Summary: A demolition firm struggles to take down a damaged building for their mysterious clients
I Was a Foreman at the Grazer Tower Demolition
By now Grazer Tower has faded as a household name but to some the rumors and madness surrounding it refuse to die. The demolition of the massive three hundred twenty foot octagonal hotel left a gap in the Atlanta skyline but little fondness in anyone's hearts. I have no particular first hand insight into the freak lightning strikes on the 30th floor atrium which killed 13 people but I am willing to tell my side of the story about the demolition effort leading to the botched implosion. I tell this as a full, open, and honest disclosure. The legal maneuvering and ink has dried, all of the dead are buried, and all the bleeding stopped. The scars remain, the pain persists, the things I saw there are burned in my head even after they've been discredited into the conspiracy theory woodwork of the internet. The lightning storm struck on a Sunday afternoon and the next day for all we knew the bodies were still warm when a lawyer representing the owners of Grazer Tower entered our corporate office. I look back on it now with open and clear eyes and realize it was all very strange from the start when my Lead Foreman, Tom, and I were called into the meeting in progress.
The lawyer and now our client, looked like a fairly normal man in his mid thirties aside from his impeccably white suit which was ironed to the point of looking like stone rather than cloth. Beside the white suit his lips were an uncomfortable maroon and glossy. Besides this he spoke in a plain, clear, and disarming manner refraining from legalese and maintaining a firm but not imposing eye contract with whomever he was speaking directly to.
He told us in no uncertain terms he was instructed to contract with our firm to take down his client's building. Tom and I were shocked when we heard this after all, the lightning disaster, while tragic and perhaps undeservedly tarnishing in the short term to the Grazer Hotel's reputation, did not render the structure unusable nor unsafe to its surroundings. The worst damage was that the steel dome of the 30th floor atrium had collapsed into the vaulted restaurant and ballroom of the 29th floor but that's where the structure damage started and ended, in fact aside from the 28th, 29th, and 30th floor, city engineers working overnight already declared the building sound. So while perhaps still time consuming and costly, repairing the building was definitely possible and cost effective but owners, to make an analogy, were basically insisting on totaling a car after a minor parking lot fender bender. They gave us a specific date by which the building needed to be taken down. When our Boss, Jim, rebuffed the lawyer, not only because the date was challenging and soon but also because it was possible we could have it dropped BEFORE the date specified. The lawyer insisted the building go down on the date given – not later and not earlier. Jim swallowed hard and then glanced at Tom and I. Then the lawyer involved the name of the head of the owner's group, a Mr. Rohmer.
Mr. Rohmer, according to the lawyer, was offering our firm one hundred percent of the cost upfront and another twenty perfect of the total cost plus any overruns – stating if the implosion came early or late, it would mean all very little – no, that's no a typo, that's how the lawyer phrased it from his client, Mr. Rohmer. With that detail out of the way, you can see how the car totaling analogy breaks down considering the owners did not stand to profit from it's demolition – in fact quite the opposite.
The lawyer chuckled a bit to break the tension. He explained his clients and Mr. Rohmer in particular were an unorthodox bunch and then even insisted he wear the white suit in any of their dealings. The lawyer produced a tablet PC from his messenger bag and leveled it to Jim. On the tablet was all the banking confirmation codes ready to go for a direct deposit into our firms account alongside a contract. Jim seemed to hiccup or belch in excitement as he hurried around the short side of his desk to sign it since his stubby t-rex arms could not reach across his desk.
The firm was committed, we were committed – I was committed and I started to mentally cramp up over the challenges we all faced. The Grazer Hotel was in the middle of a dense urban grid. It had to be precise drop with virtually no margin for error. Jim poured us a dram of scotch from the bottle hidden under his desk. None of us a second thought about Rohmer's cryptic remark – after all, how often did you get a one hundred twenty perfect no-bid contract walk in off the street, out of the blue?
A combination of exhilaration over the money and anxiety over the work load kept us all from sleeping that night. Jim and Tom ended up going out and having a wild night to celebrate while I went home to mentally prepare not only myself but also my wife and kids. As a family they were staring down a month and a half of late nights and weekends with no dad. My wife was frustrated until I told her about the bonus and then she said she'd fill the lonely time making plans to send the kids to Disney World and then find a place for us to spend alone together. The promise of a much needed vacation after this only super charged the butterflies in my stomach further in anticipation of this challenging season ending.
As the assistant foreman I had office and on-site duties. Most of it was coordinating between the two. This included personnel, setting up site security – including guards and cameras to keep urban explorers and vagrants of out the dangerous site and satisfy OSHA hazardous work place safety requirements. The most challenging duty was site prep which included disposal of furnishings, removal of windows and other flourishes of the structure's facade which could become deadly shrapnel during an implosion. Fortunately, despite all of this, the nagging questions about permits and clean-up contracts were already handled by the lawyer. Rohmer's group also waived any rights to furnishings which means they could be unceremoniously hauled out in any way we chose to and disposed of.
Now I suppose some of these things should have came as red flags to me – or at least some one in the company but we all justified it as the group must have connects and short cuts to permits and it was a relatively new building, only about twenty years old in fact and furnishings – whether old or new probably weren't of any antique or sentimental value. All in all these were blessings since they freed our hands a bit and made a near impossible deadline more possible.
Of course the good news came with some bad news. The city engineers forbade us from working at the 28th, 29th, and 30th floors – unless we brought in a separate crew to stabilize those levels first. This was quite the fly in the ointment for the controlled implosion plan we sketched out. The 30th floor wasn't as much of a problem but the 29th floor ballroom and the weakening of the 28th floor meant we can't inspect for how compromised they were by the steel atrium dome. For all we knew if we blew the 27th floor on down the dome could shift and topple over the top three floors outside of the implosion safe zone, imperiling people and nearby structures.
I raised holy hell about it while Tom stood calm. It could take months to stabilize and clear those floors and far more money than I thought our eccentric client would pay in overruns. Jim waved me off mid sentence and simply told me he'd take care of it. That was good enough for Tom so it had to be good enough for me. I went back to my job – securing site and planning drop.
Although we had a problem with the top floor our saving grace lie in the basements. It had a three story subterranean parking garage, a basement level pool, and a utility sub-basement. We could easily smash the first ten or twelve floors into that deep footprint. Also the utility sub-basement gave us a clean cut off from the grid and a fairly convenient way to protect the surrounding grid without interruption. Still, at least part of our team would take have to take three weeks out of our six and change to handle the utilities.
The first week was hectic, they always were but we hit no major snags. By the end of it were on schedule and all of the parts were coming together. We thought maybe, just maybe, we were well on our way to an early Christmas bonus but nothing could prepare us for what was coming.
If you work on a site long enough and work anywhere on the site security reporting chain you're bound to get a few questionable reports from your night guys. Let's face it, for folks who are wake all night five or six nights a week poking around with flashlights chasing shadows, every building every where is haunted. I've been on the site security chain for thirteen years so it was easy for me to dismiss reports from the night guys about unusual glows on gutted floors and stairwells, elevators which moved on their own with no one calling for them or inside when they opened on a random floor, or the security cameras and cellphones constantly going offline on the 27th floor and the utility sub-basement.
I wasn't convinced anything of concern was going on until I got called on site by the test drilling team. This team was responsible for sampling the support materials to determine where it was best to place the explosives and what explosives would be best to use. They reported the interior supports were designed in an unusual way with a honey comb of unorthodox metals and concrete not reported on the building's records or blueprints. Specifically, they reported the concrete was impregnated by some kind of metal veins which gave off a bright shimmer. I was asked to come identify it but they claimed it disappeared by the time I arrived.
I was irate at the team and their supervisor for having me to come on down on site for something that sounded so wrong to begin with. They showed me a grainy cellphone video and told me they would swear on a stack of Bibles the sparkling compound welled up in the test coring like mercury, turned blood red and bled on the floor before disappearing into the torn up carpet. I chastised them for making this up and threatened to get new sub contractors if they kept wasting my time. I spoke with a separate sample team on the lower levels and they too discovered some unusual metal compositions – ones which were different then the ones found the top floors. One of the engineers speculated that the contrast in metals between the top and bottom floors could be cause the building to hold an electrical charge, like a battery or like a capacitor. Either way, the engineer said it would require more explosives than initially thought to take down the structure.
A couple of weeks later we were painfully behind – glass removal in particular was going slow because those contractors claimed they were constantly losing their toys. They also claimed one night to have cleared the top five floors on the east side of all their glass – only for all the windows to appear fully intact the next morning. I was forced to end their sub contract due to misrepresentation of work accomplished.
The glass wasn't the only thing slowing us down. The wire and plumbing removal was hindered by the wires somehow were fused to the pipes and in some places, the pipes were fused to the load-bearing members – we thought maybe it was due to the lightning strikes but that really didn't make sense since all of the wiring and plumbing otherwise seemed to work fine before we turned off the utilities. The only thing going for us was the helicopter loophole. Instead of accessing the 30th floor through the condemned floors we were able to get work teams on the atrium floor by helicopter. The bodies of the 13 were removed before we started working and before the atrium fully collapsed into the ballroom but the teams working on the roof reported many unusual artifacts including stained glass and Greek letters comprised of unusual amalgams of metal.
All of the strangeness culminated in the disappearance of one of the night time security guards named Phillipe. I say disappear because his girlfriend filed a missing persons report with the police and when they came to investigate Tom was busy with the atrium operations so the job fell to me. I walked the investigator through guard's smart phone filed reports from the previous evenings. Admittedly I was behind on my end approving the reports so I was embarrassed when things in the report took a turn. His reports including the same odd glows the others were reporting in the stairwells and seeing metallic veins throb on the walls.
His last reports stuck in my head: Report: Sub-basement 4 clear, 0312. Report: Sub-basement 5 clear, 0305. Report: Sub-basement 6 clear 0237.
His “all clear” reports documented levels of the building which did not exist and the further he went into the areas which did not exist, the automatic timestamps went backwards in time. It made no sense – unless he was confused as to where he was due to intoxication and there was software glitch with the timestamps. I was forced to give the investigator no firm explanation.
It's easy to write off a high security guard – they're flaky by their nature and have plenty of reasons to ghost a part time gig and even to pull prank on their final reports. I almost wrote it all off until I saw his girlfriend – apparently his fiance, handing out missing persons fliers outside of the site gate one morning. She seemed absolutely heartbroken and I got stabbed in the gut thinking maybe this wasn't a ghosting and prank after all. Seeing is believing and the next week I started to believe. Tom was finishing up on the atrium level. We used some heavy lift choppers to remove the rest of the frame and glass. Now we could get a better look into the section which collapsed into the 29th floor. We started by using a series of video drones to investigate the melted twisted dome through the collapsed roof. We quickly learned that the drones were being interfered with as their feed would cut out or their batteries would die almost immediately upon entering the ballroom.
So, we had to cut some corners, against city regulations, we let Tom and two others rappel in from the roof on secured anchored lines with helicopter over watch support. We needed to do this because we needed make sure that collapsed wreckage would not move and potentially change the implosion direction. Tom got twisted in his gear as he tried to lean into one of the holes in the roof. He slipped and fell in, disappearing from sight. We frantically radioed for Tom as the other two workers abandoned their own attempts to peer in and scrambled to Tom's aid. Tom was pulled out of the section uninjured but he appeared to be in shock, he looked wild eyed and shook as he was put on the helicopter and lowered back to ground level. Within minutes, Jim called us back to the office to discuss the near miss.
Two weeks to go and week behind, a missing guard, and now a near fatal accident. That for Jim, was the last straw. Tom and I had run out the rope Jim gave us to hang ourselves with. Jim slammed his hand on his desk as he catastrophized, red in the face, nearly breathless, he yelled we could very well kiss that twenty percent goodbye with the way things are going. He pressured Tom to go on the record after his dip into the structure that the atrium debris ball in the ballroom posed no threat to the implosion. Tom was elsewhere. He stared off in a thousand yard stare before replying to Jim that it posed no threat. Then Tom headed for the door. Jim screamed at him that he wasn't done chew us out but Tom only said he had to get back to it. I supported Tom and followed him. He and I headed back to the site to secure the night shift changes – another night not at home and having a late dinner.
I asked Tom in the car ride back what he saw in there. Tom was fixed in a trance and barely responded. He said it was wild. When we got back to the site, Tom separated from me through the gate while I strolled across the street to grab us some dinner from a street vendor. As I stood around waiting for two gyros and two cokes I could help but be mesmerized by the gutted tower. It seemed to breath in the spotlights inhaling puffs of the dust and dirt on the site and then exhaling it. A faint glow, barely perceivable against the light pollution, seemed to brighten, dim, and fade from the upper floors with each of the building's breaths. I was transfixed on it and it was the first time the building gave me an eerie feeling.
I got back on the site, food in hand, there was a buzz in their air as the night shift streamed in and the day shift streamed out. I barely had my hardhat seated corrected on my head when the site's emergency alarm blew. The interim foreman tossed me a radio as I was swept with him and our site occupational safety and emergency personnel to the basement.
Our increasingly panicked footfalls blotted out the squawk of the radios but I could hear one name again and again in the equally panicked messages – Tom Tom Tom. Whatever was happening was happening to Tom.
We reached the pool level and a trail of gasps proceeded me into the pool. There was Tom in his vest and hardhat face down in the middle of the pool with crimson oozing out him into the cerulean tiles lining the drained pool. We piled in from the ladders and shallow end to get to him. It was apparent when the first folks reached him that he was dead. They hauled him out on a stretcher and to our shock he looked like he had been dead for much longer than possible and his skin was water logged despite there being no water. He had died of fall trauma possibly despite the pool only being six feet deep. The paramedics also claimed he had water in his lungs. Then I noticed he was wearing his rappelling harness weaved in his vest – but that made no sense – he took it and his vest off when we were getting chewed out by Jim. Why would he put his rappelling gear on again.
I was the assistant foreman no more. Now the buck stopped with me. As they took Tom to the morgue we all knew the show must go on – our client demanded it, Jim demanded it and Tom would have wanted it that way. The same police investigator from the guard's disappearance met with me over Tom's death. They said it was standard procedure with work place deaths. I gave him a copy of the footage on an SD card and left the moment after it left my hand.
I had the recording queued up to the time of the commotion. The video we provided had a poor angle and was focused on the door to monitor access – the comings and goings of people. It was shift change so people were filing in and out Tom was somewhere in the crowd. The pool was one of the areas which required both foot patrols and constant video monitoring. I hit the rewind button on accident and watched his body lie there and lie there and then the timestamp sped past the 1900 hour mark. We were in traffic from meeting with Jim at that time. This was impossible but I kept my finger on the rewind button. Around 1400 the camera shakes a bit and there is slight glow reflecting on the doors so I let it play back to the shake. There is a soft green glow and then could hear a heft thud in the room. I gulped knowing that was Tom falling into the pool around the same time he fell into the hole in the roof. The soft glow turned brighter and brighter like a laser shining into the lens – something that wasn't present on the rewind. There was a flash of an incomprehensible shape or form on the screen. I was physically hurt in my eyes like I had just stared into the sun. I was left dazed with the shaped burned into my eyes with each blink. Then the camera system shorted out and a tiny puff of smoke left the memory module. The cameras blinked off wall to wall, the whole system was dead.
With the cameras fried, regulations required someone high in the company to be on site or we'd have to leave for the night. So I stayed knowing we couldn't afford to lose an hour much less an entire night. I circled the pool between approving payrolls and directing the increased security guard traffic required to monitor more areas. I was thinking about what I would say at Tom's funeral. I was thinking about Tom's family and what they would think about his apparent suicide.
I was forced to patrol the rest of the sub-basements as well since most of the guards were at the site perimeters or higher levels. I would have to follow paths of Phillipe, the disappeared guard, and all of the other guards who had mismatched timestamps on their increasingly strange reports. If not for today's incident and the recording of Tom's death, I would have stood fast to the idea that these reports were the product of night jitters and drugs but now, no.
I gritted my teeth as I exited the pool area to patrol the lower levels. I hated this building I muttered to myself. I couldn't wait to see it all rumble. I thought about which part I'd like to keep from the site to place in Tom's casket – then I realized it probably wasn't going to be an open casket funeral. I was lost in my thoughts and hatred for the building as I roamed through the parking garage into the utilities basement. I lost track of where I was as I weaved down stairwells.
I shown my flashlight on the wall and the floor level sign said “Sub-basement 999”. I stopped cold in my tracks. I was hoping it was a prank but I knew it was no prank. Then I thought maybe I'd have some answers. Maybe I would finally see what all the strangeness was about. But then I freaked out about Phillipe's disappearance and turned to run back up the stairwell. I ran up four levels to what I thought was the lobby and I pushed the door open.
My jaw hit the floor when I saw a black and white galaxy – the stars were black and the space was white with gradations of gray. The whole room was just white outer space and the whole universe swirled fast counter clockwise. I tried to breath and when I did the galaxy shrunk before my eyes until it was the size of a tiny of marble and then even smaller to a speck of dust. I reached out as it floated towards me. I stared at the speck in a cold sweat. As I stared, I was looking deeper and deeper into impossible detail. In the dust I found the milky way galaxy, I found our solar system, I found Earth and then I found North America, and then I found myself back in the pool room dripping in sweat.
Time seemed to skip and space was malleable in that hotel. As we approached the deadline to drop it, some jobs which would take hours took days and some jobs which would take days took minutes. The anomalies seemed to swarm tonight and day and yet we pressed on. Tom was buried and I couldn't go.
We met the deadline and the city came out in numbers to watch us drop the thirty floor structure. They gathered nearly two blocks away clad in ponchos and dust masks bracing for the implosion triggered by half a ton of high explosives.
I was so burned out and demoralized. My mantra became “this is for Tom, this is for Tom” and it was the only thing carrying me to this day. I chalked up all the anomalies and even my own experience on 999th sub-basement level as a reaction to shock, loss, grief, and exhaustion.
We were on the thirty minute countdown and Mr. Rohmer's attorney was designated as the trigger man. He stood there with Jim and I in the command trailer with the detonator remote. The remote triggered a two minute countdown on the charges from a master control station in my command trailer. All the charges had to be hardwired old school style because we were getting too much walkie talkie and radio interference from inside the structure for any other method of trigger to be reliable. I was too tried to make a stink about insisting I do it. I just wanted it to be over but suddenly a freak thunderstorm brewed up over the city. The skies were overcast and we were on the verge of having to abort the implosion until the next day – despite the next day being a day past the deadline. If we didn't abort and went through with the implosion, there was a strong chance the shock waves from the blast would bounce back off the lower cloud base and shatter windows and ears across the city.
I sat in my command chair at the perimeter in dismay, almost in tears as it started to rain. I felt my heart drop into the acid of my stomach as I ordered the suspension of the implosion for the day. The lawyer, surprisingly, did not resist. I watched as the crowds dispersed from the viewing lines and police started to permit traffic back through the streets surrounding the site.
Then a group of unauthorized personnel threw open the door of the trailer. They were a mass of men and women clad in pressed white suits, stoney faces with thin maroon lips, one of them carried a white covered book.
The attorney dropped his eyes and head in deference to elderly man at the head of the congregation. The attorney addressed him as Monsignor. The man introduced himself as Monsignor Rohmer and he placed his hand on his attorney, calling him a cousin of the congregation, stating there will be no postponement and no delay.
Rohmer, a man I judged to be in his late 50's or early 60's was bald and covered it with a white derby hat. He was tall, about six five, and thin, so thin his suit fit him like snake half shedding its skin. His was face long and his cheeks thin and worn like a mountain side. His voice was steady and low like waterfall. Everything he said bloomed with authority and confidence. He ordered the building would be dropped in twenty minutes.
I told him I didn't care if he was the owner, the building could not be blown in this weather and I snatched the detonator out of his attorney's hands. Rohmer, moving faster than I believed humanly possible with some kind of martial arts move swiped the detonator from my hands. Simultaneously, he had two of his followers press Jim against the wall. They put him in a sleeper hold and he slumped down to the floor barely getting a word out. Then Rohmer gestured to his flock to follow towards the building.
They left in a fast deliberate almost choreographed walk like a flock of geese flying in formation. I grabbed the radio to get police help but I realized that was hopeless. I watched as our trailer was shrouded in the same interference we experienced in the building's interior. The CCTV monitors flickered out and the radio squawked static. Then I realized Rohmer had no control over the detonation and no way to contact his followers still with us in the command trailer. So I did what I had to and pulled the master key out of the master detonator in the command trailer and chased after the flock. I needed to know what was happening I needed to see with my own eyes what all of this was all about.
The Congregation had reached the lobby and I saw the trailing end of the clad white congregate into the stairwell. I darted at my best speed to follow them.
I reached the stair well door. I found Rohmer standing on the top step, apparently waiting for me. I was out of breath while he began to speak to me in his booming voice. He explained to me that if the building did not fall in the next twenty minutes, all of Earth would be pulled, sucked, inside out and down through the building into the black and white universe. The entire building, but especially the atrium dome, he continued, was designed and built to create and then temporarily contain an impossible shape, a living form, a 4 dimensional object, a tesseract, when struck by lightning in the presence of thirteen self-sacrificial Congregate members. This shape would slowly expand and cause space and time anomalies before growing so large inside compared to its size would pull us all into place with no life.
The shape was still in the process of forming even as we spoke, he said. It would reach critical mass and dimensional contortion and the only way to stop it was to disfigure and crush it in the hotel's collapse. He led me into the pool level where his entire congregation was sitting cross-legged where Tom fell. A green pulse, like a laser, came down from the ceiling into the group's center, where their white book lay open on blank pages. I had a feeling this glow was being projected down from the ballroom where the dome of the atrium was taking its final fourth dimensional form.
After a loud chant from the white clad followers, the book slammed shut and turned from a brilliant white shimming cover to one black as night. As they passed around book, their white suits turned black and the formed a single file line. Rohmer left my side and pulled the detonator from his suit. He showed it me and tossed it at me. In my panic I reached out with both hands to catch it but I forgot I still had the master key in my sweat slick hand and it fly out and fell at the foot of Rohmer.
I asked what he planned to do with the key without a lock and a jammed detonator. Rohmer bent down and grabbed the key and looked me without a hint of concern. He took the new black book into his hands and opened it facing the wall of the pool. A new green pulse launched from the book and flickered on the tiles. An octagonal outline appeared to frame a hazy image of a tropical beach. One by one Rohmer's congregation walked into the side of the pool, into glow and seemed to arrive safely on the otherside of the beach.
Once all his compatriots were on the beach, he turned a page in the book and reopened it, projecting another octagon portal on the side of the pool. I could see his destination – it was the command trailer. He stepped through portal and yelled to me from the other side that I had two minutes. The portal sealed.
I could hear the warning sirens we installed going off above me. Needless to say, I made it out, just barely. I reached the perimeter fence screaming to anyone who was in ear shot to run away. The building imploded as planned but I was caught in the dust cloud and developed tinnitus severe enough to be comparable with combat veterans.
The shock waves from the explosions were reflected off the cloud base and channeled down the street by other skyscrapers. Virtually every window in a two block radius around the site was shattered and hundreds of people were hurt in the resulting stampede and vehicle collisions caused by fleeing from the flying glass cascade. Parts of downtown looked like a war zone for weeks afterward.
Rohmer and the rest of his group, including the lawyer, had disappeared out of the trailer in another portal leaving a suitcase of gold equaling the twenty percent promised. Our company was fined, sued, and threatened with criminal charges and eventually put of business. There wasn't much left after paying the cities fines and lawyer fees.
Though I was spared any direct sanctions, I forced into an early retirement. I've had time to research Rohmer's group. There are at least six mentions of figures like Rohmer on the deepest parts of the conspiracy web. They seem to show up at a locale experiencing paranormal activity with a white book and then leave with a black book. Their departure usually marks the end of any strangeness. I can't be sure but this congregation seems to be summon demons, which they exorcise, by trapping them in their books. Trapping maybe a poor term to use since, as in the case of the Grazer hotel encounter, they can apparently cleanse the anomalies and then use the book containing them to weaponize a portion of the traits of whatever their unholy creations posses.
I suspect Rohmer and his congregation, now with the ability to teleport, are accelerating their plans, to whatever ends these paranormal means enable them.
Theo Plesha - Sequel to "Flush" by Theo Plesha on The Chilling App

