. The stairwell, directly in the center of the decrepit hotel, was the focal point of every creaking floorboard, every popping nail, every howling gust of wind. It was as if I was holding up a monstrous conch shell to my ear— a deafening murmur of echoes in disarray, smelting together to form satanic harmonies.
"Whoa," Annabeth mumbled.
Her word cut through the other echoes, impossibly loud against their monotonous hum.
Instantly, the echo of her voice filled the stairwell, rising like the build up of a dubstep song until peaking, impossibly overwhelming for a few brief seconds. The echoes of her voice then faded as quickly as they arrived.
She put a hand to her mouth, the whites of her eyes barely visible in the glow coming from the doorway.
I reached out, placing a hand where her shoulder should be. There was not enough space for us to stand abreast in the stairwell, leaving us in a comically squished proximity. She was breathing rapidly, barely managing to stay silent. I squeezed, and her breathing quickly slowed. I felt her hand creep onto mine, and we stood for a minute, simply listening to the cries of the dying building echo around us.
As my eyes adjusted, I could make out a staircase spiraling up the curved wall. Clearly this was a service stairwell, as it is much too cramped for the likes of Sabe's guests. Only a few steps were visible through the darkness at a time, making the staircase feel even tinier than it already was. Luckily, no fungus grew on the stairs themselves, leaving the metal alone to rust.
Annabeth shuffled onto the first step, producing a small object from her pocket. She handed it to me, then pointed up the stairwell, careful to not send echoes through the cylindrical chamber again.
I brought it close to my eyes for inspection, straining against the lack of light.
A joint...
She wants to go to the roof and smoke.
A smile cracked my lips. Classic Annabeth.
Every couple stairsteps, there would be a doorway. Most of them let in a dim glow, offering a glimpse into what must have once been a custodial closet on each floor.
On floor 9, I tugged at Annabeth's hand. We made eye contact in the faint light coming from the doorway. I motioned through it, pointing to the nearly fungus free floor. I wanted to explore at least a little bit, to see if the closet circled around the stairwell or not.
I poked my head through the doorway, freeing myself from the overwhelming cacophony of echoes in the stairwell.
I verified that the closet did, in fact, curve around the circular staircase like a donut. A few steps in one direction led to a terrifying drop— the elevator shaft. Next to it, a sidewalk sized ledge led to an open door, giving a view of the floor's main hallway. The path looked safe— no fungus, cracks, or otherwise obvious defects— so I proceeded, treading as light as a fox, fumbling for Annabeth's hand behind me.
The main hallway ran between the custodial closet and the guest rooms, creating another donut ring around the central stairwell. Throughout the hallway, patches of fungus grew alarmingly close together, threatening to overtake the concrete.
"That stairwell was insane," Annabeth whispered.
I nodded. "Fuck yeah, I wonder what it was like when the hotel was actually open. Must have been miserable for the staff."
We weaved through the fungus filled hallway, coming to room 901. I glanced at Annabeth, raising my eyebrows. The door was slightly ajar, hanging from its one remaining door hinge. I pushed gently, eliciting a monstrous creak.
The room was empty, extending away to the outside in a familiar pie shape. The mold seemed to grow thinner in the room, leaving most of the exposed concrete safe to cross. At the far side, a floor to ceiling panel of windows looked out over our town.
I gasped, taking in the view. Never before had I seen our town from this high up. My eyes drew to the smokestacks by the river, their blinking lights ominously flickering over downtown. Individual streets ran in parallel lines away from the tower, lit with yellowing streetlights. Between the roads, tiny lights cast from window panes twinkled, blending with one another into a starscape of their own.
"Dude," I said. "Look at this."
No response.
I spun, looking for Annabeth, frantically scanning the room. My eyes had adjusted to the outside light, leaving me sightless.
"Annabeth," I hissed.
A cold tingle went up my spine, pulling at hairs on the back of my neck.
"Annabeth?"
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
I crept back across the floor, now aware of the entire room at once. There was nowhere for her to be hiding. No desks, cans of paint, ladders, nothing. Just an empty room with patchy fungus growing on the cement.
Something must have happened.
I studied each fungal growth in the room as I passed by. Even with the light cast from the windows, the tops remained impossibly dark. Not a single feature was discernible— only an outline was visible.
Halfway to the door, a three foot wide hole led straight to floor 8. I could have sworn it wasn't there before. I peered into the opening, seeing straight through to the room below. From what I could see, it was identically empty.
"Annabeth," I tried again, nearing the door to the hallway.
"BOO!"
I stumbled backward, tripping over my own feet. I landed squarely on a patch of fungus.
FPOOSH.
I remembered to hold my breath, close my eyes, and plug my nose.
Annabeth cackled from the threshold of the doorway, standing over me with both hands on her forehead.
"You should have seen the look—" she began, breaking off into another fit of laughter.
"Shut up," I groaned, pushing to my feet. My entire body was covered in squishy fungus gunk. I pointed at the hole behind me, continuing. "You could have killed me."
"Blah, blah, blah," she mocked. "You're fine... you're just being a baby."
Annabeth gave me a playful shove, hands lingering for a moment overdue. Swatting her paws off me, I marched back to the stairwell. I led the rest of the way to floor 13, followed by her snickers.
As I reached the top of the stairs and stepped onto the 13th floor, my jaw dropped. It was a scene straight out of a surrealist painting. An enormous pool room lay before us. Glass walls extended up from the tile floors, creating a massive, clear domed perimeter. A swath of stars twinkled brilliantly through the clear ceiling, their light refracting through the glass, casting ethereal patterns onto the room's otherwise bleak surroundings.
The pool itself was a semi-circular cutout covering half the floor space, starting at ground level and deepening in a corkscrew motion. Its ceramic tiles, once probably a bright blue, were now tinged with patches of the same fungal growth we had come across on the lower floors. The growth was sparse here, though, letting the original floor design take prominence.
In the center of the room— on top of the staircase we just stepped out of— stood a circular pillar that extended up to the middle of the glass dome, like a spine holding up the entire tower. A small antenna jutted out from above the pillar atop the dome. Surrounding the antenna was a low fence, perhaps a safety measure for maintenance workers.
Annabeth, having finally contained her laughter, stepped beside me, her face illuminated by the soft starlight filtering in through the dome. She too stood silent, taken aback by the unexpected beauty of this forgotten space.
As we moved around the room, our steps echoed across the vast emptiness. With every patch of fungus we passed, the same eerie darkness hovered, the undulating mold standing stark against the ceramic tiles.
We made our way back to the central pillar. A ladder, carved into the pillar, connected to the glass ceiling with a trapdoor.
"To the roof?" Annabeth sang, rubbing her hands together in a goblin-like motion.
"Ladies first."
As she climbed above me, I couldn't help but crane my neck and drool. She slammed open the trapdoor, and we burst through to the roof.
The fenced-in area was covered with a dark spongy surface, gripping at my knees when I stood up. Wind whipped around us, carrying a chill that cut through my clothes and bit into my skin. With each gust, the antenna above us groaned and swayed, almost as if it were joining in a dance with an unseen partner.
We sat on the squishy rubber surface, comfortably in silence. I met her eyes, smiling dumbly. We passed the joint back and forth until it dwindled down, its ember glow flickering one last time before extinguishing completely. A familiar haze crawled through my thoughts, slowing the passage of time to a languishing crawl.
"Hey..." she started, "I think I've finally found inspiration for my next album."
I scooted closer to her, taking her hand. I knew the topic brought about an unusual timidity in her— a blemish in the badass persona she's so keen on presenting. She won't even talk to her own boyfriend about her music career.
"Yeah?" I floated.
She hesitated for a second, settling into the moment. I felt a tug at my crotch, suddenly all too aware of how pretty she looked in the moonlight. I took in every detail— the way her hair fell across her face, the pattern of her freckles, the soft speckling of stars reflecting across her eyes.
"I think you need to take off your shirt, first, though," she whispered, now inches from my face. "You're filthy."
I glanced down, remembering the fungal gunk that had soiled my clothes when she scared me.
Without warning, her hands slid under my shirt, warm and sure. I helped her yank it off, collapsing into her lips.
***
When we got back to the truck, I was still high enough to see everything in slow motion. Before pulling out of the parking lot, Annabeth and I regurgitated the events of our urban exploration, trying to show our significant others what fun they missed out on. It goes without saying that part of the story was intentionally omitted.
Ellie and Josh were unamused. Their lack of adventure will forever be a mystery to me.
We swung out of the lot, hopping onto the highway headed into town. I swayed between lanes, struggling to keep the double-yellow lines in focus.
"Are you sure you're good to drive?" Ellie asked, gripping the armrest.
"I'm fine," I slurred.
Seconds later, another truck materialized in front of us. I swerved to avoid it, then everything went black.
***
I woke up to a strong hand pulling me out of the window. My truck was upside down, the roof completely caved in.
I groaned. "Aww... fuck...."
The person who pulled me out looked like the kind of guy to chew tobacco and spit wisdom. His fishing cap cast a deep shadow across his eyes in the moon's glow, concealing his gaze. He was an old timer, that's for sure, one of those folk who came during the coal rush and decided to stay when all was said and done. I could see his truck— the same truck I saw moments before the crash— pulled into the shoulder of the highway with its blinkers on.
"Easy now," he reassured, his voice like gravel under a boot. "Anyone else inside?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
I plopped onto the grassy slope embarking off the side of the road. The old man pulled their mangled bodies out, one by one.
The countryside shrank around me. I felt the corners of my vision pulling in, the weed in my system straining the limits of shock I could take before melting down.
"I'm sorry, son," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of my guilt. "The police will be here soon. Don't you worry."
The police.
I stood up. I knew exactly how the police treated people with my skin color in this town.
I ran.
"Hey now!" the man hollered.
I kept running.
Away from my truck, away from my dead friends, away from the police.
I ran until my breath came in ragged, uncontrollable huffs. I flopped to the ground, laying on the cool concrete, cradling my head with my hands. Blood flowed between my fingertips, pooling onto the pavement.
I laid there until police sirens wailed through the night, rapidly approaching. They stopped at the wreck, leaving me in silence. Moments later, the sirens picked up their mournful song again, heading toward me.
I sat up.
I was back in the lot of Sabe's Tower. Only then did I realize how little distance I really ran from the wreck— a couple hundred yards at most.
Four, five, maybe even six sirens filled the air. They were all coming for me. They knew what I had done.
I bolted from my position on the concrete. I could hide in the tower. No way the cops would look for me in that rotting place. They wouldn't dare.
I squeezed through the gap in the fence, same as before, vaulting past the
DO NOT TRESPASS ALONE
signs in a fluid lunge. The sirens behind me screamed into the night, melding together into a continuous doomsday chant.
Red and blue lights filled the lot. I hit the ground right in front of the gaping entrance to the tower, praying that the weeds poking through the concrete would be enough to mask my form. I army crawled, inch by inch, dragging myself across broken bottles and plywood shrapnell, until I was safely in the darkness of the tower.
In.
Out.
I breathed.
In.
Out.
A police cruiser parked in the lot. Its siren drowned out all other wails for a moment before shutting off. A chubby white officer hopped out, surveying the scene. His gaze came to rest on the spot where I had lain. He squatted down, raking a finger through the pool of blood I left behind. He took a few steps toward the tower, squatting down yet again. Another splotch of blood, no doubt.
His voice floated through the plaza, slightly nasal and a little out of breath. "Dispatch, this is officer Chetty, badge number 741. I'm on the scene at 1019 Pleasant Valley Lane, in the lot of Sabe's Tower. I've located a pool of fresh blood that may be linked to our hit-and-run suspect. Possible injury, suspect could be close. Requesting immediate backup and forensics for evidence collection."
Fuck.
I wormed my way further into the tower's belly, sliding between patches of fungus like a mouse in a snake pit, heading for the stairwell. I had to ascend, to find some nook or cranny out of reach of the pursuing officers. The godforsaken tower was one big game of hide and seek, only this time, losing meant far worse than a bruised ego.
Something gurgled in the darkness.
My blood froze. I halted, my heart hammering a tattoo against my ribs. Holding my breath, I strained my senses, eyes peering into the graying murk, searching for the source of the sound.
It came again, a wretched retching, like an animal choking on its own vomit. Hacking, gurgling, bubbling wetness bursting through strained vocal chords, a sound of fading vitality. It was coming from near the door, just outside the meager halo of light slipping through the hole.
A wet line smeared across the back of my neck. A yelp escaped my lips before I realized it was just a cord dangling from the ceiling.
At my yelp, the gurgling paused.
A heavy hush fell over the place, the quietude of the hunted.
I could faintly make out echoes emanating from the stairwell, only a few feet behind me.
The gurgling continued, sucking at the thick air. It began to drag itself forward through the fungus covered floor— a slow, steady, rhythmic drag against the concrete.
FPOOSH.
A geyser of spores bloomed, mingling with swirls of dust in the meager light. The creature, or whatever it was, did not slow its approach. Out of the darkness, a form began to shape— a silhouette clawing its way toward me.
FPOOSH.
I could see this eruption envelop the mass on the floor. One hand appeared, then another. Its fingers scrabbled over the concrete, searching for any purchase to grip. They flexed, heaving the thing even closer.
A mop of curly hair appeared between the hands. A body, face down. It pulled itself closer, into another fungal growth, grinding its face through the rough concrete.
FPOOSH.
A knife protruded from its back. The handle jutted upward, a grim totem amidst the grime and gore. I shuddered, involuntarily taking a step closer to the stairwell.
It looked up at me.
Or rather, Josh looked up at me.
I stared back, mouth agape.
His face was nearly sanded off from the concrete. His nose took the worst of it, ground down to the bone, leaving only two sucking, gurgling holes between his eyes. His cheeks were a mangled mess of blood and rocks, viscous red flowing freely to the tip of his chin before dribbling off. The chunks of meat hanging where lips should have been flapped against his teeth with every jerky motion, tethered to his face by all too little strands of flesh. Beneath them, his teeth showed bright red and white in a perpetual grimacing smile.
"Josh?" I managed to whisper, my voice a frightened squeak.
Josh opened his mouth as if to respond, ripping both cheeks in half. He hacked, gurgling, spitting up blood that came from deep within his torso. He slowly cocked his head to the side, but instead of stopping at a slant, he kept twisting his neck until bones started to crack and his head dangled upside down.
His mangled, upside down head swung limply as he pulled himself to his knees, his neck like jelly. He wasn't wearing the same clothes he was wearing earlier tonight— no, he was wearing clothes from the night Annabeth first cheated on him with me. He was at a Villanova game, supporting his favorite team since birth. Annabeth knew he would be gone for the weekend, so we took our chance. I was still at her place when he came back, wearing his Collin Gillespie jersey and reeking of beer.
Now in front of me, his prized jersey was in tatters, torn to ribbons by the concrete. He groaned, shuffling and reaching for me with bloody fingers.
I bolted into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. I pushed myself faster and faster until the door to floor 9 loomed to my side. I didn't pause for a moment, pushed forward by the gurgling echoes reverberating from below.
My thighs, weak from the frantic climb, begged for a break. I wobbled into the hallway, painfully tip-toeing through the fungus. The door to 901 beckoned ahead, hanging open like it had been awaiting my hasty return.
I stumbled over the threshold when Annabeth's singing filled the room. "Oh, Donovan!"
I froze.
Outlined against the window was a two-headed beast. One face belonged to Annabeth, the other to Ellie. The creature swayed, an obscene dance of bare, fused flesh. It wore no clothes, as if to mock God himself. It had two sets of everything— eight appendages total, like a humanoid arachnid. Annabeth's breasts, now side by side with Ellie's, put Ellie to shame, even now.
Annabeth crooned again, "Oh, Donovan!" each syllable laced with acid and honey. The sound made my skin crawl as it floated through the silent room.
"You always did want more, didn't you Donovan?" Ellie sneered, a harsh grin splitting her face.
Annabeth spat, "More than Ellie could give. More than anyone could give."
The thing dropped to the floor with a thud. All eight limbs moved in unison as it crawled.
"Isn't this what you wanted? Both of us at the same time?" Their voices tumbled over each other, mouths moving in synchrony. Together, their laughter filled the hollow room. "Don't you like the thrill, Donovan? Don't you like playing with fire?"
The thing scurried at me, jumping over fungal growths with powerful leaps. The sudden movement broke my paralyzation, spurring my legs to action. I darted into the closet and through the stairwell door, into the gurgling echoes.
Back down the stairwell I ran, the two headed beast in pursuit. Both girls snarled, hindered by their conjoined size in the narrow passageway. Their struggle echoed through the stairwell, mixing with the gurgling. I fled further down, needing to put distance between that thing and me.
I stopped dead in my tracks between floors 2 and 3.
Josh was there, leaning against the wall with the knife removed from his back, now grasped tightly in his hand. I staggered back up the stairs, instinctively retreating, narrowly avoiding the blade as he lunged at me.
Glancing up, I caught a flash of pale skin bearing down on me, cutting off my escape. My only way out was the door to floor 3. I charged through the closet, leaving the echoes behind me.
Floor 3 was empty— no walls, only fungus and windows. The atrium loomed to my left, a pie shaped hole missing from the floor and ceiling. I backed away from the door, eyeing the dangling cords hanging in the atrium.
Maybe... Just maybe....
Josh stumbled from the stairwell, filling the air with his wet slurping. Annabeth and Ellie followed, scrambling toward me.
I didn't have time to think.
I jumped, grasping at the dangling wires, praying they would hold my weight.
Time stuttered, hanging suspended like an icicle on a winter's morning. The world spun in a dizzying blur as I twisted, fingers stretching for a grip. Panic clawed its icy fingers up my spine, but it was the surprise that struck me most. The simple disbelief that this was happening.
A wire found its way into my hand, snapping without slowing my fall.
The wind whooshed past, ripping the breath from my lungs. Above me, the third floor retreated, its grimy concrete replaced by a view of the atrium's ceiling, wires swinging back and forth from my desperate escape.
Then came the sensation of falling. It's a feeling that strikes a primal chord, an orchestra of fear and adrenaline that means the end of a life. My stomach lurched, free-falling alongside me, while the rest of my body seemed to hover in a state of disbelief.
The impact came as both a shock and an inevitability. There was a moment of sheer, undiluted pain, a soundless scream reverberating through my very bones. It felt like being shattered from the inside out, an explosion of agony that started from my back and radiated outwards. An iron-hot spike of pain shot through me, and then, a chilling void as everything below my waist slipped into a terrifying numbness.
The echo of my body's collision rang in my ears as the world spun into a disorienting whirl of blurs, shadows, and pain. The cold concrete beneath me felt real, solid, a chilling contrast to the sudden loss of sensation in my legs.
In the throbbing silence that followed, I understood. I had fallen. I was broken. I lay sprawled on the atrium floor, gasping, the world tilting dangerously in my vision.
Annabeth and Ellie emerged from the staircase, scrambling across the atrium floor. Red and blue police lights filtered through the tower’s windows, making shadows dance between the monster's eight limbs. Josh wasn't far behind, still clutching onto the bloody knife, head rolling upside down between his shoulders.
"Police, we're coming in!" a familiar nasally voice shouted.
The moment officers stepped foot in the tower, the monsters vanished in a spray of spores.
X
2023.06.03 17:27 Proletlariet Gex
If this weren't a video game, I'd be on my way to prison!
Gex
After the successive deaths of Gex's father and uncle, which happened to leave him a large inheritance, Gex entered a deep depression, unable to leave the house. He used his cash to buy himself a big TV and cable, and spent his days as a couch potato in front of the screen, a hopeless addict. One day, when he swallowed a special bug sent by the villainous Rez, he was pulled inside the world of TV. Now, with only his natural gecko abilities to help him, Gex goes on an adventure to defeat Rez and escape from TVland, all the while spouting off extremely dated pop-culture references.As a playable character in the game Mad Dash Racing, Gex is capable of performing any feat another character in his racer class (Dasher) can do, as well as any feat performable by the other two racer classes (Glider and Basher) as long as he’s carrying 10 green meteor chunks. Overview of racer classes from the manual. Feats that Dashers can perform will be marked with “MDR” for Mad Dash Racing while feats Gex would need ten meteor chunks to perform will be marked with “Tri” for “Tribrid.”
Gecko Abilities
Tongue- Snatches a bug out of the air with his tongue
- Picks up powerups with his tongue
- Pulls his entire body onto a platform with his tongue
- Pulls himself up onto a tree branch to avoid automatic fire.
- Pulls himself up to a tree branch twenty feet above his head to escape cannibals and a tiger.
- Pulls himself up to a conduit fifty feet above the ground to avoid an attack from Rez.
- Catches his fall and reels himself back up to a platform after Rez knocks him off it.
- In the first game, Gex can climb along any surface, including walls and ceilings
- From the second game onwards, Gex can only climb on specially marked areas
- Uses the suction-cups on his feet to cling to a tree against the blast of four tank shells.
- Invincibility
- Super speed that makes Gex leave afterimages
- Super jump that lets Gex jump high into the air
- Fire breath that incinerates foes
- Flaming aura that lets him light a fuse (Gameboy version)
- Ice breath that freezes foes In the novel, it pierces Rez’s chest and knocks him back into a pit of static.
- Multidirectional lightning breath that incinerates foes
- Spitting attack Uses it to knock Rez off a wire, make a car skid, and immobilize three gangsters.
- Temporary Herculean strength
- Temporary superhero strength which can shatter stone
- Bunny costume
- Space suit
- Caveman outfit
- Indiana Jones costume
- Police costume
- Winter clothes
- Firefighter costume
- Pharaoh outfit
- Army uniform
- Cowboy costume
- Akuji the Heartless costume
- Toga
- Pirate costume complete with peg leg
- Wrestling costume
- Tin Man costume
- Scuba gear
- Gangster outfit
- Lifeguard outfit
- Superhero costume
- Vampire costume that lets him glide through the air
- Red riding hood that lets him glide
- Robot suit that lets him glide In the novel, it makes him a transformer who can shapeshift into a bucket, a forklift, a jet plane or a helicopter with a rotor strong enough to chop up a heavily armoured giant robot.
- Sherlock Holmes costume that lets him analyze his surroundings and... shrink?
- Psycho Chicken: a chicken-shaped guided missile that homes in on foes and explodes.MDR
- Blob Bombs:, which are green glowing blobs that can be set down which explode on contact like mines.
- Bouncy Fruit: bouncing explosive projectiles shaped like fruit.
- Ribbon of Pain: A tron-like trail of energy that trails behind him, stunning anybody who touches it.
- Disco Ball: A shield that gives Gex temporary invincibility plus a speed boost.
- Freeze All: Freezes all other racers on the track, forcing them to struggle to escape with a button prompt.
Vehicles
Strength
General Strength- Diverts the path of a slow-moving rocket
- Holds onto a large firework as it flies into the air (Gameboy version)
- Holds onto a rocket as it flies through space
- Uses a mounted machine gun without experiencing recoil
- Hits a golfball so hard that it leaves a trail of fire when it lands.
- His tail whip attack is described as being able to dismember enemies and even disintegrate them
- Bashes through a large cluster of blocks with one hit from his tail
- Breaks metal containers
- Destroys a satellite dish
- Destroys a radio tower
- Breaks flying TVs
- Breaks giant dominos
- Breaks giant, evil pool balls
- Breaks a giant metal locker door
- Breaks a sarcophagus-themed wall covering
- Breaks the Ark of the Covenant (Gameboy version)
- Breaks the arms off a statue
- Breaks metal grates
- Breaks a brick house apart with repeated strikes
- Tail-whips a skull offscreen
- Tail-whips barrels
- Tail-whips and breaks strings that are holding up anvils
- Tail-whips a large mushroom (Gameboy version)
- Tail-whips a cooler of blood (Gameboy version)
- Tail-whips a sentient piece of machinery (Gameboy version)
- Tail-whips an Asian vase (Gameboy version)
- Tail-whips a set of double doors
- Tail-whips a bookshelf cover
- Tail-whips some giant bones
- Tail-whips a crystal power cell
- Tail-whips a sandcastle
- Tail-whips wooden boards
- Tail-whips tents
- Tail whips a car-sized boulder back at the cyclops who threw it, knocking them back into a mountain.
- Tail whips a desk into splinters.
- Sends Rez flying with a tail whip. Rez is very large and made of metal.
- Defeats a troop of alien warriors with his tail-whip.
- Defeats six ninjas at once with a roundhouse tail-whip.
- Sends Moo Shu Pork, a mutant cow/pig hybrid, flying with a kick, and is then implied to eat him. Moo Shu Pork is considerably larger than Gex.
- Knocks over a mech walker
- Deflects a thrown present out of the air hard enough to stun Evil Santa (Gameboy version)
- Dismembers a Frankenstein's monster
- Can defeat a dinosaur (Gameboy version)
- Activates a cannon by striking it (Gameboy version)
- Spins a gear to raise a large platform
- Spins a crank to pull out a bridge
- Rings the bell on a test-your-strength machine
- Tail slams so hard he shakes a mountain, causing part of it to collapse onto a cyclops.
- While giant, breaks apart a skyscraper with repeated strikes
- Shakes a giant tower inside a space station with a tail slam.
- Sends shockwaves through the ground with a tail slam, defeating two sumo wrestlers.
- Casually knocks aside robotic drones.
- Sends a roman soldier flying out of a chariot with a tail swipe.
- Knocks down a twelve foot tall cyclops.
- Knocks down a very large man with a tail swipe.
Mad Dash Racing
- Can defeat a Tremmel (a spikey headed monster) with one hit.MDR
- Can stun other racers and knock them into the air with a tackle.MDR
- Can smash through thick sections of foliage.Tri
- Can smash through rows of crates.Tri
- Can smash through a larger pile of crates.Tri
- Can destroy large underground roots.Tri
- Can destroy large stone tiki heads.Tri
- Can bash through cracked stone blocks.Tri
- Can smash apart a metal barricade.Tri
- Can smash apart a barricade made from large metal barrels.Tri
- Can smash through a large door.Tri
- Can smash through a cracked stone wall.Tri
- Can destroy a large rock spire.Tri
- Can destroy large stone boulders.Tri
- Can bash apart huge sections of rock.Tri
- Can beat Hex in a boss fight. Hex is strong enough to smash through huge stone walls and shrugs off a massive explosion in a cutscene and says he’s feeling “okay” afterwards. Although any playable character can play through Mad Dash Racing’s story mode and fight Hex, the cutscene for winning does change to reflect who you pickedMDR and there’s not really any canon for this game
Mobility
Agility- Can bounce using his tail
- Can jump surprisingly far
- Jumps from his chariot to another while in a race.
- Jumps from satellite to satellite in space, using his suction cups and sticky tongue to help him.
- Can clear long gaps with a karate kick
- Can do a one-handed handstand
- Can run, climb, and swimMDR very quickly.
- Can also climb arm over arm hanging from a net ceiling very fast.MDR
- Can perform a “Powerslide” while turning in order to charge up a burst of speed. In action.MDR
- Can grind quickly across thin surfaces like guard rails, vines, and ropes.MDR
- Can glide through the air a good distance by flapping his arms.Tri
- Counters an attack from a cow-pig hybrid with a pair of nunchuks, then disarms him.
- Dodges swings from Rez. Does it again.
- Runs while avoiding spear thrusts from cannibals chasing him.
- Jumps over a crowd of zombies, then dodges a knife-swing from a slasher villain.
- Can jump over a ninja's shuriken while fighting him (Gameboy version)
- Leaps out of a tank to avoid four enemy shells.
- Dodges gunfire from three gangsters.
- Runs away from a POW camp while avoiding gunfire from the guards.
- Ducks behind a car to avoid a driveby shooting.
- Can aimdodge automatic fire from a gangster’s tommygun.
- Can jump over a hunter's cartoon bullets while fighting him (Gameboy version)
- Can run around hunters with homing bullets (Gameboy version)
- Can move around slow-moving energy blasts
- Can dodge rocket blasts from Rez
- Avoids a bunch of homing missiles from Rez.
- Jumps onto a missile after it’s fired and steers it through a TV and into Rez’s chest.
- Deflects a thrown present out of the air hard enough to stun Evil Santa
- Can run extremely quickly after a golf ball he’s launched; in this case, covers about 180yds in a few seconds.
Durability
- Unhurt by jumping through glass
- Unhurt when the rocket he's riding blows to bits
- Unhurt by an impact that destroys the wooden crate he's in
- Deflects blue fireballs
- Gets slapped into the side of a building by Rez. Rez is strong enough to shake a huge tower inside a space station with one hand.
- Gets hit by Rez again, knocking him off a platform.
- Gets slammed in the skull by an FBI agent with a crowbar, although it knocks him out
- Gets pistol whipped in the back of the head by a mobster.
- Gets blasted into a wall by a robot’s beam attack.
- Gets shot by a giant robot and crashes into the ground hard enough to damage his jet-boots.
- Has an exploding bouquet of flowers go off in his face, blasting his head the wrong-way around.
- Gets thrown high up a mountain by a cyclops.
- Can crash through a large neon sign without slowing down.MDR
- Can be hurled a long distance from a catapult and hit the ground running.MDR
- As a mandatory section of a race course, falls from high up and hits the ground running.MDR
- Can be hit by a giant rolling boulder and is only stunned for a second.MDR
- Can take a hit by the Tremmel King in a story mode cutscene. As a Basher type racer, the Tremmel King is strong enough to smash apart large obstacles.MDR
- Can take hits from Hex during his boss fight. Hex is strong enough to smash through huge stone walls during scripted sections of the fight.MDR
- Can get speared by a floor spike trap and walk it off.MDR
- Can be hit by a swinging bladed pendulum and walk it off.MDR
- Can be blown up by a land mine and walk it off.MDR
- Can be burned by a spray of hot steam from a pipe and shake it off.MDR
- Can be burned by a jet of flame from a giant tiki and shake it off.MDR
Other
- In the first game, can spend an indefinite amount of time underwater
- Can spend an indefinite amount of time in space with no suit or air supply Same in the novel.
- Gets charged up with an energy that lets him activate jump pads
- Fucking murders people with a tommy gun
- Can kill ghosts
- His tail seems to be somewhat prehensile, picking up, unfolding, and putting on a pair of sunglasses.
- Carves an ice sculpture with tail whips (Gameboy version)
- Is pretty good at golf.
Hey, cool. I wonder what's on HBO...
2023.06.03 16:10 YaaliAnnar NoP: Lost and Found (57)
First Previous
Memory Transcription Subject: Tresn, Arxur Defector
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-22
After the encounter with the disdainful zurulian, Elangkasa led me to another section of the medical complex. We navigated through the makeshift path until we arrived at a building. The painted sign marked this as "Recovery Center".
Inside I found a hive of movement and noise. Humans filled the space and engaged in different activities meant to acclimate them to their prosthetic limbs. Sounds of encouragement and determination echoed in the room. A unique mix of scents filled the air, warm metal, the clinical smell of antiseptic, and the underlying current of human sweat.
One side of the room housed various forms of mobility training. Here, individuals learned to walk again, their new legs carrying them across varieties of terrains from flat platforms to uneven rocky surfaces, all designed to mimic real-world conditions. The patients stumbled, recovered, and started to find their footing.
In a separate section, people sat around tables with an array of tactile puzzles and dexterity tools strewn around. Their faces scrunched in concentration, brows furrowed and lips pursed as they manipulated small objects or practiced precise movements with their acquired hands. The mechanical digits moved with a jerky grace but grew more fluid with each passing moment. A chorus of patient encouragement followed the quiet clinks and clatters of dropped objects.
A human figure clad in the typical uniform of the facility came toward us. An intricate headgear on their head concealed their mane.
"Ah, is this the arxur?" My translator assigned her feminine voice. "Hi, I'm Ida."
"Hi Ida," Elangkasa shared a formal nod with the other human. "This is Tresn."
"Thanks, Coordinator," Ida responded with another nod. "I can handle it from here."
After a quick farewell, Elangkasa left me in the capable hands of Ida. I looked around the bustling hall, my gaze sweeping over the flurry of activity.
"So... this is where you train people to adapt to their new limbs?"
"Yeah. Do you have your prosthesis?" Ida inquired, her voice carrying a professional tone laced with underlying warmth.
"Sure," I responded, reaching for the bag slung over the back of my wheelchair. From its depths, I extracted the mechanical feet.
"Hmm, interesting. This doesn't resemble an arxur foot at all," Ida observed, her dark eyebrows arching as she scrutinized the unconventional prosthetic.
"Indeed, I drew inspiration from your planet's creatures," I replied, a hint of pride slipping into my tone. "You have a species related to your kind, yes? I believe they're referred to as monkeys?"
"I see..." Ida murmured, a thoughtful expression wrinkling her forehead. I felt a slight apprehension in her voice. "But can you control such a thing?"
"Watch this!" Excitement coursed through me as I manipulated the intricate prosthetic. With a flex of my thoughts, the prosthetic responded, the claws moving with surprising fluidity, much like an additional set of hand paws.
"Excellent!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up in a wide smile. She clapped her hands together.
With practiced ease, the human-assisted me in attaching the prostheses. She produced a sturdy belt, custom-made to secure the prostheses and ensure they stayed attached. As the weight of my body pressed onto the artificial limbs, I felt a dull throbbing at the ends of my stumps. The sensation felt odd, not quite pain, but rather, a constant reminder of the foreign appendages now attached to my body.
For starters, I had a simple exercise, designed to introduce my body to a new way of movement. I had to walk between two parallel bars. My arms took some of the weight as I grabbed the bar and attempted to maneuver my prosthetic feet. I tried to replicate my usual gait, letting the claws on my new limbs ripple and flex in what I hoped was a natural manner.
However, it became apparent that just manipulating the claws of my prostheses didn't suffice. I needed to master the motion of bending the wrist and ankle analogs, a detail I hadn't considered before. My first steps came out as awkward and clumsy, a far cry from the graceful movements I had imagined.
Our rehabilitation session continued until a sharp, persistent ache at the base of my stumps signaling me to stop. Back in my wheelchair again, I maneuvered my way to the comfort of my assigned habitation unit. With my friends engrossed in their volunteer duties, I only had myself. The silence in the room reminded me back when I had to stay hidden in the camp. In those quiet moments, my thoughts strayed to my predicament, wishing for a rapid recovery that would free me from my solitude and allow me to stand beside my companions, contributing to helping humans.
Amid my reflection, my mind wandered back to a previous interaction with a human acquaintance named Jagomerah. I remembered his offer to meet up if I ever found myself in Purwakarta, prompting me to revisit our old messages on social media.
"Hi there, Jagomerah," I initiated the conversation, my fingers tapping out the words on the screen. "I've made it to Purwakarta, Sector Twelve to be precise."
He sent a swift and enthusiastic response, "No way! Alright, meet me at Sector Ten's plaza at 16:00 then."
"Looking forward to it," I typed back, a flicker of anticipation sparking within me.
As the time neared the fifteenth hour, my human friends returned, their faces flush with the day's exertion. To pass the time while waiting for our remaining companions, we played a game of human cards.
Bolad and Vani appeared a half-hour later, their arrival completing our little circle. With everyone present, I proposed an expedition to Sector Ten and I was met with eager nods and enthusiastic agreement. Thus, our band of six ventured, weaving through the intricate maze of sectors within the camp. I met several arxur on my way, always giving me a look of disapproval. Upon reaching the bustling plaza of Sector Ten, I shot a quick message to Jagomerah, notifying him of our arrival. It didn't take long for our gaze to meet each other.
To my surprise, Snop already knew this Jagomerah person. She referred to him as a "scalie", an apparent misnomer given the absence of any discernible scales on his skin.
A sharp voice cut off our introduction. "Have you no shame?" The words came from the female arxur who had been standing behind Jagomerah. Her eyes glared at me with a chilling reproof. "Wasting resources like this, when others are clinging to life."
Jagomerah, the human with a mane of untamed curls, turned back to meet Lovaz's scathing gaze. "What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was a gruff contrast to her icy disdain.
With an indignant huff, Lovaz gestured at me, her clawed hand sweeping in my direction. "Look at him! He's nothing more than a drain on society now."
"Lovaz," Jagomerah said in a stern voice. The curly-maned human squared his shoulders and met the arxur's gaze with unwavering defiance. "What do you do to an injured arxur?"
"We do nothing." She snapped, her tail lashing with irritation. "It is the responsibility of the impaired to stop being a burden to our society."
"In human society, it's the responsibility of the society to care for the impaired," Jagomerah retorted, his dark eyes never leaving Lovaz's.
"This weakness," Lovaz spat out the word with such venom, "is why all this happened to you, human."
Jagomerah's gaze hardened. With a swift movement of his left arm, he pulled his armband aside, revealing a metallic ring. His fingers moved over the surface of his arm, found a hidden latch, and with a quick twist, the arm detached. The purpose of his armband became clear to me in that instant. The fabric covered the prosthetic limb's attachment point.
"See this?" Jagomerah held up his detached arm. "This hand can crush your windpipe. Not so weak now, huh?"
Modern arxurs only understood the language of strength and violence. From what I had learned about humans, a display like Jagomerah's could escalate into a fight. Yet the arxur woman just chuckled, her sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory grin. "Okay… I see your point."
"Hey...Tresn wasn't it?" Jagomerah said, his voice had a note of regret in it. I inclined my head in response. "I must apologize for my earlier suspicion."
I looked at his arm, or rather, the empty space where they should have been. "So...uh, what happened to your arm?"
"Well, see, I'm a firefighter," Jagomerah began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of long-held sadness. The metal arm detached from his body was held in his remaining hand. "When you're fighting a beast of fire, sometimes it bites back. Burning debris can fall, and sometimes it traps someone whose means of escape is for his comrade to make a tough call because the fire is spreading."
As Jagomerah talked, his fingers worked on his mechanical limb. The sight fascinated me, the gleaming metallic end, the intricate design, and the way the parts clicked into place with a satisfying sound. Each movement reflected countless repetitions and a depth of familiarity that looked almost second nature.
His gaze turned to me, a question hanging in the air between us. "What about you? How did it happen?"
"Grenade," I replied, the single word packed with echoes of a past I wasn't quite ready to delve into.
"My shift has started, but I have time before I have to go to Greater Jakarta for the next twenty hours. Maybe I can show you around?"
I looked at Lovaz's whose hard gaze still didn't escape me. I met her glare with a smile, feeling a touch of defiance rise in me.
"Why do you care so much about this defective one?" Lovaz spat.
Jagomerah shrugged "He seemed nice. You don't have to come along with me. Just…reconvene at the meeting point at 18:45"
The tension between us hung palpably in the air as Lovaz lingered, shooting one last look of contempt my way before she walked away, her tail slapped against Jagomerah's leg.
"Well… that was something," Johan murmured. "The arxurs aren't one for much for socialization, are they?"
Feeling an odd kinship with the human, I decided to explain, "The only necessary relationship in the Dominion is between you and the State. Some arxurs would take a mate, but it's always in the service of the State. A mate could keep an eye on you in the field and administer first aid if needed."
"If you have a mate," Vani began. "what would he do if the incident with the farsul happened?"
I looked down at my lap, my scales catching the low light. "He would leave me to die." My voice sounded heavy with a bitter truth.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
"Let's not dawdle," Jagomerah interrupted, shifting the atmosphere with a few words. "Follow me."
As we moved, I found myself questioning the cyborg. "What are you doing here?"
Jagomerah stopped, turning back to me. "Wait... you do have the concept of disaster relief... right?"
I blinked, my mind racing. "Uh... the closest thing we have is asset recovery," I said, embarrassed. "Your description on social media says you fight the fire, right? Do you put out conflagration?"
"That's right," he walked away again, his mechanical limb gesturing for us to continue following him.
As we moved, Jagomerah began to explain his role. It went beyond just putting out raging fires but it also involved pulling out survivors or bodies, clearing away the debris, and ensuring the remaining structures had enough integrity for rebuilding to commence. Their dedicated work created the foundation on which the rest of the humans could begin reconstructing the city.
After navigating the winding alleys of Sector Ten, we arrived at a prefabricated building near a wide road that allowed for the movement of large vehicles. Indeed, several huge vehicles bordered the building. Jagomerah led us through one of the gates in the building into a cavernous room. Inside, we saw a massive vehicle with dimensions larger than Johan's already big van. Humans moved around it in coordinated chaos, packing the vehicle with an assortment of tools and supplies.
All sorts of rescue gear adorned the walls. Some of them looked familiar to me, hoses coiled, axes with their blades shining under the overhead lights, ladders arranged according to size, and sledgehammers. There were also some that looked more complicated, from the design, I guessed that it uses hydraulics to help prop something or force something to open.
Lockers, each personalized with a human name, added a touch of individuality to the otherwise functional room. The heavy scent of rubber and metal hung in the air. Dominating the far end of the room, a large digital display showcased a detailed map of Greater Jakarta. The multitude of markings and notes told a silent story of planning, strategic thinking, and past operations.
A human woman approached Jagomerah, her greeting a bark, "Hey, Agni!"
Agni? Perhaps that was his other name, just like Snop was also known as Kirani. I found myself a little puzzled, having to familiarize myself with the concept of people using multiple names for everyday social life, not for espionage.
The human's skin was a deeper shade of brown, her hair coiled and secured into a neat bun. Her gaze turned to me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Whoa… what happened to that guy?"
"Grenade," Jagomerah replied, the single-word explanation heavy with unspoken stories.
Her eyes narrowed, "You're not replacing Lovaz with them, are you?"
"No," he assured her, his tone calm and clear. "Lovaz should arrive after breaking the fast. I'm taking this arxur and his friend here to look around."
We introduced ourselves with Johan kicking off the process. When my turn arrived, I said to myself with a touch of embarrassment, "My name is Tresn, right now… I'm not able to contribute."
A man, his face marked by burn scars that halted the growth of facial fur, chimed in, "Of course, you can't. No one in the right mind would ask you to work. Focus on your healing first."
Jagomerah then guided us through the process of their preparation. He explained what each item in the stacks of supplies was for. Besides the collection of essentials like food and water, and medical kits it also featured an impressive array of construction tools. I watched as teams worked together, loading supplies into vehicles, and checking and double-checking their lists. I saw clusters of team members in huddled discussions, their focus on tablets displaying complex documents. I watched them practice procedures, going through the motions of first aid, victim search, debris clearing, and evacuation protocols.
At one point Jagomerah introduced us to one of the drones that would help them. It looked like a human if a human was made out of blocks. The drone excited Johan and Cynthio and the two humans began interrogating the machine.
The buzz of activity that had characterized this place began to fade as the time for meal approached. People moved away from their tasks, converging towards the dining halls, the scent of food replacing the scent of rubber and metal.
Jagomerah and his team brought me towards the carnivore dining hall, a part of the camp designed to accommodate species with diets like us. My roommates, meanwhile, wandered off towards the herbivore hall. There were many arxurs present, and though I could feel their glances on my scarred form, none approached me.
The dining area was divided into two queues. One led to a spread of raw meat where the arxurs could pile their trays high with a selection of proteins. The second queue catered to a more human palate, featuring cooked dishes.
When I joined the line for the human food, Jagomerah looked at me in surprise. But he nodded in approval after I explained that I prefer cooked meat now. He told me that the dish for the night was Rawon, a delicious black soup cooked with a special kind of plant that contains hydrogen cyanide.
"Wait...what?"
"Yeah, but the plant has been processed to remove that toxin away. See... this is why we process food and cook them." He looked at the line of arxurs helping themselves to the blocks of meat. "I can't imagine eating them, so chewy and bland, even our raw meat dishes have seasoning in them."
That remark intrigued me. "Wait, you have raw meat dishes too?"
"Sure, we have-"
"Next!" The human server shouted. Our discussion had made a large gap between us and the last human.
"Okay, let's get this rawon first."
I noticed that the humans also have white plant matter called 'rice' to go with the rawon. For me, I would have just the soup, rich, aromatic, and packed with chunks of meat. To my delight, the meal also came with boiled eggs. Settling down with humans felt different from the stern, disapproving arxur tables back at the fleet. Here, Jagomerah and his team shared jokes, stories, and smiles as we ate. As we tucked into our meals, I shared my own tale, the official version of my crash landing.
Jagomerah listened, his gaze serious. When I finished, he took a moment before speaking. "When Lovaz says… I'm sorry… 'defective'… she's referring to more than just your physical condition, right?" He paused, recalling our earlier conversation. "You said the same to me when we chatted."
"Yeah... us Arxurs aren't supposed to be like... this." I gestured towards myself.
"I'm glad that you're like this," Jagomerah patted my shoulder. I didn't think he said that in pity, but rather understanding, and acceptance.
A soft chiming sound echoed from his wrist, drawing our attention. Jagomerah glanced down at the device strapped around his wrist, his eyes scanning over the display.
"Ah, duty calls," he sighed. I could feel a certain heaviness in his tone. "Our mission is about to start and we'll be in Greater Jakarta for the next twenty-four hours."
"Do what you need, human," I responded, a hint of a smile on my face.
"But feel free to message me, okay?" He proposed. Giving me a chance for us to continue our discussion. Perhaps it could lead to something more, I hoped.
After saying our goodbyes, I watched Jagomerah and his team depart. The herbivore dining didn't expect an Arxur like me and it would cause problems if I popped up there. Instead, I decided to wait in the plaza. I found a quiet corner and parked myself, my mind wandering back to Jagomerah and his team. The brief time I'd spent with them passed, unlike anything I'd experienced before. I felt a sense of acceptance and togetherness that felt...right.
For the first time, I felt like I belonged.
submitted by YaaliAnnar to NatureofPredators [link] [comments]
Date [Standard Human Reckoning]: 2136-10-22
After the encounter with the disdainful zurulian, Elangkasa led me to another section of the medical complex. We navigated through the makeshift path until we arrived at a building. The painted sign marked this as "Recovery Center".
Inside I found a hive of movement and noise. Humans filled the space and engaged in different activities meant to acclimate them to their prosthetic limbs. Sounds of encouragement and determination echoed in the room. A unique mix of scents filled the air, warm metal, the clinical smell of antiseptic, and the underlying current of human sweat.
One side of the room housed various forms of mobility training. Here, individuals learned to walk again, their new legs carrying them across varieties of terrains from flat platforms to uneven rocky surfaces, all designed to mimic real-world conditions. The patients stumbled, recovered, and started to find their footing.
In a separate section, people sat around tables with an array of tactile puzzles and dexterity tools strewn around. Their faces scrunched in concentration, brows furrowed and lips pursed as they manipulated small objects or practiced precise movements with their acquired hands. The mechanical digits moved with a jerky grace but grew more fluid with each passing moment. A chorus of patient encouragement followed the quiet clinks and clatters of dropped objects.
A human figure clad in the typical uniform of the facility came toward us. An intricate headgear on their head concealed their mane.
"Ah, is this the arxur?" My translator assigned her feminine voice. "Hi, I'm Ida."
"Hi Ida," Elangkasa shared a formal nod with the other human. "This is Tresn."
"Thanks, Coordinator," Ida responded with another nod. "I can handle it from here."
After a quick farewell, Elangkasa left me in the capable hands of Ida. I looked around the bustling hall, my gaze sweeping over the flurry of activity.
"So... this is where you train people to adapt to their new limbs?"
"Yeah. Do you have your prosthesis?" Ida inquired, her voice carrying a professional tone laced with underlying warmth.
"Sure," I responded, reaching for the bag slung over the back of my wheelchair. From its depths, I extracted the mechanical feet.
"Hmm, interesting. This doesn't resemble an arxur foot at all," Ida observed, her dark eyebrows arching as she scrutinized the unconventional prosthetic.
"Indeed, I drew inspiration from your planet's creatures," I replied, a hint of pride slipping into my tone. "You have a species related to your kind, yes? I believe they're referred to as monkeys?"
"I see..." Ida murmured, a thoughtful expression wrinkling her forehead. I felt a slight apprehension in her voice. "But can you control such a thing?"
"Watch this!" Excitement coursed through me as I manipulated the intricate prosthetic. With a flex of my thoughts, the prosthetic responded, the claws moving with surprising fluidity, much like an additional set of hand paws.
"Excellent!" Ida exclaimed, her face lighting up in a wide smile. She clapped her hands together.
With practiced ease, the human-assisted me in attaching the prostheses. She produced a sturdy belt, custom-made to secure the prostheses and ensure they stayed attached. As the weight of my body pressed onto the artificial limbs, I felt a dull throbbing at the ends of my stumps. The sensation felt odd, not quite pain, but rather, a constant reminder of the foreign appendages now attached to my body.
For starters, I had a simple exercise, designed to introduce my body to a new way of movement. I had to walk between two parallel bars. My arms took some of the weight as I grabbed the bar and attempted to maneuver my prosthetic feet. I tried to replicate my usual gait, letting the claws on my new limbs ripple and flex in what I hoped was a natural manner.
However, it became apparent that just manipulating the claws of my prostheses didn't suffice. I needed to master the motion of bending the wrist and ankle analogs, a detail I hadn't considered before. My first steps came out as awkward and clumsy, a far cry from the graceful movements I had imagined.
Our rehabilitation session continued until a sharp, persistent ache at the base of my stumps signaling me to stop. Back in my wheelchair again, I maneuvered my way to the comfort of my assigned habitation unit. With my friends engrossed in their volunteer duties, I only had myself. The silence in the room reminded me back when I had to stay hidden in the camp. In those quiet moments, my thoughts strayed to my predicament, wishing for a rapid recovery that would free me from my solitude and allow me to stand beside my companions, contributing to helping humans.
Amid my reflection, my mind wandered back to a previous interaction with a human acquaintance named Jagomerah. I remembered his offer to meet up if I ever found myself in Purwakarta, prompting me to revisit our old messages on social media.
"Hi there, Jagomerah," I initiated the conversation, my fingers tapping out the words on the screen. "I've made it to Purwakarta, Sector Twelve to be precise."
He sent a swift and enthusiastic response, "No way! Alright, meet me at Sector Ten's plaza at 16:00 then."
"Looking forward to it," I typed back, a flicker of anticipation sparking within me.
As the time neared the fifteenth hour, my human friends returned, their faces flush with the day's exertion. To pass the time while waiting for our remaining companions, we played a game of human cards.
Bolad and Vani appeared a half-hour later, their arrival completing our little circle. With everyone present, I proposed an expedition to Sector Ten and I was met with eager nods and enthusiastic agreement. Thus, our band of six ventured, weaving through the intricate maze of sectors within the camp. I met several arxur on my way, always giving me a look of disapproval. Upon reaching the bustling plaza of Sector Ten, I shot a quick message to Jagomerah, notifying him of our arrival. It didn't take long for our gaze to meet each other.
To my surprise, Snop already knew this Jagomerah person. She referred to him as a "scalie", an apparent misnomer given the absence of any discernible scales on his skin.
A sharp voice cut off our introduction. "Have you no shame?" The words came from the female arxur who had been standing behind Jagomerah. Her eyes glared at me with a chilling reproof. "Wasting resources like this, when others are clinging to life."
Jagomerah, the human with a mane of untamed curls, turned back to meet Lovaz's scathing gaze. "What are you talking about?" he asked. His voice was a gruff contrast to her icy disdain.
With an indignant huff, Lovaz gestured at me, her clawed hand sweeping in my direction. "Look at him! He's nothing more than a drain on society now."
"Lovaz," Jagomerah said in a stern voice. The curly-maned human squared his shoulders and met the arxur's gaze with unwavering defiance. "What do you do to an injured arxur?"
"We do nothing." She snapped, her tail lashing with irritation. "It is the responsibility of the impaired to stop being a burden to our society."
"In human society, it's the responsibility of the society to care for the impaired," Jagomerah retorted, his dark eyes never leaving Lovaz's.
"This weakness," Lovaz spat out the word with such venom, "is why all this happened to you, human."
Jagomerah's gaze hardened. With a swift movement of his left arm, he pulled his armband aside, revealing a metallic ring. His fingers moved over the surface of his arm, found a hidden latch, and with a quick twist, the arm detached. The purpose of his armband became clear to me in that instant. The fabric covered the prosthetic limb's attachment point.
"See this?" Jagomerah held up his detached arm. "This hand can crush your windpipe. Not so weak now, huh?"
Modern arxurs only understood the language of strength and violence. From what I had learned about humans, a display like Jagomerah's could escalate into a fight. Yet the arxur woman just chuckled, her sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory grin. "Okay… I see your point."
"Hey...Tresn wasn't it?" Jagomerah said, his voice had a note of regret in it. I inclined my head in response. "I must apologize for my earlier suspicion."
I looked at his arm, or rather, the empty space where they should have been. "So...uh, what happened to your arm?"
"Well, see, I'm a firefighter," Jagomerah began, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of long-held sadness. The metal arm detached from his body was held in his remaining hand. "When you're fighting a beast of fire, sometimes it bites back. Burning debris can fall, and sometimes it traps someone whose means of escape is for his comrade to make a tough call because the fire is spreading."
As Jagomerah talked, his fingers worked on his mechanical limb. The sight fascinated me, the gleaming metallic end, the intricate design, and the way the parts clicked into place with a satisfying sound. Each movement reflected countless repetitions and a depth of familiarity that looked almost second nature.
His gaze turned to me, a question hanging in the air between us. "What about you? How did it happen?"
"Grenade," I replied, the single word packed with echoes of a past I wasn't quite ready to delve into.
"My shift has started, but I have time before I have to go to Greater Jakarta for the next twenty hours. Maybe I can show you around?"
I looked at Lovaz's whose hard gaze still didn't escape me. I met her glare with a smile, feeling a touch of defiance rise in me.
"Why do you care so much about this defective one?" Lovaz spat.
Jagomerah shrugged "He seemed nice. You don't have to come along with me. Just…reconvene at the meeting point at 18:45"
The tension between us hung palpably in the air as Lovaz lingered, shooting one last look of contempt my way before she walked away, her tail slapped against Jagomerah's leg.
"Well… that was something," Johan murmured. "The arxurs aren't one for much for socialization, are they?"
Feeling an odd kinship with the human, I decided to explain, "The only necessary relationship in the Dominion is between you and the State. Some arxurs would take a mate, but it's always in the service of the State. A mate could keep an eye on you in the field and administer first aid if needed."
"If you have a mate," Vani began. "what would he do if the incident with the farsul happened?"
I looked down at my lap, my scales catching the low light. "He would leave me to die." My voice sounded heavy with a bitter truth.
Everyone fell silent for a moment.
"Let's not dawdle," Jagomerah interrupted, shifting the atmosphere with a few words. "Follow me."
As we moved, I found myself questioning the cyborg. "What are you doing here?"
Jagomerah stopped, turning back to me. "Wait... you do have the concept of disaster relief... right?"
I blinked, my mind racing. "Uh... the closest thing we have is asset recovery," I said, embarrassed. "Your description on social media says you fight the fire, right? Do you put out conflagration?"
"That's right," he walked away again, his mechanical limb gesturing for us to continue following him.
As we moved, Jagomerah began to explain his role. It went beyond just putting out raging fires but it also involved pulling out survivors or bodies, clearing away the debris, and ensuring the remaining structures had enough integrity for rebuilding to commence. Their dedicated work created the foundation on which the rest of the humans could begin reconstructing the city.
After navigating the winding alleys of Sector Ten, we arrived at a prefabricated building near a wide road that allowed for the movement of large vehicles. Indeed, several huge vehicles bordered the building. Jagomerah led us through one of the gates in the building into a cavernous room. Inside, we saw a massive vehicle with dimensions larger than Johan's already big van. Humans moved around it in coordinated chaos, packing the vehicle with an assortment of tools and supplies.
All sorts of rescue gear adorned the walls. Some of them looked familiar to me, hoses coiled, axes with their blades shining under the overhead lights, ladders arranged according to size, and sledgehammers. There were also some that looked more complicated, from the design, I guessed that it uses hydraulics to help prop something or force something to open.
Lockers, each personalized with a human name, added a touch of individuality to the otherwise functional room. The heavy scent of rubber and metal hung in the air. Dominating the far end of the room, a large digital display showcased a detailed map of Greater Jakarta. The multitude of markings and notes told a silent story of planning, strategic thinking, and past operations.
A human woman approached Jagomerah, her greeting a bark, "Hey, Agni!"
Agni? Perhaps that was his other name, just like Snop was also known as Kirani. I found myself a little puzzled, having to familiarize myself with the concept of people using multiple names for everyday social life, not for espionage.
The human's skin was a deeper shade of brown, her hair coiled and secured into a neat bun. Her gaze turned to me, her eyes widening in surprise. "Whoa… what happened to that guy?"
"Grenade," Jagomerah replied, the single-word explanation heavy with unspoken stories.
Her eyes narrowed, "You're not replacing Lovaz with them, are you?"
"No," he assured her, his tone calm and clear. "Lovaz should arrive after breaking the fast. I'm taking this arxur and his friend here to look around."
We introduced ourselves with Johan kicking off the process. When my turn arrived, I said to myself with a touch of embarrassment, "My name is Tresn, right now… I'm not able to contribute."
A man, his face marked by burn scars that halted the growth of facial fur, chimed in, "Of course, you can't. No one in the right mind would ask you to work. Focus on your healing first."
Jagomerah then guided us through the process of their preparation. He explained what each item in the stacks of supplies was for. Besides the collection of essentials like food and water, and medical kits it also featured an impressive array of construction tools. I watched as teams worked together, loading supplies into vehicles, and checking and double-checking their lists. I saw clusters of team members in huddled discussions, their focus on tablets displaying complex documents. I watched them practice procedures, going through the motions of first aid, victim search, debris clearing, and evacuation protocols.
At one point Jagomerah introduced us to one of the drones that would help them. It looked like a human if a human was made out of blocks. The drone excited Johan and Cynthio and the two humans began interrogating the machine.
The buzz of activity that had characterized this place began to fade as the time for meal approached. People moved away from their tasks, converging towards the dining halls, the scent of food replacing the scent of rubber and metal.