Hi there. I'm planning to be in Irvine CA in late Aug for the Dave Matthews Band N1n2 shows at 5 Points AMP. I have reserv at Mariot Courtyard Irvine Spectrum because I was looking for a hotel that was near the venue and not so far. Unsure if anyone here has stayed at that hotel. The hotel I looked at was the Double Tree Spectrum Center because there was a hotel airport shuttle but that hotel had some bad reviews on Google.
I am flying from Texas to Orange County/SNA airport but have a layover at PHX airport. Unsure how lyft/uber is at SNA airport in terms of waiting a while for a pick up. I know you have to walk out from the terminal to the top level of the garage to a pick up area? Unsure if its better to get an airport super shuttle or not(if I could afford it).

https://www.jsonline.com/story/money/real-estate/commercial/2023/05/31/milwaukee-site-near-downtown-baird-center-again-seeks-development/70272709007/
Irony. The site once housed a hotel (mostly for low income people) that the city bought and razed in 1985...

It's been over a year since the original 100 Great Albums post. Since December 2021, I've listened to 375 Rock albums in total (just for fun, I'm getting paid for this!). Looking back at the original albums, I noticed I have a few with only 1 or 2 listens, whereas now I always try to aim for 3 at the minimum. So as this is a good midpoint (as I plan on stopping at the 20th post), I decided to revisit these certified classic albums and maybe upgrade/downgrade the ratings after more listens. I'll continue to edit grades on other posts if my opinion changes on them later on, but the 100 list got so popular that I feel like it should be left unedited.
Here's the format: Album (year) original grade [orig. Listens] // NEW GRADE {additional listens}

Bob Dylan - Freewheelin' Bob Dylan (1963) B+ [2 listens] // A- {1 listen} More time to digest his lyrics only makes it better. Hard Rain, Blowin in the Wind and Masters of War are still the best here. He had the wisdom and poise of a 70+ year old man, as a 22 year old...
Bob Dylan - Bring It On Home (1965) A- [3 listens] // A+ {2 listens} I can't overemphasize how great side two is of this album is. The songs aren't as musical as side one, so the lyrics are center stage and Bob Dylan ALWAYS captivates your attention. The electric guitar side is even better than I originally thought, but man does the second side has some of his best songwriting.
The Beatles - Help! (1965) B+ [3 listens] // A- {1 listen} This is the album where I think they started making legit "respectable" music. The early Pop music they made before is nice, but it's not that fulfilling. The variety made this age very well: Hide Your Love Away, Ticket to Ride, Seen a Face, Dizzy Miss Lizzy, Help!, Yesterday. It doesn't help that every album that followed it is considered one of the greatest albums of all time, but at this point, it was head and shoulders their best.
Beatles - Rubber Soul (1965) A++ [5 listens] // A+ {4 listens} Highway 61 Revisited gets the credit as being the album to kick off the Rock renaissance of the 60s, but imo, the "album arms race" started with this one. Without it, the musical landscape isn't the same as the concept of an entire album of worthy material wouldn't have been as widely adopted. With the praise out of the way... it's pretty one note. A great Folk Rock album, but as it's often compared to other albums (cough Pet Sounds), it doesn't hold a candle to them.
The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour (1967) B+ [3 listens] // A {3 listens} This is fun, bro. No it's not a legendary album, hell, it's not really a fully formed one as it's really a soundtrack compilation album. But looking at all the songs, they're just fun. Even a half assed Beatles album is still incredible (no I haven't listened to Yellow Submarine, why do you ask?).
The Doors - Self-Titled (1967) A- [2 listens] // A++ {3 listens} Wow, this is why multiple listens are super important. Many of the songs I thought were "so so" are so much better compared to other Blues Rock I've heard so far. Ray Manzarek is a god on the keys and Jim Morrison is pretty magnificent on every song. It still feels dated, as it's not super complex in it's song structure (like in LA Woman), but every song is great. JUST short of a masterpiece.
The Who - Tommy (1969) B [1 listen] // D++ {1 listen} I was being generous on the original post, I really didn't like this album. After one more listen, I really hate it. The story is complete nonsense and the music really doesn't make up for it. But that's not why I hate it so much; it's the length. If you're gonna be a late 60's mess, be your flamboyant mess and get in & get out. But it's an overly long, drawn out, bore of an album. It's mind boggling that anyone would prefer this over Quadrophena. Pinball Wizard is a great song tho, but don't tell anyone I said that.
King Crimson - In The Court of the Crimson King (1969) A- [1 listen] // A {1 listen} listening to Moody Blues' Days of Future Passed made this album a better listen. That jazz prog rock, with a laid back feel instead of completely psychedelic. The rest of the album (outside the intro) was a better listen this time around with better context, as I remember being bored with much of it. Now that I'm familiar with early Prog Rock, this doesn't feel as foreign anymore.
The Beatles - Let It Be (1970) B+ [3 listens] // A {3 listens} yea, I'm a Beatles stan. Yea, it's probably the weakest Studio Era album. Yea, I enjoy the atmosphere of this album more than the music itself; as a last who-rah of a crumbling friendship that can only be held together by creating music, as that is where the only fun is still found amongst these guys. Do I like to pretend that Don't Let Me Down is apart of this album, so I can grade it higher? Also, yea.
David Bowie - Hunky Dory (1971) A+ [2 listens] // A {2 listens} this is Art Rock. Not being a glam/hard rock fusion makes it less heavy than its successor. It also suffers for not having multiple strong anthems to hold the entire thing. Changes, Life on Mars, Andy Warhol, Queen Bitch are all great songs, but I doubt any are in Bowie's top 5. The other songs don't hold up as much I remembered.
Carole King - Tapestry (1971) A- [2 listens] // A {2 listens} Joni Mitchell's Blue was the driving force this time around. That personal folk storytelling, with that lively piano yet cozy, warm atmosphere. With more listens, I don't really love the lyrical composition as I just love the tone of the thing. I can sit next to a warm fire (or on a window sill) and turn this on and relax. I understand what the genre of Soft Rock is going for now.
David Bowie - the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972) A+ [2 listens] // Masterpiece {3 listens} Probably didn't give this one too much thought when grading it, as I think I just fell in love with a few songs on it and forgot about the rest. Listening to this front to back... it's flawless. I tried to find a song that wasn't good or that was kinda boring, but they're all perfect. I've listened to Ziggy Stardust and Starman COUNTLESS times in the past year, and will randomly get guitar riffs from random songs off this album to pop in my head. Of his 4 albums I've listened to, I still think Low is his best, as the atmosphere of that Side B is unmatched. But this album is what I'd consider objectively perfect, as every song is great. Easy masterpiece, and a great example of why sitting with an album is just as important as giving it a bunch of listens.
Queen - A Night at the Opera (1975) A- [2 listen] // A {2 listens} Fun stuff. I enjoyed the multiple vocalists being apart of it instead of only Mercury, made it feel like a "stage play" with a revolving cast. I think I might have been a bit to harsh on this one, as most of the album wasn't that memorable, with how amazing Bohemian Rhapsody is. I didn't understand what this album "was" with it's vaudeville style, but now, I see that it's this halfway point between the Hard Rock and the Prog Rock of the 70s, with that theatrical flair to make it standout. Definitely worth checking out.
Sex Pistols - Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols (1977) B [2 listens] // A- {2 listens} In 1987, Rolling Stone listed this as the 2nd best album of the last 20 years (since 1967) only after Sgt. Pepper's and man, did that made it easy for me to view this as overrated. I think since listening to more Punk Rock that followed this, I start to see how much better they've done with this compared to others. The guitar playing actually changes throughout the song, Johnny Rotten is actually expressive and feels spontaneous, and the drumming is creative. But the real change in opinion is the guitar playing: the riffs on many of these songs are undeniably awesome, which gives Rotten so much to work on top of. My biggest gripe with Punk Rock is how repetitive some bands can be. Now after more listens to this, I can absolutely NOT say the same can be said about this album. It's varied and expressive; how Punk Rock should be.
Steely Dan - Aja (1977) A [1 listens] // A+ {1 listen} better than I remember. The jazz rock combo is really good, it really leans into the jazz instead of simply using it as an aesthetic. It's not Prog whatsoever, just jazz with traditional Rock instruments. Honestly, you can barely tell if this would considered Rock at all. You really got to like jazz to love this tho. It has that free flowing feel of that genre, from the instrumentation to the flow of the singer. Great album! I'm assuming Steely Dan is hated by the rock community because of this heavy leaning into jazz. Which is understandable, but that doesn't mean they don't make phenomenal music.
AC/DC - Highway to Hell (1979) B+ [2 listens] // B {1 listen} They haven't quite moved away from the Blues sound yet. Back in Black is a pure distillation of what Hard Rock should be as a stand alone genre, but they don't quite have that confidence in being that brash yet. Bon Scott does a lot of heavy lifting as Angus Young doesn't have that swagger in his solos yet. A lot of the songs aren't super great, but they at least still carry energy. Highway to Hell is a fantastic song, but the majority is just meddling around in this laid back blues style.
Dire Straits - Brothers in Arms (1985) B [1 listens] // B- {2 listens} I originally wrote this off as one that I "just didn't get", with how insanely commerically successful it is. Now after listening to their Self-Titled album, it actually becomes even more disappointing as you know how much more they're capable of. There's such a signature style on it and this throws all of it away in exchange of a 80s soft rock sound. Walk of Life and So Far Away are good tunes, due to the guitar hooks; everything else is just shallow.
Pixies - Doolittle (1989) A- [2 listens] // A+ {2 listens} Now, I view this band on the level of the Beatles or Velvet Underground as one of those influential bands that changed music. At the time, Doolittle was too weird for me, but with much more context from this era, this is just insanely great. Compared to Surfer Rosa, the versatility is on a different level. While it is great and varied, it's not exactly "great" in any one area, so I can see why the bands that were influenced by them are viewed as better, as their stuff would've been more focused in one style instead of all over the place. Great album, legendary band.
Alice in Chains - Dirt (1992) A [2 listens] // Masterpiece {4 listens} This album is a grower. Every time I listen to it, I like another song from it. The harmonies are God tier, the guitar riffs, God Tier, the choruses, God tier. Layne Staley and Jerry Cantrell... peanut and jelly. I've given out 2 masterpieces to grunge albums (Nevermind and Ten), so what makes this different from those is that Dirt takes its time in developing songs. So many of these songs start slow and somber, and quickly turn aggressive and passionate! Gnarly riffs on one song, than a few minutes later, you're listening to soft vocals behind a rough, tortured voice. Not a bad song on here, hit after hit, I got to say it's a masterpiece.
Nine Inch Nails - The Downward Spiral (1994) A [3 listens] // A+ {2 listen} the word "gritty" might get thrown around a ton by me, but I still haven't heard such a brutal, harsh sounding album while still having pristine production value. It's nasty and mean. Even in the slow moments, you can feel the pain, anger, or sadness in his voice. Compared to other stuff, it doesn't have that much replay value to it, as it's not exact what one would call "musical". But you got to call it what it is: art.
Green Day - Dookie (1994) A [2 listens] // A+ {1 listen} It's just good music. Yes, the ceiling isn't as high as it could be, but it's so enjoyable that it is always a fun listen. The album is on point from start to finish, it's one of those "if you like one, you like it all" love it or hate it kind of deals. From Burn Out to When I Come Around is just Pop Punk perfection; the backhalf doesn't hold up compared to the start, but it's all still very good.
Weezer - Self-Titled "The Blue Album" (1994) A- [1 listen] // A {2 listens} I only gave this one listen and only revisited it after listening to Pinkerton. Isn't not as dismissable as I originally remembered, as I only gave it one listen. It's more POP- punk thank pop-PUNK compared to Dookie, which led me to not care for it as much. And it's pretty good pop, with a punk style to give it some edge, I guess. I still like Pinkerton more than it, but it can definitely stand alone as a good album itself.
Oasis - Definitely Maybe (1994) A [2 listens] // A+ {2 listens} Liam Gallagher is really good... but Noel Gallagher is the truth, bro. That dude knows how to make a great song. They aren't super complex, but they're all have perfect execution. Mix in that Wall of Sound effect with the guitars, it makes this stand out even more from the overwhelming stacked albums of the 90s. The non-single tracks aren't as strong compared to (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, as that album is damn near perfect imo. Great debut album.
Radiohead - The Bends (1995) B+ [1 listen] // A {2 listens} If Radiohead didn't make this album, I highly doubt I would've listened to this. Which is a shame, because this is a really good album. On the flip side, being a Radiohead album also did more harm than good, as it gets massively overshadowed. I admittedly did a half assed listen to "get to the famous stuff". Fake Plastic Trees, the Bends, and Black Star are great songs. I've listened to Ok Computer so much that I come to think of it as their official "start" of their sound, when in reality, they set the stage on The Bends of what can be possible down the road. Also, they toured with Alanis Morissette with the album, so extra bonus points!
Arcade Fire - Funeral (2004) A- [2 listens] // A+ {2 listens} better than I remembered. I definitely thought it was borderline pretentious, with how the song structure is when I originally listened to it. Now, without that stigma, it's not THAT abstract and I've come to admire the creativeness of it. I always love when there's women vocalists, to mix up the sound and so many different instruments add even more to the variety. It always feels like a new listen, with how many things I'll forget to notice and remember again.
Lcd Soundsystem - Sound of Silver (2007) A- [1 listen] // A {2 listens} The first 4 songs are awesome; Get Innocuous with it's multirhythmic layering is my textbook PERFECT song, a 21st century "Remain in Light" homage. The rest just loses this energy and it's never found again. Compare the first track with the last one and it sounds like two different projects. I know you can call me a hypocrite with how much I love Remain in Light, but at least with that one, it's only the last song and not half of the album. Seriously tho, Get Innocuous is a top 10 song of all time
Tame Impala - Currents (2016) A- [1 listen] // B+ {1 listen} Didn't expect my feelings to decrease, but compared to Lonerism, this is so mid. The lack of a real "great" song (Rihanna's Same Old Mistakes clears) makes it tough to love. It is consistent though, so it's still a good listen; just not a memberable one.

Albums I revisited, but no change in opinion. I feel like with these, I need to explain/defend myself more than I did on the original reviews:

Beach Boys - Pet Sounds (1965) A+ [4 listens] // {3 listens} After listening to a good chunk of their discography, I've come to two conclusions on Pet Sounds: 1) This album is truly lightning in the bottle as they NEVER reach it's level of consistency in quality from track to track. 2) Baroque Pop, while groundbreaking, came and went as fast as it arrived, mainly due to how abstract it is compared to its successor, Psychedelic Rock. Beyond that, there are a few skips that are solely due to wild creative mind of Brian Wilson. As a musical genius, dare I say better than Lennon and McCartney, but as a songwriter? Not even close imo. Rubber Soul, Revolver, Sgt. Pepper's are all great albums, while Pet Sounds can be argued to be their only great album (Wild Honey is also a good listen). I know bringing up the Beatles can be annoying, but the Beatles made great "hit singles" with their song layout, while about only half of the tracks on Pet Sounds are what I'd consider a traditional song. That's probably why I don't think it's so amazing (I kinda feel the same about progressive Rock) as I tend to favor music with a concise structure; even as unoriginal the structure may be.
Jimi Hendrix Experience - Are You Experienced? (1967) B+ [1 listen] // {1 listen} I can't get into it. The songwriting isn't there, especially compared to the stuff that would follow it. This is him at his rawest, but it's a reason why Medium Rare is the most commonly cooked steak.
The Rolling Stones - Let It Bleed (1969) B+ [2 Listens] // {3 listens} Thought I would flip on this album, but surprisingly didn't change at all. I still think Gimme Shelter is the best Rolling Stones song and I still think You Can't Always Get What You Want is still a phenomenal album closer, but everything in between is pretty lackluster (besides Live With Me).
Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon (1973) A [4 listens] // {1 listen} I do enjoy this album more now I know how other Progressive Rock bands sound like, but not enough to raise it a grade. I enjoy Time and the whole second side much more and the "emptiness" of the genre doesn't bother me as much. But the first half is still a little too abstract for my liking. However, I do see how people can view this as their GOAT album with how groundbreaking it's release was at the time and outside of only other Pink Floyd albums, there's nothing else in this genre that really matches the "entering another world" feel it creates.
Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here (1975) A [2 listens] // {1 listen} Similar thoughts to DSotM, but this one has the more catchy "songs" and partly why I love it more. Welcome to the Machine and Wish You Were Here are fantastic, but overall not enough meat for my liking.
The Ramones - Self-Titled (1976) B [2 listens] // {2 listens} I decided to give the Godfathers of Punk another try since I surprisingly came over to like the other Godfather, the Sex Pistols. And yeah... still isn't my thing. Way too one note, monotone singing, guitar takes over too much of the sound, etc. There are a few good hooks here and there, but you basically hear the entire song in the first 15 seconds. Everything I hate about Punk, stemmed from this album and made a lazier copy.
The Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dreams (1993) A+ [2 listens] // {1 listen} apparently the Smashing Pumpkins aren't considered grunge? If that's the case, comparing them to a Noise Rock band like a Sonic Youth or a Faith No More, they don't they don't rock out as much as I'd like. Also, I don't like how a few of these songs sound similar to each other. Today and Hummer of course are all top tier songs, but it's just not as much of a comprehensive project as Mellon Collie. Yea, it's definitely not grunge, as it would be much harder if it was.
Radiohead - Ok Computer (1997) A++ [2 listens] // {4 listens} Close, but no cigar. The first 3 songs and the last 3 songs are PERFECT, it's the stuff in between that makes it fall just short. The run of Karma Police into Fitter Happier to Electioneering is also a great moment in the album. Honestly, it's just Exit Music being "okay" that really stops it from being considered a masterpiece in my eyes. Still one of the greatest albums of all time, but not perfect in my eyes. This album is my perfect barometer for an A++ grade; it's objectively a perfect, but on the subjective level, there's nothing that makes me "adore" it. I completely understand how anyone thinking an A++ album I graded is a masterpiece, as I have to personally love it that extra step for it to get to that level.
Radiohead - In Rainbows (2007) A++ [3 listens] // {3 listens A+/A+/A++} Let me end it on a positive review: I didn't really give a thorough listen to it at first, as I don't remember much from it. Over time, my opinion on it dropped as I truly didn't see why people find it so special as they do. Ok Computer easily has the better individual tracks, Kid A is easily the most experimental. After finally revisiting it, maybe because it's a great midway between the two, with a weird electronic-rock-jazz fusion. Feels like there's not a single wasted second; every beat and note is meticulous. It's more chilled and laid back, which threw me off on the repeat listens. The hodgepodge of electronic and experimental sounds, being used in this traditional lofi style instead of being a fast paced one, was the curve that made it hard to love it at first, but now I think that's what makes it unique in its execution. A LOT of these rhythms could have been large and bombastic, and I kinda admire it's restraint in remaining "down in Earth". Also the album cover is noteworthy, where it feels completely spontaneous, never fully knowing what to expect going in. Definitely deserves its high praise

Albums I also revisited, but no change in opinion. Don't have too much to add on these, but listed them as my grades are concrete on these compared to the ones I didn't choose to listen to:

The Velvet Underground & Niko - Self-Titled "The Banana Album" (1967) A+ // Venus in Furs maybe one of the greatest songs ever composed
Cream - Disraeli Gears (1967) A+ // It still holds up, so damn awesome
Bob Dylan - John Wesley Harding (1967) B+ // yeah, he's kinda rambling on this one
The Stooges - Fun House (1970) A- // it's "the Stooges", possibly their best
The Rolling Stones - Exile on Main Street (1972) B+ // Nope, still didn't love it, still a mess
Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (1972) A++ // One I thought wouldn't have held up. I shall never question Sir Elton's greatness again
The Eagles - Hotel California (1975) B // Great start, gets worst as it goes on
Patti Smith - Horses (1975) A- // labeling this "Punk Rock" is a nicer way of calling this weird af
The Clash - London Calling (1979) Masterpiece // Not only is there not a bad song here, but every song is perfect. Not great... PERFECT
U2 - Joshua Tree (1987) B+ // I can't deny that there are some good songs on here, even if I'll never listen to it again
The Cure - Disintegration (1989) A // after 375 Rock albums, Plainsong is still the greatest opening track
U2 - Achtung Baby (1991) A- // you gotta admit Bono is pretty cool on this one
Nirvana - In Utero (1993) A // love the Bass guitar's tone on this one, rawer contrast to Nevermind. I'm glad I didn't grow up in the 90s, as this will always sound so new and fresh to me :)
System of a Down - Toxicity (2001) Masterpiece // Similar to Hybrid Theory, if this wasn't labeled as "Nu-metal" (and maybe didn't get so overplayed and copied), even the most pretentious critic couldn't deny how great this is
Green Day - American Idiot (2004) A+ // Feels almost like a different band, the songs are much more nuisanced in its lyrics and its musical structure. That transition from Holiday to Boulevard still gives me goosebumps, such a great song.
Arctic Monkeys - Whatever You Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (2006) A++ // a tour guide to the UK nightclubbing/pub scene, way better than it has any right to be honestly

Bonus: Ween - 12 Golden Country Greats (1996) A [4 listens B/A-/A-/A] Country is still a somewhat foreign genre for me and I've been kinda bored with the concept of it. But it's Ween, so they've fully earned my trust at this point so I'll give this a try. This style is more or less my biggest indifference with the genre: it's not heavy enough to be impactful as rock, yet not soft enough to be as intimate as Folk. It's in this inbetween grey area where it's just not super captivating for me. With that said, it's rarely has been the "so bad, I can't stand to listen to it" levels of boredom that it has been made out as. That signature tongue-in-cheek humor of Ween is here and it makes the project more enjoyable. With Ween, whether it's supposed to be satirical or serious, the quality of songwriting is always top tier, so it's very easy to take whatever they're doing with my full respect rather than viewing it as just a joke. Japanese Cowboy, Mister Richard Smoker, Powder Blue, Piss Up a Rope and You Were the Fool (the best one) are my favorites; but other than Fluffy, every song is a good time. What really sells this album in particular, is that none of these songs would sound out of place on one of their other Rock centric albums, which allows me to extend a lot more grace towards it. Pretty good listen. For what it is, it's pretty consistent, but there's of course better Ween albums out there.