Jagomerah and his team brought me towards the carnivore dining hall, a part of the camp designed to accommodate species with diets like us. My roommates, meanwhile, wandered off towards the herbivore hall. There were many arxurs present, and though I could feel their glances on my scarred form, none approached me.
The dining area was divided into two queues. One led to a spread of raw meat where the arxurs could pile their trays high with a selection of proteins. The second queue catered to a more human palate, featuring cooked dishes.
When I joined the line for the human food, Jagomerah looked at me in surprise. But he nodded in approval after I explained that I prefer cooked meat now. He told me that the dish for the night was Rawon, a delicious black soup cooked with a special kind of plant that contains hydrogen cyanide.
"Wait...what?"
"Yeah, but the plant has been processed to remove that toxin away. See... this is why we process food and cook them." He looked at the line of arxurs helping themselves to the blocks of meat. "I can't imagine eating them, so chewy and bland, even our raw meat dishes have seasoning in them."
That remark intrigued me. "Wait, you have raw meat dishes too?"
"Sure, we have-"
"Next!" The human server shouted. Our discussion had made a large gap between us and the last human.
"Okay, let's get this rawon first."
I noticed that the humans also have white plant matter called 'rice' to go with the rawon. For me, I would have just the soup, rich, aromatic, and packed with chunks of meat. To my delight, the meal also came with boiled eggs. Settling down with humans felt different from the stern, disapproving arxur tables back at the fleet. Here, Jagomerah and his team shared jokes, stories, and smiles as we ate. As we tucked into our meals, I shared my own tale, the official version of my crash landing.
Jagomerah listened, his gaze serious. When I finished, he took a moment before speaking. "When Lovaz says… I'm sorry… 'defective'… she's referring to more than just your physical condition, right?" He paused, recalling our earlier conversation. "You said the same to me when we chatted."
"Yeah... us Arxurs aren't supposed to be like... this." I gestured towards myself.
"I'm glad that you're like this," Jagomerah patted my shoulder. I didn't think he said that in pity, but rather understanding, and acceptance.
A soft chiming sound echoed from his wrist, drawing our attention. Jagomerah glanced down at the device strapped around his wrist, his eyes scanning over the display.
"Ah, duty calls," he sighed. I could feel a certain heaviness in his tone. "Our mission is about to start and we'll be in Greater Jakarta for the next twenty-four hours."
"Do what you need, human," I responded, a hint of a smile on my face.
"But feel free to message me, okay?" He proposed. Giving me a chance for us to continue our discussion. Perhaps it could lead to something more, I hoped.
After saying our goodbyes, I watched Jagomerah and his team depart. The herbivore dining didn't expect an Arxur like me and it would cause problems if I popped up there. Instead, I decided to wait in the plaza. I found a quiet corner and parked myself, my mind wandering back to Jagomerah and his team. The brief time I'd spent with them passed, unlike anything I'd experienced before. I felt a sense of acceptance and togetherness that felt...right.
For the first time, I felt like I belonged.
2023.06.03 15:38 obeliskposture Short story about bad times & bad jobs
I've shared fiction here before and it didn't go altogether too poorly, so I'm going to press my luck and do it again. This was written about a year ago, and I'm tired of trying to peddle it to lit magazines. Might as well share it here, know that it met a few eyeballs, and have done with it.
It's relevant to the sub insofar as it's about urban alienation and the working conditions at a small business run by IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE people. (I tried to pitch it as a story of the great resignation with a momentary flicker of cosmic horror.) It's based on a similar job I took on after getting laid off during the lockdown, and the circumstances of the main character's breakup are faintly similar to one I went through several years back (her job sucked the life out of her).
Without further ado:
* * *
It was getting close to midnight, and the temperature outside was still above 80 degrees. We’d locked up the shop at 10:15 and walked over to Twenty, the dive bar on Poplar Street, where a single wall-mounted air conditioner and four wobbly ceiling fans weren’t putting up much resistance against the July heat baking the place from the outside and the dense mass of bodies giving it a stifling fever from within.
Just now I came close to saying it was a Wednesday night, because that was usually when the cyclists descended upon Avenue Brew, the gritty-but-bougie craft beer and sandwich shop I was working at back then. Every Wednesday between March and November, about fifteen to twenty-five Gen Xers dressed in skintight polyester, all packages and camel toes and fanny packs, locked up their thousand-dollar bikes on the sidewalk and lined up for IPAs and paninis. They reliably arrived around 8:00, an hour before we closed, making it impossible to get started on the closing checklist and leave on time at 10:00. The worst of them were demanding and rude, and even the best got raucous and stubborn after a couple drinks. There were nights when bringing in the sidewalk tables couldn’t be done without arguing with them. Most were sub-par tippers, to boot.
After Wednesday came and went that week without so much as a single 40-something in Ray Bans and padded shorts stopping in to double-fist two cans of Jai Alai, we dared to hope the cyclists had chosen another spot to be their finish line from there on out. But no—they’d only postponed their weekly ride, and swarmed us on Friday night instead.
I was the last person to find out; I was clocked in as purchaser that evening. The position was something like a promotion I'd received a year earlier: for twenty hours a week, I got to retreat from the public and sit in the back room with the store laptop, reviewing sales and inventory, answering emails from brewery reps, and ordering beer, beverages, and assorted paper goods. When I put in hours as purchaser, my wage went up from $11 to $15 an hour, but I was removed from the tip pool. On most days, tips amounted to an extra two or three dollars an hour, so I usually came out ahead.
This was back in 2021. I don't know what Avenue Brew pays these days.
Anyway, at about 8:15, I stepped out to say goodbye to everyone and found the shop in chaos. Friday nights were generally pretty active, the cyclists' arrival had turned the place into a mob scene. The line extended to the front door. The phone was ringing. The Grubhub tablet dinged like an alarm clock without a snooze button. Danny was on the sandwich line and on the verge of losing his temper. Oliver was working up a sweat running food, bussing tables, and replenishing ingredients from the walk-in. The unflappable Marina was on register, and even she seemed like she was about to snap at somebody.
What else could I do? I stayed until closing to answer the phone, process Grubhub orders, hop on and off the second register, and help Danny with sandwich prep. After the tills were counted out, I stayed another hour to take care of the dishes, since nobody had a chance to do a first load. Oliver was grateful, even though he grumbled about having to make some calls and rearrange Sunday's schedule so I could come in a couple hours late. Irene and Jeremy, Avenue Brew's owners, would kick his ass if he let me go into overtime.
Danny suggested that we deserved a few drinks ourselves after managing to get through the shift without killing anyone. Not even Marina could find a reason to disagree with him.
The neighborhood had undergone enough gentrification to support an upscale brunch spot, an ice cream parlor, a gourmet burger restaurant, a coffee and bahn mi shop, and Avenue Brew (to name a few examples), but not yet quite enough that the people who staffed them couldn’t afford to live within a ten-minute walk from the main avenue where all these hep eateries stood between 24-hour corner stores with slot machines in back, late-night Chinese and Mexico-Italian takeout joints with bulletproof glass at the counters, and long-shuttered delis and shoe stores. Twenty on Poplar was the watering hole set aside for people like us. It was dim, a bit dilapidated, and inexpensive, and usually avoided by denizens of the condos popping up on the vacant lots and replacing clusters of abandoned row houses.
When we arrived, Kyle waved us over. He didn’t work at Avenue Brew anymore, but still kept up with a few of us. He was at Twenty at least four nights out of the week.
So there we all were. I sat with a brooding stranger freestyling to himself in a low mumble on the stool to my left and Oliver on my right, who tapped at his phone and nursed a bottle of Twisted Tea. To Oliver’s right sat Marina, staring at nothing in particular and trying to ignore Danny, who stood behind her, closer than she would have liked, listening to Kyle explain the crucial differences between the Invincible comic book and the Invincible web series.
I recall being startled back to something like wakefulness when it seemed to me that the ceiling had sprouted a new fan. I blinked my eyes, and it wasn’t there anymore. It reminded me of an incident from when I was still living with my folks in South Jersey and still had a car, and was driving home from a friend’s house party up in Bergen County. It was 6:30 AM, I hadn’t slept all night, and needed to get home so I could get at least little shuteye before heading to Whole Foods for my 11:00 AM shift. I imagined I passed beneath the shadows of overpasses I knew weren’t there, and realized I was dreaming at the wheel.
I was pretty thoroughly zombified at that point. Heather and I had broken up for good the night before, and I hadn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Calling out at Avenue Brew was tough. Unless you found someone willing to cover your shift on like six hours' notice, you were liable to get a writeup, a demotion, or your hours cut if you couldn't produce a doctor's note. So I loaded up on caffeine pills and Five-Hour Energy bottles at the corner store, and powered through as best I could.
I finished the last thimbleful of Blue Moon in my glass. Oliver wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a napkin and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at the KiwiFarms thread he was scrolling through. Pool balls clacked; somebody swore and somebody laughed. The TouchTunes box was playing Bob Dylan’s “Rain Day Woman #12 & 35,” and enough bleary 40-something men around the bar were bobbing their heads and mouthing the words to make it impossible to determine which one of them paid two bucks to hear it. A guy by the cigarette machine who looked like a caricature of Art Carney in flannel and an old Pixies T-shirt was accosting a woman who must have been a toddler when he hit drinking age, and she momentarily made eye contact with me as she scanned the area for a way out. Danny was shouting over the bartender’s head, carrying on a conversation with the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, who was sitting on the horseshoe’s opposite arm.
I never got his name, but when Oliver first referred to him as the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, I knew exactly who he meant. Philly scene kid par excellence. Mid-20s, washed-out black denim, dyed black hair, thick bangs, and dark, gentle eyes. He was only truly alluring when he was on the job, because he seldom smiled then—and when he smiled, he broke the spell by exposing his teeth, stained a gnarly shade of mahogany from too much smoking and not enough brushing.
“How’s Best? Marcus still a joker?” Danny asked him.
“Yeah, you know Marcus. You know how he is.”
So the Hot Guy had been working at Best Burger (directly across the street from Avenue Brew) ever since Pizza Stan’s owners mismanaged the place unto insolvency. (Afterwards it was renovated and reopened as a vegan bakery—which incidentally closed down about a month ago.) Danny used to work at Best Burger, but that ended after he got into a shouting match with the owner. I happened to overhear it while I was dragging in the tables and collecting the chairs from the sidewalk the night it happened. It wasn’t any of my business, and I tried not to pay attention, but they were really tearing into each other. A month later, Oliver welcomed Danny aboard at Avenue Brew. I hadn’t known he’d been interviewed, and by then it was too late to mention the incident. But I’d have been a hypocrite to call it a red flag after the way I resigned from my position as Café Chakra's assistant manager two years earlier—not that we need to go dredging that up right now. Let's say there was some bad blood and leave it at that.
Anyway, I was thinking about giving in and buying a pack of cigarettes from the machine—and then remembered that Twenty didn’t have a cigarette machine. I looked again. The Art Carney-lookalike was still there, fingering his phone with a frown, but the girl was gone—and so was the cigarette machine.
I had only a moment to puzzle over this before Danny clapped me on the shoulder and thrust a shot glass in front of me.
“Starfish!” he said. (Danny called me Starfish. Everybody else called me Pat.) “You look like you need some juice.”
He distributed shots to everyone else. Marina declined hers, but changed her mind when Kyle offered to take it instead.
She and Kyle had stopped sleeping together after Kyle left Avenue Brew to work at the Victory taproom on the Parkway, but Marina was still concerned about his bad habits, which Danny delighted in encouraging.
We all leaned in to clink our glasses. Before I could find an appropriate moment to ask Marina if I could bum a cigarette, she got up to visit the bathroom. Danny took her seat and bowed his head for a conspiratorial word with Kyle.
I watched from the corner of my eye and tried to listen in. Like Marina, I was a little worried about Kyle. He got hired at Avenue Brew around the same time I did, just before the pandemic temporarily turned us into a takeout joint. He was a senior at Drexel then, an English major, and sometimes talked about wanting to either find work in publishing or carve out a career as a freelance writer after graduating. But first he intended to spend a year getting some life in before submitting himself to the forever grind.
He read a lot of Charles Bukowski and Hunter Thompson. He relished the gritty and sordid, and had already been good at sniffing it out around the neighborhood and in West Philly before Danny introduced him to cocaine, casinos, strip clubs, and a rogue’s gallery of shady but fascinating people. (None were really Danny’s friends; just fellow passengers who intersected with the part of his life where he sometimes went to Parx, sometimes came out ahead, sometimes spent his winnings on coke, and sometimes did bumps at titty bars.) Kyle recounted these adventures with a boyish enthusiasm for the naked reality of sleaze, like a middle schooler telling his locker room buddies about catching his older brother in flagrante and seeing so-and-so body parts doing such-and-such things.
Marina hated it. She never said as much to me, but she was afraid that the template Kyle set for his life during his “year off” was in danger of becoming locked in. The anniversary of his graduation had already passed, and now here he was trying to convince Danny to contribute a couple hundred dollars toward a sheet of acid his guy had for sale. He wasn't doing much writing lately.
I was the oldest employee at Avenue Brew (as I write this I’m 37, but fortunately I don’t look it), and when Kyle still worked with us I felt like it was my prerogative to give him some advice. The longer he waited to make inroads, I once told him, the more likely he’d be seen as damaged goods by the publishing world. He needed to jam his foot in the door while he was still young.
I could tell the conversation bored him, and didn’t bring up the subject again.
The bartender took my glass and curtly asked if I’d like another drink.
“No thanks, not yet,” I answered.
She slid me my bill.
I missed the old bartender, the one she’d replaced. I forget her name, but she was ingenuous and energetic and sweet. Pretty much everyone had some sort of crush on her. Sometimes she came into Avenue Brew for lunch, and tipped us as well as we tipped her. Maybe three months before that night—Danny witnessed it—she suddenly started crying and rushed out the door. Everyone at the bar mutely looked to each other for an explanation. (Fortunately for Twenty, the kitchen manager hadn’t left yet, and picked up the rest of her shift.)
She never came back. None of us had seen her since. But drafts still had to be poured and bottlecaps pulled off, and now here was another white woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black tank top, a pushup bra, and a scrunchie, same as before. Twenty’s regulars grew accustomed to not expecting to see the person she’d replaced, and life went on.
“How’re you doing?” I asked Oliver, just to say something to somebody, and to keep my thoughts from wandering back to Heather.
“Just kind of existing right now,” he answered. His phone lay face-up on the counter. He was swiping through Instagram, and I recognized the avatar of the user whose album he hate-browsed.
“And how’s Austin been?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Not even three weeks after getting over the jetlag from his trip back from the Cascades, he’s off touring Ireland.” He shook his head. “Living his best life.”
He’d hired Austin on a part-time basis in September. We needed a new associate when Emma was promoted to replace a supervisor who'd quit without even giving his two weeks. There was a whole thing. I'm having a hard time recalling the guy's name, but I liked him well enough. He was a good worker and he seemed like a bright kid, but he was—well, he was young. Naïve. One day he found Jeremy sitting in the back room with his laptop, and took advantage of the open-door policy to ask why the store manager and supervisors didn’t get health benefits or paid time off. Jeremy told him it "was being worked on," and that he couldn’t discuss it any further at that time. I understand the kid got argumentative, though I never knew precisely what was said.
Irene started visiting the shop a lot more often after that, almost always arriving when the kid was working. No matter what he was doing, she’d find a reason to intervene, to micromanage and harangue him, and effectively make his job impossible. A coincidence, surely.
It’s something I still think about. By any metric, Jeremy and Irene have done very well for themselves. They’re both a little over 40 years old. I remember hearing they met at law school. In addition to Avenue Brew, they own a bistro in Francisville and an ice cream parlor in Point Breeze. They have a house on the Blue Line, send their son to a Montessori school, and pull up to their businesses in a white Volkswagen ID.4. But whenever the subject of benefits, wages, or even free shift meals came up, they pled poverty. It simply couldn’t be done. But they liked to remind us about all they did to make Avenue Brew a fun place to work, like let the staff pick the music and allow Oliver and me to conduct a beer tasting once a day. They stuck Black Lives Matter, Believe Women, and Progress flag decals on the front door and windows, and I remember Irene wearing a Black Trans Lives Matter shirt once or twice when covering a supervisor's shift. None of the college students or recent graduates who composed most of Avenue Brew's staff could say the bosses weren't on the right team. And yet...
I'm sorry—I was talking about Austin. He was maybe 30 and already had another job, a “real” job, some sort of remote gig lucrative enough for him to make rent on a studio in the picturesque Episcopal church down the street that had been converted into upscale apartments some years back. Austin wasn’t looking for extra cash. He wanted to socialize. To have something to do and people to talk to in the outside world. He wanted to make friends, and all of us could appreciate that—but it’s hard to be fond of a coworker who irredeemably sucks at his job. Austin never acted with any urgency, was inattentive to detail, and even after repeated interventions from Oliver and the supervisors, he continued to perform basic tasks in bafflingly inefficient ways. Having Austin on your shift meant carrying his slack, and everyone was fed up after a few months. Oliver sat him down, told him he was on thin ice, and gave him a list of the areas in which he needed to improve if he didn’t want to be let go.
When Austin gave Oliver the indignant “I don’t need this job” speech, it was different from those times Danny or I told a boss to go to hell and walked out. Austin truly didn’t need it. He basically said the job was beneath him, and so was Oliver.
It got deep under Oliver’s skin. He did need the job and had to take it seriously, even when it meant being the dipshit manager chewing out a man four or five years his senior. He earned $18 an hour (plus tips when he wasn’t doing admin work), had debts to pay off, and couldn't expect to get any help from his family.
The important thing, though, the part I distinctly remember, was that Oliver was looking at a video of a wading bird Austin had recorded. An egret, maybe. White feathers, long black legs, pointy black beak. Austin must have been standing on a ledge above a creek, because he had an overhead view of the bird as it stood in the water, slowly and deliberately stretching and retracting its neck, eyeing the wriggling little shadows below. As far as the fish could know, they were swimming around a pair of reeds growing out of the silt. The predator from which they extended was of a world beyond their understanding and out of their reach.
The video ended. Oliver moved on to the next item: a photograph of the bird from the same perspective, with a fish clamped in its beak. Water droplets flung from the victim's thrashing tail caught the sunlight. And I remember now, I clearly remember, the shapes of like twelve other fish stupidly milling about the bird's feet, unperturbed and unpanicked.
Danny peered at Oliver’s phone and observed a resemblance between the bird—its shape and bearing, and the composition of the photograph—and a POV porn video shot from behind and above, and he told us so. Elaborately. He made squawking noises.
“And mom says I’m a degenerate,” Oliver sighed. “Can you practice your interspecies pickup artist shit somewhere else?” Oliver flicked his wrist, shooing Danny off, and held his phone in front of his face to signal that he was done talking.
Danny sagged a little on his stool and turned away. I sometimes felt bad for him. For all his faults, he had the heart of a puppy dog. He really did think of us as his tribe. There was nobody else who’d only ever answer “yes” when you asked him to pick up a shift, and he did it completely out of loyalty.
He was turning 29 in a week. I wondered how many people would actually turn out to celebrate with him at the Black Taxi. Kyle probably would—but even he regarded Danny more as a source of vulgar entertainment than a friend.
Then it happened again. When I turned to speak to Oliver, there’d been a pair of pool cues leaning side-by-side against the wall a few stools down. Now they were gone.
This time it might have been my imagination. Somebody passing by could have casually snatched them up and kept walking.
But a moment later I seemed to notice a second TouchTunes box protruding from the wall directly behind me. I let it be.
Marina returned from the bathroom. Danny rose and offered her back her seat with an exaggerated bow. Before she got settled, I asked if she’d like to step outside with me. She withdrew her pack of Marlboro Menthols from her canvas bag, which she left sitting on the stool to deter Danny from sitting back down.
Marina never minded letting me bum cigarettes from time to time. I couldn’t buy them for myself anymore; it’s a habit I could never keep under control, and was only getting more expensive. Like everything else in the world. About once a month I reimbursed her by buying her a pack.
The air out on the sidewalk was as hot as the air inside Twenty, but easier to breathe. After lighting up, Marina leaned against the bricks and sighed.
“I wish Oliver would fire Danny already and get it over with.”
I nodded. Marina rarely talked about anything but work.
“He sneaks drinks and doesn't think anyone notices he's buzzed,” she went on. “He steals so much shit and isn’t even a little subtle about it. He’s going to get Oliver in trouble. And he’s a creep.”
“Yeah,” I said. These were her usual complaints about Danny, and they were all true. “At least he’s better than Austin.”
“That’s a low bar.”
Three dirt bikes and an ATV roared down the lonely street, charging through stop sign after stop sign, putting our talk on hold.
“Remind me. You’ve got one semester left, right?” I asked after the noise ebbed.
“Yep.”
Marina was a marketing major at Temple. She’d had an internship during the spring semester, and her boss told her to give her a call the very minute she graduated. Her parents in central Pennsylvania couldn’t pay her rent or tuition for her, so she was a full-time student and a full-time employee at Avenue Brew. Her emotional spectrum ranged from "tired" to "over it." She’d been waiting tables and working at coffee shops since she was seventeen, had no intention of continuing for even a day longer than she had to, and feared the escape hatch would slam shut if she dallied too long after prying it open.
She’d considered majoring in English, like Kyle. She went for marketing instead. I couldn’t blame her.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been kind of off all day.”
“I’m terrible.”
“Why?”
I gave dodgy answers, but she asked precisely the right follow-up questions to get me going about what happened with Heather the night before.
It was the new job. Before the pandemic, Heather worked as a server at a Center City bar and grill. (That's where I met her; we were coworkers for about a year, and then I left to work Café Chakra because it was quieter and closer to where I lived.) When the place closed its doors and laid everyone off during the lockdown, she got a stopgap job at the Acme on Passyunk, and hated it. Then in March, she found a bar-and-lounge gig in a ritzy hotel on Broad Street. Very corporate. Excellent pay, great benefits. Definitely a step up. But her new employers made Irene and Jeremy look like Bob and Linda Belcher by comparison. It was the kind of place where someone had recently gotten herself fired for leaving work to rush to the hospital after getting the news that her grandmother was about to be taken off life support, and not finding someone to come in and cover the last two hours of her shift.
Heather seldom worked fewer than fifty-five hours a week, and her schedule was even more erratic than mine. At least once a week she left the hotel at 1:00 or 2:00 AM and returned at 9:00 the next morning. Neither of us could remember the last time she’d had two consecutive days off, and it had been over a month since one of mine overlapped with one of hers. She’d spent it drinking alone at home. All she wanted was some privacy.
I’d biked to South Philly to meet her when she got home at 1:30. The argument that killed our relationship for good began around 2:30, when I complained that we never had sex anymore. Heather accused me of only caring about that, when she was so exhausted and stressed that her hair was falling out in the shower. Quit the job? She couldn’t quit. The money was too good. She had student loans, medical bills, and credit card debt, and for the first time in her life she could imagine paying it all off before hitting menopause.
So, yeah, I was cranky about our sex life being dead in the water. Say whatever you like. But at that point, what were we to each other? We did nothing together anymore but complain about work before one or both of us fell asleep. That isn’t a relationship.
She said my hair always smelled like sandwiches, even after bathing, and she was done pretending it didn’t turn her off. I told her she was one to talk—she always reeked of liquor. As things escalated, we stopped caring if her roommates heard us. “You want to be a father?” she shouted around 4:00 AM. “Making what you make? That poor fucking kid.”
We fought until sunrise, and I left her apartment with the understanding that I wouldn’t be coming back, wouldn’t be calling her ever again. I biked home and sat on the steps facing the cement panel that was my house’s backyard. After my phone died and I couldn’t anaesthetize myself with dumb YouTube videos or make myself feel crazy staring at the download button for the Tinder app, I watched the sparrows hopping on and off the utility lines for a while.
At 11:40 I went inside. One of my roommates was already in the shower, so the best I could do was put on a clean Avenue Brew T-shirt before walking to the shop and clocking in at noon to help deal with the lunch rush.
“That’s a lot,” Marina finally said. “Sorry.”
I don’t know what I was expecting her to say. She was sixteen years my junior, after all, and just a coworker. She didn’t need to hear any of this, and I definitely didn't need to be telling her. But who else was there to tell?
She’d already finished her cigarette. I still had a few puffs left. She went inside.
I decided to call it a night.
The second TouchTunes box was gone—naturally. Danny had taken my stool, and regarded my approach with a puckish you snooze you lose grin. I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d just pay my bill, give everyone a nod goodnight, and walk the five blocks back home.
And then Danny disappeared.
One second, he was there. The next—gone.
Danny didn’t just instantaneously vanish. Even when something happens in the blink of an eye, you can still put together something of a sequence. I saw him—I seemed to see him—falling into himself, collapsing to a point, and then to nothing.
You know how sometimes a sound is altogether inaudible unless you’re looking at the source—like when you don’t realize somebody’s whispering at you, and can then hear and understand them after they get your attention? I think that was the case here. I wouldn't have known to listen if I hadn't seen it happen. What I heard lingered for two, maybe three seconds, and wasn't any louder than a fly buzzing inside a lampshade. A tiny and impossibly distant scream, pitchshifted like a receding ambulance siren into a basso drone...
I don’t know. I don’t know for sure. I’m certain I remember a flash of red, and I have the idea of Danny’s trunk expanding, opening up as it imploded. A crimson flower, flecked white, with spooling pink stalks—and Danny’s wide-eyed face above it, drawn twisting and shrinking into its petals.
For an instant, Twenty’s interior shimmered. Not shimmered, exactly—glitched would be a better word. If you’re old enough to remember the fragmented graphics that sometimes flashed onscreen when you turned on the Nintendo without blowing on the cartridge, you’ll have an idea of what I mean. It happened much too fast, and there was too much of it to absorb. The one clear impression I could parse was the mirage of a cash register flickering upside-down above the pool table.
Not a cash register. The shape was familiar, but the texture was wrong. I think it was ribbed, sort of like a maggot. I think it glistened. Like—camo doesn’t work anymore when the wearer stops crouching behind a bush and breaks into a run. Do you get what I’m saying?
Nobody else seemed to notice. The pool balls clacked. A New Order track was playing on the TouchTunes box. A nearby argument about about Nick Sirianni continued unabated.
Finally, there was a downward rush of air—and this at least elicited a reaction from the bartender, who slapped my bill to keep it from sailing off the counter.
“Danny,” I said.
“Danny?” Kyle asked me quietly. His face had gone pale.
“Danny?” Oliver repeated in a faraway voice.
After a pause, Kyle blinked a few times. “You heard from him?”
“God forbid,” said Marina. “When he quit I was like, great, I can keep working here after all.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Kyle. Did I ever show you those texts he sent me once at three in the morning?” The color had returned to Oliver’s face.
“No, what did he say?”
Oliver tapped at his phone and turned the screen toward Kyle.
“Oh. Oh, jeez.”
“Right? Like—if you want to ask me something, ask me. You know? Don’t be weirdly accusatory about it…”
I pulled a wad of fives and ones from my pocket, threw it all onto the counter, and beelined for the exit without consideration for the people I squeezed through and shoved past on the way.
I heard Marina saying “let him go.”
I went a second consecutive night without sleep. Fortunately I wasn’t scheduled to come in the next day.
The schedule. It’s funny. Oliver was generally great at his job, and even when he wasn’t, I cut him a lot of slack because I knew Irene and Jeremy never gave him a moment’s peace. But I could never forgive him those times he waited until the weekend to make up and distribute the schedule. This was one of those weeks he didn’t get around to it until Saturday afternoon. When I found it in my inbox, Danny’s name wasn’t anywhere on it.
As far as I know, nobody who hadn’t been at Twenty that night asked what happened to him. We were a bit overstaffed as it was, and everyone probably assumed Danny was slated for the chopping block. The part-timers were, for the most part, happy to get a few additional hours.
Oliver abruptly quit around Labor Day after a final acrimonious clash with the owners. I never found out the details, and I never saw him again. Jeremy and Irene took turns minding the store while a replacement manager was sought. None of the supervisors would be pressured into taking the job; they knew from Oliver what they could expect.
About three weeks after Oliver left, I came in for my purchasing shift and found Jeremy waiting for me in the back room. I knew it was serious when he didn’t greet me with the awkward fist-bump he ordinarily required of his male employees.
“You’ve seen the numbers,” he said. Business for the summer had fallen short of expectations, it was true, and he and Irene had decided to rein in payroll expenses. My purchaser position was being eliminated. Its responsibilities would be redistributed among the supervisors and the new manager, when one was found. In the meantime, I'd be going back to the regular $11 an hour (plus tips of course) associate position full-time.
Jeremy assured me I'd be first in the running for supervisor the next time there was an opening.
I told him it was fine, I was done, and if he’d expected the courtesy of two weeks’ notice, he shouldn’t have blindsided me like that.
“Well, that’s your choice,” he answered, trying not to look pleased. His payroll problem was solving itself.