I've been living near the convention center for almost a couple of years now. I know several years back there was some hope a grocery store would be built in the area (I think I had heard the location where Kohl's is now going as a possibility at one point?). As much as I love the location, the area doesn't exactly scream residential with all the hotels, sports arenas, theaters and convention center. Because of that, it seems a lot of the more standard residential amenities are lacking in the area. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade the "things to do" aspect of living here for them, but just curious if anybody thinks the area will have enough housing to sustain a grocery store, even if it's one with a smaller footprint.

Not every town is on the map.
"Daddy, I gotta pee."
Dale Thornton looked over his shoulder at his six-year-old son belted into the back seat of their Jeep Cherokee. As the boy squirmed around, Dale looked at his wife in the passenger seat beside him. "Didn't he just go?"
Carol glanced at her watch. "That was over an hour ago." She twisted to look into the back seat. "Can you hold it?"
In the rearview mirror, Dale saw Jesse shake his head. His wife checked her watch again. He could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. She was the family mediator, and she had just come up with something that made perfect sense. One of the reasons he loved her so much was her ability to change gears. In himself, Dale recognized his single-mindedness as a drawback. He admired her flexibility. In more ways than one, he thought. She was a good wife and a good mother.
"It's almost five," Carol said. "Let's stop at the next town. We can all use the restroom and get something to eat."
Dale tugged the spiral-bound road atlas down from where he had wedged it between the visor and the roof. They had left Tulsa that morning, headed for Mardi Gras, and he hoped to be in New Orleans by 10 p.m. Looking at the LOUISIANA page, his eyes traced the route he had highlighted in yellow. They had detoured down old U.S. 167. Rural America was disappearing and Dale wanted his son to see something of it before it was completely gone.
They were somewhere south of Ruston. He couldn't remember if they had passed Jonesboro or not, so the next town was either that or--if they'd already passed it--Winnfield. The gas gauge was on a quarter of a tank. They needed to stop anyway. "All right, honey," he said. "We'll take a break."
Carol laid a hand on his leg. "I'm glad we came this way. You can't see anything from the Interstate."
Ten miles later they sprang upon a small town. There was an old-fashioned, carved wooden sign posted beside the highway. Dale read out loud, "Welcome to Batesville. Population 875."
"What's that mean," Jesse asked.
Dale glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. "That's how many people live here."
"When somebody dies, do they change the number on the sign?"
Carol smiled over her shoulder at Jesse. "I bet they change it when a baby is born."
Just like her. She didn't like to talk about death or dying. Instead, she liked to focus on the good things in life, babies, birthdays, and family vacations. She had always been like that but more so since her grandfather passed away last year. She had been very close to him, closer than she had ever been to her father.
Dale sneaked a glance at her. She was his angel but an angel with dark secrets. She had shared some of those secrets with him but not all of them, probably because she knew the abuse in her life disturbed him so much. "That sign probably hasn't been changed in twenty years," he said.
"Why put it up if it's not right?" Jesse asked.
Good question. "I don't know, son."
As they got into the little town, Dale was impressed. The side streets that cut off of the highway were lined with neat wooden houses, most of them with white picket fences. A lot of the little towns they had passed through looked run down and dirty, but not this one. Batesville was clean and pretty.
When they came to the town's only traffic light, Dale saw a business on each corner: a hotel, a gas station, a restaurant, and the Batesville General Store. Before the light turned green, Dale pulled the Jeep beside the pumps at the gas station. A middle-aged man wearing oil stained coveralls stepped out from the office. "What can I do you for?" he asked. His tone was friendly, something you didn't hear at many gas stations these days.
Dale stepped out of the driver's seat and stretched. "I need a fill-up and some food." Then he jerked his thumb toward the back seat. "And my son needs to use the head."
The man wiped his hands on a rag he pulled out of his pocket. Then he shook Dale's hand. "Dudley Simpson. I can help you with the gas and the bathroom for your boy, but as for food, afraid all I got is potato chips and sodas." He pointed to the restaurant across the street. "Right over there is the best food in town." He laughed. "Only restaurant we got, but I wouldn't kid you. It's really good. Restroom's not too bad either."
Jesse said he could hold it until they got to the restaurant, so Dale sent him and Carol across the street to get a table. When he reached for the gas pump, Dudley Simpson stopped him. "I don't charge extra for full service. Every car comes through here I pump the gas, look under the hood, and check the tires."
"Don't see that too much anymore," Dale said.
"Guess I'm kind of old-fashioned."
After Dudley finished, Dale added a couple of bucks to the bill. He felt a little awkward, unsure if he could tip the owner of a gas station without insulting him. But Dudley took no offense, just said thank you and asked him to stop in again on their way home.
When Dale turned the key, nothing happened. He turned it again and still nothing happened. Just a click. No dash lights, the motor didn't turn over, nothing. Dudley told him to pop the hood again. After Dale turned the key a couple more times with Simpson's head buried under the hood, Dudley said he'd found the problem. "Alternator's shot. You must've been running on battery for a good while."
"Can you fix it?"
The gas station owner looked at his watch. "Not today. Parts store is closed 'till tomorrow."
Great, just great, Dale thought.
"I could arrange a tow to somewhere else, next town down the highway has a Goodyear Service Center," Dudley said, "but even they won't get to it until tomorrow."
Dale nodded, his mind stuck on having to spend the night in Batesville instead of New Orleans.
"I'll get to it first thing," Dudley said. "Have you out of here by ten o'clock." He pointed at the hotel. "Mrs. Jensen has a nice place. A-C, cable TV, and no bugs."
Great. No bugs.
Dudley told Dale that he could leave the Jeep right where it was. No need to worry about it, he said. They had a town marshal but nothing ever happened in Batesville. So quiet the state police never even came by.
"Sorry I'm blocking your pumps," Dale said.
Dudley shrugged. "Other side's open." Then he looked at his watch. "Besides, it's five-thirty. I close in half an hour."
As he crossed the street, Dale remembered his gun. A Smith and Wesson .357 revolver that he always brought with him on road trips. You never knew what could happen. They might break down on the highway and get attacked by a drug-crazed motorcycle gang. The gun was in the cargo compartment, wrapped inside a cloth and tucked between the spare tire and the side wall. It would be safe enough.
At the restaurant he told Carol the news and in typical Carol fashion she looked on the bright side. "It'll be fun being stranded in a small town," she said. "Who knows what'll happen?"
"Do they have TV?" Jesse asked.
A cute young waitress served them. The plastic tag pinned to her blouse said her name was April. When she brought out their food she set Jesse's down first.
"That's the cutest little mark on your face," she said. "Almost looks like lipstick."
Unabashedly, Jesse pointed to the red oval shaped birthmark set high on his right cheek. "It means I'm special."
She smiled. "It looks like a kiss."
"Really?" Jesse asked.
Dale saw a look of contentment on Carol's face. Jesse's birthmark was something she'd never wanted their son to be shy or embarrassed about.
The waitress set out the rest of the plates. "I heard a mark like that means that right before you were born an angel kissed you."
Jesse turned to his mom. "Is that true?"
Carol smiled at her son and nodded. "I think she may be right."
April bent down and kissed Jesse on the top of his head. "I'm not an angel, but there's a kiss from me."
Dudley Simpson had been right; the food was excellent. After they ate, Dale got up to use the bathroom. "You need to go again, Jess?"
The boy shook his head. "No thanks."
Dale handed Carol a credit card. "Let's save our cash."
She nodded. "All right, baby."
"Back in a sec," he said as he turned away.
***
When he came out of the men's room, Carol and Jesse weren't at the table. The waitress had been quick. Most of the dirty plates were gone; the only ones left were his. Dale looked for his family near the front door, then up by the cash register, but they weren't there.
Maybe Jesse had changed his mind and Carol had brought him into the bathroom with her. So Dale waited, but after several minutes passed and they didn't come out, he decided to check outside. They might have gotten cold or Jesse could've gotten restless and they were waiting out front for him. But they weren't out front, either.
Across the street the lights were out at the gas station--Dudley was closed for the night. The Jeep Cherokee sat at the pumps. Anxiously, Dale looked at the hotel. Maybe...but they wouldn't do that, wouldn't have gone without him. That wasn't like Carol. Smart and independent, but she liked her husband doing the man things, and in her mind, checking into a hotel was a man thing.
Back inside he knocked on the door of the women's restroom. No one answered, so he cracked it open. "Carol?" No answer. "Carol, Jess, you there?"
"Can I help you, sir?" It was their waitress.
Embarrassed, Dale forced a laugh. "I seem to have lost my wife and son." He nodded toward the men's room. "While I was in there."
"Your wife and son?" She looked confused.
"When I came back they were gone."
She had a blank look on her face.
Annoyed, he said, "I ate with them."
The waitress furrowed her brow. "Sir, I didn't see you with anyone else."
Dale stared at her. For a second he thought that maybe he was wrong, maybe this wasn't his waitress. He checked her name tag, saw it said April. "You waited on us." Dale pointed to his right cheek. "My son has that little birthmark. You said an angel kissed him."
She shrugged. "I think I'd remember that."
He pointed to himself. "You remember me?" Then at their table. "We were sitting right there."
She nodded. "Yes, sir. I remember you, but you ate by yourself." She turned to the table where Dale's dishes still sat. "I was just bringing you your bill."
He raised his voice. "Is this some kind of a joke?" People began looking at him.
April took a step back and raised her hands. "You need to talk to Mr. Simms."
"Who's Mr. Simms?"
"The owner."
"Well that's who I want to see."
Mr. Simms was already scurrying over. "What's the problem?"
Dale turned to him. "I can't find my family." He pointed at the girl. "She was our waitress and she's telling me she doesn't even remember them."
Mr. Simms looked at April.
She shrugged again. "I'm sorry but he was alone. I've never seen his family."
Simms looked like he didn't understand. April tried to explain it again, but Dale cut her off and pointed to the table. "My family and I ate right there. I went to the restroom, came out, and they were gone."
Mr. Simms clapped a hand on Dale's shoulder. "Maybe they're outside waiting for you."
"I've checked outside," he barked. "They're not there."
Simms glanced at the waitress. "Why don't you get back to work. I'll handle this."
Dale grabbed her by the arm. "She knows where they are."
Everyone in the restaurant stared at him.
Mr. Simms jerked Dale's hand away from the girl. "Sir, she said she doesn't know where your family is."
April pleaded with her boss. "He didn't have his family with him."
"She's lying!" Dale said, as he inched closer to April.
Simms stepped between them. Looking at Dale, he said, "Have you checked your car?"
He nodded. "It's broken down at the gas station across the street. We've got to spend the night at the hotel."
Mr. Simms smiled. "That's probably it."
"What?"
"I bet they're at the hotel."
"He was by himself," April said.
The restaurant owner snapped his head towards her and pointed to the dinning area. "Go."
She looked at her boss for a second, a half-formed protest on her lips; then suddenly she spun on her heel and stomped away.
Simms looked back at Dale. "Have you checked the hotel?"
"They wouldn't do that."
"Have you checked?" Insistent.
Dale could feel himself losing control as the sweat dripped from his armpits. He took several deep breaths, trying to force himself to calm down. "No, I haven't."
"Maybe your kids got tired."
The deep breathing had made him light-headed. "Just the one boy." As Dale turned toward the door, Simms patted him on the back. "I'm sure everything's going to be fine."
But things weren't fine. At the hotel, he woke up Mrs. Jensen. Turns out she and Mr. Jensen had an apartment behind the office. Dale had banged on the glass door of the office for five minutes before a light came on.
Mrs. Jensen had come out first. A white haired old lady, covered in a paper-thin pink housecoat, imprinted with blue flowers the size of a quarter. A minute later, Mr. Jensen, looking about seventy, dressed in a full set of dark green, silk pajamas and a pair of matching slippers, stumbled into the office, smelling like he'd taken a bath in Jack Daniel's.
Dale's heart sank. He went through the story anyway, but as he expected, the Jensens said that no one had checked in or even come by since mid-morning.
Walking back to the restaurant, he looked at his Jeep. Still empty and no one near it.
A marked police car was parked near the restaurant's front door. As he got closer, Dale read the decal on the side, BATESVILLE TOWN MARSHAL. Maybe now he could get some help.
Just inside, near the cash register, Dale found April the waitress, Mr. Simms, and a heavyset man in jeans and a T-shirt, talking. As he walked up, all three stopped and stared at him. He felt like a freak in a boardwalk exhibit.
"Did you find them?" Simms asked.
Dale shook his head. "The people at the hotel haven't seen them."
The big man in jeans took a step toward him. "Mr...?
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
The man stuck out his hand. "Jerry Stillwell. I'm town marshal."
"Saw your car outside." Dale shook the marshal's hand. "My wife and son are miss--"
"I understand there was a problem here earlier."
"Yeah there's a problem. My family disappeared."
The marshal and Simms traded glances; then he looked back at Dale. "So I heard. What do you think happened to them?"
Something didn't feel right. "If I knew that, they wouldn't be missing."
Marshal Stillwell stuck his belly out. "No reason to get smart. You all ready scared some customers. Don't make--"
"Scared some customers. Is that why you're here, because I scared some customers? My wife and son are MISSING!" Everyone in the restaurant had stopped eating and was watching the soap opera at the door. With a sharp edge to his voice, Dale said, "What are you going to do about it?"
The marshal jabbed a finger at him. "You better calm yourself down or I'll do it for you. Now I need to ask you some questions," his eyes swept the customers, "and I don't think this is the place to do it."
"I'm not going anywhere." Dale pointed to the completely cleaned off table where they'd eaten. "Half an hour ago my family and I ate right there. Now they're gone. Someone in here knows what happened to them."
The marshal dropped a big hand on Dale's shoulder and tried to guide him out the door. "We're going to find your family, but not here, not like--"
Dale pulled away. He pointed to Simms and the waitress. "They coming with us?"
"I don't see the need for--"
Dale reached out for April. "She's lying!"
With surprising speed, the town marshal slipped behind him and clamped a meaty forearm around his throat, sealing off his windpipe. Dale grabbed at the hairy arm and tried to twist it away as the marshal whispered in his ear, "Take it easy, son." Then something jabbed him in the kidney that sent waves of pain shooting up his back.
Seconds later, Dale was on the floor, his cheek pressed against the cool tiles, as the marshal handcuffed his wrists behind his back.
***
"She said it was the kiss of an angel, huh?" Marshal Stillwell asked. Things had calmed down some. Dale and the town marshal were alone in his office. Dale was still handcuffed, but the marshal had moved them to the front. He sat in a chair in front of the lawman's desk, watching him fill out forms with a ballpoint pen. Stillwell touched his finger to his right cheek. "That mark you're talking about is right here?"
Dale nodded.
"That's strange."
The handcuffs were uncomfortable. Dale twisted his wrists, trying to get some circulation back. "What's unusual about it?"
"We had a preacher in town few years back with the same kind of mark on his face." Stillwell traced a small circle on his cheek. "Heard him say once during a sermon it was from an angel's kiss."
Dale stared at the marshal, his flesh suddenly crawling with goosebumps.
"But he was a strange one. Lots of rumors. Guess it goes with the territory."
"What territory?"
"Young, good-looking preacher. Single. Moves into town, starts preaching all hours of the night." He gave Dale a knowing wink, like they were sharing a secret. "Giving special counseling sessions to half the women in town."
Grasping at straws, looking for anything. Dale said, "Is he still here?"
Marshal Stillwell shook his head. "Church burned down."
"What about the preacher?"
"We never found his body."
"He was the only one in the church?"
Stillwell looked down at the form on his desk and pressed his pen to it. "He had six or eight ladies in there with him. Supposed to be some sort of social club. Fire was so hot, we couldn't tell one body from the next. That was when the rumors really started."
Dale flexed his fingers. His hands hurt. "What kind of rumors?"
The marshal laughed. "Just gossip. People 'round here are simple minded, superstitious, that's all."
"What kind of gossip?"
Stillwell looked up. "Not everybody you understand, but some people have been talking about how the preacher isn't really dead, about how he's gonna come back some day."
Dale needed to get out, to find Carol and Jesse. There was something terribly wrong here. "Am I under arrest?"
Stillwell nodded.
In the corner stood a single holding cell, the door gaping open, waiting. "What's the charge?"
The marshal jerked a thumb in the general direction of the restaurant. "Disturbing the peace."
"What about my family?"
The man tapped the pile of forms in front of him. "I'll forward these missing persons reports to the state police in the morning; then I'll call the judge and try to get a bond set for you."
Dale sprung to his feet. "I've got to find my family tonight!"
Marshal Stillwell eased out of his chair and stood up. "Just calm down. Soon as I get this information to them, the state troopers will be on the lookout." He jerked his thumb toward the south. "Their office is just five miles down the road."
Dale nodded at the phone on the desk. "Call them now."
The marshal shook his head. "Can't do that."
"Why not."
"I got procedures to follow."
Dale Thornton squatted and shoved the desk into Stillwell. The marshal's chair rolled back on its casters but snagged on something and tipped over, spilling Marshal Stillwell onto the floor. Dale scrambled over the desk, knocking papers, pens, and a near full cup of coffee on top of the lawman, then dropped a knee into the man's big belly. The marshal curled into a ball and moaned.
Stillwell didn't have a gun on him, at least not one Dale could find. The way he was dressed it looked like he had been called out from home. Maybe he forgot his gun, or maybe he just didn't carry one. Dale grabbed a handful of shirt and dragged the marshal into the open holding cell, then kicked the door shut. It locked automatically.
By the time Stillwell staggered to his feet Dale was searching his desk. The marshal tried to rip the steel bars apart with his bare hands. "Let me out of here, you crazy bastard!"
Dale ignored him. In the bottom right hand drawer he found a gun, a .38 caliber, five-shot Smith and Wesson. Stillwell started shouting for help. Dale leveled the gun at him. "Shut up."
Stillwell quit yelling.
Dale kept searching.
A few seconds later, the marshal said, "You'll never get away with this."
Holding his wrists up, Dale rattled the handcuffs. "Keys?"
The cop pointed to the desk. "Bottom left."
After he got the handcuffs off, Dale finished going through the desk, then did a quick search of a filing cabinet that was set against the wall. There he found keys to the holding cell and a roll of duct tape.
As Dale approached the cell, Marshal Stillwell backed against the far wall. "What are you gonna do?"
Aiming the revolver at Stillwell's belly, Dale ordered him to lie on the floor. A few minutes later he relocked the cell door, leaving the marshal with his hands cuffed behind his back and a strip of silver duct tape wrapped around his head that sealed his mouth shut. On his way out of the marshal's office, Dale tossed the revolver back into the desk drawer and kicked it shut. That was trouble he didn't need.
The state police. "Their office is just five miles down the road," the marshal had said.
Darkness had settled over the Batesville. How long had he been in the marshal's office? Everything in town was closed and locked up tight. There wasn't a light to be seen, and not a soul on the street. He didn't see any payphones.
He had to get out of town. Which way had the marshal pointed when he mentioned the state police? Thinking about it, Dale decided it had to be south. They'd driven in from the north and he was sure they hadn't passed a state police troop.
The night had turned cold. If he was going to walk for five miles he needed a jacket.
It took just a few minutes to make it to the gas station. His Jeep was right where he'd left it, but when he reached into his pocket for the keys they weren't there. An image flashed through his mind. A close up shot just like in a movie. His hand reaching toward Dudley Simpson's, and in his hand, his keys.
Damn!
He looked into the rear window, saw their luggage lying in the back. Dale thought about breaking the window and getting a jacket, maybe his gun, too. Not the gun. He was in enough trouble all ready for what he'd done to the town marshal. Assault, kidnapping--maybe not kidnapping, he hadn't taken him anywhere, just locked him in his own cell--but something like kidnapping. Desperation had driven him to it. That's the only reason he had done it. Because he had to find Carol and Jesse.
He could make it without a jacket.
Old Highway 167 south. Dale Thornton started walking. Ten minutes later he saw headlights behind him, coming from town. He crouched in the bushes beside the highway, but the beat-up pickup glided to a stop next to him. An old man sat behind the wheel, alone in the truck. "You need a ride?"
Feeling like a complete fool, Dale stood. "Yeah, I guess."
"Where you headed?"
"You know where the state police office is?"
The old man nodded, then jerked his head toward the passenger side. "Hop in."
As he climbed into the pickup truck, Dale shot a glance at the old man. Probably at least seventy, with long ghost white hair and a bushy mustache, wearing a stained undershirt and a pair of denim overalls. Dale scanned the dashboard for a clock but didn't see one. "What time is it?"
The old man shrugged. "Haven't worn a watch in thirty years. Do things as quick as I can. A timepiece strapped to my wrist ain't gonna make me move any faster."
The drive was torture. Never did the old man go over thirty-five miles an hour. Only good thing was that he didn't ask any questions. Just dropped Dale off in the parking lot of the state police troop. As he walked through the door into the police station, Dale glanced over his shoulder and saw the old man's pickup rumbling down the highway.
Inside, sitting behind a chest high counter, was a uniformed trooper, sergeant stripes on his sleeves. Mid-40's, with an iron gray crew cut. "Can I help you, sir?" the sergeant said.
Dale spat out the story as fast as he could, leaving out the part about how he'd handcuffed the town marshal and left him gagged in his own jail cell.
The sergeant's face had remained inscrutable while Dale talked. "What was the name of that town again, sir?"
"Batesville."
The sergeant wheeled his chair over to a map hanging on the wall. "And where'd you say it was?"
The state cop demonstrated the same bureaucrat mentality as the town marshal. Any minute now he'd break out a sheaf of forms and start filling them out. Dale pointed north. "Five miles that way."
"What'd you say your name was again?" The sergeant glided the chair back over to his work area and pulled a pen from his shirt pocket.
"Thornton. Dale Thornton."
As soon as the sergeant finished jotting Dale's name on a pad, he looked up. "There's no town named Batesville."
"I was just there!"
The sergeant stood up. "Take it easy, sir. I'm sure you just got the name mixed up."
Just like in the restaurant.
"...get to the bottom of it." The desk sergeant was still talking, but Dale hadn't heard everything. He felt dizzy. Was everyone around here crazy? "We ate dinner there," he mumbled. "I left my car at the gas station. Dudley Simpson's gas station."
The sergeant nodded as he walked around the counter. A big man, at least six feet, with the beefy build of a weightlifter. "I know Simpson's place. Old 167 and Highway 90. But there's no town there, just the gas station."
"The gas station's smack in the middle of the town. There's a restaurant, a general store, and a hotel, too."
The sergeant closed on him, his body bladed, his gun side away from Dale. "I need you to put your hands on the counter, sir."
"What?"
With his right hand resting on his holstered pistol, the state trooper took hold of Dale's wrist with his left hand and pushed it to the top of the counter. Dale's other hand followed. The sergeant said, "Pull you feet back."
"What are you doing?"
"You have any weapons on you?"
"No! Of course not." Glad he'd left the marshal's gun, glad he hadn't gotten his own out of the Jeep.
"I'm just gonna pat you down."
"Why?" Dale said. "I haven't done anything. My family's missing?"
The sergeant slid his hands over Dale's waist and the outside of his pockets. "It's for safety, sir."
"Whose?"
"Yours and mine," the trooper sergeant said as he stepped backward a few feet.
"Something's happened to my wife and son. I came here for help."
"What happened to them?"
"I don't know," Dale said. "That's why I need your help."
"Mr. Thornton, I've worked this area for nineteen years. There is no town called Batesville."
"I don't care what you call it, but there's a town five miles away and we need to go there right now."
"Closest town is twelve miles from here and it's south."
The gas station. At least the sergeant knew about the gas station. Dale looked over his shoulder at the big cop. "Can I stand up?" After getting a nod, Dale pushed away from the counter and stood straight. Arguing wasn't getting him anywhere. "Look sergeant, maybe I seem a bit confused, but I know my wife and 6-year-old son are missing. Our car broke down at Simpson's gas station. Can you drive me there and help me look for them?"
The sergeant took his hand off his pistol and relaxed a little. "How'd you get here?"
"An old man in a pickup gave me a ride."
"You get his name?"
Dale's mouth opened but nothing came out as he realized he couldn't remember a thing about the old man or his truck. No details at all.
"What's the matter?"
Dale shook his head. "He...he just gave me a ride. I didn't get his name."
The trooper sergeant held up his hand. "Stay right here. Soon as I get someone to cover the desk, I'll give you a ride back to Simpson's."
Ten minutes later Dale climbed into the passenger seat of the state police car. The sergeant looked over at him. "Put your seatbelt on." Dale strapped himself in but noticed the sergeant didn't.
On the highway the trooper asked him to go over the story again. As Dale repeated what had happened, the sergeant asked several questions about Simpson's: what time of day, what was wrong with the car, who had the keys; but he asked nothing about what happened in the restaurant. The restaurant that wasn't there, according to the sergeant.
A few minutes later the police cruiser's headlights lit up the darkened gas station and Dale's Jeep parked at the pumps.
There was nothing else--absolutely nothing else.
The sergeant slowed down as he turned into the parking lot. "That your Cherokee?"
Stunned, Dale couldn't answer. Staring out the window, struck dumb by what he saw, or didn't see. No restaurant, no hotel, no Batesville General Store--no town. Just empty farmland and a few trees surrounding the gas station.
The trooper pulled his car up behind the Jeep, leaving a car-length gap between the two of them. "Stay here," he said as he pulled a flashlight from a charger mounted to the dash.
Dale leaned his head against the window and watched the sergeant creep up to the driver's door of his Jeep Cherokee, flashlight held out in front of him, his other hand on the butt of his pistol. The state cop opened the door--the locked door--and poked his head inside the passenger compartment of Dale's Jeep. The trooper backed out and held up his hand, Dale's keys dangling from his fingers. "Keys were inside," he shouted.
With legs quivering, Dale stepped out of the police car. He couldn't understand this. The Jeep had been locked, Dudley Simpson had the keys. He stumbled toward the trooper.
The sergeant shined his flashlight into the back, into the cargo compartment. Suddenly, his face turned to stone. He dropped the keys, drew his gun, aimed both it and his flashlight at Dale. "Don't move!"
Dale stopped dead. What the hell was...
"Get on the ground!"
Not comprehending, Dale just stood there.
The trooper screamed at him, "Get on the fucking ground--now."
Dale Thornton dropped face down onto the pavement. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sergeant side-stepping around him until he was behind Dale and to his left.
The trooper said, "Turn your head to the right."
Dale did as he was told. Then the sergeant closed in and cuffed his hands behind his back. Just the second time in his life Dale had been handcuffed, both on the same night.
After backing up a few steps, the sergeant keyed the radio clipped to his belt and called the state police troop. When the dispatcher answered, the sergeant said, "I need back up units," Dale heard him take a deep breath, "and notify the corner."
The tinny voice from the radio said, "What you got, sergeant?"
"Homicide," the trooper answered. "Suspect is in custody."
Homicide?
The sergeant hooked Dale's elbows and jerked him to his feet, then picked up the keys and opened the tailgate of the Jeep.
Lying in the back, in the cargo space, arms and legs twisted into a torturous configuration, was the naked body of his wife, Carol. At the back of her head, her golden hair was tangled and caked with dried blood. Her face chalk white, her forehead blown out where the bullet had exited. On the carpet next to her was a .357 revolver--Dale's .357 revolver.
She was alone.
"Jesse!" Dale screamed at the dark and empty fields.
***
In 1885 the town of Batesville, Louisiana burned to the ground. Scores of people were killed in the predawn fire that swept through the town. Among those reported killed in the blaze was the town's only minister, but many bodies were so badly burned that positive identification was impossible.
The fire started in the Batesville church and was allegedly set by a preacher from a nearby town. The preacher, a God-fearing and righteous man, was said to have been outraged at the evil deeds going on in Batesville, which he had called a modern-day Sodom.
The town of Batesville was never rebuilt.
THE END

It's Wednesday and this is a very bizarre edition, with no major releases but rather: a watch you can’t buy because it’s too expensive, a watch you can buy but would you want to?, a watch you can’t buy without first buying an apartment, a watch that’s just ridiculous but also very affordable, and a watch that you can afford, but can't get. Cool. Also, the giveaway ends today if you're interested.

What's new

1/
Franck Muller Stuffs A Complex Movement Into The Very Sporty Grand Central Tourbillon Flash
I’ll go first: I’m not a Franck Muller fan. It’s the case shape that bugs me. That, and the eye watering prices. However, as I learned just a few days ago, there are a lot of people out there who don’t like Franck Muller because they believe the brand is too young, too laid back and too whimsical to be taken as a serious watchmaker. I guess the people at Franck Muller have heard these criticisms and took a super high-end and complex movement and stuffed it into a super sporty, super whimsical case, calling it the Franck Muller Grand Central Tourbillon Flash. Take that, haters.
Just like pretty much every other Franck Muller, the Grand Central Tourbillon Flash has a tonneau case shape. With the Curvex CX architecture which debuted in 2021, this vaguely ovate silhouette captures that slightly eccentric spirit of the tonneau with ease. It’s both dressy and sporty, especially sporty when made from carbon fibre, as is the case with the Grand Central Tourbillon Flash.
The grey and black stripes of the carbon case make for a subtle texture in comparison to the black PVD-coated hardware such as the crown and strap clasp, and dark cases help to reduce the impact of a larger size on the wrist too. Yeah, it’s a pretty big watch, despite being only 36.5mm wide. The issue is with the tonneau case, as it makes the watch 52.65mm long. It also comes up to 12.3mm thick.
Instead of the traditional position at 6 o’clock, the Franck Muller Grand Central Tourbillon has been built from the ground up to show off this feat. Many of the components have been given a black PVD coating which draws extra attention to the brightly-coloured seconds hand mounted to it. The arrow tip and blocky indices are made from intensely coloured PMMA that almost look luminous when provided with light. It’s available in orange, green, or blue, each looking absolutely electric. The watches also come in matching colored straps made with a sporty nylon weave and a calf leather backing, making the watch scream in neon colors.
This is an expensive watch. Like, really expensive. The new Franck Muller Curvex CX Flash Grand Central Tourbillon watches start out at $123,900 USD and increase from there for the models with carbon fiber cases.
2/
Luminox Goes Full Military Spec With Their New Watch
Strap a Luminox to your hand and it won’t be mistaken for a Tudor. They have cut a very sharp line of what kind of watches they like doing and they do them perfectly, with military units being some of their biggest customers. Now Luminox is leaning heavily into their military heritage with a new timepiece that compliant with the military performance specification standards of MIL-PRF-46374G, which outlines the requirements for a wristwatch by the U.S. Department of Defense. Known as the Luminox Mil-Spec 3350 Series, the new timepiece expands upon the core design of its fan-favorite Navy SEAL collection with ultra-durable case materials and an upgraded Swiss quartz movement that offers additional protection against both impacts and extreme temperatures.
The overall case shape of the new Luminox Mil-Spec 3350 Series is more-or-less the same as what can be found throughout the brand’s greater Navy SEAL collection, and it offers an angular profile that measures 46mm in diameter by 14mm thick. At launch, this model will be available in only one color - black, with a matte black dial with large white Arabic numeral hour markers and a date window at the 3 o’clock location.
Similar to other Luminox watches, the various luminous elements on the new Luminox Mil-Spec 3350 Series glow different colors in the dark. The tritium tubes that appear on the hour hand, 12 o’clock index, and zero-marker of the bezel all glow yellow; the tip of the seconds hand (which seems to be a traditional painted luminous element rather than a tritium gas-filled tube) glows green, and all of the other tritium tubes that appear on the minute hand and remaining hour markers emit a blue glow to help provide a better orientation of the time when viewed in dark settings.
To further add to its durability and performance, it is powered by the ETA F06.412 quartz movement, which offers a 7-year battery life. Fitted to the 24mm lugs of the Luminox Mil-Spec 3350 Series is a two-piece black rubber strap with a pin buckle, and the watch also comes as a set with an additional fabric NATO strap in a gray and black camo pattern with matching black-finished hardware.
Despite its premium materials and movement, the new Luminox Mil-Spec 3350 Series isn’t all that much more expensive than many of the brand’s entry-level Navy SEAL dive watches. It will set you back $695 USD.
3/
You Can Get This Stunning Limited Bovet Watch Absolutely Free. You Just Have To Buy An Apartment For At Least $5 million
Bovet, the coveted independent watch brand, just announced they will be creating 10 special editions of their classic 19Thirty wristwatch for their partnership with the historic Old War Office (OWO) in London and will be decorating the special watches with motifs from the stunning building in which Churchill waged World War II. And you can’t get one. Technically, you can, you will even get it for free, but you have to buy one of the ten apartments in the OWO, and they start at $5 million.
The OWO is a building with incredible looks and even more incredible history, having served as the war strategising place for some of the most important moments in history. It was recently leased for 250 years to a private investor and has been renovate by Raffles as a luxurious hotel with private residences. To mark the occasion, OWO Residences has commissioned Bovet to create ten gold 19Thirty timepieces to gift the ten owners of the ten most luxurious homes.
The model selected for the new owners is the 19Thirty, one of Bovet’s time-only watches in 18k red gold. Introduced in 2015, the style of the Fleurier case, with its crown at noon and small seconds at 6 o’clock, give the 19Thirty its strong pocket watch personality. It’s 42mm wide and just 9mm thick. Borrowing decorative motifs from the OWO, the outer flanks of the red gold case are decorated with a hand-engraved ‘egg and dart’ motif, and the bow at noon is engraved with a marble shell motif found on the fireplaces and mouldings of the OWO.
Like other 19Thirty models, the time indications are presented in an off-centred hours and minutes counter that intersects a smaller seconds counter with Arabic numbers. Forming an upside-down figure eight, the larger counter features a pattern taken from the Rose Ceiling above the grand staircase of the OWO. Using a blue background, the petals of the rose are recreated in gold lacquer. At 3 and 9 o’clock, two circular depressions add relief to the scenery: the one at 3 o’clock houses the power-reserve indicator, and to underscore the symmetry, the one on the left is opened on the barrel.
The Bovet 19Thirty OWO Special Edition is a limited edition of ten watches produced exclusively for owners of the OWO residences. The apartments range in price from $5 million up to $37 million.
4/
BA111OD Sizes Down To 40mm Making It An Even More Attractive Timepiece
Despite it’s silly name, Ba111od is becoming one of my favorite watchmakers. They’re Swiss made, completely insane looking, with interesting complications and priced at about a tenth of what you would expect from a watch that looks like a Ba111od. Following the big success of its first tourbillon, Chapter 4.1, The Veblen Dilemma*, which has sold more than 600 pieces to date, Ba111od decided to answer popular requests and release a 40mm version of the otherwise 44mm watch, and they’re calling it the 4.5.
This is not the first watch in the Chapter 4 collection to be encased in a 40mm size. Chapter 4.2 Lily had a 40mm titanium coated with 4N rose gold and pitched as a ladies watch. The next two had black DLC and was released in 40mm as Chapter 4.3 and in 44mm as Chapter 4.4. These two black DLC models were also available as a twin set.
However, to date it seems that the 4.1 has been their greatest hit, so it’s no surprise that they shrunk it down, but making it the exact same watch, with the same materials and colors. This means you get a grade 5 titanium case with a tantalum grey DLC treatment, a hand-wound movement and a 105-hour power reserve.
While Ba111od say they have done this to make the watch more unisex, I would say it’s more likely that there were many people that wanted one, but could not do with the 44mm case. The one other major thing that has changed is the price. While the Chapter 4.1 was limited to 202 pieces and had a retail price of CHF 4,920, the Ba111od Chapter 4.5 The Velben Dilemma Tourbillon, which is on sale right now, will be limited to 111 pieces and has a retail price of CHF 5,540. Deliveries expected from December 2023.
5/
This New Limited Edition Halios Made in Collaboration with Topper Jewelers Is Gorgeous But It Sold Out In Less Than A Minute
There are many microbrands in this world, but very few have as intense a following as Halios. Every single watch they put out sells out very fast and if you take a peek at their website you’ll see that they had to pause allocations in order to catch up with production. Their releases are slowing and demand is growing. So, whenever they announce a new watch, even if it is a 100 piece limited edition made in collaboration with Topper Jewelers out of Burlingame, CA, people look to see what will happen. And what happens is it sells out in lest than a minute.
It’s a new Universa, but it incorporates dial elements typically found in the Seaforth. The Universa has a 38mm stainless steel case that is mostly brushed, but has a classic polished chamfer along the lugs. The bezel-less design gives the watch an old-school, no nonsense sports watch vibe. It’s the dial, though, that makes this Universa special. It’s a crisp white with hands and hour markers that have been accented in black for maximum contrast. The layout is taken directly from the Seaforth, and includes the same thick, applied hour markers that give the dial an increased sense of depth. Hash marks on the minute scale alternate between blue, yellow, and green, representing natural elements found near Topper’s headquarters in Burlingame - the ocean, northern California sunshine, and giant redwood trees.
The fans want a new Halios so bad and the supply is so low, the watch, priced at an even $1,000, sold out in one minute.
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On hand - a selection of reviews

1/
A review of a gorgeous watch with a long name: the Seiko Prospex Seiko Watchmaking 110th Anniversary Save the Ocean Limited Edition SPB333J1
2/
Hands-On: IFL Watches Levels Up The Metal G-Shock CasiOak With The Limited Black Metal Galaxy
3/
The Blok 33 is a tool watch that’s cool for kids and a guilty pleasure for grown-ups
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Watch Worthy - A look at an offbeat, less known watch you might actually like

The Holthinrichs Watches DECONSTRUCTED — Ushering In A New Era For The Dutch Atelier
Any Holthinrichs piece is deceptively light for a mechanical watch due to the slim case and 3D-printed technique. The sides are seriously scalloped, while the sweeping lugs are cut away, skeletonized with the raw, unfinished steel visible on the inside. With the DECONSTRUCTED, we see Grade 5 titanium for the first time, which will make this a feather-light watch. The dial itself is intense in its layered appearance, displaying a focus on contrasts between frosted dark flat surfaces and hand-polished anglage. This is done in black rhodium, echoing the darker tone of titanium and creating an amphitheater with the Decon movement at center stage.
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The giveaway of three Seiko Alpinists in that lovely green ends today, at midnight CET, so head on over to the newsletter if you would like to enter.
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When it comes to finding a comfortable and accommodating hotel for unmarried couples in Patna, the capital city of Bihar, has a gem that stands out from the rest: Hotel Bodhi Tree. Hotel Bodhi Tree is top hotel near Patna Railway Station, Situated in a prime location and equipped with modern amenities, Hotel Bodhi Tree offers a safe and welcoming environment for unmarried couples to enjoy a pleasant and memorable stay. In this comprehensive review, we will explore the reasons
Hotel Bodhi Tree enjoys a prime location in the heart of Patna, the hotel near Patna Junction, making it convenient for both business and leisure travelers. Situated in a safe and well-connected area, the hotel offers easy access to popular tourist attractions, shopping centers, and dining options. Unmarried couples can explore the vibrant city of Patna without worrying about transportation or safety concerns.
Visit us: https://hotelbodhitree.com/
One of the primary concerns for unmarried couples when choosing a hotel is ensuring a safe and comfortable environment. Hotel Bodhi Tree is the best hotel for couples in Patna and prioritizes the safety and privacy of its guests, particularly unmarried couples. The hotel has a strict policy of respecting guest privacy and ensuring a non-judgmental atmosphere. The staff members are professional, courteous, and well-trained in handling diverse guest requirements, making sure unmarried couples feel at ease during their stay.
Hotel Bodhi Tree is the best hotel in Patna that offers thoughtfully designed and well-appointed rooms that cater specifically to the needs of unmarried couples. The rooms are tastefully furnished, providing a cozy and comfortable ambiance for couples to relax and unwind. Each room is equipped with modern amenities such as air conditioning, flat-screen TVs, complimentary Wi-Fi, and spacious en-suite bathrooms. The hotel ensures that couples have a pleasant and enjoyable experience throughout their stay.
Visit us: https://hotelbodhitree.com/
Understanding the importance of privacy, Hotel Bodhi Tree ensures a discreet check-in and check-out process for unmarried couples. The hotel staff is trained to handle check-in formalities swiftly and discreetly, respecting the privacy of each guest. This seamless process allows couples to maintain their privacy and enjoy a hassle-free experience right from the moment they arrive until they depart.
Hotel Bodhi Tree takes security seriously and has implemented various measures to ensure the safety of its guests. The hotel employs round-the-clock security personnel and has installed CCTV cameras in all public areas. This provides an added layer of security and gives unmarried couples peace of mind during their stay. Additionally, the hotel restricts access to non-guests, further enhancing the overall safety and security within the premises.
Hotel Bodhi Tree takes pride in its excellent dining options. The in-house restaurant offers a wide range of delectable cuisines, from local delicacies to international dishes, catering to diverse palates. Unmarried couples can enjoy a romantic dinner or a casual meal in a cozy and welcoming setting. The restaurant staff is attentive and accommodating, ensuring a delightful dining experience.
Visit us: https://hotelbodhitree.com/