I racked up credit card debt for a few months. Applied for entry-level museum jobs that might appreciate my art history degree. Aimed for some purchasing and administrative assistant gigs, and just for the hell of it, turned in a resume for a facilitator position at an after-school art program. Got a few interviews. All of them eventually told me they’d decided to go in a different direction. I finally got hired to bartend at Hops from Underground, a microbrewery on Fairmount.
I’m still there. The money’s okay, but it fluctuates. Hours are reasonable. I’m on their high-deductible health plan. There’s a coworker I’ve been dating. Sort of dating. You know how it goes. In this line of work you get so used to people coming and going that you learn not to get too attached. I walk past Avenue Brew a few times a week, but stopped peering in through the window when I didn't recognize the people behind the counter anymore.
submitted by obeliskposture to stupidpol [link] [comments]
It's relevant to the sub insofar as it's about urban alienation and the working conditions at a small business run by IN THIS HOUSE WE BELIEVE people. (I tried to pitch it as a story of the great resignation with a momentary flicker of cosmic horror.) It's based on a similar job I took on after getting laid off during the lockdown, and the circumstances of the main character's breakup are faintly similar to one I went through several years back (her job sucked the life out of her).
Without further ado:
* * *
It was getting close to midnight, and the temperature outside was still above 80 degrees. We’d locked up the shop at 10:15 and walked over to Twenty, the dive bar on Poplar Street, where a single wall-mounted air conditioner and four wobbly ceiling fans weren’t putting up much resistance against the July heat baking the place from the outside and the dense mass of bodies giving it a stifling fever from within.
Just now I came close to saying it was a Wednesday night, because that was usually when the cyclists descended upon Avenue Brew, the gritty-but-bougie craft beer and sandwich shop I was working at back then. Every Wednesday between March and November, about fifteen to twenty-five Gen Xers dressed in skintight polyester, all packages and camel toes and fanny packs, locked up their thousand-dollar bikes on the sidewalk and lined up for IPAs and paninis. They reliably arrived around 8:00, an hour before we closed, making it impossible to get started on the closing checklist and leave on time at 10:00. The worst of them were demanding and rude, and even the best got raucous and stubborn after a couple drinks. There were nights when bringing in the sidewalk tables couldn’t be done without arguing with them. Most were sub-par tippers, to boot.
After Wednesday came and went that week without so much as a single 40-something in Ray Bans and padded shorts stopping in to double-fist two cans of Jai Alai, we dared to hope the cyclists had chosen another spot to be their finish line from there on out. But no—they’d only postponed their weekly ride, and swarmed us on Friday night instead.
I was the last person to find out; I was clocked in as purchaser that evening. The position was something like a promotion I'd received a year earlier: for twenty hours a week, I got to retreat from the public and sit in the back room with the store laptop, reviewing sales and inventory, answering emails from brewery reps, and ordering beer, beverages, and assorted paper goods. When I put in hours as purchaser, my wage went up from $11 to $15 an hour, but I was removed from the tip pool. On most days, tips amounted to an extra two or three dollars an hour, so I usually came out ahead.
This was back in 2021. I don't know what Avenue Brew pays these days.
Anyway, at about 8:15, I stepped out to say goodbye to everyone and found the shop in chaos. Friday nights were generally pretty active, the cyclists' arrival had turned the place into a mob scene. The line extended to the front door. The phone was ringing. The Grubhub tablet dinged like an alarm clock without a snooze button. Danny was on the sandwich line and on the verge of losing his temper. Oliver was working up a sweat running food, bussing tables, and replenishing ingredients from the walk-in. The unflappable Marina was on register, and even she seemed like she was about to snap at somebody.
What else could I do? I stayed until closing to answer the phone, process Grubhub orders, hop on and off the second register, and help Danny with sandwich prep. After the tills were counted out, I stayed another hour to take care of the dishes, since nobody had a chance to do a first load. Oliver was grateful, even though he grumbled about having to make some calls and rearrange Sunday's schedule so I could come in a couple hours late. Irene and Jeremy, Avenue Brew's owners, would kick his ass if he let me go into overtime.
Danny suggested that we deserved a few drinks ourselves after managing to get through the shift without killing anyone. Not even Marina could find a reason to disagree with him.
The neighborhood had undergone enough gentrification to support an upscale brunch spot, an ice cream parlor, a gourmet burger restaurant, a coffee and bahn mi shop, and Avenue Brew (to name a few examples), but not yet quite enough that the people who staffed them couldn’t afford to live within a ten-minute walk from the main avenue where all these hep eateries stood between 24-hour corner stores with slot machines in back, late-night Chinese and Mexico-Italian takeout joints with bulletproof glass at the counters, and long-shuttered delis and shoe stores. Twenty on Poplar was the watering hole set aside for people like us. It was dim, a bit dilapidated, and inexpensive, and usually avoided by denizens of the condos popping up on the vacant lots and replacing clusters of abandoned row houses.
When we arrived, Kyle waved us over. He didn’t work at Avenue Brew anymore, but still kept up with a few of us. He was at Twenty at least four nights out of the week.
So there we all were. I sat with a brooding stranger freestyling to himself in a low mumble on the stool to my left and Oliver on my right, who tapped at his phone and nursed a bottle of Twisted Tea. To Oliver’s right sat Marina, staring at nothing in particular and trying to ignore Danny, who stood behind her, closer than she would have liked, listening to Kyle explain the crucial differences between the Invincible comic book and the Invincible web series.
I recall being startled back to something like wakefulness when it seemed to me that the ceiling had sprouted a new fan. I blinked my eyes, and it wasn’t there anymore. It reminded me of an incident from when I was still living with my folks in South Jersey and still had a car, and was driving home from a friend’s house party up in Bergen County. It was 6:30 AM, I hadn’t slept all night, and needed to get home so I could get at least little shuteye before heading to Whole Foods for my 11:00 AM shift. I imagined I passed beneath the shadows of overpasses I knew weren’t there, and realized I was dreaming at the wheel.
I was pretty thoroughly zombified at that point. Heather and I had broken up for good the night before, and I hadn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Calling out at Avenue Brew was tough. Unless you found someone willing to cover your shift on like six hours' notice, you were liable to get a writeup, a demotion, or your hours cut if you couldn't produce a doctor's note. So I loaded up on caffeine pills and Five-Hour Energy bottles at the corner store, and powered through as best I could.
I finished the last thimbleful of Blue Moon in my glass. Oliver wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a napkin and covered his mouth to stifle a laugh at the KiwiFarms thread he was scrolling through. Pool balls clacked; somebody swore and somebody laughed. The TouchTunes box was playing Bob Dylan’s “Rain Day Woman #12 & 35,” and enough bleary 40-something men around the bar were bobbing their heads and mouthing the words to make it impossible to determine which one of them paid two bucks to hear it. A guy by the cigarette machine who looked like a caricature of Art Carney in flannel and an old Pixies T-shirt was accosting a woman who must have been a toddler when he hit drinking age, and she momentarily made eye contact with me as she scanned the area for a way out. Danny was shouting over the bartender’s head, carrying on a conversation with the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, who was sitting on the horseshoe’s opposite arm.
I never got his name, but when Oliver first referred to him as the Hot Guy from Pizza Stan’s, I knew exactly who he meant. Philly scene kid par excellence. Mid-20s, washed-out black denim, dyed black hair, thick bangs, and dark, gentle eyes. He was only truly alluring when he was on the job, because he seldom smiled then—and when he smiled, he broke the spell by exposing his teeth, stained a gnarly shade of mahogany from too much smoking and not enough brushing.
“How’s Best? Marcus still a joker?” Danny asked him.
“Yeah, you know Marcus. You know how he is.”
So the Hot Guy had been working at Best Burger (directly across the street from Avenue Brew) ever since Pizza Stan’s owners mismanaged the place unto insolvency. (Afterwards it was renovated and reopened as a vegan bakery—which incidentally closed down about a month ago.) Danny used to work at Best Burger, but that ended after he got into a shouting match with the owner. I happened to overhear it while I was dragging in the tables and collecting the chairs from the sidewalk the night it happened. It wasn’t any of my business, and I tried not to pay attention, but they were really tearing into each other. A month later, Oliver welcomed Danny aboard at Avenue Brew. I hadn’t known he’d been interviewed, and by then it was too late to mention the incident. But I’d have been a hypocrite to call it a red flag after the way I resigned from my position as Café Chakra's assistant manager two years earlier—not that we need to go dredging that up right now. Let's say there was some bad blood and leave it at that.
Anyway, I was thinking about giving in and buying a pack of cigarettes from the machine—and then remembered that Twenty didn’t have a cigarette machine. I looked again. The Art Carney-lookalike was still there, fingering his phone with a frown, but the girl was gone—and so was the cigarette machine.
I had only a moment to puzzle over this before Danny clapped me on the shoulder and thrust a shot glass in front of me.
“Starfish!” he said. (Danny called me Starfish. Everybody else called me Pat.) “You look like you need some juice.”
He distributed shots to everyone else. Marina declined hers, but changed her mind when Kyle offered to take it instead.
She and Kyle had stopped sleeping together after Kyle left Avenue Brew to work at the Victory taproom on the Parkway, but Marina was still concerned about his bad habits, which Danny delighted in encouraging.
We all leaned in to clink our glasses. Before I could find an appropriate moment to ask Marina if I could bum a cigarette, she got up to visit the bathroom. Danny took her seat and bowed his head for a conspiratorial word with Kyle.
I watched from the corner of my eye and tried to listen in. Like Marina, I was a little worried about Kyle. He got hired at Avenue Brew around the same time I did, just before the pandemic temporarily turned us into a takeout joint. He was a senior at Drexel then, an English major, and sometimes talked about wanting to either find work in publishing or carve out a career as a freelance writer after graduating. But first he intended to spend a year getting some life in before submitting himself to the forever grind.
He read a lot of Charles Bukowski and Hunter Thompson. He relished the gritty and sordid, and had already been good at sniffing it out around the neighborhood and in West Philly before Danny introduced him to cocaine, casinos, strip clubs, and a rogue’s gallery of shady but fascinating people. (None were really Danny’s friends; just fellow passengers who intersected with the part of his life where he sometimes went to Parx, sometimes came out ahead, sometimes spent his winnings on coke, and sometimes did bumps at titty bars.) Kyle recounted these adventures with a boyish enthusiasm for the naked reality of sleaze, like a middle schooler telling his locker room buddies about catching his older brother in flagrante and seeing so-and-so body parts doing such-and-such things.
Marina hated it. She never said as much to me, but she was afraid that the template Kyle set for his life during his “year off” was in danger of becoming locked in. The anniversary of his graduation had already passed, and now here he was trying to convince Danny to contribute a couple hundred dollars toward a sheet of acid his guy had for sale. He wasn't doing much writing lately.
I was the oldest employee at Avenue Brew (as I write this I’m 37, but fortunately I don’t look it), and when Kyle still worked with us I felt like it was my prerogative to give him some advice. The longer he waited to make inroads, I once told him, the more likely he’d be seen as damaged goods by the publishing world. He needed to jam his foot in the door while he was still young.
I could tell the conversation bored him, and didn’t bring up the subject again.
The bartender took my glass and curtly asked if I’d like another drink.
“No thanks, not yet,” I answered.
She slid me my bill.
I missed the old bartender, the one she’d replaced. I forget her name, but she was ingenuous and energetic and sweet. Pretty much everyone had some sort of crush on her. Sometimes she came into Avenue Brew for lunch, and tipped us as well as we tipped her. Maybe three months before that night—Danny witnessed it—she suddenly started crying and rushed out the door. Everyone at the bar mutely looked to each other for an explanation. (Fortunately for Twenty, the kitchen manager hadn’t left yet, and picked up the rest of her shift.)
She never came back. None of us had seen her since. But drafts still had to be poured and bottlecaps pulled off, and now here was another white woman in her mid-twenties wearing a black tank top, a pushup bra, and a scrunchie, same as before. Twenty’s regulars grew accustomed to not expecting to see the person she’d replaced, and life went on.
“How’re you doing?” I asked Oliver, just to say something to somebody, and to keep my thoughts from wandering back to Heather.
“Just kind of existing right now,” he answered. His phone lay face-up on the counter. He was swiping through Instagram, and I recognized the avatar of the user whose album he hate-browsed.
“And how’s Austin been?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. Not even three weeks after getting over the jetlag from his trip back from the Cascades, he’s off touring Ireland.” He shook his head. “Living his best life.”
He’d hired Austin on a part-time basis in September. We needed a new associate when Emma was promoted to replace a supervisor who'd quit without even giving his two weeks. There was a whole thing. I'm having a hard time recalling the guy's name, but I liked him well enough. He was a good worker and he seemed like a bright kid, but he was—well, he was young. Naïve. One day he found Jeremy sitting in the back room with his laptop, and took advantage of the open-door policy to ask why the store manager and supervisors didn’t get health benefits or paid time off. Jeremy told him it "was being worked on," and that he couldn’t discuss it any further at that time. I understand the kid got argumentative, though I never knew precisely what was said.
Irene started visiting the shop a lot more often after that, almost always arriving when the kid was working. No matter what he was doing, she’d find a reason to intervene, to micromanage and harangue him, and effectively make his job impossible. A coincidence, surely.
It’s something I still think about. By any metric, Jeremy and Irene have done very well for themselves. They’re both a little over 40 years old. I remember hearing they met at law school. In addition to Avenue Brew, they own a bistro in Francisville and an ice cream parlor in Point Breeze. They have a house on the Blue Line, send their son to a Montessori school, and pull up to their businesses in a white Volkswagen ID.4. But whenever the subject of benefits, wages, or even free shift meals came up, they pled poverty. It simply couldn’t be done. But they liked to remind us about all they did to make Avenue Brew a fun place to work, like let the staff pick the music and allow Oliver and me to conduct a beer tasting once a day. They stuck Black Lives Matter, Believe Women, and Progress flag decals on the front door and windows, and I remember Irene wearing a Black Trans Lives Matter shirt once or twice when covering a supervisor's shift. None of the college students or recent graduates who composed most of Avenue Brew's staff could say the bosses weren't on the right team. And yet...
I'm sorry—I was talking about Austin. He was maybe 30 and already had another job, a “real” job, some sort of remote gig lucrative enough for him to make rent on a studio in the picturesque Episcopal church down the street that had been converted into upscale apartments some years back. Austin wasn’t looking for extra cash. He wanted to socialize. To have something to do and people to talk to in the outside world. He wanted to make friends, and all of us could appreciate that—but it’s hard to be fond of a coworker who irredeemably sucks at his job. Austin never acted with any urgency, was inattentive to detail, and even after repeated interventions from Oliver and the supervisors, he continued to perform basic tasks in bafflingly inefficient ways. Having Austin on your shift meant carrying his slack, and everyone was fed up after a few months. Oliver sat him down, told him he was on thin ice, and gave him a list of the areas in which he needed to improve if he didn’t want to be let go.
When Austin gave Oliver the indignant “I don’t need this job” speech, it was different from those times Danny or I told a boss to go to hell and walked out. Austin truly didn’t need it. He basically said the job was beneath him, and so was Oliver.
It got deep under Oliver’s skin. He did need the job and had to take it seriously, even when it meant being the dipshit manager chewing out a man four or five years his senior. He earned $18 an hour (plus tips when he wasn’t doing admin work), had debts to pay off, and couldn't expect to get any help from his family.
The important thing, though, the part I distinctly remember, was that Oliver was looking at a video of a wading bird Austin had recorded. An egret, maybe. White feathers, long black legs, pointy black beak. Austin must have been standing on a ledge above a creek, because he had an overhead view of the bird as it stood in the water, slowly and deliberately stretching and retracting its neck, eyeing the wriggling little shadows below. As far as the fish could know, they were swimming around a pair of reeds growing out of the silt. The predator from which they extended was of a world beyond their understanding and out of their reach.
The video ended. Oliver moved on to the next item: a photograph of the bird from the same perspective, with a fish clamped in its beak. Water droplets flung from the victim's thrashing tail caught the sunlight. And I remember now, I clearly remember, the shapes of like twelve other fish stupidly milling about the bird's feet, unperturbed and unpanicked.
Danny peered at Oliver’s phone and observed a resemblance between the bird—its shape and bearing, and the composition of the photograph—and a POV porn video shot from behind and above, and he told us so. Elaborately. He made squawking noises.
“And mom says I’m a degenerate,” Oliver sighed. “Can you practice your interspecies pickup artist shit somewhere else?” Oliver flicked his wrist, shooing Danny off, and held his phone in front of his face to signal that he was done talking.
Danny sagged a little on his stool and turned away. I sometimes felt bad for him. For all his faults, he had the heart of a puppy dog. He really did think of us as his tribe. There was nobody else who’d only ever answer “yes” when you asked him to pick up a shift, and he did it completely out of loyalty.
He was turning 29 in a week. I wondered how many people would actually turn out to celebrate with him at the Black Taxi. Kyle probably would—but even he regarded Danny more as a source of vulgar entertainment than a friend.
Then it happened again. When I turned to speak to Oliver, there’d been a pair of pool cues leaning side-by-side against the wall a few stools down. Now they were gone.
This time it might have been my imagination. Somebody passing by could have casually snatched them up and kept walking.
But a moment later I seemed to notice a second TouchTunes box protruding from the wall directly behind me. I let it be.
Marina returned from the bathroom. Danny rose and offered her back her seat with an exaggerated bow. Before she got settled, I asked if she’d like to step outside with me. She withdrew her pack of Marlboro Menthols from her canvas bag, which she left sitting on the stool to deter Danny from sitting back down.
Marina never minded letting me bum cigarettes from time to time. I couldn’t buy them for myself anymore; it’s a habit I could never keep under control, and was only getting more expensive. Like everything else in the world. About once a month I reimbursed her by buying her a pack.
The air out on the sidewalk was as hot as the air inside Twenty, but easier to breathe. After lighting up, Marina leaned against the bricks and sighed.
“I wish Oliver would fire Danny already and get it over with.”
I nodded. Marina rarely talked about anything but work.
“He sneaks drinks and doesn't think anyone notices he's buzzed,” she went on. “He steals so much shit and isn’t even a little subtle about it. He’s going to get Oliver in trouble. And he’s a creep.”
“Yeah,” I said. These were her usual complaints about Danny, and they were all true. “At least he’s better than Austin.”
“That’s a low bar.”
Three dirt bikes and an ATV roared down the lonely street, charging through stop sign after stop sign, putting our talk on hold.
“Remind me. You’ve got one semester left, right?” I asked after the noise ebbed.
“Yep.”
Marina was a marketing major at Temple. She’d had an internship during the spring semester, and her boss told her to give her a call the very minute she graduated. Her parents in central Pennsylvania couldn’t pay her rent or tuition for her, so she was a full-time student and a full-time employee at Avenue Brew. Her emotional spectrum ranged from "tired" to "over it." She’d been waiting tables and working at coffee shops since she was seventeen, had no intention of continuing for even a day longer than she had to, and feared the escape hatch would slam shut if she dallied too long after prying it open.
She’d considered majoring in English, like Kyle. She went for marketing instead. I couldn’t blame her.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You’ve been kind of off all day.”
“I’m terrible.”
“Why?”
I gave dodgy answers, but she asked precisely the right follow-up questions to get me going about what happened with Heather the night before.
It was the new job. Before the pandemic, Heather worked as a server at a Center City bar and grill. (That's where I met her; we were coworkers for about a year, and then I left to work Café Chakra because it was quieter and closer to where I lived.) When the place closed its doors and laid everyone off during the lockdown, she got a stopgap job at the Acme on Passyunk, and hated it. Then in March, she found a bar-and-lounge gig in a ritzy hotel on Broad Street. Very corporate. Excellent pay, great benefits. Definitely a step up. But her new employers made Irene and Jeremy look like Bob and Linda Belcher by comparison. It was the kind of place where someone had recently gotten herself fired for leaving work to rush to the hospital after getting the news that her grandmother was about to be taken off life support, and not finding someone to come in and cover the last two hours of her shift.
Heather seldom worked fewer than fifty-five hours a week, and her schedule was even more erratic than mine. At least once a week she left the hotel at 1:00 or 2:00 AM and returned at 9:00 the next morning. Neither of us could remember the last time she’d had two consecutive days off, and it had been over a month since one of mine overlapped with one of hers. She’d spent it drinking alone at home. All she wanted was some privacy.
I’d biked to South Philly to meet her when she got home at 1:30. The argument that killed our relationship for good began around 2:30, when I complained that we never had sex anymore. Heather accused me of only caring about that, when she was so exhausted and stressed that her hair was falling out in the shower. Quit the job? She couldn’t quit. The money was too good. She had student loans, medical bills, and credit card debt, and for the first time in her life she could imagine paying it all off before hitting menopause.
So, yeah, I was cranky about our sex life being dead in the water. Say whatever you like. But at that point, what were we to each other? We did nothing together anymore but complain about work before one or both of us fell asleep. That isn’t a relationship.
She said my hair always smelled like sandwiches, even after bathing, and she was done pretending it didn’t turn her off. I told her she was one to talk—she always reeked of liquor. As things escalated, we stopped caring if her roommates heard us. “You want to be a father?” she shouted around 4:00 AM. “Making what you make? That poor fucking kid.”
We fought until sunrise, and I left her apartment with the understanding that I wouldn’t be coming back, wouldn’t be calling her ever again. I biked home and sat on the steps facing the cement panel that was my house’s backyard. After my phone died and I couldn’t anaesthetize myself with dumb YouTube videos or make myself feel crazy staring at the download button for the Tinder app, I watched the sparrows hopping on and off the utility lines for a while.
At 11:40 I went inside. One of my roommates was already in the shower, so the best I could do was put on a clean Avenue Brew T-shirt before walking to the shop and clocking in at noon to help deal with the lunch rush.
“That’s a lot,” Marina finally said. “Sorry.”
I don’t know what I was expecting her to say. She was sixteen years my junior, after all, and just a coworker. She didn’t need to hear any of this, and I definitely didn't need to be telling her. But who else was there to tell?
She’d already finished her cigarette. I still had a few puffs left. She went inside.
I decided to call it a night.
The second TouchTunes box was gone—naturally. Danny had taken my stool, and regarded my approach with a puckish you snooze you lose grin. I wasn’t going to say anything. I’d just pay my bill, give everyone a nod goodnight, and walk the five blocks back home.
And then Danny disappeared.
One second, he was there. The next—gone.
Danny didn’t just instantaneously vanish. Even when something happens in the blink of an eye, you can still put together something of a sequence. I saw him—I seemed to see him—falling into himself, collapsing to a point, and then to nothing.
You know how sometimes a sound is altogether inaudible unless you’re looking at the source—like when you don’t realize somebody’s whispering at you, and can then hear and understand them after they get your attention? I think that was the case here. I wouldn't have known to listen if I hadn't seen it happen. What I heard lingered for two, maybe three seconds, and wasn't any louder than a fly buzzing inside a lampshade. A tiny and impossibly distant scream, pitchshifted like a receding ambulance siren into a basso drone...
I don’t know. I don’t know for sure. I’m certain I remember a flash of red, and I have the idea of Danny’s trunk expanding, opening up as it imploded. A crimson flower, flecked white, with spooling pink stalks—and Danny’s wide-eyed face above it, drawn twisting and shrinking into its petals.
For an instant, Twenty’s interior shimmered. Not shimmered, exactly—glitched would be a better word. If you’re old enough to remember the fragmented graphics that sometimes flashed onscreen when you turned on the Nintendo without blowing on the cartridge, you’ll have an idea of what I mean. It happened much too fast, and there was too much of it to absorb. The one clear impression I could parse was the mirage of a cash register flickering upside-down above the pool table.
Not a cash register. The shape was familiar, but the texture was wrong. I think it was ribbed, sort of like a maggot. I think it glistened. Like—camo doesn’t work anymore when the wearer stops crouching behind a bush and breaks into a run. Do you get what I’m saying?
Nobody else seemed to notice. The pool balls clacked. A New Order track was playing on the TouchTunes box. A nearby argument about about Nick Sirianni continued unabated.
Finally, there was a downward rush of air—and this at least elicited a reaction from the bartender, who slapped my bill to keep it from sailing off the counter.
“Danny,” I said.
“Danny?” Kyle asked me quietly. His face had gone pale.
“Danny?” Oliver repeated in a faraway voice.
After a pause, Kyle blinked a few times. “You heard from him?”
“God forbid,” said Marina. “When he quit I was like, great, I can keep working here after all.”
“Oh, come on—”
“Kyle. Did I ever show you those texts he sent me once at three in the morning?” The color had returned to Oliver’s face.
“No, what did he say?”
Oliver tapped at his phone and turned the screen toward Kyle.
“Oh. Oh, jeez.”
“Right? Like—if you want to ask me something, ask me. You know? Don’t be weirdly accusatory about it…”
I pulled a wad of fives and ones from my pocket, threw it all onto the counter, and beelined for the exit without consideration for the people I squeezed through and shoved past on the way.
I heard Marina saying “let him go.”
I went a second consecutive night without sleep. Fortunately I wasn’t scheduled to come in the next day.
The schedule. It’s funny. Oliver was generally great at his job, and even when he wasn’t, I cut him a lot of slack because I knew Irene and Jeremy never gave him a moment’s peace. But I could never forgive him those times he waited until the weekend to make up and distribute the schedule. This was one of those weeks he didn’t get around to it until Saturday afternoon. When I found it in my inbox, Danny’s name wasn’t anywhere on it.
As far as I know, nobody who hadn’t been at Twenty that night asked what happened to him. We were a bit overstaffed as it was, and everyone probably assumed Danny was slated for the chopping block. The part-timers were, for the most part, happy to get a few additional hours.
Oliver abruptly quit around Labor Day after a final acrimonious clash with the owners. I never found out the details, and I never saw him again. Jeremy and Irene took turns minding the store while a replacement manager was sought. None of the supervisors would be pressured into taking the job; they knew from Oliver what they could expect.
About three weeks after Oliver left, I came in for my purchasing shift and found Jeremy waiting for me in the back room. I knew it was serious when he didn’t greet me with the awkward fist-bump he ordinarily required of his male employees.
“You’ve seen the numbers,” he said. Business for the summer had fallen short of expectations, it was true, and he and Irene had decided to rein in payroll expenses. My purchaser position was being eliminated. Its responsibilities would be redistributed among the supervisors and the new manager, when one was found. In the meantime, I'd be going back to the regular $11 an hour (plus tips of course) associate position full-time.
Jeremy assured me I'd be first in the running for supervisor the next time there was an opening.
I told him it was fine, I was done, and if he’d expected the courtesy of two weeks’ notice, he shouldn’t have blindsided me like that.
“Well, that’s your choice,” he answered, trying not to look pleased. His payroll problem was solving itself.
I racked up credit card debt for a few months. Applied for entry-level museum jobs that might appreciate my art history degree. Aimed for some purchasing and administrative assistant gigs, and just for the hell of it, turned in a resume for a facilitator position at an after-school art program. Got a few interviews. All of them eventually told me they’d decided to go in a different direction. I finally got hired to bartend at Hops from Underground, a microbrewery on Fairmount.
I’m still there. The money’s okay, but it fluctuates. Hours are reasonable. I’m on their high-deductible health plan. There’s a coworker I’ve been dating. Sort of dating. You know how it goes. In this line of work you get so used to people coming and going that you learn not to get too attached. I walk past Avenue Brew a few times a week, but stopped peering in through the window when I didn't recognize the people behind the counter anymore.
2023.06.03 09:28 BrownTown427 Booking Asuka's Current Raw Women's Title Reign
At Royal Rumble 2023, Asuka returned after a brief hiatus, sporting a deranged look reminiscent of her days as Kana. And since that point, the Empress of Tomorrow has solidified her powerful aura, winning the Elimination Chamber match and avenging her disappointing loss to Bianca at WrestleMania 39 by dethroning the EST at Night Of Champions. And while Asuka has been Raw Women’s Champion before, this time feels…different…
Monday Night Raw (5/29/23):
Following Night of Champions with the crowning of Asuka, it would appear the landscape of the women’s division has changed. While some individuals are surely eager to go after singles gold, this isn’t initially the case for the Way. In a backstage interview with Byron Saxton, Candice LeRae and Indi Hartwell express their desire to go after the Women’s Tag Team Titles, only to be interrupted by the lunatic duo of Chelsea Green and Sonya Deville. Deville tries to get under the skin of the pairing, particularly LeRae, mocking her struggles to get victories as of late. However, Candice retorts that Sonya and Chelsea haven’t done anything either, their only actual success as a duo being making Adam Pearce question his own sanity. After a few more moments of bickering, Green tries to slap LeRae, but Hartwell blocks it for her, shoving Chelsea to the ground. Sonya shoves Indi back, and Candice in-turn attacks Deville, forcing several officials to have to separate things.