Hotel: This is the season that took me the longest to get through by far. I had a really hard time connecting with most of the characters, and found the plot to be totally all over the place. Jessica Lange's absence was really felt in this season, and John Lowe didn't get interesting for me as a protagonist until the last few episodes. Lady Gaga and Angela Bassett were great, and so was Denis O'Hare. Hotel had like 100 plotlines and I felt like it was both hard to follow and not super engaging.
Double Feature: I totally get that this season was dealt a really bad hand by the pandemic. Its downfall is that neither half of it feels finished. I honestly would have been fine with a whole season of Red Tide or Death Valley, but having half of each leaves both feeling undercooked. Red Tide does horror better than a lot of seasons do, but its episodes tend to focus on the wrong characters and ideas. Finn Wittrock saves the season though. Death Valley could have been decent if given more breathing room. We hardly spend any time with the characters in the modern day, and the flashbacks feel like exposition for exposition's sake. Not connecting these aliens to those in Asylum was a mistake too. Both halves of Double Feature have a lot of missed potential, but at least they were enjoyable to binge through.
Murder House: I'm gonna get people mad at me with this one for sure. From this point on the list, I think they're all strong seasons. But Murder House is really tonally jarring for me. All of the actors are playing up the melodrama to such a high level here that I can't take them seriously. It's not as campy as later seasons, but the growing pains of Ryan Murphy as a writer are on full display. I just don't like most of the characters either. Ben is hard to root for because he's such an ass, Tate and Violet are pretty insufferable, and Hayden gets old quick. I think Connie Britton is really excellent, but apart from her, this season doesn't do too much for me aside from some good scares here and there.
Cult: This season tried something really different, and I have to give credit where credit's due. Like NYC, Cult goes for the "real" horror, just letting the audience watch how awful human beings can be to one another. Cult is politically charged but effective. I don't feel like it beats you over the head with the MAGA stuff, but draws enough parallels between Kai's cult and Trump's real life supporters to be chilling. Evan Peters and Sarah Paulson are really great in this season too, definitely some of their best performances. Billie Lourd is great, and just seeing everyone become slowly unhinged is quite scary. Having a lesbian couple front and center is important representation for me too, even if their relationship is insane.
Apocalypse: A beautiful mess. This season is almost purely fanservice. After seven seasons though, I think that's deserved. Seeing all of the witches come back is pretty amazing, and I guess the return to Murder House is fine, although that episode didn't do too much for me outside of Jessica Lange coming back. Cody Fern makes a great villain as Michael Langdon, and I buy that it takes all of the witches to stop him. The first few episodes of the season are honestly still really intriguing even before the witches show up. I think the season just has an interesting view of what would happen in an Apocalypse. Having Stevie Nicks back for a cameo is a joy, and I feel like this is a proper last hurrah with the full original cast.
NYC: So I just finished this one, and I'm conflicted. On the one hand, it's very very out of the ballpark of what American Horror Story typically is, but on the other hand most of it is excellent. So it lands in the middle for me. I'm a queer woman who wasn't around in the 1980s, but really enjoys learning about gay and lesbian history from that period, so getting a full season about the gay community in NYC is pretty awesome. Despite being newcomers, Russell Tovey and Joe Mantello are absolutely amazing. Gino and Patrick tracking down these killers makes for great TV. Mr Whitely is absolutely terrifying too, and seeing him get his comeuppance is well worth the wait. The looming dread of the audience but not the characters knowing that AIDS is coming is really well done. NYC just really loses me in the two part finale. Part one is too heavy and too real for me. This is what my queer elders endured and it is really painful to watch Patrick die like that. Part two just feels tacked on to me. I think the allegorical nature of Big Daddy only sort of works, and I don't think blurring the lines so much between reality and hallucination/allegory works in the season's favor.
Coven: This season just gets to be fun! Every once in a while that's needed, especially because the previous two seasons had been comparably dark. Angela Bassett and Kathy Bates make exceptional debuts as Marie Laveau and Delphine LaLaurie, and Jessica Lange is great as Fiona. The stakes feel a lot smaller, and really it's just a bunch of witches being catty with each other. All of them have such strong personalities though that it makes for a great watch. Neither Kyle, the Axeman, nor Spaulding really worked for me though. Coven is best when it focuses on the women. I love Misty Day to pieces and her death broke my heart.
Freak Show: Speaking of breaking hearts!! This season definitely has the best and deepest emotional journey in my opinion. I fell in love with my family of freaks, which made the last episodes absolutely gut wrenching. Dandy is a character that is almost too scary. Obviously I watch this show to get scared, but like episode 9 of NYC, Dandy is just too much at times. But he is an effective villain, and it makes the freaks even easier to root for. Having Evan Peters as a full on protagonist is one of this season's best strengths. Evan does a great job at playing crazy characters too, but he really anchors the cast as the hero. Neil Patrick Harris coming in at the end hurts the season overall, but when you have characters like Bette and Dot, Jimmy, Desiree, Ethel, Pepper, Eve, Penny, Suzi, and Ma Petite with you on screen it's perfect. The Pepper backstory episode is absolutely heartbreaking, Twisty makes a terrifying misunderstood villain, and I dig the modern music that gets used. And I love Elsa Mars so much. Definitely my favorite Jessica Lange performance after Sister Jude. She's kind of awful sure, but Elsa still has a lot of heart, and she clearly cares for the freaks. The whole season feels like Elsa and Jessica Lange's swansong, and it's perfect.
Roanoke: I feel like this is going to make people mad too but I loved Roanoke! One of the most bingeable seasons for sure and it's so creative and meta too. Adina Porter is a real star, and so is Kathy Bates. This felt like proper AHS again after Hotel was so rocky. It's really scary, it does the slashing and the gore but also the suspense and mystery very well. The found footage works for me, and the ending with Lana Winters is great. There are some seasons that I love that I connect with really deeply like Freak Show, and there are some that are just really entertaining AHS that hits all the right buttons.
1984: That latter description is true of 1984 for me too. It's just fun! I absolutely adore the 80s setting and soundtrack, and the costumes are perfect. I love Montana so much! I want to be her and kiss her at the same time lol. Emma Roberts is so great, and so are John Carroll Lynch, Angelica Ross, Zach Villa, Leslie Grossman, and even Matthew Morrison! I feel like 1984 has a really tight and satisfying narrative, and takes some of the most successful themes and tropes of past AHS seasons to make the perfect one. It's another really bingeable one and just gets everything right.
Asylum: Cliched answer, but it's that way for a reason. This season is soooo heavy though, I don't know if I'll be able to revisit it. Everybody in this cast gives an emmy winning performance, and there's really not a single weak link. This season is fucking terrifying, not just for the subject matter, but also for seeing the rawness of the emotions drawn out of every actor. Jessica Lange, Sarah Paulson, Evan Peters, Lily Rabe, Zachary Quinto, Joseph Fiennes, and James Cromwell just give out of this world performances. The desperation I had while watching to see if Lana and then Jude would make it out of Briarcliff was palpable. Then that last episode is just disgusting. Seeing the conditions in Briarcliff when Lana goes back for her expose is terrifying. The aliens, the angel of death, Anne Frank, santa claus, all these crazy things work really well too. The body horror and the psychological horror is peak AHS here, and so are the performances. Undoubtedly the best.

Hi, I'm taking my parents to Japan for a week in early August. They're in their 60s and relatively fit. I've been to Japan several times, but not in 10 years. So I'm having a little trouble remembering how long things will take. I'm also trying to find things they would enjoy seeing or doing. My dad is into Japanese history/ships. They haven't traveled this far before and only know of Japan through my love of the culture / Pokemon / Ghibli.
Here's what I'm thinking. I'd also appreciate your suggestions for any events, places, or restaurants. I can also rearrange the order of things.
Day 0 (Monday, July 31):

Arrive at Haneda airport at 5:25 PM
Get to apartment at Mimaru Suites, in Asakusa
Eat dinner somewhere around the Asakusa Shrine, go to bed

Day 1 (Tuesday, August 1):

Morning:
- Ueno Park
- Tokyo National Museum and/or Ueno Zoo
Afternoon:
- Tokyo Skytree (give them a view of all Tokyo)
Evening:
- Asakusha Shrineenso Ji Temple / Kaminarimon Gate
- Nakamise Shopping District

Day 2 (Wednesday, August 2):

Morning: Shibuya
- Shibuya Crossing (see around 7:00 during rush hour)
- Hachiko
- Shibuya Sky
- Meiji Shrine
Afternoon: Akihabara
- Owl cafe "Akiba Fukurou" (or any other themed cafe)
- Pop in to Yodobashi Camera for a bit
- Walk the streets for a little bit
Evening: Ginza
- See a kabuki show at Kabukiza Theatre (shows are at 4:00 PM I believe)
- Pokemon Cafe @ Pokemon Center Tokyo DX (reservations go until 9 PM)

Day 3 (Thursday, August 3):

Disneyland (my parents live near Disneyland Anaheim, so it'll just be a couple hours here to check it out)
DisneySea (the majority of the day)

Day 4 (Friday, August 4):

Morning: Ghibli museum (3 hrs)
Afternoon/evening: Odaiba
- Take Tokyo River Cruise from Asakusa Pier to Odaiba Seaside Park
- Check out Odaiba
- Watch Ghibli's "How Do You Live?" at the movie theater on Odaiba

Day 5 (Saturday, August 5): Yokohama

Hakkeijima Sea Paradise
Cosmo World
Pokemon Center Yokohama
Yokohama Chinatown
Red Brick Warehouse

Day 6 (Sunday, August 6): Hiroshima (Anniversary of Bomb Drop)

Take first bullet train from Tokyo to Hiroshima
Miyojima Island
Hiroshima Peace Museum
Hiroshima Toro Nagashi event (6:00 to 9:00 PM)
Stay overnight at a hotel in Hiroshima

Day 7 (Monday, August 7): Kyoto

Take first bullet train from Hiroshima to Kyoto
Fushimi Inari-taisha Shrine
Sagano Bamboo Forest
Whatever else -- they don't want to see too many temples
Tea ceremony? Really want to take them to one at some point during the trip.
Some kind of geisha show?
Take last bullet train from Kyoto back to Tokyo

Day 8 (Tuesday, August 8): Parents going home

Morning: Explore Tokyo Station
Afternoon: Go to Haneda airport, my parents are flying out at 5:00 PM

Left out:

Mt. Fuji
Gyoen National Garden (Shinjuku)
Imperial Palace

I will be in Japan another week for the Pokemon Worlds event, so there are other things I'll do myself during that time that my parents probably won't enjoy as much.
Thank you for any suggestions you can provide!

Because I learned so much from reading other itinerary/trip reports here, I wanted to share our experience.
Beforehand: AT&T – signed up for international day pass which meant $10/day for first person on the plan and $5/day for the others, for the first 10 days of each month or maybe billing cycle. Worked well and allowed us to split up when needed. Bought Tokyo Metro Pass (about $11/day, well worth it for us for 3 days) and JR pass on line from Klook prior to trip in time for them to mail the JR pass voucher to my home. We also bought a limousine airport bus ticket ahead of time from Klook but see below. Picked up Tokyo Metro Pass by showing QR code to the machine at metro station (instant and easy) and went to Shinjuku JR station to pick up JR passes (show passports, ok to pick up passes days before you want them activated) in person and make seat reservations for the long shinkansen trips and for the Tobu Nikko trip (paid the extra fee to Tobu staff when we arrived in Nikko). It was helpful to have determined exactly which train we wanted seat reservations for (train number, time, and date) beforehand. Ask for Mt. Fuji side if going Tokyo to Osaka/Kyoto. JapanTravel app is great for checking train times. Do give yourself enough time to transfer – the app will give you 10 minutes, say, to transfer from metro to JR trains and given the size of the stations and having to swipe in and out of the stations, and being confused about where to go, you probably need more time. If you have an iPhone, add virtual Suica card to your wallet. Was incredibly easy to use and saved us from having to top up at kiosks or buy tickets. Used it to grab drinks from machines, at 7-11, etc. But, it was a little tricky to set up for some of us – you may have to try Amex or Mastercard if Visa doesn’t work. Once, it didn’t work the first day but worked the second day when we tried again, so definitely do this at least a few days prior to the trip. Get some cash and plan to stop at ATMs (we used 7-11) often because cash is king there. We did not make any reservations so that we could be flexible with our plans. All the food was excellent and we rarely waited long (we would just look for another place if a line was long). Of course, do the visit Japan web website at least 3 days prior to the trip and get your QR codes for customs and immigration. Screenshot these as well. If you can keep yourself to a carry on size bag, it will make finding lockers and taking the shinkansen much easier. Break in those shoes. We walked 11-12 miles every day.
Tokyo for <= 3 days. We stayed in Shinjuku and tried to cluster our activities when we could: Northeast: Kappabashi street to check out the beautiful knives and kitchenware, and buy some lovely chopsticks Asakusa Shrine: beautiful but we did not go in because we were there for the Sanja Matsuri festival; crowded but a lot of fun watching the golden shrines bounced up and down the street, and we still got to sample foods from the food stalls. Thought about returning for evening, but never made it there. Akihabara: this was on my if-we-have-extra-time list; so glad we made it because it was a real highlight. Playing retro arcade games (Super Potato Retro shop), watching the real pros compete in the huge multistory gaming center buildings; walked over the Owl Café but should have made reservations a week before if we had wanted to go. Went to a bonsai market garden center in Ueno which was kind of interesting. Ochanomizu Gakkitengai for guitars and other musical instruments. Didn’t do SkyTree, did go to Ameyoko market which I thought was just ok. East: Fukagawa Fudo-do Temple: Goma Ritual, drumming, prayers, fire; service lasts about 30 minutes. Take a look around the temple’s other rooms also. Multiple times daily. Hat Coffee: we did not go but I’d have loved to see the 3D lattes Southeast: Tsukiji outer market (we had a Klook voucher for limousine bus tickets to take us right to the hotel to drop off our bags, but we got through immigration quickly and waited around until 6 am when the ticket counter was supposed to open, but it didn’t open and the info desk told us it wouldn’t open for another hour, plus first bus wasn’t until 7:30 am– so rather than waiting around the airport for hours, we ended up going straight to the market on the monorail and the metro using our Suica card, getting there at 6:20 am). It might sound early, but we had such a wonderful visit to the market at 6:20 am, dropping our bags in a locker at the metro (some take coins but we found ones that took our Suica (virtual Suica was in our Apple wallet); there are also lockers at Plat Tsukiji). Enjoyed the market and excellent coffee at Yonemoto, then lined up at 8:30 for wonderful meal at Tsukiji Koromo Sushi. Fantastic experience being able to look closely at everything at the market and make our purchases. By the time we left breakfast, though, it was wall to wall people, long lines, too crowded to really check out the stalls, and a much different experience. We were glad we had gone early. We even came back (at 7 am) two days later to enjoy more food stalls and sample the fatty tuna at Maguroya Kurogin (worth it despite the line). West: Shibuya 109: go downstairs to food area and find the whipped cream vending machine next to the escalator. Bring cash! Shibuya Sky: we did not have tickets and they were sold out, but during the day we went to the floor below and walked through the art gallery to have a beautiful view of the scramble crossing. At night, we went one floor below that to a lounge to take in the free view. Everywhere: Don Quijote; bought all the candy. Very fun running around trying to determine what was in each package. Thankful for Google Translate. Walked through beautiful Yoyogi Park to the Meiji-jingu Shrine. Saw some of a wedding ceremony. Beautiful. Then walked through Harajuku which was crowded and lively. Didn’t really see eccentric clothes and fashion, but lots of restaurants and snacks and fun resale shops. Did not get to Shibuya Nonbei Yokocho. Did stop in at Omoide Yokocho in Shinjuku and enjoy an early drink; would recommend getting there early since was already packed. Also lots of smoking in the izakayas, which made it less enjoyable for us. Enjoyed a walk through Golden Gai also. There are many areas of Shinjuku other than these for nightlife and restaurants. If there is a long line, go elsewhere. So much excellent food. If you like electronics, check out the 11 buildings of Yodabashi camera. Also ate at Uobei Shibuya for fast fun conveyer belt sushi. Line moved quickly. Great value too.
Then we took the Tobu Nikko line to Nikko (direct from Shinjuku so saved time and transfers with our bags). Cost a little more since JR pass didn’t cover fully. You could just take JR but there were more connections. Checked into Ryokan Nikko Hoshinoyado. Enjoyed Kanmangafuchi Abyss and the Toshugu shrines (buy tickets at the train station to avoid the lines at the shrine). Highly recommend this ryokan. Great public onsen (not busy, mostly empty, indoor and outdoor options) and phenomenal dinner. Surprised by wonderful breakfast also. After one night, metro and shinkansen to Kyoto (nice view of Mt. Fuji; enjoyed an ekiben on the train that we got at Tokyo station).
In Kyoto, walked Gion/Shimbashi street and had dinner at Pontocho first night. Many maiko sightings from across from the Ichiriki Tea House as dusk fell. Second day got 7 am start to be at Arashiyama bamboo grove early (peaceful) and then over to Golden Pavilion by 9 when it opened. Still very crowded, but fun and beautiful. We took cabs to the bamboo grove (30 minutes instead of 60) and then over to the Golden Pavilion because buses required connections and much longer travel time when we were trying to beat the crowds. After those two cabs, we just took buses around. Went to monkey park which was great and the had obanzai lunch at Gyatei (upstairs on the left, excellent) followed by walk to Gio-Ji temple (moss garden) and then through the Okochi Sanso Villa; then walked around the Arashiyama shopping streets. If you do the bamboo grove very early, be aware that all of the temples on that beautiful historic street nearby are closed that early. Nishiki market then dinner in Pontocho. Third day, started at Kiyomizu-Dera (check out Tainai-meguri, a symbolic womb of a female bodhisattva – we were pressed for time and the next schedule wasn’t for 30 minutes so we couldn’t stay), walked down Ninen-zaka and sannen-Zaka streets and then bus over to lunch at Izusen for shojin-ryori (you could get reservations, but we just got there early and were lucky to get in) and a walk around Daitokuji temple complex. There is a wonderful new zen bonsai garden in the Hoshun-in sub temple. Staff at other sub temples told us that that garden wasn’t open but when we got there it was. Check Instagram for opening times. After another visit to Nishiki market, we walked the Fushimi Inari Shrine into the evening and then back to Pontocho for dinner.
Train to Osaka. Went straight to Okonomiyaki Chitose which was excellent and a bit away from the main food areas; tried to get there for 11 am but went the wrong direction on the shinkansen rushing to the unreserved cars ((at the front of the shinkansens, by the way, usually cars 1-3 or similar). Also be aware of what platform to be at, but also that you are getting on the correct train. We almost took a 10:01 train when we should have waited for the 10:03 train at the same platform. Similarly, you might find that the JapanTransit app asks you to get off on platform 16 and then get on a train at that same moment at platform 16. Do it — it is asking you to go from an express to a local train). Because we didn’t arrive until 11:45, we were in an hour long line to get in. It was excellent though. Spent the rest of the day at Don Quijote and all of the many endless food and shopping streets near Namba and ended at Dotonbori. Conveyer belt sushi close to the river but upstairs so harder to find – surprisingly not crowded when the other places on the river were all mobbed.
Next day train to Nara, a few hours there exploring the Daibutsuden Hall and Todaiji temple and feeding the bowing deer, fantastic lunch at izakaya なら酒蔵なべ At 34-1 Imamikadocho, Nara, and then to Kyoto for the shinkansen to Tokyo for the airport.