This results in a singles match later in the evening between Deville and LeRae, with Sonya trying to make an example out of the “Poison Pixie”. It’s a fairly back-and-forth encounter, with LeRae starting the match off hot, but Sonya is able to adapt, using her MMA background to her advantage with increasingly strong shots. However, as Sonya gains control, her emotions also start to fluctuate a bit. Rather than just go for the win at points, she decides to inflict further damage, regularly targeting the right arm in particular with a combination of stomps and armbars. However, the turning point of the match comes when Deville kneels down, once again looking to apply some type of submission hold…only for LeRae to transition it into the Garga-No Escape! While Sonya doesn’t submit, it gives her enough breathing room to mount a comeback, eventually hitting her signature springboard moonsault to finish things.
Candice LeRae def. Sonya Deville via pinfall
After the match, Candice and Indi take a moment to celebrate the win…BUT HERE COMES ASUKA! The Raw Women’s Champion is in the building, and she looks as maniacal as ever. She makes her way towards LeRae…and offers a handshake? Candice is definitely hesitant to accept, and for good reason, as when she starts moving her hand out…ASUKA HITS HER WITH A ROUNDHOUSE KICK! Indi tries to avenge her downed partner, but Asuka takes her out with a spinning backfist. The Empress moves back towards LeRae, staring at the injured right arm…AND SHE APPLIES A VICIOUS ARMBAR, SNAPPING IT IN THE PROCESS! Asuka eventually lets go, with Johnny Gargano and a medical official coming out to tend to LeRae while Adam Pearce wants to know what’s wrong with Asuka…to which she merely replies with a sinister smile…
Monday Night Raw (6/5/23):
About half-way through the show, Johnny Gargano comes to the ring, ready to give an update on his wife Candice LeRae. He says that while LeRae is unable to compete, it’s only for a short period of time, and the fracture to her arm was small enough as to where she won’t require surgery. However, Gargano also says that LeRae wanted him to pass along a message…which is why he’s calling out Asuka to the ring! On cue, the Empress comes out, looking at Johnny Wrestling with a curious look. Gargano says that once upon a time, he and his wife both had respect for Asuka’s accomplishments, especially her record-setting run in NXT. However, with the actions of last week, they no longer have those sentiments, and when LeRae returns from this set-back, she’s challenging you for that Raw Women’s Title! As Gargano says this, Asuka just begins giving a deranged laugh. No one in the arena knows what to make of this…until Asuka picks up a mic…to simply say…bye bye…
As Asuka makes her way to the ring apron, Gargano is left staring in confusion at what transpired…but suddenly, the lights go out! When they turn back on…a trio of masked men are destroying Johnny Wrestling! He tries to fight back, but he’s just overpowered, and left to be stomped on as Asuka just watches on from ringside, enjoying the carnage. The biggest of the three hits Gargano with a top rope splash, before what appears to be the leader hits…a wheelbarrow neckbreaker. As the individual hits this, Asuka comes back into the ring, standing alongside the figures. She whispers something to them, and they move their hand to the top of the masks, pulling them off to reveal…IT’S SAnitY! Eric Young, Alexander Wolfe, and Killian Dain are all back in WWE, and it appears they’ve aligned themselves with the Empress of Tomorrow. But the question left to be answered… Where is Nikki Cross in all of this?
Monday Night Raw (6/12/23):
In a backstage segment early in the show, the camera shows Nikki Cross backstage, alone and looking down, drowning in her own crazed thoughts…until Eric Young enters the shot. Cross raises her head, looking expressionless while a smile slowly creeps across the face of Young. He asks her…
“Won’t you join us?”
However, before Nikki can answer…HERE COMES JOHNNY GARGANO! He dives at Eric, looking to get revenge on one of the men who decimated him the week prior. He’s successful initially, but soon enough, Wolfe and Dain rush in, prying Johnny off Young and starting to beat him down. Luckily for Gargano, he came prepared, as he too has backup in the form of Dexter Lumis! SAnitY backs off as Dexter comes in with a steel chair, but not before Young mouths the words…This isn’t over…
Monday Night Raw (6/19/23): Johnny Gargano and Dexter Lumis vs. Eric Young and Killian Dain
With the tensions continuing to rise between the Way and SAnitY, it was inevitable they’d have to square off at some point, and Adam Pearce decides to see if a tag match can resolve this. The match starts off with Gargano and Young, Johnny Wrestling anxious to annihilate him while Young is more amused than scared. Johnny is able to get the upper hand initially, a superkick giving him the brief opportunity to then apply a Garga-No Escape. However, Killian Dain breaks up the hold by just hitting a Senton on Gargano’s back, a tactical maneuver to give Young the chance to gain control. However, Lumis enters the ring as well, grabbing Dain and trying to set him up for a side slam. However, Killian avoids it, and the pair move to the outside of the ring to brawl. By the end of the match, Gargano is weakened, but he’s still got the power of adrenaline on his side. He’s able to tag in for Lumis, getting in a flurry of offense against the big man Dain, including a pair of superkicks to knock him off his feet. However, as he goes for the One Final Beat, Young grabs his foot by the ring apron, preventing him from springboarding into the ring. Gargano’s able to kick him away, but when Johnny does go for the maneuver, Dain catches him, planting him in the center of the ring. He follows up on it with a splash from the top rope, with Young tagging in as he does so. And with Killian shoving Lumis off the apron, Young is able to hit the Wheelbarrow Neckbreaker to finish the match.
SAnitY def. Johnny Gargano and Dexter Lumis
After the match, Asuka makes her way to the ring, standing alongside SAnitY once again. She looks at the downed Gargano, now with a disgusted look on her face rather than an evil grin. She turns to Young, who nods and motions for Dain and Wolfe to pick Johnny up. But right before Asuka can seemingly hit him with the Mist…Here comes Nikki Cross! She rushes to the ring, sliding in and looking right at Asuka as she does so. Young walks up to her, asking her the question…
“Are you with us, Nikki?”
Cross stares at Young for a moment…then to Wolfe…then to Dain…then to Asuka. It’s to the Raw Women’s Champion that she gives the longest stare, Nikki’s eyes slowly growing wider and her expression becoming more intense. And with that, she mutters just a few words…
“You hurt my friends…she hurt my best friend… now she will pay.”
And with that, Cross dives onto Asuka, unleashing a flurry of strikes and catching everyone in the ring by surprise. However, Young pries Nikki off of the Empress, to which Cross responds by starting to attack him! However, it’s short lived, as Asuka runs up behind Nikki and drops her with a roundhouse kick. She quickly gets her locked in a crossface chickenwing as well, Nikki unable to escape and ultimately passing out. Before she fades, she’s left to only see the disappointed looks on the face of the SAnitY members…”You made the wrong choice Nikki”. But the attention soon shifts back to Gargano and Lumis now. They’ve slowly risen to their feet, and Gargano, looking directly at Young, demands another fight! Young sighs, seemingly bored at the prospect of SAnitY having to dismantle those two again…but it shall be done. However, before they can move in for the kill, we suddenly hear crashes echo throughout the arena. They happen for a few seconds, before the lights dim slightly. An unfamiliar melodic theme starts playing, sounding slightly reminiscent of that of a final boss, but as the lights turn back on, it changes back into the more recognizable song…
…NO ONE WILL SURVIVE! IT’S TOMMASO CIAMPA! After being on the shelf for months, he’s finally back, and as he gets into the ring, he looks at Johnny Gargano…there’s no shortage of history here. And while there’s a momentary tension as to what he’s gonna do, he sides with his former DIY partner, making it a more fair fight! Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance to lay into any of SAnitY, as they decide to make their exit, already having made a statement with the victory and assault on Asuka, nothing more needed to be done…tonight, at least.
Monday Night Raw (6/26/23): Indi Hartwell vs. Asuka - Non-Title Match
In her first match since beating Bianca at Night of Champions, Asuka looks to prove why she’s the champion. She starts off the match well, not letting Indi get any momentum by just rocking her with a series of kicks to the chest. After dragging Hartwell to the outside, Asuka begins going after the arm, slamming it several times into the ring post before deciding to inflict some pain to the skull with a tiger suplex. This momentarily causes the ref to check on her, potentially looking to end the match…but Asuka isn’t willing to let that happen. She gets Indi back in the ring, lining her up for a running hip attack…BUT HARTWELL TRANSITIONS IT INTO A GERMAN SUPLEX! Despite having just been on the ropes, Indi managed to use what she had left in the tank to take down Asuka, and as she gets to her feet, she feels the crowd surging behind her. She starts taking it to the Empress, getting her backed into the corner and landing a few solid chops. However, she gets a bit overzealous, trying to get Asuka on the top rope for a potential suplex attempt, only for the former Kana to kick her away and land a knee directly to the back of Indi’s neck. And with that, Asuka remains in the power position, eventually locking on the same Armbar that injured Candice LeRae and forcing Hartwell to tap or get snapped.
Asuka def. Indi Hartwell via submission
But before Asuka really has a chance to even get up…HERE COMES NIKKI CROSS! She runs out with a kendo stick, furious as to what transpired the week prior, and gets in a few shots on Asuka before Alexander Wolfe attempts to pry the weapon away. In response, Nikki shoves it into his gut, before hitting him with a swinging neckbreaker and sending a message to Asuka that she’s just as much of a force to be reckoned with. And it’s later announced that this match has been declared official for Money In the Bank: let’s see if these two dangerous competitors can live up to their classic from NXT…
Money In The Bank (7/1/23): Nikki Cross vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Despite not having a stipulation like their Last Woman Standing Match in 2017, the match is still intense from start-to-finish. Cross runs at Asuka immediately, getting in some shots with the elbow to the side of the face. Asuka is forced to a sitting position, allowing Nikki to gather some steam from running along the ropes before landing a kick to Asuka’s jaw! Unfortunately for Cross, her frenzied nature ends up backfiring, as when the action shifts to the outside, Asuka dodges a running attack and sends Nikki nearly head first into the barricade! With Nikki instinctively grabbing her head after the missed maneuver, Asuka sees what to target, dragging Cross to the ring apron and repeatedly crushing her skull into the ring post. And as the action shifts back into the ring, it’s just more of the same, Asuka being momentarily hit by mini-bursts of offense, but the damage inflicted on the skull clearly affecting her. This is evidenced when Cross has Asuka lined up for the swinging neckbreaker, potentially able to get her the win…only to collapse before she can properly hit it. With that, Asuka is able to apply the Asuka Lock, and as happened a couple of weeks ago, Cross passes out in the hold.
Asuka def. Nikki Cross via submission pass-out to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
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On the Raw after Money in the Bank, Candice LeRae would make her return from injury, calling out Asuka for a match…only to learn she isn’t in the building. But she decides to still issue a challenge, saying that while she wanted the Raw Women’s Title initially…now it’s about more than that. Asuka took out Candice’s friends and family, and left her away from the ring for too long…now, she wants to beat Asuka for vengeance first, gold later. And later on, it’s confirmed that the match will be taking place when Asuka returns…except it’ll be for the title as well! Pearce claims that the decision is due to Asuka’s recent actions, as after all, letting someone try to break someone’s limb after a match with no repercussions is a pretty bad look. But while this choice of action would normally upset some superstars…it might just put a smile on Asuka’s face…
Monday Night Raw (7/10/23): Candice LeRae vs. Asuka
Before making her entrance, Candice LeRae gets herself prepared with the rest of the Way, with Nikki Cross sitting in a corner nearby as well. Indi tells her to be cautious…Asuka’s a very dangerous competitor. LeRae of course knows this, but she’s caught off-guard by some words of wisdom from Nikki several feet away:
“Destroy her.”
Candice looks at Nikki, who’s staring back at her with something in her eyes…A look of needing something… wanting Candice to kill the Empress. LeRae nods, and she heads out to the ring, more confident than ever…And she truly gives it her all. LeRae’s strategy is simple: prevent Asuka from using her signature kicks. And for most of the match, she executes on her plan, moving herself back whenever she senses a roundhouse coming and catching Asuka off-balance. However, this was never going to last, and once Asuka lands a kick to the gut, she’s able to gather steam. And while this doesn’t finish LeRae, the “Poison Pixie” even managing to hit a springboard moonsault AND lock in a Garga-No Escape at various points, Asuka eventually locks in an Armbar on the previously-injured limb that Candice can’t overcome.
Asuka def. Candice LeRae via submission to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
After the match, the rest of the Way comes out, helping Candice to her feet. As they do so, Asuka stares at them, and then begins…counting them? The Way and the commentary team are confused, but as Asuka only counts four people…a maniacal expression overtakes her. She starts walking quickly to the back, and a few moments later, it becomes clear what her intentions were…
As the Way walks backstage, they’re horrified to discover a brutalized Nikki Cross! They rush over to her, asking who did this…and to no one’s surprise, she says it was Asuka. However, it soon becomes clear to Gargano…Ciampa might be next! While Indi and Candice stay with Nikki, Johnny (and Dexter to a lesser extent) start rushing through the halls, trying to get to the right locker room…but it’s too late, as SAnitY and Asuka are seen moving away from it! While Lumis stands guard, Gargano rushes inside, and finds Ciampa not just taken out…but also sprayed by Asuka’s mist! Johnny rushes over, giving Tommaso a towel, but as Tommaso wipes the mist off his face…there appears to be a dark look in his eyes, something not seen in him since when he destroyed DIY…
Remaining Build To SummerSlam:
While Ciampa, Gargano, and Lumis keep their attention towards SAnitY for a bit, Asuka shifts away from LeRae, Hartwell, and Cross, having beaten all three after all. With an open mic, she begins giving one of her standard energetic promos, seemingly wanting to know who her next challenger is gonna be…even though no one is ready for Asuka. It’s not long before someone interrupts though…and it’s someone who Asuka has grown familiar with in 2023…It’s Bianca Belair! The EST remained off television for several weeks following Night of Champions, but now, she’s back and angrier than ever. Bianca grabs the mic straight out of Asuka’s hand, and cuts a quick promo:
“Asuka… you say no one’s ready for you. But you’re wrong… because I’ve ALWAYS been ready for you. I proved that at WrestleMania 39, when I beat you clean in the center of this ring. And what did you do? You had to use that mist, that cursed, blinding mist. And you know what? Congratulations, it got you the title, but not for long. Because I say we have ONE MORE MATCH. But I think it’s time to have a match where no excuses can be made, and there are no rules to be broken. Asuka… At SummerSlam…I challenge you to HELL… IN A CELL!”
The crowd are clearly in favor of this stipulation…And it appears Asuka is too! She starts nodding repeatedly, and Bianca just stares on with a prepared look, perhaps fazed in the past by Asuka’s personality traits but now just ready to finally vanquish her and get the Raw Women’s Title back in her possession. In the remaining weeks, Bianca competes multiple times, getting the ring rust off with multiple victories, while Asuka is content with sitting at ringside for both contests…studying her competition…
SummerSlam (8/5/23): Bianca Belair vs. Asuka (c) - Hell in a Cell Match for the Raw Women’s Championship
We’ve finally made it to the Biggest Party of the Summer, and what better of a place to host it than in Detroit at Ford Field (definitely no bias as a Lions fan)! Once both Asuka and Belair are locked in the cage, the match starts at a feverish place, Bianca hitting a strong shoulder tackle only for Asuka to respond with a spinning backfist a few moments later! As the dust settles on the first fifteen seconds, the competitors look at each other, giving a momentary smirk and scoff apiece before continuing with the action. Bianca showcases her power, getting the Empress lifted in the Gorilla Press position and just hurling her at the cell wall! The several-foot fall to the floor certainly adds to the blow, and Bianca continues the assault outside the ring, slamming Asuka’s head repeatedly into the cage! However, she decides to look under the ring for a weapon, a table quickly catching her eye. She pushes it into the ring, but makes the mistake of turning her back to Asuka while doing so, the former Kana grabbing her from behind and hitting a Tiger Suplex onto the floor!
With Asuka now the lone woman standing, she follows up Bianca’s decision to look under the ring, pulling out a kendo stick. She feels it around in her grasp, getting a good feel for the damage she’s about to inflict. Once Bianca groggily gets to her feet, Asuka just decimates her back, hitting the stick ten times in immediate succession! However, Bianca’s able to dodge an eleventh shot targeted towards the throat, pulling the kendo stick to her and snapping it in half! Asuka looks briefly stunned, but not before she gives a condescending set of claps. In response, Belair grabs her, picking her up for a powerbomb and sending Asuka’s back to connect with the ring apron! Bianca then drags Asuka into the ring, proceeding to set up a table and initially primed to hit a K.O.D. through it. However, Asuka grabs Bianca’s hair, weakening her grip momentarily and presenting an opportunity to escape. Upon doing so, Asuka roundhouse kicks Belair, before getting her positioned on the table, climbing to the top rope…AND HITS A SPLASH ON BIANCA RIGHT THROUGH IT! 1-2-KICKOUT!
Despite the table spot being unable to put away Bianca, Asuka appears unfazed. She exits the ring, bringing a pair of steel steps back into the squared circle. Asuka picks Belair up, seemingly trying to hit a brainbuster on it…But Belair dodges, landing backwards on the steps before turning around and hitting a mini-elevated Spear! This leaves both women down for a few moments, but Bianca rises to her feet first. She gets in some of her signature offense, including a spinebuster on the steel steps! However, her attempt at a K.O.D. on the steps doesn’t work in her favor, with Asuka once again avoiding it. And unfortunately for Belair, Asuka is able to hit her with a suplex on the steps, this being the key factor for the rest of the match-up. With Bianca’s power lessened a bit AND Asuka’s submission hold targeting the back, she faces a tall task, and is ultimately unable to overcome it, the Asuka Lock resulting in a pass-out.
Asuka def. Bianca Belair via submission pass-out to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
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After an impressive victory at SummerSlam, Asuka has definitely proven that she’s going to be difficult to beat. But soon enough, she finds herself confronted by a potentially harmful numbers game…
Monday Night Raw (8/7/23): Damage CTRL Promo
Despite recent events not going so well for Damage CTRL, with Dakota Kai tearing her ACL and neither Iyo Sky nor Bayley able to capture the Money in the Bank briefcase, they’re still determined to get momentum back on their side. Bayley makes the bold decision to call out Asuka, saying that if she were actually a fighting champion, she’d consider accepting a match for the title. Asuka comes out, grinning at Bayley trying to goad her into a title opportunity. Asuka looks at Bayley as just another poor soul to be destroyed, but Iyo…Iyo has potential. Asuka even tells Sky…”Bayley isn’t your friend…but I am…”
This seems to get in Iyo’s head, as she begins looking questioningly at Bayley, who attempts to diffuse the situation by just pointing out Asuka being a freak who gets in people’s heads. In response, Asuka kicks Bayley square in the gut, and when Iyo instinctively goes to fight, Asuka shakes her head…I don’t want to fight you… You don’t need to be part of this…
Remaining Build To Extreme Rules:
Over the coming weeks, Bayley becomes a little more sympathetic, her intentions appearing less out of pure arrogance and more about striving to win championship gold back and improve her honor. She goes on a winning streak, but when confronting Adam Pearce about getting a confirmed title shot, he says there’s one more person she has to beat…Iyo Sky.
At this same time, Iyo looks perturbed whenever she’s on television, still at Bayley’s side but signs pointing to her being less convinced than when Damage CTRL began. And after Bayley does defeat Iyo to earn the #1 Contendership, Sky is just left sitting in the ring, staring down at the mat whilst utterly disappointed. Bayley offers her a handshake, but Asuka stands at ringside, motioning her to come roll out of the ring and stand tall with her. In response, Iyo moves in neither woman’s direction, rolling out to the entrance ramp and walking away alone, uncertain of what her future holds.
But with Extreme Rules approaching, there must also be a stipulation, and after a set of assaults from Asuka leave Bayley staring at the lights, Bayley decides it’s in both of their best interest to settle on…A Last Woman Standing Match! Asuka can try to keep putting her down, but she’s gotten back up each time, and come the PPV…The reign of the Empress will be history.
Extreme Rules: Bayley vs. Asuka (c) - Last Woman Standing Match for the Raw Women’s Championship
In a rematch of their TakeOver: Dallas encounter, the feel of the match is similar to what it was several years ago. Bayley, despite having been around in WWE longer, is the underdog, looking to prove herself against a terrorizing monster who we’re unsure can truly be beaten. The action quickly spills out of the ring, with Bayley even managing to hit a quick Bayley-To-Belly Suplex. Unfortunately, Asuka gets up before even a count of 5, disturbing Bayley. The action spills into the crowd for a while, with Asuka suplexing Bayley on the staircase and the former “Hugger” sent tumbling down for a solid five seconds. But eventually, Bayley recaptures the momentum, finding a trash can with weapons and using a kendo stick to start wailing on Asuka. And as the action approaches a set-up table, Bayley is able to not just prop her up on it, but successfully hit an Elbow Drop from a ledge through it as well! Bayley gets up at a count of three, and while Asuka is left stunned by the move, she recovers at a count of 8, continuing the match-up.
From there, the match spills back closer to the ring, with Bayley putting Asuka in the ring before grabbing a table. She sets it up, but Asuka manages to recover in time to avoid a Bayley-To-Belly through it, instead tossing Bayley to the side momentarily before going at her with a running hip attack. Asuka keeps control for a bit, but as she looks to put Bayley through the table…Here comes Iyo Sky! She slowly walks to the ring, not attacking Asuka initially, but giving Bayley enough time to send Asuka off the top rope and to the floor. However, with the action back on the outside, Asuka looks to be a bit desperate, using her signature Mist to blind Bayley! After this happens, Iyo rushes over to Bayley to try and help…But Bayley shoves her down hard to the floor, thinking it was Asuka! Meanwhile, the real Asuka appears behind Bayley, dragging her back into the ring. Asuka decides to lock on the crossface chickenwing, attempting to pass out Bayley, but this seems to only increase the fire in her spirit, Bayley able to back her into a corner to break the hold. Bayley rubs her eyes, improving her vision, and she drags Asuka to the table, seemingly able to hit the Bayley-To-Belly through the table this time…
…BUT IYO HITS BAYLEY IN THE BACK WITH A STEEL CHAIR FROM OUT OF NOWHERE! Bayley falls to her knees, slowly turning around with a look of heartbreak and pain on her face. Iyo returns the look with an icy cold stare, before Asuka pops-up behind Bayley, applying the Asuka Lock to pass the former “Role Model” out. But given this requires a ten count for Bayley to be down, and Asuka wanting to see what Iyo can do…she motions to the table. Iyo nods, getting Bayley set-up, climbing to the top rope, and hitting a Moonsault, crushing Bayley’s ribs, her friendship, and her hopes of winning the match in one fell swoop.
Asuka def. Bayley via KO to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
After the match, Sky raises Asuka’s hand, signifying the start of an absolutely lethal new duo in WWE…
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With Iyo Sky now having made her allegiance clear, Asuka would appear set-up to remain dominating moving forward. However, the enemies she’s made over the past several months aren’t so quick to forget what transpired, which could potentially create problems…
Build To Survivor Series:
Despite having already made an impact to this point, Asuka and Iyo Sky aren’t just going to put away challengers…it’s time to take out everyone. After a singles win on Raw, Becky Lynch would be blindsided by Iyo, being laid out with several shots of the Steel Chair before a Moonsault to cap things off. The following week, Bayley expresses her dismay at being left alone, to which Asuka and Iyo interrupt, immediately kickstarting a brawl that would seem to favor them once again…Until out comes Becky Lynch! Despite having been bitter rivals earlier in the year, Becky makes the save for Bayley, the pair nodding at each other afterwards to signify a slight respect…We don’t have to like each other… but there’s a bigger threat to be stopped…
But soon enough, this action spills past just being a two-on-two situation. Zoey Stark, the former tag team partner of Iyo Sky in NXT, decides that Becky didn’t suffer enough during their rivalry after helping Trish at Night of Champions, and that it’s worth it for these veterans like her and Bayley to be ousted. Along with that, Asuka’s power and general craziness draws the interest of the Unholy Union known as Alba Fyre and Isla Dawn, the pair pledging loyalty to The Empress and perfectly willing to destroy Becky and Bayley. However, there are several other competitors backstage sick of seeing Asuka gaining an army, with Bianca Belair and the Way coming to the save to help even the odds. And of course, after a brawl featuring all of these competitors, William Regal comes out briefly to make his patented announcement:
“WAR GAMES!”
To determine which team gets the advantage leading into Survivor Series, we get ourselves a strong match in Iyo Sky vs. Becky Lynch, really the catalyst of what’s led into a two-on-one situation into an upcoming 5v5 match inside a destructive steel structure. Becky more than holds their own, but Iyo Sky shines even brighter, a cheap shot by Stark eventually allowing Iyo to hit the Moonsault and give the “heels” the advantage.
Survivor Series: Bianca Belair, Bayley, Becky Lynch, Nikki Cross, and Candice LeRae vs. Asuka, Iyo Sky, Zoey Stark, Alba Fyre, and Isla Dawn - War Games Match
Kicking off the match is Zoey Stark and Becky Lynch, with Becky initially successful in getting Zoey downed, but Isla Dawn coming in presents a problem. She’s initially able to hold her off, but a chop block by Zoey Stark and a subsequent attack of the leg leaves Becky in a rough spot. She’s able to get some assistance, with Nikki Cross coming in with a trash can lid and just whacking Zoey and Isla around with ease. However, Alba Fyre is next to come out, and upon seeing Cross staring her down from inside the cage, she grabs a kendo stick, ready to defend herself. While Nikki initially gets the advantage, Stark and Dawn are able to pull Nikki back, sending her into the steel cage repeatedly. Bianca coming in next is a game changer however, the EST taking control of the match-up and getting a slight breather while awaiting the fourth competitor…which is Asuka!
But as the rest of the field comes in, with Asuka being the last entrant for her team and Bayley for the opposite side, the action starts to get more and more intense. With all of the competitors brawling in one ring, Iyo sees the chance to hit a Moonsault from the top of the cage, wiping out everybody (including herself)! However, a table being brought into the mix benefits the bayfaces, Bayley hitting Fyre with a Bayley-To-Belly through it (she finally got to hit it… just not on Asuka). However, the ending sequence comes down to Asuka and Iyo on their feet against Bayley and Becky, back where it essentially first started…AND IT ENDS WITH IO HITTING A MOONSAULT ON BAYLEY! 1-2-3!
Team Asuka def. Team Becky via pinfall
Just like that, Iyo Sky has once again proved her worth, defeating her former stablemate to win the match for her team and cementing herself as a force to be moving forward. And though a fairly small shot, we can see Asuka glance over at Iyo, a slight frown on her face for a moment before moving back to stand with the rest of her team. What could that mean…
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Build To Royal Rumble:
Despite the result of the War Games Match, Becky Lynch isn’t through with either Asuka nor Iyo by a long shot. She fights off both of them over the coming weeks, along with picking up several singles victory, establishing herself as the next #1 Contender. And as Lynch points out, she and Asuka have history at Royal Rumble. Asuka beat her in singles action in 2019…before Lynch went on to win the Royal Rumble and headline Mania. But this isn’t about the Rumble match now…it’s time to put away the Empress.
As for Iyo, she also has a run of singles success, carrying a lot of momentum heading into the Royal Rumble Match. And soon, we learn that she requested training from one of the most respected female competitors in the locker room, a former NXT UK Champion…Meiko Satomura! While Satomura doesn’t intend to compete right away, she’s more than willing to help Iyo, with vignettes being shown of them together and Satomura even being at ringside for her matches. However, as this keeps happening, Asuka’s looks towards Iyo become more and more strained. Sky is abandoning me… after all I did for her… something’s going to change soon enough…
Royal Rumble: Becky Lynch vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Earlier in the night, Iyo Sky does indeed win the Royal Rumble match, punching her ticket to WrestleMania. This doesn’t seem to affect Asuka’s thoughts however, the Empress looking as ruthless and as calculated as ever en route to using an Armbar to submit Becky after a pretty back-and-forth encounter. And while Asuka proved herself the master of the Armbar between the pairing, Iyo Sky coming out with Meiko Satomura to acknowledge the title win seems to aggravate something in Asuka. Her grin has become a definite frown, and she stares an icy dagger through the pairing. Something isn’t right here…
Asuka def. Becky Lynch via submission to retain the Raw Women’s Title
Build To WrestleMania:
In a conversation between Meiko Satomura and Iyo Sky on an episode of Raw, Satomura asks if Sky would be willing to use her Rumble Victory position to challenge Asuka. Sky doesn’t look too convinced about doing that, which Satomura says is fine, but it’s advisable to weigh all her options. However, in the background, Asuka can be seen, carefully listening to the conversation.
A week later, Satomura addresses the WWE Universe. She’s made the announcement that she wants to have one last run before she retires, and wants to face some of the best names this women’s division has to offer…which is why she’s challenging Asuka for Elimination Chamber! Asuka comes out, her face paint being more red than usual…but while it looks like she’s having to contain herself, she shakes Satomura’s hand, seemingly paying respect to a legend.
Elimination Chamber: Meiko Satomura vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Unfortunately for Satomura, this retirement run of sorts looked to hit the ground before it could even get going. While she catches the Empress off guard at the beginning of the encounter, as time moves on, Asuka appears to be getting more and more angry. This comes to a boiling point when after one Tiger Suplex, Asuka hits another…then another…then another…then another! The ref pleads for Asuka to quit the assault, which she does…only to pull a Bryan Danielson and just start repeatedly kicking Satomura in the face! This goes on for disturbingly long, and when it’s become clear that Satomura is passed out, the ref calls for the bell, him having made the discretion for the match to end.
Asuka def. Meiko Satomura via ref stoppage
After the match, Iyo Sky rushes to the ring, checking on the woman who’s helped her out tremendously over the past couple of months. Asuka looks down at Iyo, a look of disgust on her face, before demanding to know who Sky is facing at WrestleMania. And it better be a specific answer…
Iyo Sky: “I… CHALLENGE… YOU!”
The crowd roar in approval, Asuka somehow shocked initially…until a smile comes across her face. I’m not surprised you made that choice…but unfortunately, it’s the wrong one...it’s a shame this has to happen Iyo…so much potential…
WrestleMania 40: Iyo Sky vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Despite that inner monologue running through Asuka’s head at Elimination Chamber, Sky proves why she’s not to be taken lightly. On the Grandest Stage of them All, Iyo just looks…better. Having been around Asuka for several months, she knows the mechanics of her offense, doing a good job at avoiding those signature kicks while also having the speed advantage. And at the end of the match, Sky proves herself superior over The Empress of Tomorrow, hitting the second Moonsault of the match to pin Asuka, and end a spectacular title run while opening a new chapter for another one.
Iyo Sky def. Asuka via pinfall to win the Raw Women’s Championship
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Monday Night Raw (5/29/23):
Following Night of Champions with the crowning of Asuka, it would appear the landscape of the women’s division has changed. While some individuals are surely eager to go after singles gold, this isn’t initially the case for the Way. In a backstage interview with Byron Saxton, Candice LeRae and Indi Hartwell express their desire to go after the Women’s Tag Team Titles, only to be interrupted by the lunatic duo of Chelsea Green and Sonya Deville. Deville tries to get under the skin of the pairing, particularly LeRae, mocking her struggles to get victories as of late. However, Candice retorts that Sonya and Chelsea haven’t done anything either, their only actual success as a duo being making Adam Pearce question his own sanity. After a few more moments of bickering, Green tries to slap LeRae, but Hartwell blocks it for her, shoving Chelsea to the ground. Sonya shoves Indi back, and Candice in-turn attacks Deville, forcing several officials to have to separate things.
This results in a singles match later in the evening between Deville and LeRae, with Sonya trying to make an example out of the “Poison Pixie”. It’s a fairly back-and-forth encounter, with LeRae starting the match off hot, but Sonya is able to adapt, using her MMA background to her advantage with increasingly strong shots. However, as Sonya gains control, her emotions also start to fluctuate a bit. Rather than just go for the win at points, she decides to inflict further damage, regularly targeting the right arm in particular with a combination of stomps and armbars. However, the turning point of the match comes when Deville kneels down, once again looking to apply some type of submission hold…only for LeRae to transition it into the Garga-No Escape! While Sonya doesn’t submit, it gives her enough breathing room to mount a comeback, eventually hitting her signature springboard moonsault to finish things.
Candice LeRae def. Sonya Deville via pinfall
After the match, Candice and Indi take a moment to celebrate the win…BUT HERE COMES ASUKA! The Raw Women’s Champion is in the building, and she looks as maniacal as ever. She makes her way towards LeRae…and offers a handshake? Candice is definitely hesitant to accept, and for good reason, as when she starts moving her hand out…ASUKA HITS HER WITH A ROUNDHOUSE KICK! Indi tries to avenge her downed partner, but Asuka takes her out with a spinning backfist. The Empress moves back towards LeRae, staring at the injured right arm…AND SHE APPLIES A VICIOUS ARMBAR, SNAPPING IT IN THE PROCESS! Asuka eventually lets go, with Johnny Gargano and a medical official coming out to tend to LeRae while Adam Pearce wants to know what’s wrong with Asuka…to which she merely replies with a sinister smile…
Monday Night Raw (6/5/23):
About half-way through the show, Johnny Gargano comes to the ring, ready to give an update on his wife Candice LeRae. He says that while LeRae is unable to compete, it’s only for a short period of time, and the fracture to her arm was small enough as to where she won’t require surgery. However, Gargano also says that LeRae wanted him to pass along a message…which is why he’s calling out Asuka to the ring! On cue, the Empress comes out, looking at Johnny Wrestling with a curious look. Gargano says that once upon a time, he and his wife both had respect for Asuka’s accomplishments, especially her record-setting run in NXT. However, with the actions of last week, they no longer have those sentiments, and when LeRae returns from this set-back, she’s challenging you for that Raw Women’s Title! As Gargano says this, Asuka just begins giving a deranged laugh. No one in the arena knows what to make of this…until Asuka picks up a mic…to simply say…bye bye…
As Asuka makes her way to the ring apron, Gargano is left staring in confusion at what transpired…but suddenly, the lights go out! When they turn back on…a trio of masked men are destroying Johnny Wrestling! He tries to fight back, but he’s just overpowered, and left to be stomped on as Asuka just watches on from ringside, enjoying the carnage. The biggest of the three hits Gargano with a top rope splash, before what appears to be the leader hits…a wheelbarrow neckbreaker. As the individual hits this, Asuka comes back into the ring, standing alongside the figures. She whispers something to them, and they move their hand to the top of the masks, pulling them off to reveal…IT’S SAnitY! Eric Young, Alexander Wolfe, and Killian Dain are all back in WWE, and it appears they’ve aligned themselves with the Empress of Tomorrow. But the question left to be answered… Where is Nikki Cross in all of this?
Monday Night Raw (6/12/23):
In a backstage segment early in the show, the camera shows Nikki Cross backstage, alone and looking down, drowning in her own crazed thoughts…until Eric Young enters the shot. Cross raises her head, looking expressionless while a smile slowly creeps across the face of Young. He asks her…
“Won’t you join us?”
However, before Nikki can answer…HERE COMES JOHNNY GARGANO! He dives at Eric, looking to get revenge on one of the men who decimated him the week prior. He’s successful initially, but soon enough, Wolfe and Dain rush in, prying Johnny off Young and starting to beat him down. Luckily for Gargano, he came prepared, as he too has backup in the form of Dexter Lumis! SAnitY backs off as Dexter comes in with a steel chair, but not before Young mouths the words…This isn’t over…
Monday Night Raw (6/19/23): Johnny Gargano and Dexter Lumis vs. Eric Young and Killian Dain
With the tensions continuing to rise between the Way and SAnitY, it was inevitable they’d have to square off at some point, and Adam Pearce decides to see if a tag match can resolve this. The match starts off with Gargano and Young, Johnny Wrestling anxious to annihilate him while Young is more amused than scared. Johnny is able to get the upper hand initially, a superkick giving him the brief opportunity to then apply a Garga-No Escape. However, Killian Dain breaks up the hold by just hitting a Senton on Gargano’s back, a tactical maneuver to give Young the chance to gain control. However, Lumis enters the ring as well, grabbing Dain and trying to set him up for a side slam. However, Killian avoids it, and the pair move to the outside of the ring to brawl. By the end of the match, Gargano is weakened, but he’s still got the power of adrenaline on his side. He’s able to tag in for Lumis, getting in a flurry of offense against the big man Dain, including a pair of superkicks to knock him off his feet. However, as he goes for the One Final Beat, Young grabs his foot by the ring apron, preventing him from springboarding into the ring. Gargano’s able to kick him away, but when Johnny does go for the maneuver, Dain catches him, planting him in the center of the ring. He follows up on it with a splash from the top rope, with Young tagging in as he does so. And with Killian shoving Lumis off the apron, Young is able to hit the Wheelbarrow Neckbreaker to finish the match.
SAnitY def. Johnny Gargano and Dexter Lumis
After the match, Asuka makes her way to the ring, standing alongside SAnitY once again. She looks at the downed Gargano, now with a disgusted look on her face rather than an evil grin. She turns to Young, who nods and motions for Dain and Wolfe to pick Johnny up. But right before Asuka can seemingly hit him with the Mist…Here comes Nikki Cross! She rushes to the ring, sliding in and looking right at Asuka as she does so. Young walks up to her, asking her the question…
“Are you with us, Nikki?”
Cross stares at Young for a moment…then to Wolfe…then to Dain…then to Asuka. It’s to the Raw Women’s Champion that she gives the longest stare, Nikki’s eyes slowly growing wider and her expression becoming more intense. And with that, she mutters just a few words…
“You hurt my friends…she hurt my best friend… now she will pay.”
And with that, Cross dives onto Asuka, unleashing a flurry of strikes and catching everyone in the ring by surprise. However, Young pries Nikki off of the Empress, to which Cross responds by starting to attack him! However, it’s short lived, as Asuka runs up behind Nikki and drops her with a roundhouse kick. She quickly gets her locked in a crossface chickenwing as well, Nikki unable to escape and ultimately passing out. Before she fades, she’s left to only see the disappointed looks on the face of the SAnitY members…”You made the wrong choice Nikki”. But the attention soon shifts back to Gargano and Lumis now. They’ve slowly risen to their feet, and Gargano, looking directly at Young, demands another fight! Young sighs, seemingly bored at the prospect of SAnitY having to dismantle those two again…but it shall be done. However, before they can move in for the kill, we suddenly hear crashes echo throughout the arena. They happen for a few seconds, before the lights dim slightly. An unfamiliar melodic theme starts playing, sounding slightly reminiscent of that of a final boss, but as the lights turn back on, it changes back into the more recognizable song…
…NO ONE WILL SURVIVE! IT’S TOMMASO CIAMPA! After being on the shelf for months, he’s finally back, and as he gets into the ring, he looks at Johnny Gargano…there’s no shortage of history here. And while there’s a momentary tension as to what he’s gonna do, he sides with his former DIY partner, making it a more fair fight! Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance to lay into any of SAnitY, as they decide to make their exit, already having made a statement with the victory and assault on Asuka, nothing more needed to be done…tonight, at least.
Monday Night Raw (6/26/23): Indi Hartwell vs. Asuka - Non-Title Match
In her first match since beating Bianca at Night of Champions, Asuka looks to prove why she’s the champion. She starts off the match well, not letting Indi get any momentum by just rocking her with a series of kicks to the chest. After dragging Hartwell to the outside, Asuka begins going after the arm, slamming it several times into the ring post before deciding to inflict some pain to the skull with a tiger suplex. This momentarily causes the ref to check on her, potentially looking to end the match…but Asuka isn’t willing to let that happen. She gets Indi back in the ring, lining her up for a running hip attack…BUT HARTWELL TRANSITIONS IT INTO A GERMAN SUPLEX! Despite having just been on the ropes, Indi managed to use what she had left in the tank to take down Asuka, and as she gets to her feet, she feels the crowd surging behind her. She starts taking it to the Empress, getting her backed into the corner and landing a few solid chops. However, she gets a bit overzealous, trying to get Asuka on the top rope for a potential suplex attempt, only for the former Kana to kick her away and land a knee directly to the back of Indi’s neck. And with that, Asuka remains in the power position, eventually locking on the same Armbar that injured Candice LeRae and forcing Hartwell to tap or get snapped.
Asuka def. Indi Hartwell via submission
But before Asuka really has a chance to even get up…HERE COMES NIKKI CROSS! She runs out with a kendo stick, furious as to what transpired the week prior, and gets in a few shots on Asuka before Alexander Wolfe attempts to pry the weapon away. In response, Nikki shoves it into his gut, before hitting him with a swinging neckbreaker and sending a message to Asuka that she’s just as much of a force to be reckoned with. And it’s later announced that this match has been declared official for Money In the Bank: let’s see if these two dangerous competitors can live up to their classic from NXT…
Money In The Bank (7/1/23): Nikki Cross vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Despite not having a stipulation like their Last Woman Standing Match in 2017, the match is still intense from start-to-finish. Cross runs at Asuka immediately, getting in some shots with the elbow to the side of the face. Asuka is forced to a sitting position, allowing Nikki to gather some steam from running along the ropes before landing a kick to Asuka’s jaw! Unfortunately for Cross, her frenzied nature ends up backfiring, as when the action shifts to the outside, Asuka dodges a running attack and sends Nikki nearly head first into the barricade! With Nikki instinctively grabbing her head after the missed maneuver, Asuka sees what to target, dragging Cross to the ring apron and repeatedly crushing her skull into the ring post. And as the action shifts back into the ring, it’s just more of the same, Asuka being momentarily hit by mini-bursts of offense, but the damage inflicted on the skull clearly affecting her. This is evidenced when Cross has Asuka lined up for the swinging neckbreaker, potentially able to get her the win…only to collapse before she can properly hit it. With that, Asuka is able to apply the Asuka Lock, and as happened a couple of weeks ago, Cross passes out in the hold.
Asuka def. Nikki Cross via submission pass-out to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
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On the Raw after Money in the Bank, Candice LeRae would make her return from injury, calling out Asuka for a match…only to learn she isn’t in the building. But she decides to still issue a challenge, saying that while she wanted the Raw Women’s Title initially…now it’s about more than that. Asuka took out Candice’s friends and family, and left her away from the ring for too long…now, she wants to beat Asuka for vengeance first, gold later. And later on, it’s confirmed that the match will be taking place when Asuka returns…except it’ll be for the title as well! Pearce claims that the decision is due to Asuka’s recent actions, as after all, letting someone try to break someone’s limb after a match with no repercussions is a pretty bad look. But while this choice of action would normally upset some superstars…it might just put a smile on Asuka’s face…
Monday Night Raw (7/10/23): Candice LeRae vs. Asuka
Before making her entrance, Candice LeRae gets herself prepared with the rest of the Way, with Nikki Cross sitting in a corner nearby as well. Indi tells her to be cautious…Asuka’s a very dangerous competitor. LeRae of course knows this, but she’s caught off-guard by some words of wisdom from Nikki several feet away:
“Destroy her.”
Candice looks at Nikki, who’s staring back at her with something in her eyes…A look of needing something… wanting Candice to kill the Empress. LeRae nods, and she heads out to the ring, more confident than ever…And she truly gives it her all. LeRae’s strategy is simple: prevent Asuka from using her signature kicks. And for most of the match, she executes on her plan, moving herself back whenever she senses a roundhouse coming and catching Asuka off-balance. However, this was never going to last, and once Asuka lands a kick to the gut, she’s able to gather steam. And while this doesn’t finish LeRae, the “Poison Pixie” even managing to hit a springboard moonsault AND lock in a Garga-No Escape at various points, Asuka eventually locks in an Armbar on the previously-injured limb that Candice can’t overcome.
Asuka def. Candice LeRae via submission to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
After the match, the rest of the Way comes out, helping Candice to her feet. As they do so, Asuka stares at them, and then begins…counting them? The Way and the commentary team are confused, but as Asuka only counts four people…a maniacal expression overtakes her. She starts walking quickly to the back, and a few moments later, it becomes clear what her intentions were…
As the Way walks backstage, they’re horrified to discover a brutalized Nikki Cross! They rush over to her, asking who did this…and to no one’s surprise, she says it was Asuka. However, it soon becomes clear to Gargano…Ciampa might be next! While Indi and Candice stay with Nikki, Johnny (and Dexter to a lesser extent) start rushing through the halls, trying to get to the right locker room…but it’s too late, as SAnitY and Asuka are seen moving away from it! While Lumis stands guard, Gargano rushes inside, and finds Ciampa not just taken out…but also sprayed by Asuka’s mist! Johnny rushes over, giving Tommaso a towel, but as Tommaso wipes the mist off his face…there appears to be a dark look in his eyes, something not seen in him since when he destroyed DIY…
Remaining Build To SummerSlam:
While Ciampa, Gargano, and Lumis keep their attention towards SAnitY for a bit, Asuka shifts away from LeRae, Hartwell, and Cross, having beaten all three after all. With an open mic, she begins giving one of her standard energetic promos, seemingly wanting to know who her next challenger is gonna be…even though no one is ready for Asuka. It’s not long before someone interrupts though…and it’s someone who Asuka has grown familiar with in 2023…It’s Bianca Belair! The EST remained off television for several weeks following Night of Champions, but now, she’s back and angrier than ever. Bianca grabs the mic straight out of Asuka’s hand, and cuts a quick promo:
“Asuka… you say no one’s ready for you. But you’re wrong… because I’ve ALWAYS been ready for you. I proved that at WrestleMania 39, when I beat you clean in the center of this ring. And what did you do? You had to use that mist, that cursed, blinding mist. And you know what? Congratulations, it got you the title, but not for long. Because I say we have ONE MORE MATCH. But I think it’s time to have a match where no excuses can be made, and there are no rules to be broken. Asuka… At SummerSlam…I challenge you to HELL… IN A CELL!”
The crowd are clearly in favor of this stipulation…And it appears Asuka is too! She starts nodding repeatedly, and Bianca just stares on with a prepared look, perhaps fazed in the past by Asuka’s personality traits but now just ready to finally vanquish her and get the Raw Women’s Title back in her possession. In the remaining weeks, Bianca competes multiple times, getting the ring rust off with multiple victories, while Asuka is content with sitting at ringside for both contests…studying her competition…
SummerSlam (8/5/23): Bianca Belair vs. Asuka (c) - Hell in a Cell Match for the Raw Women’s Championship
We’ve finally made it to the Biggest Party of the Summer, and what better of a place to host it than in Detroit at Ford Field (definitely no bias as a Lions fan)! Once both Asuka and Belair are locked in the cage, the match starts at a feverish place, Bianca hitting a strong shoulder tackle only for Asuka to respond with a spinning backfist a few moments later! As the dust settles on the first fifteen seconds, the competitors look at each other, giving a momentary smirk and scoff apiece before continuing with the action. Bianca showcases her power, getting the Empress lifted in the Gorilla Press position and just hurling her at the cell wall! The several-foot fall to the floor certainly adds to the blow, and Bianca continues the assault outside the ring, slamming Asuka’s head repeatedly into the cage! However, she decides to look under the ring for a weapon, a table quickly catching her eye. She pushes it into the ring, but makes the mistake of turning her back to Asuka while doing so, the former Kana grabbing her from behind and hitting a Tiger Suplex onto the floor!
With Asuka now the lone woman standing, she follows up Bianca’s decision to look under the ring, pulling out a kendo stick. She feels it around in her grasp, getting a good feel for the damage she’s about to inflict. Once Bianca groggily gets to her feet, Asuka just decimates her back, hitting the stick ten times in immediate succession! However, Bianca’s able to dodge an eleventh shot targeted towards the throat, pulling the kendo stick to her and snapping it in half! Asuka looks briefly stunned, but not before she gives a condescending set of claps. In response, Belair grabs her, picking her up for a powerbomb and sending Asuka’s back to connect with the ring apron! Bianca then drags Asuka into the ring, proceeding to set up a table and initially primed to hit a K.O.D. through it. However, Asuka grabs Bianca’s hair, weakening her grip momentarily and presenting an opportunity to escape. Upon doing so, Asuka roundhouse kicks Belair, before getting her positioned on the table, climbing to the top rope…AND HITS A SPLASH ON BIANCA RIGHT THROUGH IT! 1-2-KICKOUT!
Despite the table spot being unable to put away Bianca, Asuka appears unfazed. She exits the ring, bringing a pair of steel steps back into the squared circle. Asuka picks Belair up, seemingly trying to hit a brainbuster on it…But Belair dodges, landing backwards on the steps before turning around and hitting a mini-elevated Spear! This leaves both women down for a few moments, but Bianca rises to her feet first. She gets in some of her signature offense, including a spinebuster on the steel steps! However, her attempt at a K.O.D. on the steps doesn’t work in her favor, with Asuka once again avoiding it. And unfortunately for Belair, Asuka is able to hit her with a suplex on the steps, this being the key factor for the rest of the match-up. With Bianca’s power lessened a bit AND Asuka’s submission hold targeting the back, she faces a tall task, and is ultimately unable to overcome it, the Asuka Lock resulting in a pass-out.
Asuka def. Bianca Belair via submission pass-out to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
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After an impressive victory at SummerSlam, Asuka has definitely proven that she’s going to be difficult to beat. But soon enough, she finds herself confronted by a potentially harmful numbers game…
Monday Night Raw (8/7/23): Damage CTRL Promo
Despite recent events not going so well for Damage CTRL, with Dakota Kai tearing her ACL and neither Iyo Sky nor Bayley able to capture the Money in the Bank briefcase, they’re still determined to get momentum back on their side. Bayley makes the bold decision to call out Asuka, saying that if she were actually a fighting champion, she’d consider accepting a match for the title. Asuka comes out, grinning at Bayley trying to goad her into a title opportunity. Asuka looks at Bayley as just another poor soul to be destroyed, but Iyo…Iyo has potential. Asuka even tells Sky…”Bayley isn’t your friend…but I am…”
This seems to get in Iyo’s head, as she begins looking questioningly at Bayley, who attempts to diffuse the situation by just pointing out Asuka being a freak who gets in people’s heads. In response, Asuka kicks Bayley square in the gut, and when Iyo instinctively goes to fight, Asuka shakes her head…I don’t want to fight you… You don’t need to be part of this…
Remaining Build To Extreme Rules:
Over the coming weeks, Bayley becomes a little more sympathetic, her intentions appearing less out of pure arrogance and more about striving to win championship gold back and improve her honor. She goes on a winning streak, but when confronting Adam Pearce about getting a confirmed title shot, he says there’s one more person she has to beat…Iyo Sky.
At this same time, Iyo looks perturbed whenever she’s on television, still at Bayley’s side but signs pointing to her being less convinced than when Damage CTRL began. And after Bayley does defeat Iyo to earn the #1 Contendership, Sky is just left sitting in the ring, staring down at the mat whilst utterly disappointed. Bayley offers her a handshake, but Asuka stands at ringside, motioning her to come roll out of the ring and stand tall with her. In response, Iyo moves in neither woman’s direction, rolling out to the entrance ramp and walking away alone, uncertain of what her future holds.
But with Extreme Rules approaching, there must also be a stipulation, and after a set of assaults from Asuka leave Bayley staring at the lights, Bayley decides it’s in both of their best interest to settle on…A Last Woman Standing Match! Asuka can try to keep putting her down, but she’s gotten back up each time, and come the PPV…The reign of the Empress will be history.
Extreme Rules: Bayley vs. Asuka (c) - Last Woman Standing Match for the Raw Women’s Championship
In a rematch of their TakeOver: Dallas encounter, the feel of the match is similar to what it was several years ago. Bayley, despite having been around in WWE longer, is the underdog, looking to prove herself against a terrorizing monster who we’re unsure can truly be beaten. The action quickly spills out of the ring, with Bayley even managing to hit a quick Bayley-To-Belly Suplex. Unfortunately, Asuka gets up before even a count of 5, disturbing Bayley. The action spills into the crowd for a while, with Asuka suplexing Bayley on the staircase and the former “Hugger” sent tumbling down for a solid five seconds. But eventually, Bayley recaptures the momentum, finding a trash can with weapons and using a kendo stick to start wailing on Asuka. And as the action approaches a set-up table, Bayley is able to not just prop her up on it, but successfully hit an Elbow Drop from a ledge through it as well! Bayley gets up at a count of three, and while Asuka is left stunned by the move, she recovers at a count of 8, continuing the match-up.
From there, the match spills back closer to the ring, with Bayley putting Asuka in the ring before grabbing a table. She sets it up, but Asuka manages to recover in time to avoid a Bayley-To-Belly through it, instead tossing Bayley to the side momentarily before going at her with a running hip attack. Asuka keeps control for a bit, but as she looks to put Bayley through the table…Here comes Iyo Sky! She slowly walks to the ring, not attacking Asuka initially, but giving Bayley enough time to send Asuka off the top rope and to the floor. However, with the action back on the outside, Asuka looks to be a bit desperate, using her signature Mist to blind Bayley! After this happens, Iyo rushes over to Bayley to try and help…But Bayley shoves her down hard to the floor, thinking it was Asuka! Meanwhile, the real Asuka appears behind Bayley, dragging her back into the ring. Asuka decides to lock on the crossface chickenwing, attempting to pass out Bayley, but this seems to only increase the fire in her spirit, Bayley able to back her into a corner to break the hold. Bayley rubs her eyes, improving her vision, and she drags Asuka to the table, seemingly able to hit the Bayley-To-Belly through the table this time…
…BUT IYO HITS BAYLEY IN THE BACK WITH A STEEL CHAIR FROM OUT OF NOWHERE! Bayley falls to her knees, slowly turning around with a look of heartbreak and pain on her face. Iyo returns the look with an icy cold stare, before Asuka pops-up behind Bayley, applying the Asuka Lock to pass the former “Role Model” out. But given this requires a ten count for Bayley to be down, and Asuka wanting to see what Iyo can do…she motions to the table. Iyo nods, getting Bayley set-up, climbing to the top rope, and hitting a Moonsault, crushing Bayley’s ribs, her friendship, and her hopes of winning the match in one fell swoop.
Asuka def. Bayley via KO to retain the Raw Women’s Championship
After the match, Sky raises Asuka’s hand, signifying the start of an absolutely lethal new duo in WWE…
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With Iyo Sky now having made her allegiance clear, Asuka would appear set-up to remain dominating moving forward. However, the enemies she’s made over the past several months aren’t so quick to forget what transpired, which could potentially create problems…
Build To Survivor Series:
Despite having already made an impact to this point, Asuka and Iyo Sky aren’t just going to put away challengers…it’s time to take out everyone. After a singles win on Raw, Becky Lynch would be blindsided by Iyo, being laid out with several shots of the Steel Chair before a Moonsault to cap things off. The following week, Bayley expresses her dismay at being left alone, to which Asuka and Iyo interrupt, immediately kickstarting a brawl that would seem to favor them once again…Until out comes Becky Lynch! Despite having been bitter rivals earlier in the year, Becky makes the save for Bayley, the pair nodding at each other afterwards to signify a slight respect…We don’t have to like each other… but there’s a bigger threat to be stopped…
But soon enough, this action spills past just being a two-on-two situation. Zoey Stark, the former tag team partner of Iyo Sky in NXT, decides that Becky didn’t suffer enough during their rivalry after helping Trish at Night of Champions, and that it’s worth it for these veterans like her and Bayley to be ousted. Along with that, Asuka’s power and general craziness draws the interest of the Unholy Union known as Alba Fyre and Isla Dawn, the pair pledging loyalty to The Empress and perfectly willing to destroy Becky and Bayley. However, there are several other competitors backstage sick of seeing Asuka gaining an army, with Bianca Belair and the Way coming to the save to help even the odds. And of course, after a brawl featuring all of these competitors, William Regal comes out briefly to make his patented announcement:
“WAR GAMES!”
To determine which team gets the advantage leading into Survivor Series, we get ourselves a strong match in Iyo Sky vs. Becky Lynch, really the catalyst of what’s led into a two-on-one situation into an upcoming 5v5 match inside a destructive steel structure. Becky more than holds their own, but Iyo Sky shines even brighter, a cheap shot by Stark eventually allowing Iyo to hit the Moonsault and give the “heels” the advantage.
Survivor Series: Bianca Belair, Bayley, Becky Lynch, Nikki Cross, and Candice LeRae vs. Asuka, Iyo Sky, Zoey Stark, Alba Fyre, and Isla Dawn - War Games Match
Kicking off the match is Zoey Stark and Becky Lynch, with Becky initially successful in getting Zoey downed, but Isla Dawn coming in presents a problem. She’s initially able to hold her off, but a chop block by Zoey Stark and a subsequent attack of the leg leaves Becky in a rough spot. She’s able to get some assistance, with Nikki Cross coming in with a trash can lid and just whacking Zoey and Isla around with ease. However, Alba Fyre is next to come out, and upon seeing Cross staring her down from inside the cage, she grabs a kendo stick, ready to defend herself. While Nikki initially gets the advantage, Stark and Dawn are able to pull Nikki back, sending her into the steel cage repeatedly. Bianca coming in next is a game changer however, the EST taking control of the match-up and getting a slight breather while awaiting the fourth competitor…which is Asuka!
But as the rest of the field comes in, with Asuka being the last entrant for her team and Bayley for the opposite side, the action starts to get more and more intense. With all of the competitors brawling in one ring, Iyo sees the chance to hit a Moonsault from the top of the cage, wiping out everybody (including herself)! However, a table being brought into the mix benefits the bayfaces, Bayley hitting Fyre with a Bayley-To-Belly through it (she finally got to hit it… just not on Asuka). However, the ending sequence comes down to Asuka and Iyo on their feet against Bayley and Becky, back where it essentially first started…AND IT ENDS WITH IO HITTING A MOONSAULT ON BAYLEY! 1-2-3!
Team Asuka def. Team Becky via pinfall
Just like that, Iyo Sky has once again proved her worth, defeating her former stablemate to win the match for her team and cementing herself as a force to be moving forward. And though a fairly small shot, we can see Asuka glance over at Iyo, a slight frown on her face for a moment before moving back to stand with the rest of her team. What could that mean…
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Build To Royal Rumble:
Despite the result of the War Games Match, Becky Lynch isn’t through with either Asuka nor Iyo by a long shot. She fights off both of them over the coming weeks, along with picking up several singles victory, establishing herself as the next #1 Contender. And as Lynch points out, she and Asuka have history at Royal Rumble. Asuka beat her in singles action in 2019…before Lynch went on to win the Royal Rumble and headline Mania. But this isn’t about the Rumble match now…it’s time to put away the Empress.