First shot at a recap so let’s see how we do!
Race Info
What – IM 70.3: Chattanooga
Where – Chattanooga, TN USA
When - Sunday, May 21st, 2023
Overall Goals
- PR - Yes (previous PR was a 5:30:12 at Ohio 70.3 in 2022)
- Sub 5:00 - Heck no
- Not blow up on run - Sorta?
TL;DR and Results
This was my 3rd 70.3 and my first with my coach who has been training me since the start of the fall 2022
Swim – 35:07
T1 – 5:03
Bike – 2:49:55
T2 – 3:13
Run – 1:51:57
Total time – 5:25:14
58th in AG (M27), 579 overall
Background
Was a college soccer player (GK) and after college had a foray into BJJ and MMA with a couple fights. Realized that was dumb for longevity and switched to triathlon
Training
Swimming
2-3 sessions a week of 2.4K to 3.6K yards per session. Some workouts are speed focused, some are technique focused, so on and so forth. I have seen a good improvement on CSS these last few month from 1:40 to 1:33. I did swim team as a kid so I have been trying to recapture some of that swim experience. I also felt some recent breakthrough with decreasing my stroke rate and using fewer more powerful strokes. Have been very happy with my improvement these last months. I still remain a terrible to nonexistent kicker
Goal split - 35 Minutes
Biking
typically rides a week. Longer weekend ride and 2 during the week (on zwift trainer) with focus on cadence or power or VO2. I have a big problem with low cadence, recently been trying to get up into the 80s for when I am normally riding. However when I start putting power down I start reverting to the low 70s cadence of riding. As far as FTP I had worked my FTP up to 257 leading up to the start of the season. However I have felt pretty weak these last 2 month leading up to this actual race. It has been harder for me to put the power down. However on the outdoor longer rides I have felt very strong and very comfortable riding for longer periods. Outdoors I ride without power so will probably need to make that investment soon.
Goal Split - 2:30:00
Running
Running has steadily improved with increased mileage and more speedwork. Recent 5K test had improved me to 6:33 for my fastest 5K. Additionally in the most recent half marathon race I had I finished 1:30:12 with a 6:57 avg. biggest issues I have been dealing with are some pain in my left Achilles at the very start of runs that typically disappears after a mile or 2. Typically 3-4 runs a week (1 tempo short, longer run on the weekend, Z2 10k).
Goal Split - 1:40:00
Race Morning
Woke up at 4 AM to get the body rolling. Had my usual prerace breakfast of 2 English muffins with peanut butter and honey as well as a power armour with caffeine and a cup of coffee. Transition setup right at 4:40 to give me plenty of time for the most important part of the morning, THE BM. Went back to my hotel and was able to get showered and dressed up for the race. Headed over to the busses for drop-off to the swim and get to the swim start 20-30 mins before the race start
Swim – seeded myself in the 30-35 minute group and set off! for those that fear swimming Chatty is a great race. It is a with the current swim so it felt like we were flying down the river. Dealt with a slight leak in my left goggle the entire swim which was pretty annoying but it was far from terrible. Also I forgot that in Chatty the swim is actually 1.4 miles instead of 1.2, so as I swam over 2100 yards I was thinking WTF why are we still swimming? This was the first time I seeded myself in the 30-35 min so I did deal with less of the slower swimmers who seed incorrectly. However I did still find quite a few in front of me who should not have been where they were. Mini Rant here, but seriously people why are you doing this? IDK this is just a huge pet peeve of mine when I have to swim all the way around a person (small problems I know...) rant over. But got through it without any real major contact with anyone
35:07 @ 1:23/100 yards - 7:48 PR!
T1 – Never had a wetsuit stripper before! that was fun. But this transition is long as crap. My watch clocked my total transition distance as almost half a mile which was crazy to me. Also I was a little slow getting my socks on today which was unusual. all and all a odd transition where I just felt slow and unfocused on what I was doing.
5:03
Bike – Set off on what had previously been my nemesis for my first 70.3 but felt like I would have an area of great improvement for today! with my goal of 2:30 I knew my goal average speed was around 22MPH, and for the first bit we were well on track! If I look at my average speed through the first 26 miles I was averaging 21.6 MPH. And this is a course with rolling hills most of the way. Goals of the bike were to try and really spin to get through the hill and not stuck grinding it out as this would destroy my legs. Also wanted to keep on my nutrition as I felt this really caused me to blow up on my runs in Galveston and Ohio. Fueling per hour was 1 x 55g carb Gatorade mix bottle and a maurten gel to get to 80 g carb per hours. Would then rinse down the body and sip water through the aid stations. after I burned through my 2 bottles I sipped on the Gatorade endurance bottle taken from the aide stations. In total took 160 g carb + some of the Gatorade endurance for nutrition. So all was going ok until after the "big" climb halfway. Not sure if it was fueling or the headwind that started. But my average speed just tanked. I felt like I had no power. When I tried to flex and stretch my legs I could just feel the damage in them. Not good. Then with the slower speed my mental game fell apart. mile 40-50 I was in a really bad mental spot and had decided at several points to just quit when I got back into transition as there was no way in hell I would break 5 hours. I felt like a failure and a loser. why had I been training 9-12 hours every week to just suck? Talk about a tale of 2 half's. Managed to get back to transition. Mini rant #2 - draft packs... screw you. A literal peloton of 8-10 people 2 abreast 5 deep flew by me at mile 45 and let me tell you I was big mad. Rant over. Also saw a guy lose control at 30 MPH and hit the deck pretty hard, hope he's ok. That was a nice bike to wreck on :( Also another guy almost started peeing on me (I was behind him) near the end and definitely did not use enough water to wash himself down after LOL.
2:49:55 - 20.07 MPH - 11ish minutes slower than PR :(
T2 – Made it into T2 and said alright lets just run the first 5k and see how we are doing then we can DNF if you really are that miserable. So got everything racked and ditched the 10 maurtens I had somehow acquired on the bike. but threw on my trusty Saucony Endorphin Pro 2s and set off
3:13
Run – That first hill out of transition took my already bad mental state and threw it into the fire. So I have never come closer to quitting than that moment. I did not somehow. And then the run flattened out. So after 1.5 miles I actually started to feel good mentally and that's when I knew I was going to finish. I also saw how my pace was going and I knew I would at least PR on the day if I just held the pacing I was doing. after the 1st aid station I decided I wouldn't push too hard on the run and simply walk through the aid stations. avg pace as 7:40-8:00 while running then would walk through the aid stations. in the aid stations I would douse with water and take Gatorade in. Also was putting ice in the suit. I think in total I had 2-3 gels throughout the run? and I stopped at every single aide station for drink and splashing myself with water. Besides the aid stations the only section I had to walk was an incredibly steep little hill right before the first bridge crossing to the other side of the river. That hill is a real ball buster. In terms of improvements I think if I really want to chop some time I have some free time if I don't walk through aid stations. I need to get better at doing that on the run to enable me to get that free time. Also I really didn't push at all my heartrate was pretty much in high Z2 for me the whole run. Also I was dealing with side stitches off and on the whole run so not sure how I can prevent that in the future but if I could eliminate that I would be a much happier camper. Also lap 2 on the run was SO CROWDED mind you there were 3k athletes but man that was a busy run course for the second lap. Saw the shoot and had the tear well up a little. Got over the line and had a quick little 30 second sob so that was that.
1:51:57 - 8:31 AVG - 11 min PR
Final Thoughts
Chatty has me feeling some really mixed emotions. I really was sure I was in for massive PR., chopping 30 minutes off my last PR. Instead I got a measly 5. Maybe I am being to hard on myself or am being greedy with the amount of time I feel I should be dropping? However when I think about it practically it is a much harder course with 2.3K feet in climbing over the bike and 600 or so feet in climbing on the run. So to PR on a harder course is good right? Just a confusing weekend for me about how to feel about it. I think nutrition is still and issue as I am left thinking why did I feel so weak on the bike? I have read some literature that 90-100g carb may be even better now so I think I will implement this into training. Also could I have been tougher and gone harder on that run? If you saw me out there I was in an blue and orange suit with a white helmet riding and old black and blue trek equinox 7 or black running hat. Next race is in July with the Happy Valley 70.3 so I have even more climbing to look forward to there. Will I be able to further PR? Let me know what y'all think of this write up or your thoughts on all this!

-Red-
April 19th, 11:13 A.M., The Sprawl
I sparked a dilapidated Vita-Cig that I’d snagged from Trodes and peered out into the Sprawl; the careful equilibrium of a well-orchestrated black-market had returned; pushers and gangers lined the alleys, watching for signals from rooftop lookouts to avoid the single Peacewatch cruiser that had been stupid enough to enter the dockside. The poor bastard would be dead before the afternoon was over… not that I had much sympathy for his kind. Peacewatch made it a habit to stay out of the Sprawl: unless the Eggheads predictive crime system said something catastrophic was coming, they policed their kind and left us in the hands of the mob. I’d never iced an officer. Not yet at least.
“Your partner should be ready shortly, I think he’s just tying up a few loose ends,” Akari said, snatching the cigarette from my hand and taking a long drag.
“Remind me again why you think I should take the shrimp with me instead of Nico and Roman?”
“He’s smart… and the other two are working on something else. Besides-- you need brains on this one, Red, not muscle,” she giggled, passing the cigarette back.
“Whatever you say,” I paused, grabbing the smoke, “what do you have them up to?”
“There’s a shipment of Xeno-grade weapons coming down from the colonies. Nico and Roman will be liberating them from the Slicers. Or, their share, at least. It won’t be much, maybe a dozen guns, but it’ll be worth it: the force field tech alone will pay for the trip as soon as Fincetti’s goons start trying to take your heads off with plasma cannons and mono blades.”
“What do you mean, their share?”
“The job was too big for us to take on alone. I linked up with another enterprising group of Freelancers. If it goes well, maybe we can hire them on for the heist, we’re going to need more people if we want to walk out of there alive.”
We?
“What, are you planning on coming along now?” I asked, snuffing out the smoke.
“It only seems right; Trodes is coming along, and I’m a better shot than he’ll ever be. Besides, you have a dangerous habit of getting shot, and I can’t have you going down in the field,” she said, winking as if to punctuate the sentence.
“You sure? We can manage, you don’t have to come with us, you’ve done so much already.”
“I know I have, that’s why I have to protect my investment. If you go down out there, then the team is without a leader. A military scale operation like this will go south real fast without someone competent in command.”
“You’ve got me wrong, Akari: I’m no leader. I’m just someone who wants to live in a better city and doesn’t mind taking the trash out himself. Besides, why do we need a leader? We’re all competent adults acting in concert, of our own free will. We all know what we’re doing, if a situation arises and someone needs to take charge, it’ll happen.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in a crew you just met,” Akari said with a sneer.
“You know why I asked you to put the team together, Akari?”
“Because there’s a bounty on your head that could finance twenty retirements, and you know you can trust me?”
“No, well yeah, but that’s beside the point—I asked you because you’re not a Fixer, you’re a part time street doc that works the front desk at the most popular Freelancer hotel in the Sprawl. If there’s anyone who knows who’s gonna get the job done, it’s you. See, a Fixer is going to be okay with whatever losses they deem acceptable beforehand, but they’re fine with keeping that to themselves. If you thought any of these mooks were going to crack under pressure, or do something stupid, you wouldn’t have set me up with them.”
Before she could respond, Trodes emerged from the stairs leading to the lab. He winced as the sunlight hit his eyes, shrugging on the hood of the oversized sweatshirt that blanketed his meek frame. Glimpses of pain showed through every tremor laden step he took. A cloak of wires enveloped his skull, feeding into an old-world cyber console.
“It’s insufferably hot out here,” Trodes sighed.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going far. Chances are that whatever hole we’re meeting BFU in will have air conditioning,” I responded, clicking my key fob, and signaling the bike to pull around.
Trodes face fell flat when the Supersonic rolled around the corner; apparently, the prestige of carving through the skyway on a state-of-the-art Taffington jet-bike was lost on him.
“Are we taking… that?” Trodes stammered.
“We are. Unless you’ve got a pair of wheels with two seats?” I asked, mounting the bike and revving the engine.
With an exasperated sigh, Trodes boarded the passenger seat. I could feel him behind me, vibrating as tremors gripped his body.
“You good, buddy?” I asked.
He nodded vigorously, clenching the handrails with white knuckles.
Akari shook her head and headed back to the lab.
I heard Trodes mumble something under his breath, but it was quickly drowned out by the jet-bike’s purr. I carved into the skyway. Driving in the Sprawl was pure freedom: almost nobody owned vehicles with aerial capabilities in this part of town. It didn’t take long to reach top speed.
Slummers and gutterpunks walked the streets like zombies in a drug addled haze. The scent of gunpowder, pollution and burning ozone coalesced into a putrid stench that reeked of poverty and violence. Patches of azure moved in militant formation below; the Vorrath had taken to the streets. On a different day, a better day, I would’ve helped them. Most slummers hated the Offworlder Coalition, but not me—at the end of the day I always figured that I had more in common with poor people from another planet than rich people from another district of the city. At least we shared the same struggle.
The bike slowed to crawl; the Neo-Confederates were about, backed by a platoon of Brown-Shirts that looked like a tide of sewer run off, crashing through the streets with reckless abandon. Civilians fled for their homes. Fuck.
The jet-bike careened through the air before finally landing atop a building a few blocks away from the impending conflict.
“Get off,” I said, turning back to Trodes.
“Why? You don’t intend to abandon me at this altitude, do you?”
“Not as long as I survive—I’ll be quick, I just need to ventilate some Nazi fucks, understood?”
He shook his head and muttered a string of curses.
I tore through the air, circling around the impending conflict. I chased a handful of cheap amphetamines with a poorly rolled joint and swooped low, behind the rolling tide of brown shirts. This wasn’t the first time I’d made myself an enemy of the city’s Neo-Nazi’s; I’d killed at least a dozen of them in my career as a courier, but those were isolated incidents, back-alley brawls away from the mob.
This was a whole new ball game.
I fell slack as my Teleoperations module synchronized with the bike. My consciousness faded, reemerging into the HALO-Net’s stylized rendition of the bike’s interior. I wasn’t just the pilot now—I was the bike. Bullets carved twin streaks of crimson into the brown tide. It didn’t take long to hit top speed, 3.7 seconds, to be exact.
The group turned in nearly perfect unison, launching volley upon volley as I passed overhead. The bike’s shields barely held together; I felt every round, like a flock of birds violently slamming into my side—not enough to cause any real damage, but more than enough to get the blood pumping. I slid into an alley a few blocks off and waited for the shield generator to recharge. Gunshots rang out from the streets, alongside the sizzle of plasma meeting flesh. Soon the din was drowned beneath the roar of dozens of Vorrath war cries. I took to the sky.
Trodes was exactly where I left him, nervously clutching a knock off version of a Locust flechette pistol.
“I was beginning to doubt your survival,” Trodes said shakily.
“Wrong again, little guy,” I paused, reigniting a half smoked joint, “it was just a quick hit and run, we don’t have the time or the numbers for a pitched battle. Now, hop on.”
It didn’t take long to find BFU’s base of operations. Black flags and Anarchist graffiti covered the walls of the abandoned warehouse they’d apparently taken up residence in. A field of repurposed Peacewatch turrets were installed atop the roof, complimented by a web of cameras that spread across a three-block radius. Anarchists of all species and creeds loitered outside. The guards ranged from Cyborgs and Vat-Grown, to Vorrath and Vorstihl, each wearing a variant of the black flag with colors corresponding to their ideologies.
As I hovered above the building, I saw a familiar face: the rookie from earlier. Alarmingly, his cruiser was nowhere to be seen. His face was wrought with horror, as a pair of cyborgs led him inside the warehouse.
“They’re certainly less than subtle,” Trodes said.
“They don’t have to be subtle, they’re the biggest citizens political organization in the Sprawl. Peacewatch avoids them if they have anything less than a full platoon on hand,” I explained.
“Red… before we enter negotiations with these hooligans, I must inquire as to what your motivation hitting the vault is? Surely you know there’s a strong likelihood that you won’t make it out, and from what I’d heard about you, I always understood you to be a man who knew how to keep himself out of the line of sight of dangerous people,” Trodes said, nervously.
“Fincetti is the most dangerous man in the city, short of O’Bannon. He controls the black market with an iron fist and is instrumental in all the things I hate about living here. The problem is, I have no way to do anything about it right now… but there’s something big in the safe—there must be—for fucks sake, he iced his family over it. I’m hoping there’s something in there that can give me a little leverage, so I can cross him out afterwards.”
Trodes was silent for a moment, simply reaching as if to ask me to pass the joint. I obliged.
“I have my reasons to want O’Bannon dead too, I’m in,” he paused as a coughing fit seized him, causing the joint to fall to the ground, “there’s something you should know though: I’m working with an entity of great power in the Net; I don’t know what precisely it is, but I know it saved my life more than once. As a matter of fact, it’s the only reason I was able to obtain the blueprint of Fincetti’s bunker, and his security plan.”
“Is it… is it an unshackled AI?”
“Unlikely: it seems to understand compassion and empathy on a uniquely organic level, something that rarely slips past Netwatch.”
“Alright, well whatever it is, you keep an eye on it and let me know if things get shady. I appreciate you telling me.”
Trodes nodded in silence.
The crowd parted expectantly as I landed along the streetside. Dozens of eyes were immediately glued to Trodes and I. A cyborg with a steel double mohawk emerged from a sea of leather, patches, and smoke. A sawed-off shotgun hung at his side.
“Red, I presume?” the Cyborg asked, extending a steel hand.
“That’s right, and who’re you?” I answered, clasping the borgs hand as firm as I could manage.
“They call me Diezel, and I’ll be your host today,” he released my hand and looked me up and down as if assessing whether I was a threat, “follow me, everyone’s here so we can get straight down to business.”
The warehouse’s interior had been renovated drastically; layers of open-faced lofts sat stacked upon each other, consuming the walls. Nearly every non-violent law in the city was being broken in the lofts, from cooking chems and explosives to studying banned literature and Doomguard martial arts. It was beautiful. We followed Diezel through a winding hallway of munitions manufacturing stations, before finally emerging into an immense circular room, with rows of seats climbing the walls. I couldn’t believe it—there must have been two hundred people present.
The lights dimmed as we entered the arena. Diezel led us to the rooms center, ushering Trodes and I onto a great circular platform; he fell into place on a platform across from us, beside a Vat-Grown woman bearing an orange and black flag on her arm, and augmentations that cost more than my bike. Behind the duo a bulbous Vorstihl lurked; tentacles draped down his back, carefully pulled away from his cyclopean eye. A red and black flag was displayed on his arm… it was only then that I noticed the blue and black flag on Diezel’s arm.
The platforms each rose roughly fifteen feet into the air, before microphone stands emerged from the center of each platform. Diezel stepped forward, past the microphone.
“Before we start, I’ll explain how this works: the three of us are representatives of our specific unions—but the people are free to interject. One union voting to aid in your endeavors does not guarantee the help of the other two, as each union demands a perfect consensus. Likewise, if a faction without one union decides to help you, it does not necessarily mean you have the support of the entire union. The only way you’ll end up with total support is cross union consensus. Do you understand?”
A consensus: of course, they needed a damned consensus.
“I do,” I answered, speaking away from the microphone.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Diezel stepped back, finding his microphone before continuing, “Red, Trodes, welcome to the Bouleuterion,” he paused a moment as the crowd erupted into cheers, “beside me are my comrades Aria and Korvirex, and we stand ready to hear your proposal.”
“As most of you probably know, Don Fincetti is the most powerful man in the underworld, hell—maybe even the city—what you likely don’t know is that he has a vault beneath the city, guarded by an army of Harvesters. I intend to break into the vault, slaughter the Harvesters and strike a blow to Fincetti that he won’t forget… and I intend to kill him shortly after. What I ask is simple: you help me in what’s to come, and when he’s finally dead, you can all split his turf among yourselves. All I care about is making sure he doesn’t live long enough to poison the Sprawl more than he already has.”
A murmur emerged from the stands. I gazed across the way to see the three representatives huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. Finally, Aria stepped towards her microphone.
“What you ask of us will likely mean the death of many of our people… we need something greater than what you offer—we need a guarantee of mutual aid—you have a reputation in the Sprawl, we would ask that you employ it in helping us when the time comes to resettle the Sprawl. Namely, we’d request your assistance against the gangs that may try to fill the power void you seek to create,” Aria explained.
“That seems reasonable,” I said.
Aria stepped back as Korvirex moved forward.
“Tell me, Red, are you familiar with the Offworlder Coalition?” Korvirex asked.
“I am—as a matter of fact, I aided them on the way here—they were marching against the Neo-Confederates and the Brown Shirts. I insured that they had the element of surprise.”
Korvirex stroked the beard-like tentacles that hung from his chin in contemplation.
“Good. What I ask is that you help us to secure their trust, we have offered solidarity where we could, but our forces are spread thin. The ideology of many of the exiled Vorrath rebels that found their way to Nova City—it matches that of our union. If our help was offered, would you agree to assist us in aiding the Coalition, so that they finally have an opportunity to get on their feet?”
Trodes leaned towards in, whispering in my ear.
“It would be prudent of you to make a counteroffer: proclaim that you’ll help with the Coalition, if they’ll spread the word to other groups whose goals may align with ours. There will likely be at least a couple hundred Harvesters in the Undercity when we strike… unless they’re occupied elsewhere.”
“I would happily help with the Coalition, on the condition that your faction spread the word about what we’re doing to like-minded organizations. As it stands, we could still use more numbers to match the Harvesters,” I said.
“These conditions may be satisfactory,” Korvirex said, before retreating into yet another group huddle.
The audience watched on in silence.
Finally, Diezel reapproached the microphone.
“The representatives have deemed this topic worthy of discussion: you’re free to leave, we’ll get ahold of Akari in a couple days, when all the details are ironed out.”
“A couple days?”
“Reaching a consensus can be a slow process at times—be prepared for a renegotiation of conditions, as there will likely be more stipulations made once the process is complete,” Diezel explained.
I nodded, and the platform beneath my feet began to descend towards the floor. The crowd erupted into cheers.
Hopefully Nico and Roman would beat us home.