As for Iyo, she also has a run of singles success, carrying a lot of momentum heading into the Royal Rumble Match. And soon, we learn that she requested training from one of the most respected female competitors in the locker room, a former NXT UK Champion…Meiko Satomura! While Satomura doesn’t intend to compete right away, she’s more than willing to help Iyo, with vignettes being shown of them together and Satomura even being at ringside for her matches. However, as this keeps happening, Asuka’s looks towards Iyo become more and more strained. Sky is abandoning me… after all I did for her… something’s going to change soon enough…
Royal Rumble: Becky Lynch vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Earlier in the night, Iyo Sky does indeed win the Royal Rumble match, punching her ticket to WrestleMania. This doesn’t seem to affect Asuka’s thoughts however, the Empress looking as ruthless and as calculated as ever en route to using an Armbar to submit Becky after a pretty back-and-forth encounter. And while Asuka proved herself the master of the Armbar between the pairing, Iyo Sky coming out with Meiko Satomura to acknowledge the title win seems to aggravate something in Asuka. Her grin has become a definite frown, and she stares an icy dagger through the pairing. Something isn’t right here…
Asuka def. Becky Lynch via submission to retain the Raw Women’s Title
Build To WrestleMania:
In a conversation between Meiko Satomura and Iyo Sky on an episode of Raw, Satomura asks if Sky would be willing to use her Rumble Victory position to challenge Asuka. Sky doesn’t look too convinced about doing that, which Satomura says is fine, but it’s advisable to weigh all her options. However, in the background, Asuka can be seen, carefully listening to the conversation.
A week later, Satomura addresses the WWE Universe. She’s made the announcement that she wants to have one last run before she retires, and wants to face some of the best names this women’s division has to offer…which is why she’s challenging Asuka for Elimination Chamber! Asuka comes out, her face paint being more red than usual…but while it looks like she’s having to contain herself, she shakes Satomura’s hand, seemingly paying respect to a legend.
Elimination Chamber: Meiko Satomura vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Unfortunately for Satomura, this retirement run of sorts looked to hit the ground before it could even get going. While she catches the Empress off guard at the beginning of the encounter, as time moves on, Asuka appears to be getting more and more angry. This comes to a boiling point when after one Tiger Suplex, Asuka hits another…then another…then another…then another! The ref pleads for Asuka to quit the assault, which she does…only to pull a Bryan Danielson and just start repeatedly kicking Satomura in the face! This goes on for disturbingly long, and when it’s become clear that Satomura is passed out, the ref calls for the bell, him having made the discretion for the match to end.
Asuka def. Meiko Satomura via ref stoppage
After the match, Iyo Sky rushes to the ring, checking on the woman who’s helped her out tremendously over the past couple of months. Asuka looks down at Iyo, a look of disgust on her face, before demanding to know who Sky is facing at WrestleMania. And it better be a specific answer…
Iyo Sky: “I… CHALLENGE… YOU!”
The crowd roar in approval, Asuka somehow shocked initially…until a smile comes across her face. I’m not surprised you made that choice…but unfortunately, it’s the wrong one...it’s a shame this has to happen Iyo…so much potential…
WrestleMania 40: Iyo Sky vs. Asuka (c) - Raw Women’s Championship
Despite that inner monologue running through Asuka’s head at Elimination Chamber, Sky proves why she’s not to be taken lightly. On the Grandest Stage of them All, Iyo just looks…better. Having been around Asuka for several months, she knows the mechanics of her offense, doing a good job at avoiding those signature kicks while also having the speed advantage. And at the end of the match, Sky proves herself superior over The Empress of Tomorrow, hitting the second Moonsault of the match to pin Asuka, and end a spectacular title run while opening a new chapter for another one.
Iyo Sky def. Asuka via pinfall to win the Raw Women’s Championship
2023.06.03 04:57 nimmoisa000 Open world crime game idea Cartel: Palm City.
Developed by Hangar 13, DICE, Ripple Effect Studios, EA Gothenburg, and Criterion Games and published by EA.
Additionally former EA Black Box and Ghost Games employees who would help access game assets and code from previous NFS titles to streamline the development)
Cartel (or alternatively as “Cartel: Palm City” or "Cartel: Miami" ) would be an open world title based on the Mafia Games, the GTA games and the Saints Row games, with elements of Battlefield: Hardline thrown in with an array of weapons and vehicles based on their real life counterparts.
Gameplay wise the driving would be like Need for Speed titles, and on foot and shooting mechanics like BF: Hardline and Saints Row. Plus you can customize your cars and weapons to the same extent in BF: 2042 and some cars would allow for mounted weapons,on foot you can execute people with your equipped weapon like in The Godfather games. On foot would be an FPS view (you can change to a third person view as well) same with having an FPS view in your car.
There would an single player experience point system (like in BF Hardline single player) you gain XP from killing gangsters, and cops blowing up or capturing enemy vehicles and completing main missions, side missions and activities also there will be 15 levels to achieve with each level up unlocking new weapons, vehicles and customization for your weapons and vehicles. As well as a New Game Plus (NG+) where everything you unlocked is carried over and you can also play on the higher difficulties through NG+.
Also there would be five wanted levels for police and five vendetta levels for the gangs should you reach level five gang vendetta you start a Gang War there are three ways to stop a Gang War either bribe the feds, blow up a gang stronghold, or hide out in a safe house. Police wanted levels one and two local units would come after the player, at police wanted level two or three the state police would come after the player. At wanted level four and five the feds would come after the player. The military will only come after the player if they trespass in Fort Rockport or the Palmount Naval Shipyard
The Storyline
In Cartel: Palm City; in a different universe and timeline where there's a total prohibition of all narcotics in the United States in 2010; tells the story of Jack Rourke (the player character) a hardworking rideshare driver at day and a street racer at night who's scraping by in Palm City circa 2019. One fateful night, Jack Rourke has an inadvertent brush with the Blackwell Syndicate (mainly Carl Stoddard and that showcases a life of reward too big to ignore. As he joins the Blackwell Syndicate who are fighting for control of Palm City against five other criminal groups and take the city for the Blackwell Syndicate including recovering evidence that could not only convict the Blackwell Syndicate, as well as a network of crime lords in many countries, (including the other gang’s backers) including the Blackwell Syndicate's backers the Mob and it would also directly implicate the CIA in Palm City’s drug trade with Jack Rourke earning the nickname “El Sicario” for his efforts in driving the other gangs out of Palm City. When he learns how much the drugs were hurting the people of Palm City and all over the country as well as learning that the Blackwell Syndicate had gotten into the drug trade themselves, he contacts FBI agent Chase Linh who relays the story to her and offers the evidence and his testimony in exchange for full immunity for him and his associates, and the evidence on the computer was enough to convict everyone form all the five gangs, but also their crime lord backers from at least half a dozen countries, as well implicating the CIA in this as well as lobbying efforts to keep all narcotics prohibited, leading to a new administration repealing the Narcotics Prohibition law and legalizing low level cannabis. However six months later after the repeal of the Narcotics Prohibition Jack Rourke would be gunned down by Russian Mafia hitmen, Dimitri "Dima '' Mayakovsky and Henry "Black" Blackburn.
The Cast
Civilian
Key: Base weapon (special variant)
Mission Structure
Prolog (2019)
After the trial and the repeal of the Jack Rurke is placed in the Witness Protection Program in Lakeshore City but six months later after the repeal of the Narcotics Prohibition Jack Rourke would be gunned down by members of the West Side Club, Dimitri "Dima" Mayakovsky and Henry "Black" Blackburn.
The Gangs of Palm City
L.S 16 (Los Salmos 16) - Also known as The Salmos. Backed by the most powerful Mexican drug lords and the most powerful arms traffickers in the world, L.S 16 once ruled all of Palm City In fear until The House stepped in. They’re also the strongest gang in the game with access to military grade weapons and vehicles and each gang kill from them awards 500-1,500 XP depending on the enemy type. They are led by Neil Roark.
The House - The House is a gambling gang with strong ties and backed by the Sicilian Mafia; they run the street scene and the casinos in Palm City. They’re pretty strong but weaker than L.S 16, and they have access to military grade weapons and vehicles each gang kills from them awards 250-800 XP depending on the enemy type. Headed by Lina Navarro.
The Volk - The Volk is a Chinese-Russian gang led by Roman Barkov with Niko Barkov as their enforcer backed by the Triads (Chan Wu), the Russian Mob (Dimitri Glebov), and GMAC's crew (Gregory "GMAC" MacDonald, Rose Largo) for cars who control the weapon smuggling and arms dealing in Palm City. With this backing and access to military grade weapons. They are a mid tier gang and each gang kill from them awards 200-600 XP depending on the enemy type. They are also the ones who go after the Blackwell Syndicate the most.
Palm Kings - The Palm Kings (PKs) is a Black gang made up of Black nationalists who controls Palm Harbor’s rackets and extorts store owners. Led by Benny King, they’re equipped with police-grade weaponry and has strong ties with the PCPD despite this, they are the second weakest gang in the game and each gang kill from them awards 150-500 XP depending if it's a regular to elite
Dixie Paladins - The Dixie Paladins are a white supremacy gang and a militarized version of the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) who controls the Gold Coast Mountains in the mountainous regions of Palm City. they’re the weakest gang in the game and each gang kill from them awards 100-250 XP from regular to elite members. They are led by Tony Alpert
Blackwell Syndicate - The Blackwell Syndicate is a underground criminal organization based in Palm City and is led by Marcus Blackwell with Julian “Julius” Little as underboss, Hector Maio before "Code of Silence" and Zack Maio after "Code of Silence". Nick Mendoza. Khai Minh Dao and Carl Stoddard are caporegimes and Tyson Latchford, Tyler "Ty" Morgan, Sean "Mac" McAlister, Jessica "Jess" Miller as soldiers. Other members include Ravindra "Rav" Chaudhry as the gang's car expert Rachel Teller as the gang's customization expert, Marcus “Boomer” Boone as the gang's weapon experts. The Blackwell Syndicate would be the gang that the player would join. In Act 1, they're an outside and fast tracked to soldier, but in Act 2 the player would be a capo until the end of the game. They are secretly backed by both The Mob and the CIA through Agent Dawes. Jonathan Cross and Mia Townsend are also on the gang's payroll until "Bon Appetit" where Marcus Blackwell executes him with a 870P Magnum to the head. Also Mia would also go with Jack Rourke as well
The police/military force
PCPD - the police force of Palm City/Miami if the player does hostile acts (killing civilians, firing unsuppressed weapons in public, etc) will attract police attention and each kill from them awards 50 XP for regular members and 100 XP for armored members, However the player can bribe the PCPD to look the other way or will even help the player fight the other gangs but would be the target of higher level police forces. (Sort of like it was in The Godfather game) The player can also buy favors from them as well. Also they’ll deploy stronger units at higher heat level alongside the FBI. The cars PCPD drives are the Ford Crown Victoria, Dodge Challenger, Pontiac GTO, and the Chevy Grand Sport
Florida Highway Patrol (FHP) - The state police force and Only appears in wanted levels 3 and above, Each kill from them awards 75 XP for regular state troopers and 150 XP for tactical state troopers. Regular state troopers drives Ford Mustang GTs tactical state troopers drives Nissan GT-R
FBI - Only appears in wanted level 5 the FBI will be called in if the player continues to retaliate against the PCPD. Each kill from them awards 125 XP for regular agents, 250 XP for FBI SWAT and 375 XP for FBI HRT, Like the PCPD the player can bribe the FBI to look the other way, or even help the player fight gangs, or the PCPD but at the second highest price. The FBI also has the second widest array of favors the player can buy. regular agents drives the Nissan 350Z or Porsche 911 GT3 RS, FBI SWAT drives the - Lamborghini Aventador SVJ Roadster or Ford F-150 SVT Raptor L.E. and FBI HRT drives the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X or Land Rover Range Rover Sport SVR
Military - Only goes after the player if they trespass in Fort Rockport or the Palmount Naval Shipyard. Each kill from them awards 200 XP for regs, 400 XP for experienced troops and 600 XP for elite troops. Like the PCPD, State Police and the FBI, the player can bribe the military to look the other way, or even help the player fight gangs, the PCPD, State Police or even the FBI but at the highest price and The military also has the widest array of favors the player can buy in large part due to Agent Dawes’ connections in Washington.
Multiplayer portion of the game would take place during the five cartels war where the Blackwell Syndicate, The Volk, Palm Kings, Dixie Paldines, Los Salmos 16, and The House (basically where Jack Rourke glosses over saying "It was non-stop chaos for weeks")
Also there would be a free ride mode where the player can explore the city at their leisure or pick a fight with either other cartels or the cops.
submitted by nimmoisa000 to gameideas [link] [comments]
Developed by Hangar 13, DICE, Ripple Effect Studios, EA Gothenburg, and Criterion Games and published by EA.
Additionally former EA Black Box and Ghost Games employees who would help access game assets and code from previous NFS titles to streamline the development)
Cartel (or alternatively as “Cartel: Palm City” or "Cartel: Miami" ) would be an open world title based on the Mafia Games, the GTA games and the Saints Row games, with elements of Battlefield: Hardline thrown in with an array of weapons and vehicles based on their real life counterparts.
Gameplay wise the driving would be like Need for Speed titles, and on foot and shooting mechanics like BF: Hardline and Saints Row. Plus you can customize your cars and weapons to the same extent in BF: 2042 and some cars would allow for mounted weapons,on foot you can execute people with your equipped weapon like in The Godfather games. On foot would be an FPS view (you can change to a third person view as well) same with having an FPS view in your car.
There would an single player experience point system (like in BF Hardline single player) you gain XP from killing gangsters, and cops blowing up or capturing enemy vehicles and completing main missions, side missions and activities also there will be 15 levels to achieve with each level up unlocking new weapons, vehicles and customization for your weapons and vehicles. As well as a New Game Plus (NG+) where everything you unlocked is carried over and you can also play on the higher difficulties through NG+.
Also there would be five wanted levels for police and five vendetta levels for the gangs should you reach level five gang vendetta you start a Gang War there are three ways to stop a Gang War either bribe the feds, blow up a gang stronghold, or hide out in a safe house. Police wanted levels one and two local units would come after the player, at police wanted level two or three the state police would come after the player. At wanted level four and five the feds would come after the player. The military will only come after the player if they trespass in Fort Rockport or the Palmount Naval Shipyard
The Storyline
In Cartel: Palm City; in a different universe and timeline where there's a total prohibition of all narcotics in the United States in 2010; tells the story of Jack Rourke (the player character) a hardworking rideshare driver at day and a street racer at night who's scraping by in Palm City circa 2019. One fateful night, Jack Rourke has an inadvertent brush with the Blackwell Syndicate (mainly Carl Stoddard and that showcases a life of reward too big to ignore. As he joins the Blackwell Syndicate who are fighting for control of Palm City against five other criminal groups and take the city for the Blackwell Syndicate including recovering evidence that could not only convict the Blackwell Syndicate, as well as a network of crime lords in many countries, (including the other gang’s backers) including the Blackwell Syndicate's backers the Mob and it would also directly implicate the CIA in Palm City’s drug trade with Jack Rourke earning the nickname “El Sicario” for his efforts in driving the other gangs out of Palm City. When he learns how much the drugs were hurting the people of Palm City and all over the country as well as learning that the Blackwell Syndicate had gotten into the drug trade themselves, he contacts FBI agent Chase Linh who relays the story to her and offers the evidence and his testimony in exchange for full immunity for him and his associates, and the evidence on the computer was enough to convict everyone form all the five gangs, but also their crime lord backers from at least half a dozen countries, as well implicating the CIA in this as well as lobbying efforts to keep all narcotics prohibited, leading to a new administration repealing the Narcotics Prohibition law and legalizing low level cannabis. However six months later after the repeal of the Narcotics Prohibition Jack Rourke would be gunned down by Russian Mafia hitmen, Dimitri "Dima '' Mayakovsky and Henry "Black" Blackburn.
The Cast
- Sean Faris - Jack Rourke
- Erik Armando Alvarez - Marcus Blackwell
- Kieth David - Julian “Julius” Little
- Philip Anthony-Rodriguez - Nick Mendoza
- Kelly Hu - Khai Minh Dao
- Travis Willingham - Carl Stoddard
- Eugene Byrd - Marcus “Boomer” Boone
- Adam J. Harrington - Tyson Latchford
- Jack Derges - Tyler "Ty" Morgan
- David Ajala - Sean "Mac" McAlister
- Jessica Madsen - Jessica "Jess" Miller
- Ramon Tikaram - Ravindra "Rav" Chaudhry
- Brooke Burke - Rachel Teller
- Josie Maran - Mia Townsend
- Jonny Cruz - Lucas Rivera
- Ana Marte - Ana Rivera
- Maggie Q - FBI Agent Chase Linh
- Bentino Martinez - CIA Agent Julian Dawes
- Coolie Ranx - Benny King
- Jason Michael Zumwalt - Roman Barkov
- Michael Andrew Hollick - Niko Barkov
- Fred Tatasciore - Tony Alpert
- Josh Coxx - Frank Mercer
- Shontae Saldana - Eva Torres
- Josh Collins - Danny Shaw
- Moti Margolin - Dimitri Glebov
- Jack Yang - Chan Wu
- Graham Shiels - Leo Ray
- Mark Rolston - Neil Roark
- Dean McKenzie - Jonathan Cross
- David Rees Snell - Gregory "GMAC" MacDonald
- Heather Fox - Rose Largo
- Joshua Alba - Zack Maio
- Kurt Caceres - Hector Maio
- Lawrence B. Adisa - Brad Rogers
- Dominique Tipper - Lina Navarro
- David Palffy - Caleb Reece
- David Menkin - Hector "Ming" Domingo
- Bruce Johnson - Wes "Webster" Allen
- William Roberts - Joe "JV" Vega
- Jun-Yamazaki - Toru "Bull" Sato
- Derek Hamilton - Clarence "Razor" Callahan
- Chuck Norris - Chief Norris
- Paul Pape - Jack Keller
- Christina Hendricks - Sam Harper
- Story Mission: Missions that advance the plot
- Side Mission: Missions that do not advance the plot but earns extra experience/money
- Street Race: Just like it is in Need for Speed, finish first.
- Combat Race: Just like Street Race, but weapon use is allowed.
- Mayhem: Cause as much destruction as possible and get the highest Cost to State score.
- Car Snatch: Steal a car from the cops or one of the four gangs and bring it to a chop shop and also unlock the car you stole for free.
- Drug/CigaWeapon Trafficking: Deliver drugs/military-grade weapons/Cuban cigars to dealers and avoid the cops and rival gangs.
- Car Delivery: Deliver a load of high-end cars to car dealers.
- Assassination: Find and kill a named character, bonus if you fulfill a special condition
Civilian
- Acura NSX '17, Acura RSX-S '04,
- Alfa Romeo Giulia Quadrifoglio '16,
- Aston Martin DB5 '64, Aston Martin DB11 '17, Aston Martin DB11 Volante '19, Aston Martin Vulcan '16,
- Audi R8 V10 Performance '19, Audi S5 Sportback '17,
- BMW i8 Coupé '18, BMW i8 Coupé K.S. '18, BMW i8 Roadster '18, BMW M2 Competition '19, BMW M3 '06, BMW M3 '10, BMW M3 Evolution II '88, BMW M3 GTR L.E. '06, BMW M4 '18, BMW M4 Convertible '17, BMW M4 GTS '16, BMW M5 '18, BMW X6 M '16, BMW Z4 M40i '19,
- Buick Grand National '87, Buick Cascada '16
- Chevrolet Bel Air '55, Chevrolet C10 Sidestep Pickup '65, Chevrolet Camaro SS '67, Chevrolet Camaro Z28 '14, Chevrolet Colorado ZR2 '17, Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport '17, Chevrolet Corvette Z06 '13, Chevrolet Corvette ZR1 '19, Chevrolet Corvette Stingray (2020), Chevrolet Corvette Stingray Convertible (2020), Chevrolet Corvette ZO6 (Cross’ ZO6)
- Dodge Challenger SRT8 '14, Dodge Charger '69, Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat ‘18
- Ferrari 458 Italia '09, Ferrari 458 Spider '11, Ferrari 488 GTB '15, Ferrari 488 Pista '19, Ferrari F40 '87, Ferrari FXX-K Evo '18, Ferrari LaFerrari '13, Ferrari Testarossa Coupé '84,
- Ford F-150 Raptor '17, Ford F-150 SVT Raptor L.E. '17, Ford Focus RS '16, Ford GT '17, Ford Mustang '65, Ford Mustang BOSS 302 '69, Ford Mustang Foxbody '90, Ford Mustang GT '15, Ford Crown Victoria ‘08
- Honda Civic Type-R '00, Honda Civic Type-R '15, Honda NSX Type-R '92, Honda S2000 '09,
- Infiniti Q60 S '17,
- Jaguar F-Type R Convertible '19, Jaguar F-Type R Coupé '16,
- Koenigsegg Regera '16 (Roman’s Regera)
- Lamborghini Aventador S '18, Lamborghini Aventador S Roadster '17, Lamborghini Aventador SVJ Coupe '19, Lamborghini Aventador SVJ Roadster '19, Lamborghini Countach '89, Lamborghini Diablo SV '95, Lamborghini Huracán '18, Lamborghini Huracán Performante '18, Lamborghini Huracán Performante Spyder '18, Lamborghini Huracán Spyder '18, Lamborghini Murciélago SV '10, Lamborghini Gallardo LP 560-4 '08
- Land Rover Defender 110 '15, Land Rover Range Rover Sport SVR '15,
- Lotus Exige S '06,
- Mazda MX-5 '15, Mazda MX-5 '96, Mazda RX-7 Spirit R '02,
- McLaren 570S '15, McLaren 570S Spider '18, McLaren 600LT '18, McLaren F1 '93, McLaren P1 '14, McLaren P1 GTR '15
- Mercedes-AMG A 45 '16, Mercedes-AMG C 63 Coupé '18, Unlocked at REP LVL 18, Mercedes-AMG C 63 Coupé K.S. '18, Mercedes-AMG G 63 '17, Mercedes-AMG GT '15, Mercedes-AMG GT R '17, Mercedes-AMG GT S Roadster '19
- Mercury Cougar '67
- Mini JCW Countryman '17
- Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution IX '07, Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X '08, Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X K.S. '08
- Nissan 180SX Type X '96, Nissan 240SX '98, Nissan 350Z ‘03, Nissan 370Z ‘09, Nissan GT-R ‘07, Nissan Fairlady 240ZG '71, Nissan GT-R '17, Nissan Silvia Spec-R Aero '02, Nissan Skyline 2000 GT-R '71, Nissan Skyline GT-R V-Spec '93, Nissan Skyline GT-R V-Spec '99, Nissan Skyline GT-R V-Spec '02,
- Opel Astra '09
- Pagani Huayra BC '17
- Plymouth Barracuda '70
- Polestar 1 '20
- Pontiac Firebird '77, Pontiac Firebird '99, Pontiac GTO '05, Pontiac G8 '08
- Porsche 718 Cayman GTS '18, Porsche 911 Carrera GTS '18, Porsche 911 Carrera GTS Cabriolet '18, Porsche 911 Carrera RSR 2.8 '73, Porsche 911 Carrera S '97, Porsche 911 GT2 RS '18, Porsche 911 GT3 RS '19, Porsche 911 Targa 4 GTS '18, Porsche 911 Turbo S Cabriolet Ex '18, Porsche 911 Turbo S Exclusive '18, Porsche 918 Spyder '15, Porsche Cayman GT4 '15, Porsche Panamera Turbo '17, Porsche 911 Carrera S (991) '12
- SRT Viper GTS '14
- Subaru BRZ Premium '14, Subaru Impreza WRX STI '06, Subaru Impreza WRX STI '10,
- Volkswagen Beetle '63, Volkswagen Golf GTI '76, Volkswagen Golf GTI Clubsport '16,
- Volvo 242 DL '75, Volvo Amazon P130 '70
- Light Vehicles: M1161 ITV, VDV Buggy, LYT2021, MRAP, SPM-3, ZFB-05, Quad Bike, Dirt Bike. Desert Patrol Vehicle. Skid Loader
- Infantry Fighting Vehicles: LAV-25, BTR-90, ZBD-09, AAV-7A1. AMTRAC
- Main Battle Tanks: M1 Abrams, T-90A, Type 99 MBT, HT-95 Levkov
- Anti-Aircraft Vehicles: LAV-AD, 9K22 Tunguska-M, Type 95 AA
- Mobile Artillery: HIMARS
- Helicopters: AH-1Z Viper, Mi-28 Havoc, Z-10W, AH-6 Little Bird, Z-11W, KA-60 Kasatka, UH-1Y Venom, Z-9 Haitun
- Naval Craft: DV-15 Interceptor, RCB-90, RHIB Boat, PWC, ACV
- Emplacements: .50 Cal, M220 TOW Launcher, 9M133 Kornet Launcher, HJ-8 Launcher, Centurion C-RAM, Pantsir-S1, LD-2000 AA, Schipunov 42. Launch Pod
- Optics (Pistols): Iron Sights, Improved Iron Sights, Ghost Ring, Mini (RDS), Deltapoint (RDS), Comp M4S (1X) Magnum Scope (2x)
- Optics (Rifles): Short Range; Barska Reflex (RDS), Kobra (RDS), Coyote (RDS), EOTech Sight (1x), PKA-S (1x), HD-33 (1x), F2000 (1.6x) (F2000 only). Medium Range; M145 (3.4x), PK-A (3.4x), PRISMA (3.4x), Mark 4 HAMR (3.5x) ACOG (4x), PSO-1 (4x), JGM-4 (4x). Long Range: CL6x (6x), PKS-07 (7x), Rifle Scope (8x), Hunter (20x), Ballistic (40x), IRNV (1x), FLIR (2x)
- Accessories: Canted Iron Sights, Magnifier (2x), Variable Zoom (2x-14x), Flash Light, Tactical Light, Laser Sight, Tri Beam Laser, Green Laser Sight, LaseLight Combo, Range Finder, Target Detector, Stabilizer.
- Barrel: Standard Barrel, Heavy Barrel, Light Barrel
- Muzzle (ARs/Carbines, DMRs, LMGs, PDWs, and Sidearms): Muzzle Brake, Compensator, Suppressor, Flash Hider, Flash Enhancer.
- Muzzle (shotgun): Duckbill, Full Choke, Modified Choke
- Underbarrel: Underslung Rail (M320, GP-30, M26 MASS), Bipod, Ergo Grip, Angled Grip, Stubby Grip, Vertical Grip, Folding Grip, Potato Grip
- Auxiliary: Straight Pull Bolt, Bipod
- Ammunition: Shotshells, 12 Gauge Buckshot, 12 Gauge Dart, 12 Gauge Frag, 12 Gauge Slug
- 25mm Grenades - 25mm Airburst, 25mm Dart, 25mm Smoke.
- Arrows - Broadhead Arrow, Bullet Point Arrow, Explosive Tipped Arrow (Tek Arrows), Poison Arrow
Key: Base weapon (special variant)
- Melee Weapons: Blunt Weapons, Knives, Collapsible Baton, Machete (L.S 16 Machete), Breaching Hammer, Sledge Hammer, Axe, Inquisition Sword, Shovel, Bayonet, ACB-90, Shank, Machete, Bowie, Carbon Fiber, Scout, Survival, Trench, Boot, SEAL, Dive, Tactical, BJ-2, Precision, Baseball Bat, 2x4, Lead Pipe
- Light Pistols; P226, M9, QSZ-92, MP443, G17 (Street Racer Special), FN57. Machine Pistols; CZ-75. G18, TEC-9, MAC-10, MP9, 93R.
- Heavy Pistols: M1911, Compact 45, SW40, DEagle .38, DEagle .357, DEagle .44, DEagle .50, DEagle .501, DEagle .700, 45T (Mercer’s 45T), .40
- Revolvers; Unica 6 .38, Unica 6 .357, Unica 6 .44, Unica 6 .50, Unica 6 .501, Unica 6 .700, .38 Snub, .38 Special, .357 RS, MP412 REX, .44 Magnum (.44 Magnum Force), .501 Magnum Enforcer, .700 Magnum
- Short Rifles/Shotguns; Mare's Leg, Lupara, Shorty 12G (Modern Lupara)
- Personal Defense Weapons/SMGs: MP5, MX4, PP-2000, UMP-45, CBJ-MS, PDW-R, CZ-3A1, JS2, P90, UMP-9, MP7 (Combine MP7) , AS VAL, SR-2, MPX, Groza-4, K10 (Dillinger II), M1A1, M1928 (Dillinger), MP5SD
- Shotguns: QBS-09, 870 MCS, M1014, Hawk 12G, Saiga 12K, SPAS-12, UTS-15, DBV-12, DAO-12, USAS-12, AA-12, 870P Magnum, 37 Stakeout (Cross’ 37 Stakeout), Double-Barrel Shotgun, KSG12, M26 MASS
- Carbines: AK5C, ACW-R, SG553, AKU-12, A-91, ACE 52 CQB, G36C, M4, ACE 21 CQB, Type-95B-1, MTAR-21, Phantom, Groza-1, RO933, AKS-74U, CAR-556, ACWR.
- Assault Rifles: AK-12 (Shovak AK-12), SCAR-L, SCAR-H, M416, SAR-21, AEK-971 (Russian Dillinger), FAMAS, AUG A3, CZ-805, QBZ-95-1, ACE 23, L85A2, F2000 (SC-20K), ARX-160, Bulldog, AN-94, M16A3, M16A4, AKM, L85A2, ARM, MDC, SAR-21, AUG A3, HCAR, SA-58 OSW, HK51, FN FAL, SG510.
- Light Machine Guns: U-100 MK5 (Modern Dillinger), Type 88 LMG, LSAT, PKP Pecheneg, QBB-95-1, M240B, MG4, M249, M60-E4 (M60-ULT), AWS, L86A2, RPK, RPK-74, RPK-12,
- Designated Marksman Rifles: RFB, Mk11 Mod 0, SKS, SVD-12, QBU-88, M39 EMR, ACE 53 SV, SCAR-H SV, M39 EMR
- Sniper Rifles: R700PPS, TRG-42P, CS-LR4, M40A5, Scout Elite, SV-98, JNG-90, 338-Recon, M98B, SRR-61, FY-JS, Dragunov SVD, L115, GOL Magnum, SR338, CS5, .300 Knockout, M200 Intervention, M82A3 .416, M82A3 .50, M82A3 .501, M82A3 .700, M82A3 .900, M82A3 20mm Vulcan, AMR-2 .416, AMR-2 .50, AMR-2 .501, AMR-2 .700, AMR-2 .900 AMR-2 20mm Vulcan, HVM-II, M136 CS, Vidhwansak, Rorsch Mk-1, Rorsch Mk-4, 20mm Vulcan Grenares: M67 Frag, V40 Mini, RGO Impact, M34 Incendiary, M18 Smoke, M84 Flashbang, Hand Flare, CS Gas Grenade, Molotov, AA Mine, AT Mine, SLAM, C4 Explosive, M18 Claymore
- Launchers: M32 MGL, M203, M320, GP-30, M26 MASS, RPG,MBT LAW, FIM-92 Stinger, RPG-7V2, SA-18 Igla, Mk153 SMAW, FGM-148 Javelin, FGM-172 SRAW, XM-25
- Gadgets: Defibrillator, First Aid Pack, Medic Bag, Repair Tool, Ammo Box, Ammo Pack, M224 Mortar, MP-APS, XM25, UCAV, Ballistic Shield, MAV, Motion Sensor, PLD, Radio Beacon, SOFLAM, T-UGS, SUAV, RAWR M240B, RAWR M203, XD-1 Accipiter
Mission Structure
Prolog (2019)
- The Birth of Art - After winning a big race, Jack Rourke collects the winnings at the Palm City Historical Museum
- An Offer you Can't Refuse - Jack Rourke must evade Volk sicarios with Tyson Lachford and Carl Stoddard members of the Blackwell Syndicate
- Race Day - After the events of the last mission, Jack Rourke partakes in a race day event and wins three events with his Porsche 911 Carrera S (991) '12
- Running Man - Volk sicarios Niko and Dimitri crashes the race day and Jack must get to the Blackwell Garage
- M34 Party - Jack Rourke joins the Blackwell Syndicate and gets acquainted with everyone before going with Tyson in a Pontiac GTO '05 to burn the Volk's cars with M34 Incendiary Grenades as well as stealing GMAC's Lamborghini Gallardo LP 560-4
- Standard Routine - Jack Rourke rolls with Tyson, Stoddard and Jonathan Cross to collect protection money but things go south when they collect from a hotel out of town and Jack Rourke chases after the hotel owner in Cross' car.
- Fair Play - Jack Rourke is tasked with stealing Ryan Cooper's Nissan 240SX and sabotaging it on the eve of the biggest Speedhunter race of the year, the SpeedHunter Championship Finals and in a last minute swap Jack Rourke has to race in place of Tyler Morgan
- Mia Townsend - Jack Rourke is tasked with taking Mia Townsend out for a night at the city... until a gang of Wraith street racers led by Caleb Reece hassles her and Jack Rourke takes them on in a fight
- Get Used To It - After the events of the previous mission Jack Rourke and Tyson Latchford are sent to teach the Wraiths a lesson But Caleb Reece makes it serious and Caleb Reece is wound up being killed by Tyson after a chase around the city alongside Danny Shaw.
- The Saint and The Sinner - It's revealed thtat Caleb Reece was Chief Norris' best friend, and Danny Shaw survives the crash however Stoddard would handle Shaw as Jack Rourke is tasked with infiltrating the Elmore Plaza Hotel and has to kill the manager, Nikki Morris and bomb the hotel before escaping to a funeral and confronts, Danny Shaw and Frank Mercer who are also in attendance. Jack Rourke kills Shaw and nearly kills Frank as well. But Frank tasers Rourke and escapes. It would be revealed that some of the Volk sicarios recognized Sotddard and had to deal with them, then the two escaped in a hearse.
- A Trip to the Countryside - In order to get a large supply of cannabis from Mexico, Jack Rourke takes a team to retrieve the Mexican from Mexican smugglers only to be ambushed by Los Zetas L.S 16 and Volk sicarios, then it's revealed that Roman had paid off the FBI to go after Rourke and his teammates then they came off with the cannabis killing their pursuers in the process.
- Code of Silence - The evidence that Tyson and Stoddard had ripped from the Volk had fallen in the hands of Hector Maio who cut a deal with the FBI, total immunity for the evidence and Jack Rouke is tasked with killing him and retrieving the evidence
- Visiting Rich People - Jack Rourke is tasked with sabotaging a federal proscutor's case against The Mob, the Blackwell Syndicate's backers as well as killing the federal prosecutor in charge of the case.
- Visiting Powerful People - Jack Rourke is tasked with meeting and protecting a powerful member of Palm City's elite, the owner of Prefered Outcomes Julian Daws... though he more than meets the eyes of Jack Rourke
- Agent Dawes - Julian Daws is revealed to be a CIA agent who is tasked with keeping the flow of drugs to Jack's surprise and that he is backing the Blackwell Syndicate through Prefered Outcomes.
- The Drug Trade - Julian Daws walks Jack Rourke through Palm City's drug trade and how the illicit street racing scene is used as a cover to smuggle drugs.
- Great Deal - Tyson Lachford scores a major deal with a drug farm in Georgia who promises to supply them with large amounts of drugs in exchange for access to databases concerning highway patrol routes; however when the deal goes down at a parking garage, the Volk and L.S 16 ambush them.
- Bon Appetit - Jack Rourke drives Eva Torrez, Marcus Blackwell and Julian Daws to the rebuilt Elmore Plaza Hotel for brunch only for Niko and Dimirti with a Volk hit squad to blast the entire lobby with gunfire and C4 explosives, Jack Rourke vaults over with Eva Torrez, Marcus Blackwell and Julian Daws, there Jack Rourke and Eva Torrez rush out through the side entrance and confronts the hit squad with Jack Rourke killing both Niko and Dimirti. However Blackwell wants Jack to confront Jonathan Cross at a doughnut store and reveals that the Volk threatened to turn him over to IAD and is chased throughout the city with Marcus Blackwell putting Cross on permanent retirement by killing him with a Lupara.
- Happy Anniversary - Jack Rourke is tasked with completing a contract hit against Frank Mercer at the fifth anniversary of the formation of the High-Speed Task Force by firing a sniper rifle stashed in a bathroom
- You Lucky Bastard - After a failed attempt to kill Razor; Roman's personal driver and #2 of the Volk, Jack Rourke is given the contract to kill Razor, first by car bomb but ends up killing Deputy Chief Jack Keller. instead of Razor. Jack Rourke, Tyson and Stoddard would later find Razer at a Burger King. In this Rourke can choose to kill or spare Razor. Rourke would spare him after he tells him that the CIA is deeper in Palm City's drug trade than Jack Rourke is led to believe
- Creme de la Creme - Marcus Blackwell plans to kill Roman, Niko, Demintri and Chan Wu in front of the city's Creme de la Creme, the mayor, the police chief, the FBI director and even the city's richest elite. However things go south and Jack Rourke chases Roman and Niko at the airport where they get to a private jet but is shot down and crash lands on the Cross Mermeroral Bridge Chan Wu is still alive and Jack Rourke executes him and leaves before the cops show up.
- Plugging the Chief - After the events of Creme de la Creme; Chief Norris places to take on the Blackwell Syndicate and to dismantle them, and a contract hit is placed on him where Jack Rourke accepts the contract and kills Chief Norris.
- Election Campaign - The State Governor had launched his reelection bid with the promise get tough on the cartels that had plagued Palm City and like Chief Norris has a contract hit out on him which Jack Rourke is tasked with taking, using a sniper rifle
- Just for Relaxation - Marcus Blackwell tells Jack Rourke about a shipment of Cuban cigars as well as a hidden shipment of diamonds (hot ice) straight from Africa however and Jack Rourke takes a crew to retrieve the shipment from federal customs however it's revealed that instead of diamonds it's Cold Shot... the same drug being pushed by the other gangs.
- The Truth - Jack Rourke and Kahi Minh Dao eavesdrop on Marcus Blackwell and Julain Daws and they learn the truth.
- Moonlighting - Jack Rourke after knowing about the truth takes Tyson to rob the Palm CIty First National in order to retire from the sicario lifestyle and gets into a massive shootout with the PCPD Heat-style.
- The Death of Art - After the heist of Palm City First National Jack Rourke finds Tyson dead and meets Stoddard at the museum only to find out that Stoddard knew about the heist, and used his share of the drug money and clout at Prefered Outcomes to buy out The7 as his personal hit squad, however Jack Rourke manages to kill every member of The7 but spares Stoddard (the player can also kill him but canonically Jack Rourke spares him)
After the trial and the repeal of the Jack Rurke is placed in the Witness Protection Program in Lakeshore City but six months later after the repeal of the Narcotics Prohibition Jack Rourke would be gunned down by members of the West Side Club, Dimitri "Dima" Mayakovsky and Henry "Black" Blackburn.
The Gangs of Palm City
L.S 16 (Los Salmos 16) - Also known as The Salmos. Backed by the most powerful Mexican drug lords and the most powerful arms traffickers in the world, L.S 16 once ruled all of Palm City In fear until The House stepped in. They’re also the strongest gang in the game with access to military grade weapons and vehicles and each gang kill from them awards 500-1,500 XP depending on the enemy type. They are led by Neil Roark.
The House - The House is a gambling gang with strong ties and backed by the Sicilian Mafia; they run the street scene and the casinos in Palm City. They’re pretty strong but weaker than L.S 16, and they have access to military grade weapons and vehicles each gang kills from them awards 250-800 XP depending on the enemy type. Headed by Lina Navarro.
The Volk - The Volk is a Chinese-Russian gang led by Roman Barkov with Niko Barkov as their enforcer backed by the Triads (Chan Wu), the Russian Mob (Dimitri Glebov), and GMAC's crew (Gregory "GMAC" MacDonald, Rose Largo) for cars who control the weapon smuggling and arms dealing in Palm City. With this backing and access to military grade weapons. They are a mid tier gang and each gang kill from them awards 200-600 XP depending on the enemy type. They are also the ones who go after the Blackwell Syndicate the most.
Palm Kings - The Palm Kings (PKs) is a Black gang made up of Black nationalists who controls Palm Harbor’s rackets and extorts store owners. Led by Benny King, they’re equipped with police-grade weaponry and has strong ties with the PCPD despite this, they are the second weakest gang in the game and each gang kill from them awards 150-500 XP depending if it's a regular to elite
Dixie Paladins - The Dixie Paladins are a white supremacy gang and a militarized version of the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) who controls the Gold Coast Mountains in the mountainous regions of Palm City. they’re the weakest gang in the game and each gang kill from them awards 100-250 XP from regular to elite members. They are led by Tony Alpert
Blackwell Syndicate - The Blackwell Syndicate is a underground criminal organization based in Palm City and is led by Marcus Blackwell with Julian “Julius” Little as underboss, Hector Maio before "Code of Silence" and Zack Maio after "Code of Silence". Nick Mendoza. Khai Minh Dao and Carl Stoddard are caporegimes and Tyson Latchford, Tyler "Ty" Morgan, Sean "Mac" McAlister, Jessica "Jess" Miller as soldiers. Other members include Ravindra "Rav" Chaudhry as the gang's car expert Rachel Teller as the gang's customization expert, Marcus “Boomer” Boone as the gang's weapon experts. The Blackwell Syndicate would be the gang that the player would join. In Act 1, they're an outside and fast tracked to soldier, but in Act 2 the player would be a capo until the end of the game. They are secretly backed by both The Mob and the CIA through Agent Dawes. Jonathan Cross and Mia Townsend are also on the gang's payroll until "Bon Appetit" where Marcus Blackwell executes him with a 870P Magnum to the head. Also Mia would also go with Jack Rourke as well
The police/military force
PCPD - the police force of Palm City/Miami if the player does hostile acts (killing civilians, firing unsuppressed weapons in public, etc) will attract police attention and each kill from them awards 50 XP for regular members and 100 XP for armored members, However the player can bribe the PCPD to look the other way or will even help the player fight the other gangs but would be the target of higher level police forces. (Sort of like it was in The Godfather game) The player can also buy favors from them as well. Also they’ll deploy stronger units at higher heat level alongside the FBI. The cars PCPD drives are the Ford Crown Victoria, Dodge Challenger, Pontiac GTO, and the Chevy Grand Sport
Florida Highway Patrol (FHP) - The state police force and Only appears in wanted levels 3 and above, Each kill from them awards 75 XP for regular state troopers and 150 XP for tactical state troopers. Regular state troopers drives Ford Mustang GTs tactical state troopers drives Nissan GT-R
FBI - Only appears in wanted level 5 the FBI will be called in if the player continues to retaliate against the PCPD. Each kill from them awards 125 XP for regular agents, 250 XP for FBI SWAT and 375 XP for FBI HRT, Like the PCPD the player can bribe the FBI to look the other way, or even help the player fight gangs, or the PCPD but at the second highest price. The FBI also has the second widest array of favors the player can buy. regular agents drives the Nissan 350Z or Porsche 911 GT3 RS, FBI SWAT drives the - Lamborghini Aventador SVJ Roadster or Ford F-150 SVT Raptor L.E. and FBI HRT drives the Mitsubishi Lancer Evolution X or Land Rover Range Rover Sport SVR
Military - Only goes after the player if they trespass in Fort Rockport or the Palmount Naval Shipyard. Each kill from them awards 200 XP for regs, 400 XP for experienced troops and 600 XP for elite troops. Like the PCPD, State Police and the FBI, the player can bribe the military to look the other way, or even help the player fight gangs, the PCPD, State Police or even the FBI but at the highest price and The military also has the widest array of favors the player can buy in large part due to Agent Dawes’ connections in Washington.
Multiplayer portion of the game would take place during the five cartels war where the Blackwell Syndicate, The Volk, Palm Kings, Dixie Paldines, Los Salmos 16, and The House (basically where Jack Rourke glosses over saying "It was non-stop chaos for weeks")
Also there would be a free ride mode where the player can explore the city at their leisure or pick a fight with either other cartels or the cops.
2023.06.02 23:33 Head-Abbreviations80 What mall yall be shopping at
Mane I remember town east used to be the shit but now it’s so dry bruh. No true religion stores. No designer stores and don’t even get me started on the lack of shoes they got at foot locker or some.
submitted by Head-Abbreviations80 to LoneStarGhetto [link] [comments]
2023.06.02 21:46 jatslo POINT OF PURCHASE PLACEMENT (Live): #FL aka $FL
 | POINT OF PURCHASE PLACEMENT (Live): #FL aka $FL trailing buy stop limit order placed where green/blue lines intersect at: Stop Value = 0.25 & Limit Price = 26.18. The Trailing Stop Limit Protocol (TSLP) collaborations/instructions are located at: submitted by jatslo to u/jatslo [link] [comments] https://algorithm.xiimm.net/phpbb/viewtopic.php?p=1541#p1541 https://preview.redd.it/dscav3x7sn3b1.png?width=1079&format=png&auto=webp&s=6c8cc2d3f1ff5f822b9f532264963dd612d4d52f |
2023.06.02 21:28 Charliemachine87 This has been the movies I’ve watched this year so far.
Movie List 1/09/2023
submitted by Charliemachine87 to horror [link] [comments]
- 7th Voyage of Sinbad, The (1958) 05/28/23
- After Death (1989) 05/24/23
- Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania (2023) 05/26/23
- Arachnophobia (1990) 2/06/23
- Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958) 2/02/23
- Attack of the Beast Creatures (1985) 2/05/23
- Black Panther (2022) 02/11/23
- Black Scorpion, The (1957) 2/06/23
- Blood Delirium (1988) 06/02/23
- Boneyard, The (1991) 1/19/23
- Bullet Train (2022) 2/10/23
- Burning, The (1981) 1/18/23
- Butterfly Kisses (2018) 2/01/23
- Caltiki, the Immortal Monster (1959) 04/29/23
- Cellar, The (1988) 04/16/23
- Chill Factor, The (1989) 05/01/23
- Chillers (1987) 1/27/23
- Cocaine Bear (2023) 04/22/23
- Colossus of New York, The (1958) 05/21/23
- Conspiracy, The (2012) 03/06/23
- Contamination (1980) 1/17/23
- Crawlers, The (1990) 2/02/23
- Creature with the Atom Brain (1955) 02/08/23
- Critters 2: The Main Course (1988) 04/08/23
- Dark, The (1993) 1/29/23
- Dark Tower (1987) 04/23/23
- Dead Heat (1988) 2/06/23
- Deadly Manor (1990) 04/30/23
- Deadstream (2022) 03/03/23
- Death Curse of Tartu (1966) 04/10/23
- Decoys (2004) 1/11/23
- Decoys 2: Alien Seduction (2007) 1/11/23
- Deep Freeze (2001) 1/10/23
- Diary of a Madman (1963) 02/19/23
- Dinner with a Vampire (1989) 1/25/23
- Dr. Giggles (1992) 2/02/23
- Erotic Nightmare (1999) 04/28/23
- Evil Dead (2013) 04/21/23
- Evil Dead Rise (2023) 04/22/23
- Evil Toons (1992) 05/16/23
- Fear: Resurrection, The (1999) 1/30/23
- Frazier Park Recut (2017) 04/07/23
- Gamma People, The (1956) 2/03/23
- Gate, The (1987) 2/07/23
- Giant Claw, The (1957) 02/08/23
- Graduation Day (1981) 04/07/23
- Graveyard Disturbance (1989) 1/24/23
- Hideous! (1997) 04/23/23
- Horror Express (1972) 05/02/23
- House of the Devil (2009) 03/24/23
- Hybrid (1997) 1/30/23
- Jason and the Argonauts (1963) 05/29/23
- John Carpenter’s Fog, The (1980) 1/22/23
- John Carpenter’s Prince of Darkness (1987) 1/22/23
- John Carpenter’s They Live (1988) 1/23/23
- John Carpenter’s Thing, The (1982) 1/23/23
- Killer Shrews, The (1959) 02/06/23
- Laughing Dead, The (1989) 03/24/23
- Living Dead at Manchester Morgue, The (1974) 1/24/23
- Locker, The (2004) 04/28/23
- Locker II, The (2004) 04/28/23
- Lurking Fear (1994) 05/18/23
- Madman (1981) 1/17/23
- Mania (1986) 1/30/23
- Mutilator, The (1984) 1/15/23
- Nightmare City (1980) 1/17/23
- One Dark Night (1981) 1/09/23
- Phantom, The (1996) 05/25/23
- Planet of the Vampires (1965) 2/04/23
- Prom Night III: The Last Kiss (1990) 2/02/23
- Quasi (2023) 04/22/23
- Raptor (2001) 2/01/23
- Renfield (2023) 05/19/23
- Reptilicus (1961) 05/11/23
- Revolt of the Zombies (1936) 04/30/23
- Scare Package II: Rad Chad's Revenge (2022) 1/12/23
- Scream (1996) 03/04/23
- She Walks the Woods (2019) 03/03/23
- Slugs (1988) 1/16/23
- Sting of Death (1966) 05/09/23
- Stuff, The (1985) 1/15/23
- Super Mario Bros. Movie, The (2023) 05/21/23
- Tale of the Mummy (1998) 04/28/23
- Ticks (1993) 1/10/23
- Trog (1970) 1/10/23
- Troublesome Night 4 (1998) 05/20/23
- Up from the Depths (1979) 05/21/23
- Vampire, The (1957) 05/17/23
- Wasp Woman, The (1995) 02/07/23
- Watchers III (1994) 1/31/23
- Watchers Reborn (1998) 1/31/23
- Willies, The (1990) 1/28/23
- Zombies of Mora Tau (1957) 02/08/23
2023.06.02 20:19 gandostar My first squish drop was a success! 💛🧡🤍
 | submitted by gandostar to squishmallow [link] [comments] |
2023.06.02 19:59 kachochin38 My report on the Taipei show
First off the bat, yeah, nothing special happened during the show as you all know. But it was my first BabyMetal concert and I had a blast so I could care less about a surprise that didn't happen.
I arrived at the venue around noon and it was obvious there were a ton of japanese fans. They sure mobilized quite a crowd. When I got in the VIP merch line, 80% of the people around me were speaking japanese lol. Most Taiwanese fans came at a later time.
The general access line seemed to still have quite some stock left to them after VIP was done but towels still sold out too fast even after they limited purchase to 1 per person. There were also many people handing out self-made goods,and someone brought his BM-painted motorbike for fans to take pictures with.
Finally came the time for entry, and the venue staff were calling numbers in Japanese first, only when no one answers they switch to mandarin. Well, a lot of us can understand simple japanese numbers so there were not much complaints.
I got my spot 1.5 rows from the barrier, a bit to the right somewhere in the middle of where Su and Moa would stand. The 0.5 row being the barrier had 5 cm high platform and I had to take half a step back to avoid the gap. And why need to mention the gap ? My poor foot was basically pushed hard against the gap most of the show to fight back the compression from behind. There was a girl in front of me and I certainly don't want to crash onto her.
The show started, Anthony banging those drums so damn loud my eardrum was telling me this is definitely not good but I was headbanging so hard to the beat I could ignore the warning from my body. I had forgot my earplugs in the lockers, oops.
The girls were so close to us I thought I could count Moa's eyelashes and they were astonishingly beautiful/gorgeous/shiny etc., pick whatever adjective you want. NO photo/footage had done them justice.
Going thru the song list:
BMD, The crowd lost their shit from the first note and hype just keeps building. My throat was already all dry by the end. F me for taking the venue notice seriously and not bringing any water.
Megitsune, sore sore sore madness. No hengoa this time, just a small smile between the girls. The crowd on my left pushed so hard when Moa came to the right of the stage almost knocked me off my feet. Everyone wanted their existence to be acknowledged by the angel of love.
iine, hyped from megitsune ? here's more hype. I could be remembering wrong but it was before iine or megitsune they had some tech issue so music didn't start for a while and the crowd was chanting LOUD.
Shanti, a nice break from all the hype train.
Maya, Say my name !
Metalizm, zumu zumu zumu. The front was so crowded I couldn't get my hands up to do the moves.
BxMxC, we must have been loud, Su handed the mic again.
Monochrome, take your phones out !
Distortion, rebuilding that hype
Pa Pa Ya, crowd out of control. Swinging my towel and jumping as high as I can, don't give shxt about whether someone behind me can see or not because I can't either.
GC, still hyped, but in between with PPY and ROR, this slot is considered a break
ROR, The venue was divided into 3 zones by barriers. I think we got quite a good WOD going in all 3 zones. The MUST SEE hilarious fancam is at the beginning the flag accidentally covered Moa's entire face and she had to stand still until the next move. Hightlight moment of the whole show (X). I was at MOMO's side so unfortunately didn't get to see it with my own eyes.
Metal Kingdom, all hail the queens, I don't care if your voice is already horse, you chant
IDZ, WOD part 2, epic closure, during the breakdown where the girls join their thumbs together, a japanese kitsune saw my raised thumb and joined thumbs with me and he didn't let go until the part was over. It was a warm feeling, join your thumbs kitsunes.
Ending
Overall being at the front in a small venue, I got what I came for, a real close up look at the girls. I really didn't have much effort to spare to look at other elements. The Kami band, the visuals will have to wait for next time. The seating on 2F definitely had the best view. They were close enough to see all the details but also far enough to see the whole picture. I'd go for there if there's ever a 2nd time in the same venue. The sound mix next to the PA according to my friend was quite good.
My voice now completely hoarse, legs sore from all the jumping, and backpack full of merchs. Back in April I said to myself I'll regret if I didn't buy the VIP ticket. I was 100% correct. No regrets diving down the fox hole and attending this great show.
Next stop, tour final in Japan !
submitted by kachochin38 to BABYMETAL [link] [comments]
I arrived at the venue around noon and it was obvious there were a ton of japanese fans. They sure mobilized quite a crowd. When I got in the VIP merch line, 80% of the people around me were speaking japanese lol. Most Taiwanese fans came at a later time.
The general access line seemed to still have quite some stock left to them after VIP was done but towels still sold out too fast even after they limited purchase to 1 per person. There were also many people handing out self-made goods,and someone brought his BM-painted motorbike for fans to take pictures with.
Finally came the time for entry, and the venue staff were calling numbers in Japanese first, only when no one answers they switch to mandarin. Well, a lot of us can understand simple japanese numbers so there were not much complaints.
I got my spot 1.5 rows from the barrier, a bit to the right somewhere in the middle of where Su and Moa would stand. The 0.5 row being the barrier had 5 cm high platform and I had to take half a step back to avoid the gap. And why need to mention the gap ? My poor foot was basically pushed hard against the gap most of the show to fight back the compression from behind. There was a girl in front of me and I certainly don't want to crash onto her.
The show started, Anthony banging those drums so damn loud my eardrum was telling me this is definitely not good but I was headbanging so hard to the beat I could ignore the warning from my body. I had forgot my earplugs in the lockers, oops.
The girls were so close to us I thought I could count Moa's eyelashes and they were astonishingly beautiful/gorgeous/shiny etc., pick whatever adjective you want. NO photo/footage had done them justice.
Going thru the song list:
BMD, The crowd lost their shit from the first note and hype just keeps building. My throat was already all dry by the end. F me for taking the venue notice seriously and not bringing any water.
Megitsune, sore sore sore madness. No hengoa this time, just a small smile between the girls. The crowd on my left pushed so hard when Moa came to the right of the stage almost knocked me off my feet. Everyone wanted their existence to be acknowledged by the angel of love.
iine, hyped from megitsune ? here's more hype. I could be remembering wrong but it was before iine or megitsune they had some tech issue so music didn't start for a while and the crowd was chanting LOUD.
Shanti, a nice break from all the hype train.
Maya, Say my name !
Metalizm, zumu zumu zumu. The front was so crowded I couldn't get my hands up to do the moves.
BxMxC, we must have been loud, Su handed the mic again.
Monochrome, take your phones out !
Distortion, rebuilding that hype
Pa Pa Ya, crowd out of control. Swinging my towel and jumping as high as I can, don't give shxt about whether someone behind me can see or not because I can't either.
GC, still hyped, but in between with PPY and ROR, this slot is considered a break
ROR, The venue was divided into 3 zones by barriers. I think we got quite a good WOD going in all 3 zones. The MUST SEE hilarious fancam is at the beginning the flag accidentally covered Moa's entire face and she had to stand still until the next move. Hightlight moment of the whole show (X). I was at MOMO's side so unfortunately didn't get to see it with my own eyes.
Metal Kingdom, all hail the queens, I don't care if your voice is already horse, you chant
IDZ, WOD part 2, epic closure, during the breakdown where the girls join their thumbs together, a japanese kitsune saw my raised thumb and joined thumbs with me and he didn't let go until the part was over. It was a warm feeling, join your thumbs kitsunes.
Ending
Overall being at the front in a small venue, I got what I came for, a real close up look at the girls. I really didn't have much effort to spare to look at other elements. The Kami band, the visuals will have to wait for next time. The seating on 2F definitely had the best view. They were close enough to see all the details but also far enough to see the whole picture. I'd go for there if there's ever a 2nd time in the same venue. The sound mix next to the PA according to my friend was quite good.
My voice now completely hoarse, legs sore from all the jumping, and backpack full of merchs. Back in April I said to myself I'll regret if I didn't buy the VIP ticket. I was 100% correct. No regrets diving down the fox hole and attending this great show.
Next stop, tour final in Japan !