-Red-
April 19th, 11:13 A.M., The Sprawl
I sparked a dilapidated Vita-Cig that I’d snagged from Trodes and peered out into the Sprawl; the careful equilibrium of a well-orchestrated black-market had returned; pushers and gangers lined the alleys, watching for signals from rooftop lookouts to avoid the single Peacewatch cruiser that had been stupid enough to enter the dockside. The poor bastard would be dead before the afternoon was over… not that I had much sympathy for his kind. Peacewatch made it a habit to stay out of the Sprawl: unless the Eggheads predictive crime system said something catastrophic was coming, they policed their kind and left us in the hands of the mob. I’d never iced an officer. Not yet at least.
“Your partner should be ready shortly, I think he’s just tying up a few loose ends,” Akari said, snatching the cigarette from my hand and taking a long drag.
“Remind me again why you think I should take the shrimp with me instead of Nico and Roman?”
“He’s smart… and the other two are working on something else. Besides-- you need brains on this one, Red, not muscle,” she giggled, passing the cigarette back.
“Whatever you say,” I paused, grabbing the smoke, “what do you have them up to?”
“There’s a shipment of Xeno-grade weapons coming down from the colonies. Nico and Roman will be liberating them from the Slicers. Or, their share, at least. It won’t be much, maybe a dozen guns, but it’ll be worth it: the force field tech alone will pay for the trip as soon as Fincetti’s goons start trying to take your heads off with plasma cannons and mono blades.”
“What do you mean, their share?”
“The job was too big for us to take on alone. I linked up with another enterprising group of Freelancers. If it goes well, maybe we can hire them on for the heist, we’re going to need more people if we want to walk out of there alive.”
We?
“What, are you planning on coming along now?” I asked, snuffing out the smoke.
“It only seems right; Trodes is coming along, and I’m a better shot than he’ll ever be. Besides, you have a dangerous habit of getting shot, and I can’t have you going down in the field,” she said, winking as if to punctuate the sentence.
“You sure? We can manage, you don’t have to come with us, you’ve done so much already.”
“I know I have, that’s why I have to protect my investment. If you go down out there, then the team is without a leader. A military scale operation like this will go south real fast without someone competent in command.”
“You’ve got me wrong, Akari: I’m no leader. I’m just someone who wants to live in a better city and doesn’t mind taking the trash out himself. Besides, why do we need a leader? We’re all competent adults acting in concert, of our own free will. We all know what we’re doing, if a situation arises and someone needs to take charge, it’ll happen.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in a crew you just met,” Akari said with a sneer.
“You know why I asked you to put the team together, Akari?”
“Because there’s a bounty on your head that could finance twenty retirements, and you know you can trust me?”
“No, well yeah, but that’s beside the point—I asked you because you’re not a Fixer, you’re a part time street doc that works the front desk at the most popular Freelancer hotel in the Sprawl. If there’s anyone who knows who’s gonna get the job done, it’s you. See, a Fixer is going to be okay with whatever losses they deem acceptable beforehand, but they’re fine with keeping that to themselves. If you thought any of these mooks were going to crack under pressure, or do something stupid, you wouldn’t have set me up with them.”
Before she could respond, Trodes emerged from the stairs leading to the lab. He winced as the sunlight hit his eyes, shrugging on the hood of the oversized sweatshirt that blanketed his meek frame. Glimpses of pain showed through every tremor laden step he took. A cloak of wires enveloped his skull, feeding into an old-world cyber console.
“It’s insufferably hot out here,” Trodes sighed.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going far. Chances are that whatever hole we’re meeting BFU in will have air conditioning,” I responded, clicking my key fob, and signaling the bike to pull around.
Trodes face fell flat when the Supersonic rolled around the corner; apparently, the prestige of carving through the skyway on a state-of-the-art Taffington jet-bike was lost on him.
“Are we taking… that?” Trodes stammered.
“We are. Unless you’ve got a pair of wheels with two seats?” I asked, mounting the bike and revving the engine.
With an exasperated sigh, Trodes boarded the passenger seat. I could feel him behind me, vibrating as tremors gripped his body.
“You good, buddy?” I asked.
He nodded vigorously, clenching the handrails with white knuckles.
Akari shook her head and headed back to the lab.
I heard Trodes mumble something under his breath, but it was quickly drowned out by the jet-bike’s purr. I carved into the skyway. Driving in the Sprawl was pure freedom: almost nobody owned vehicles with aerial capabilities in this part of town. It didn’t take long to reach top speed.
Slummers and gutterpunks walked the streets like zombies in a drug addled haze. The scent of gunpowder, pollution and burning ozone coalesced into a putrid stench that reeked of poverty and violence. Patches of azure moved in militant formation below; the Vorrath had taken to the streets. On a different day, a better day, I would’ve helped them. Most slummers hated the Offworlder Coalition, but not me—at the end of the day I always figured that I had more in common with poor people from another planet than rich people from another district of the city. At least we shared the same struggle.
The bike slowed to crawl; the Neo-Confederates were about, backed by a platoon of Brown-Shirts that looked like a tide of sewer run off, crashing through the streets with reckless abandon. Civilians fled for their homes. Fuck.
The jet-bike careened through the air before finally landing atop a building a few blocks away from the impending conflict.
“Get off,” I said, turning back to Trodes.
“Why? You don’t intend to abandon me at this altitude, do you?”
“Not as long as I survive—I’ll be quick, I just need to ventilate some Nazi fucks, understood?”
He shook his head and muttered a string of curses.
I tore through the air, circling around the impending conflict. I chased a handful of cheap amphetamines with a poorly rolled joint and swooped low, behind the rolling tide of brown shirts. This wasn’t the first time I’d made myself an enemy of the city’s Neo-Nazi’s; I’d killed at least a dozen of them in my career as a courier, but those were isolated incidents, back-alley brawls away from the mob.
This was a whole new ball game.
I fell slack as my Teleoperations module synchronized with the bike. My consciousness faded, reemerging into the HALO-Net’s stylized rendition of the bike’s interior. I wasn’t just the pilot now—I was the bike. Bullets carved twin streaks of crimson into the brown tide. It didn’t take long to hit top speed, 3.7 seconds, to be exact.
The group turned in nearly perfect unison, launching volley upon volley as I passed overhead. The bike’s shields barely held together; I felt every round, like a flock of birds violently slamming into my side—not enough to cause any real damage, but more than enough to get the blood pumping. I slid into an alley a few blocks off and waited for the shield generator to recharge. Gunshots rang out from the streets, alongside the sizzle of plasma meeting flesh. Soon the din was drowned beneath the roar of dozens of Vorrath war cries. I took to the sky.
Trodes was exactly where I left him, nervously clutching a knock off version of a Locust flechette pistol.
“I was beginning to doubt your survival,” Trodes said shakily.
“Wrong again, little guy,” I paused, reigniting a half smoked joint, “it was just a quick hit and run, we don’t have the time or the numbers for a pitched battle. Now, hop on.”
It didn’t take long to find BFU’s base of operations. Black flags and Anarchist graffiti covered the walls of the abandoned warehouse they’d apparently taken up residence in. A field of repurposed Peacewatch turrets were installed atop the roof, complimented by a web of cameras that spread across a three-block radius. Anarchists of all species and creeds loitered outside. The guards ranged from Cyborgs and Vat-Grown, to Vorrath and Vorstihl, each wearing a variant of the black flag with colors corresponding to their ideologies.
As I hovered above the building, I saw a familiar face: the rookie from earlier. Alarmingly, his cruiser was nowhere to be seen. His face was wrought with horror, as a pair of cyborgs led him inside the warehouse.
“They’re certainly less than subtle,” Trodes said.
“They don’t have to be subtle, they’re the biggest citizens political organization in the Sprawl. Peacewatch avoids them if they have anything less than a full platoon on hand,” I explained.
“Red… before we enter negotiations with these hooligans, I must inquire as to what your motivation hitting the vault is? Surely you know there’s a strong likelihood that you won’t make it out, and from what I’d heard about you, I always understood you to be a man who knew how to keep himself out of the line of sight of dangerous people,” Trodes said, nervously.
“Fincetti is the most dangerous man in the city, short of O’Bannon. He controls the black market with an iron fist and is instrumental in all the things I hate about living here. The problem is, I have no way to do anything about it right now… but there’s something big in the safe—there must be—for fucks sake, he iced his family over it. I’m hoping there’s something in there that can give me a little leverage, so I can cross him out afterwards.”
Trodes was silent for a moment, simply reaching as if to ask me to pass the joint. I obliged.
“I have my reasons to want O’Bannon dead too, I’m in,” he paused as a coughing fit seized him, causing the joint to fall to the ground, “there’s something you should know though: I’m working with an entity of great power in the Net; I don’t know what precisely it is, but I know it saved my life more than once. As a matter of fact, it’s the only reason I was able to obtain the blueprint of Fincetti’s bunker, and his security plan.”
“Is it… is it an unshackled AI?”
“Unlikely: it seems to understand compassion and empathy on a uniquely organic level, something that rarely slips past Netwatch.”
“Alright, well whatever it is, you keep an eye on it and let me know if things get shady. I appreciate you telling me.”
Trodes nodded in silence.
The crowd parted expectantly as I landed along the streetside. Dozens of eyes were immediately glued to Trodes and I. A cyborg with a steel double mohawk emerged from a sea of leather, patches, and smoke. A sawed-off shotgun hung at his side.
“Red, I presume?” the Cyborg asked, extending a steel hand.
“That’s right, and who’re you?” I answered, clasping the borgs hand as firm as I could manage.
“They call me Diezel, and I’ll be your host today,” he released my hand and looked me up and down as if assessing whether I was a threat, “follow me, everyone’s here so we can get straight down to business.”
The warehouse’s interior had been renovated drastically; layers of open-faced lofts sat stacked upon each other, consuming the walls. Nearly every non-violent law in the city was being broken in the lofts, from cooking chems and explosives to studying banned literature and Doomguard martial arts. It was beautiful. We followed Diezel through a winding hallway of munitions manufacturing stations, before finally emerging into an immense circular room, with rows of seats climbing the walls. I couldn’t believe it—there must have been two hundred people present.
The lights dimmed as we entered the arena. Diezel led us to the rooms center, ushering Trodes and I onto a great circular platform; he fell into place on a platform across from us, beside a Vat-Grown woman bearing an orange and black flag on her arm, and augmentations that cost more than my bike. Behind the duo a bulbous Vorstihl lurked; tentacles draped down his back, carefully pulled away from his cyclopean eye. A red and black flag was displayed on his arm… it was only then that I noticed the blue and black flag on Diezel’s arm.
The platforms each rose roughly fifteen feet into the air, before microphone stands emerged from the center of each platform. Diezel stepped forward, past the microphone.
“Before we start, I’ll explain how this works: the three of us are representatives of our specific unions—but the people are free to interject. One union voting to aid in your endeavors does not guarantee the help of the other two, as each union demands a perfect consensus. Likewise, if a faction without one union decides to help you, it does not necessarily mean you have the support of the entire union. The only way you’ll end up with total support is cross union consensus. Do you understand?”
A consensus: of course, they needed a damned consensus.
“I do,” I answered, speaking away from the microphone.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Diezel stepped back, finding his microphone before continuing, “Red, Trodes, welcome to the Bouleuterion,” he paused a moment as the crowd erupted into cheers, “beside me are my comrades Aria and Korvirex, and we stand ready to hear your proposal.”
“As most of you probably know, Don Fincetti is the most powerful man in the underworld, hell—maybe even the city—what you likely don’t know is that he has a vault beneath the city, guarded by an army of Harvesters. I intend to break into the vault, slaughter the Harvesters and strike a blow to Fincetti that he won’t forget… and I intend to kill him shortly after. What I ask is simple: you help me in what’s to come, and when he’s finally dead, you can all split his turf among yourselves. All I care about is making sure he doesn’t live long enough to poison the Sprawl more than he already has.”
A murmur emerged from the stands. I gazed across the way to see the three representatives huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. Finally, Aria stepped towards her microphone.
“What you ask of us will likely mean the death of many of our people… we need something greater than what you offer—we need a guarantee of mutual aid—you have a reputation in the Sprawl, we would ask that you employ it in helping us when the time comes to resettle the Sprawl. Namely, we’d request your assistance against the gangs that may try to fill the power void you seek to create,” Aria explained.
“That seems reasonable,” I said.
Aria stepped back as Korvirex moved forward.
“Tell me, Red, are you familiar with the Offworlder Coalition?” Korvirex asked.
“I am—as a matter of fact, I aided them on the way here—they were marching against the Neo-Confederates and the Brown Shirts. I insured that they had the element of surprise.”
Korvirex stroked the beard-like tentacles that hung from his chin in contemplation.
“Good. What I ask is that you help us to secure their trust, we have offered solidarity where we could, but our forces are spread thin. The ideology of many of the exiled Vorrath rebels that found their way to Nova City—it matches that of our union. If our help was offered, would you agree to assist us in aiding the Coalition, so that they finally have an opportunity to get on their feet?”
Trodes leaned towards in, whispering in my ear.
“It would be prudent of you to make a counteroffer: proclaim that you’ll help with the Coalition, if they’ll spread the word to other groups whose goals may align with ours. There will likely be at least a couple hundred Harvesters in the Undercity when we strike… unless they’re occupied elsewhere.”
“I would happily help with the Coalition, on the condition that your faction spread the word about what we’re doing to like-minded organizations. As it stands, we could still use more numbers to match the Harvesters,” I said.
“These conditions may be satisfactory,” Korvirex said, before retreating into yet another group huddle.
The audience watched on in silence.
Finally, Diezel reapproached the microphone.
“The representatives have deemed this topic worthy of discussion: you’re free to leave, we’ll get ahold of Akari in a couple days, when all the details are ironed out.”
“A couple days?”
“Reaching a consensus can be a slow process at times—be prepared for a renegotiation of conditions, as there will likely be more stipulations made once the process is complete,” Diezel explained.
I nodded, and the platform beneath my feet began to descend towards the floor. The crowd erupted into cheers.
Hopefully Nico and Roman would beat us home

-Red-
April 19th, 11:13 A.M., The Sprawl
I sparked a dilapidated Vita-Cig that I’d snagged from Trodes and peered out into the Sprawl; the careful equilibrium of a well-orchestrated black-market had returned; pushers and gangers lined the alleys, watching for signals from rooftop lookouts to avoid the single Peacewatch cruiser that had been stupid enough to enter the dockside. The poor bastard would be dead before the afternoon was over… not that I had much sympathy for his kind. Peacewatch made it a habit to stay out of the Sprawl: unless the Eggheads predictive crime system said something catastrophic was coming, they policed their kind and left us in the hands of the mob. I’d never iced an officer. Not yet at least.
“Your partner should be ready shortly, I think he’s just tying up a few loose ends,” Akari said, snatching the cigarette from my hand and taking a long drag.
“Remind me again why you think I should take the shrimp with me instead of Nico and Roman?”
“He’s smart… and the other two are working on something else. Besides-- you need brains on this one, Red, not muscle,” she giggled, passing the cigarette back.
“Whatever you say,” I paused, grabbing the smoke, “what do you have them up to?”
“There’s a shipment of Xeno-grade weapons coming down from the colonies. Nico and Roman will be liberating them from the Slicers. Or, their share, at least. It won’t be much, maybe a dozen guns, but it’ll be worth it: the force field tech alone will pay for the trip as soon as Fincetti’s goons start trying to take your heads off with plasma cannons and mono blades.”
“What do you mean, their share?”
“The job was too big for us to take on alone. I linked up with another enterprising group of Freelancers. If it goes well, maybe we can hire them on for the heist, we’re going to need more people if we want to walk out of there alive.”
We?
“What, are you planning on coming along now?” I asked, snuffing out the smoke.
“It only seems right; Trodes is coming along, and I’m a better shot than he’ll ever be. Besides, you have a dangerous habit of getting shot, and I can’t have you going down in the field,” she said, winking as if to punctuate the sentence.
“You sure? We can manage, you don’t have to come with us, you’ve done so much already.”
“I know I have, that’s why I have to protect my investment. If you go down out there, then the team is without a leader. A military scale operation like this will go south real fast without someone competent in command.”
“You’ve got me wrong, Akari: I’m no leader. I’m just someone who wants to live in a better city and doesn’t mind taking the trash out himself. Besides, why do we need a leader? We’re all competent adults acting in concert, of our own free will. We all know what we’re doing, if a situation arises and someone needs to take charge, it’ll happen.”
“You’ve got a lot of faith in a crew you just met,” Akari said with a sneer.
“You know why I asked you to put the team together, Akari?”
“Because there’s a bounty on your head that could finance twenty retirements, and you know you can trust me?”
“No, well yeah, but that’s beside the point—I asked you because you’re not a Fixer, you’re a part time street doc that works the front desk at the most popular Freelancer hotel in the Sprawl. If there’s anyone who knows who’s gonna get the job done, it’s you. See, a Fixer is going to be okay with whatever losses they deem acceptable beforehand, but they’re fine with keeping that to themselves. If you thought any of these mooks were going to crack under pressure, or do something stupid, you wouldn’t have set me up with them.”
Before she could respond, Trodes emerged from the stairs leading to the lab. He winced as the sunlight hit his eyes, shrugging on the hood of the oversized sweatshirt that blanketed his meek frame. Glimpses of pain showed through every tremor laden step he took. A cloak of wires enveloped his skull, feeding into an old-world cyber console.
“It’s insufferably hot out here,” Trodes sighed.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going far. Chances are that whatever hole we’re meeting BFU in will have air conditioning,” I responded, clicking my key fob, and signaling the bike to pull around.
Trodes face fell flat when the Supersonic rolled around the corner; apparently, the prestige of carving through the skyway on a state-of-the-art Taffington jet-bike was lost on him.
“Are we taking… that?” Trodes stammered.
“We are. Unless you’ve got a pair of wheels with two seats?” I asked, mounting the bike and revving the engine.
With an exasperated sigh, Trodes boarded the passenger seat. I could feel him behind me, vibrating as tremors gripped his body.
“You good, buddy?” I asked.
He nodded vigorously, clenching the handrails with white knuckles.
Akari shook her head and headed back to the lab.
I heard Trodes mumble something under his breath, but it was quickly drowned out by the jet-bike’s purr. I carved into the skyway. Driving in the Sprawl was pure freedom: almost nobody owned vehicles with aerial capabilities in this part of town. It didn’t take long to reach top speed.
Slummers and gutterpunks walked the streets like zombies in a drug addled haze. The scent of gunpowder, pollution and burning ozone coalesced into a putrid stench that reeked of poverty and violence. Patches of azure moved in militant formation below; the Vorrath had taken to the streets. On a different day, a better day, I would’ve helped them. Most slummers hated the Offworlder Coalition, but not me—at the end of the day I always figured that I had more in common with poor people from another planet than rich people from another district of the city. At least we shared the same struggle.
The bike slowed to crawl; the Neo-Confederates were about, backed by a platoon of Brown-Shirts that looked like a tide of sewer run off, crashing through the streets with reckless abandon. Civilians fled for their homes. Fuck.
The jet-bike careened through the air before finally landing atop a building a few blocks away from the impending conflict.
“Get off,” I said, turning back to Trodes.
“Why? You don’t intend to abandon me at this altitude, do you?”
“Not as long as I survive—I’ll be quick, I just need to ventilate some Nazi fucks, understood?”
He shook his head and muttered a string of curses.
I tore through the air, circling around the impending conflict. I chased a handful of cheap amphetamines with a poorly rolled joint and swooped low, behind the rolling tide of brown shirts. This wasn’t the first time I’d made myself an enemy of the city’s Neo-Nazi’s; I’d killed at least a dozen of them in my career as a courier, but those were isolated incidents, back-alley brawls away from the mob.
This was a whole new ball game.
I fell slack as my Teleoperations module synchronized with the bike. My consciousness faded, reemerging into the HALO-Net’s stylized rendition of the bike’s interior. I wasn’t just the pilot now—I was the bike. Bullets carved twin streaks of crimson into the brown tide. It didn’t take long to hit top speed, 3.7 seconds, to be exact.
The group turned in nearly perfect unison, launching volley upon volley as I passed overhead. The bike’s shields barely held together; I felt every round, like a flock of birds violently slamming into my side—not enough to cause any real damage, but more than enough to get the blood pumping. I slid into an alley a few blocks off and waited for the shield generator to recharge. Gunshots rang out from the streets, alongside the sizzle of plasma meeting flesh. Soon the din was drowned beneath the roar of dozens of Vorrath war cries. I took to the sky.
Trodes was exactly where I left him, nervously clutching a knock off version of a Locust flechette pistol.
“I was beginning to doubt your survival,” Trodes said shakily.
“Wrong again, little guy,” I paused, reigniting a half smoked joint, “it was just a quick hit and run, we don’t have the time or the numbers for a pitched battle. Now, hop on.”
It didn’t take long to find BFU’s base of operations. Black flags and Anarchist graffiti covered the walls of the abandoned warehouse they’d apparently taken up residence in. A field of repurposed Peacewatch turrets were installed atop the roof, complimented by a web of cameras that spread across a three-block radius. Anarchists of all species and creeds loitered outside. The guards ranged from Cyborgs and Vat-Grown, to Vorrath and Vorstihl, each wearing a variant of the black flag with colors corresponding to their ideologies.
As I hovered above the building, I saw a familiar face: the rookie from earlier. Alarmingly, his cruiser was nowhere to be seen. His face was wrought with horror, as a pair of cyborgs led him inside the warehouse.
“They’re certainly less than subtle,” Trodes said.
“They don’t have to be subtle, they’re the biggest citizens political organization in the Sprawl. Peacewatch avoids them if they have anything less than a full platoon on hand,” I explained.
“Red… before we enter negotiations with these hooligans, I must inquire as to what your motivation hitting the vault is? Surely you know there’s a strong likelihood that you won’t make it out, and from what I’d heard about you, I always understood you to be a man who knew how to keep himself out of the line of sight of dangerous people,” Trodes said, nervously.
“Fincetti is the most dangerous man in the city, short of O’Bannon. He controls the black market with an iron fist and is instrumental in all the things I hate about living here. The problem is, I have no way to do anything about it right now… but there’s something big in the safe—there must be—for fucks sake, he iced his family over it. I’m hoping there’s something in there that can give me a little leverage, so I can cross him out afterwards.”
Trodes was silent for a moment, simply reaching as if to ask me to pass the joint. I obliged.
“I have my reasons to want O’Bannon dead too, I’m in,” he paused as a coughing fit seized him, causing the joint to fall to the ground, “there’s something you should know though: I’m working with an entity of great power in the Net; I don’t know what precisely it is, but I know it saved my life more than once. As a matter of fact, it’s the only reason I was able to obtain the blueprint of Fincetti’s bunker, and his security plan.”
“Is it… is it an unshackled AI?”
“Unlikely: it seems to understand compassion and empathy on a uniquely organic level, something that rarely slips past Netwatch.”
“Alright, well whatever it is, you keep an eye on it and let me know if things get shady. I appreciate you telling me.”
Trodes nodded in silence.
The crowd parted expectantly as I landed along the streetside. Dozens of eyes were immediately glued to Trodes and I. A cyborg with a steel double mohawk emerged from a sea of leather, patches, and smoke. A sawed-off shotgun hung at his side.
“Red, I presume?” the Cyborg asked, extending a steel hand.
“That’s right, and who’re you?” I answered, clasping the borgs hand as firm as I could manage.
“They call me Diezel, and I’ll be your host today,” he released my hand and looked me up and down as if assessing whether I was a threat, “follow me, everyone’s here so we can get straight down to business.”
The warehouse’s interior had been renovated drastically; layers of open-faced lofts sat stacked upon each other, consuming the walls. Nearly every non-violent law in the city was being broken in the lofts, from cooking chems and explosives to studying banned literature and Doomguard martial arts. It was beautiful. We followed Diezel through a winding hallway of munitions manufacturing stations, before finally emerging into an immense circular room, with rows of seats climbing the walls. I couldn’t believe it—there must have been two hundred people present.
The lights dimmed as we entered the arena. Diezel led us to the rooms center, ushering Trodes and I onto a great circular platform; he fell into place on a platform across from us, beside a Vat-Grown woman bearing an orange and black flag on her arm, and augmentations that cost more than my bike. Behind the duo a bulbous Vorstihl lurked; tentacles draped down his back, carefully pulled away from his cyclopean eye. A red and black flag was displayed on his arm… it was only then that I noticed the blue and black flag on Diezel’s arm.
The platforms each rose roughly fifteen feet into the air, before microphone stands emerged from the center of each platform. Diezel stepped forward, past the microphone.
“Before we start, I’ll explain how this works: the three of us are representatives of our specific unions—but the people are free to interject. One union voting to aid in your endeavors does not guarantee the help of the other two, as each union demands a perfect consensus. Likewise, if a faction without one union decides to help you, it does not necessarily mean you have the support of the entire union. The only way you’ll end up with total support is cross union consensus. Do you understand?”
A consensus: of course, they needed a damned consensus.
“I do,” I answered, speaking away from the microphone.
“Then let’s get this show on the road,” Diezel stepped back, finding his microphone before continuing, “Red, Trodes, welcome to the Bouleuterion,” he paused a moment as the crowd erupted into cheers, “beside me are my comrades Aria and Korvirex, and we stand ready to hear your proposal.”
“As most of you probably know, Don Fincetti is the most powerful man in the underworld, hell—maybe even the city—what you likely don’t know is that he has a vault beneath the city, guarded by an army of Harvesters. I intend to break into the vault, slaughter the Harvesters and strike a blow to Fincetti that he won’t forget… and I intend to kill him shortly after. What I ask is simple: you help me in what’s to come, and when he’s finally dead, you can all split his turf among yourselves. All I care about is making sure he doesn’t live long enough to poison the Sprawl more than he already has.”
A murmur emerged from the stands. I gazed across the way to see the three representatives huddled together, whispering amongst themselves. Finally, Aria stepped towards her microphone.
“What you ask of us will likely mean the death of many of our people… we need something greater than what you offer—we need a guarantee of mutual aid—you have a reputation in the Sprawl, we would ask that you employ it in helping us when the time comes to resettle the Sprawl. Namely, we’d request your assistance against the gangs that may try to fill the power void you seek to create,” Aria explained.
“That seems reasonable,” I said.
Aria stepped back as Korvirex moved forward.
“Tell me, Red, are you familiar with the Offworlder Coalition?” Korvirex asked.
“I am—as a matter of fact, I aided them on the way here—they were marching against the Neo-Confederates and the Brown Shirts. I insured that they had the element of surprise.”
Korvirex stroked the beard-like tentacles that hung from his chin in contemplation.
“Good. What I ask is that you help us to secure their trust, we have offered solidarity where we could, but our forces are spread thin. The ideology of many of the exiled Vorrath rebels that found their way to Nova City—it matches that of our union. If our help was offered, would you agree to assist us in aiding the Coalition, so that they finally have an opportunity to get on their feet?”
Trodes leaned towards in, whispering in my ear.
“It would be prudent of you to make a counteroffer: proclaim that you’ll help with the Coalition, if they’ll spread the word to other groups whose goals may align with ours. There will likely be at least a couple hundred Harvesters in the Undercity when we strike… unless they’re occupied elsewhere.”
“I would happily help with the Coalition, on the condition that your faction spread the word about what we’re doing to like-minded organizations. As it stands, we could still use more numbers to match the Harvesters,” I said.
“These conditions may be satisfactory,” Korvirex said, before retreating into yet another group huddle.
The audience watched on in silence.
Finally, Diezel reapproached the microphone.
“The representatives have deemed this topic worthy of discussion: you’re free to leave, we’ll get ahold of Akari in a couple days, when all the details are ironed out.”
“A couple days?”
“Reaching a consensus can be a slow process at times—be prepared for a renegotiation of conditions, as there will likely be more stipulations made once the process is complete,” Diezel explained.
I nodded, and the platform beneath my feet began to descend towards the floor. The crowd erupted into cheers.
Hopefully Nico and Roman would beat us home.

"Okay," Sookie called out. "That's a wrap!"
A ragged cheer went up from the cast and crew. Deacon walked around, clapping his hands and cheering loudly, making sure everyone else was cheering, too. Sookie walked over to her chair and sank into it, her feet throbbing in time to the cheering people around her. She smiled at anyone who caught her eye and just relaxed.
This was the end of a grueling, forty-five day shooting schedule that had been supposed to be ten hour days, but had ended up being more like thirteen to eighteen hour days for her. They weren't done filming the season. Far from it, in fact. But these were the worst shots, and the cast and crew involved had all agreed to push through hard until it was done. After this, they had about two more months of shooting on a more normal schedule, and then editing could begin.
Deacon, despite his enthusiasm for the end of the push, had not had to attend most of the shots they got, and had instead, been spending 'quality' time with a couple of local groupies and the White Lady. Sookie didn't begrudge him this, of course. She worried a little about the amount of booger sugar going up his nose at times, but his agent had repeatedly assured her that he was using far more often during shoots than during his off time.
Besides, it was only fitting that the star of the show should enjoy the fruits of his fame. Sookie herself had picked up a bisexual couple a week or two ago, when they had a shoot end 'early' (at nine PM) and the next's day's shoot wasn't scheduled to begin until eight AM. She had left set almost immediately and headed to a local gay bar, where someone had recognized her from her OnlyFans days and insisted upon introducing his boyfriend.
She sighed, remembering the sensation of two well-endowed men thrusting into her, and how she'd simply melted when the one behind her leaned forward and around to kiss the other. Bi men were soooo hawt...
She promised herself she'd try to find another bisexual 'gay' couple, now that she had the time.
Deacon had finally got everyone sufficiently enthusiastic -which was a credit to his charisma, really, as everybody was exhausted- and came over to sit next to her in his own chair.
"I am so ready for a couple weeks off," he said.
"It's one week," Sookie reminded him. "And then you need to be ready for the fight scenes. Have you been working with your choreographer?"
"I haven't really had the time..." Deacon whined, causing Sookie to sigh.
"Deek," she said, sitting up in her chair and turning to face him. "You haven't needed to be on set for the past two weeks. You've been coming to, in your own words, 'help keep morale up'. And while I do appreciate your efforts in that regards, it is far more important for you to be ready to shoot your fight scenes in a week. I'm serious here. You need to get with your choreographer and get your moves nailed down tight. We don't have time to push those shoots back any further."
Deacon held up his hands in surrender. "I'll be down at the dojo tomorrow, I swear."
"Tomorrow morning," Sookie insisted.
"Tomorrow morning," Deacon agreed. "In fact, I'm going to get the playbook and go over it tonight, to try to get a head start."
Sookie smiled and patted him on the knee as she rose. She didn't want to be here anymore. The PAs and crew could finish cleaning everything up so the teardown crews could get started tomorrow.
She found her personal assistant and instructed her to make sure everyone knew to do their own breakdowns, then left. Filming on set had certain advantages, including the fact that she was within walking distance of her hotel.
The security guard that Julie had insisted she maintain since that incident a few years ago with the psycho stan peeled herself off the wall she'd been holding up and fell into step behind her. Sookie wouldn't have minded so much, except Julie had carefully picked married, monogamous men and women to fill her security schedule with, to avoid any 'conflicts of interest'.
This gal, Linda Gottlieb, was probably the worst of all. She had a girlfriend and a boyfriend, and yet refused to sleep with anyone else. On top of that, she was as slender as Sookie, flat chested (which Sookie found to be a major turn on) and hard as a rock, with veiny arms and shoulders and even a few visible on her belly.
Sookie was a woman of many tastes, but skinny girls with visible veins and no tits were one of her more notable favorites, and so Linda's categorical refusal to so much as let Sookie slip a hand down her pants was grating.
Linda wasn't wearing a uniform. She wore a tight tank top and a loose flannel with the sleeves rolled up and the front unbuttoned over a pair of blue jeans and hiking boots. Sookie knew she had a gun on her somewhere, but couldn't speculate as to where.
Well, that's not true. Sookie imagined the handle sticking of her ass, riding up between the cheeks of that ass that all flat-chested women seemed to have that was categorically unfair to better-if-still-modestly endowed women like Sookie. She slowed down to get a peek at it.
"Looking at my ass again?" Linda asked.
"Yes," Sookie said. "I was wondering if you keep your gun there. The handle could fit between those cheeks and nobody would be the wiser."
Linda laughed and lifted her flannel to show a handgun tucked into her belt on her hip. "Sorry to disappoint," she said. "But I kinda need to keep it where I could easily get at it."
Sookie sighed, her pleasant illusion ruined.
They turned left out of the studio gates and walked up the road. Despite the presence of the studio, this was kind of a rough area, so Sookie appreciated having some security as she made the walk. Not that she couldn't handle herself, but she'd learned the hard way that being taken by surprise left her as vulnerable as anyone.
They hadn't gotten more than a half a block before a ragged looking man approached them, reeking of booze and shit. His clothes were filthy and torn and he had a scraggly beard that ranged from a centimeter to three inches long, seemingly at random.
"Spare a dollar?" he asked.
"No," Linda said, stepping forward to catch his attention so Sookie could slip past.
"S'just a dollar, lady. I'll lick your pussy for it!" The man leered at Linda, who didn't blink or flinch, but rather gave him a hard shove back.
"Don't you fucking crowd me, talking shit like that," she said menacingly, taking another step forward to keep him off balance.
"Be respectful," she added with force. The man looked like he wanted to argue, but something in the way she looked or held herself made it clear to him that Linda was not to be trifled with. He stepped back until his back was to the wall of the building behind him and watched as Linda turned and caught back up to Sookie, who was watching the whole thing over her shoulder.
"Fucking Dykes!" the man shouted. "Suck my dick!"
"You'd think that at least one of them would figure out that being aggressive like that doesn't work," Sookie mused.
"It doesn't work on you or me, but that's because we know we could take his head off if he tried to get violent," Linda said. "Most women aren't fighters. They'll give him cash just to get him to stop harassing them."
"Fair enough," Sookie said.
This was a common occurrence. Almost every time Sookie walked to her hotel, at least one homeless person would try to panhandle her. Sometimes, if she had any cash, she'd give them some. Once in a blue moon, one would engender enough sympathy for a good payout, a hundred bucks or so. But most of the time, they struck her as entitled ruffians, living on the street thanks to their own bad decisions and trying to get by on other people's labor.
She knew that was an old-fashioned mindset. She knew a lot of these people would, if they got clean of whatever they were using, sort out their lives and take care of business. She knew that the DCM Group even had a charitable arm who straight up gave condos and large sums of money to many homeless people, who immediately used that gift to get back on their feet. She knew the stats, too.
But this particular area seemed to attract the sort of homeless people whom right-wing motards used as an archetype for all homeless people. Twice, someone from the crew had been assaulted, causing Sookie to declare that she and the stunt coordinator were the only ones allowed to walk to and from the studio.
"I wonder if they're actually even homeless," Linda said, her thoughts echoing Sookie's.
"Me too," Sookie said. "I mean, it's a very poor neighborhood, adjacent to a place where very wealthy people work. There's no rule that says you have to be homeless to panhandle."
Linda nodded. Sookie wondered idly if she'd been following her own logic, or seeking out a belief that made her feel better about judging the people here. She wasn't sure which, really.
The area they moved through got progressively nicer as they continued. They turned the last corner, with three blocks still to go when Sookie saw the next one.
This one was older. he only had about a week's worth of beard on his face, though Sookie could see that it was mostly gray. He wore similar clothes to the other one, the once-vibrant colors having long since faded towards a muted gray tone. His clothes, however, looked cleaner and the holes had all been neatly stitched. As they drew close, Sookie could read his sign.
Please help Leave a dollar or take a resume Will work for food
Sure enough, he had a stack of resumes weighted down with a rock next to him. Sookie stopped, intrigued and bent down to retrieve one. She handed the man a folded ten dollar bill at the same time. A reward for creativity in his panhandling, she thought.
She looked at it. The man had a pair of enlistments in the Marine Corps at the top of his work experience. It was back in the early 2000s, and it mentioned Helmand Province, which Sookie recalled had been at the center of a lot of the fighting in Afghanistan.
The next few lines were security companies, starting with a high-end competitor to the Group, and then a long sequence of construction and day-labor work, ending on his current work, which was "Self Employed - Private Investigations". Below that, he had a string of qualifications, including armed security, close protection and bail enforcement.
"This is actually quite a good resume," Sookie told him. She glanced up at the top to get his name, Richard Nixon.
"Richard Nixon?" Sookie asked. "Like the president?"
Richard nodded. "I'll work," he said hopefully. "I can swing a hammer and do plumbing. I'll do a full day's work for lunch and dinner, or a hundred bucks, whichever you prefer."
Sookie handed the resume to Linda, who looked down at it.
"Ain't much different than mine," she said. "Oorah."
"Oorah," Richard muttered back, seemingly on pure instinct.
"So why are you out here, Richard?" Sookie asked. "Your resume says you're self-employed as a private eye."
Richard shrugged. Sookie noted the redness and swelling of his nose. "Work's been scarce," he said. "Been getting fewer jobs for the last few years. Fewer jobs means less money, less money means losing my office, not being able to afford nice clothes, which leads to fewer jobs."
Sookie looked a question at Linda, who shrugged. "We're always looking for investigators. It can be hard to recruit former cops, and those we do are often old enough not to stay on for more than a few years before retiring."
Sookie smiled and nodded, turning back to Richard. "You want an interview?"
"Hell yeah," he said with some enthusiasm. "As long as they don't mind me looking a little rough around the edges."
"Where do you live?" Sookie asked. Richard gestured around. "Lost my apartment last month," he said. Sookie pursed her lips and then nodded and held out a hand to him.
"Come on, Richard. I'm Sookie, and this is Linda. I'll make you a deal. I'll get you a nice outfit to wear and arrange an interview at the LA office tomorrow. I'll put you up on my couch for the night, too. That way, you can shower and shave and look presentable for it. What do you think?"
Richard took her hand and let her help him up. "Are you serious?" he asked. Sookie nodded.
"Holy crap, thank you, lady. Sookie, I mean. Thank you." His eyes began to get watery. "I don't... I don't even know what to say. That would be amazing."
Sookie smiled, her heart wrenching for the guy. She knew he had a drinking problem, but she also remembered all those people the Group's charities helped. Get someone on their feet, and there was a good chance they'd stay there.
"Do you have stuff to get?"
"I uh... I have a storage shed. It's paid up through the end of the year," he said. "My stuff is safe there, I just need to go get my toiletries."
"Don't worry about that," Sookie said, stepping to the edge of the sidewalk and waiting for the traffic to clear enough to cross the road. "We can stop by a drug store, too."
----
Sookie and Linda took Richard shopping and got him everything he needed. Which wasn't much, really. Sookie had a spare toothbrush, razors, shaving cream and cologne at her hotel room. It was all stuff she kept on hand to be the best slut she could be, and make her dishes du jour feel welcome. They bought him deodorant and an electric beard trimmer, and decided to take a pit stop at a hair and nails salon next to the pharmacy.
The girls there had cooed and gooed over Sookie and Linda helping this man out, and refused to accept any money for the trim he got. Unfortunately, they weren't set up to shave a man (all of the other clients inside were women), but Richard protested that he was perfectly capable of shaving himself, so it all worked out.
The next stop was, at Sookie's insistence, one of the ultra-high-end men's clothing stores near her hotel. Linda had protested that simply taking a car to Walmart would be good enough, but Sookie would have none of that.
"Linda, it's been over six years since I've seen a person in Walmart that I'd be willing to give a handy to. It's been even longer since I've seen any clothing there that looked like it didn't come from Walmart, especially the suits. We're not going to Walmart."
As a result, Richard got fitted for a custom-tailored suit and outfitted with a tie that was a pleasant, deep blue, bespeckled with tiny, gold-embroidered Marine Corps logos. He seemed pleased with it, and had to keep wiping his eyes as he repeatedly and profusely thanked her.
When all was done, they finally went to the hotel. Sookie had a full suite on the top floor. It wasn't the biggest suite, but it was close, with two spare bedrooms, a living room and a full kitchen, in addition to a balcony that afforded her a great view of the city (so long as the smog wasn't too bad) and a private elevator to the rooftop pool.
Linda took her usual spot at the door to await her relief for the evening while Sookie showed Richard the large bathroom and made sure he had everything he needed. While he showered and shaved, she decided to review the script.
She walked over to the safe in the living room and carefully punched in her combination on the keypad.
The scripts for The Legend of Jimmy were like solid gold. Every studio out there wanted to get their hands on one, to steal ideas from. Every fan wanted to get one, just for the thrill of knowing what was going to happen next. During the second season's filming, they'd had multiple scripts stolen and leaked, and Sookie had learned to crack down on that. As a result, she was the only one who ever had a full set of scripts for any given season. She kept them safely under lock and key at all times.
She pulled out her working copy, which was different from the 'archive' copy she also kept in the safe. The working copy had all of her handwritten notes on it. She closed the safe back up and locked it, then sat down at the table and flipped open to the scenes they would be filming after the break. Using a red pen, she made notes for herself, things to remember during shooting, like camera angles and notes on the VFX.
She heard the shower turn off, but she was engrossed in her work when the door opened.
"Thanks again," Richard said, causing her to look up. He had a towel around his waist, but Sookie noted that he had a lean torso, with some muscle still there, despite a rough life. Clean shaven now, he looked much better. He'd never get a gig as a model, but he was handsome enough in his own way. Sookie smiled at him.
"You don't have to keep thanking me," she said. "I'm happy to help."
She closed her script and stood, walking it over to the safe. Obscuring her hands with her body, she punched in the code again and placed the script inside. She hadn't yet closed the door when she heard Richard mutter "Oh shit."
She turned to look and froze. He'd turned back towards the bathroom, and then dropped his towel by accident. He was currently in the process of picking it up, affording Sookie a great view of his ass and what might well have been considered a third leg hanging from between the other two.
It came almost to his knees.
A flush of heat went through her, washing away all thoughts of largess and generosity, and kindling a very selfish desire. She heard the spattering on the hardwood floor where she crouched as her usual over-the-top wetness kicked into high gear and soaked through her pants in seconds. She could feel herself throbbing as she eyed Richard's enormous member.
Her disguise slipped and the horns erupted from her head, her tail curled up painfully inside her pants and her skin turned red, with large patches of scales. Operating purely on instinct, she magicked up a veil of mundanity. She didn't want Richard to freak out, and this would keep him from registering her appearance as anything out of the ordinary.
He retrieved his towel and made to wrap it back around his waist, but Sookie shot to her feet and spun, already ripping her shirt off.
"Wait," she said. Richard froze, then turned to look at her over one shoulder. She tossed her shirt on the couch and peeled off her pants. She wasn't wearing any underwear or bra, of course. She never did.
"I just thought of a way you could thank me," she purred, taking a languid step forward. Richard reacted immediately to the sight of her naked, turning, his hog's leg stiffening and rising from its vertical hang slightly.
"Are you, uh... I mean... I'm not..." Richard stammered. Sookie stepped closer to him and put her hands on his shoulder, then ran them down his chest.
"I am damn sure I want to do this, if that's what you're asking," she said, her hands reaching lower as she stepped close enough to press her breasts into his ribs. She took hold of him and felt him grow almost immediately rock hard as he gasped.
"Wow," he said. "This is... This is like something from a porno with a bad script..." he said.
"Uh huh," Sookie said. "And we're about to do the fun parts of it." She pressed her lips into his, and then squealed in delight as he grabbed her by the ass and hoisted her up.
"Where?" he asked into her mouth.
"Pussy, mouth and ass," she replied. She felt the heat rush through his cheeks.
"I meant where in this room," he said.
"I don't fucking care," Sookie responded, lining his huge cock up with her most convenient hole and squirming down onto it with a loud gasp.
"In the bedroom!" Linda shouted. "Please, for the love of god, in the bedroom!"
----
Sookie awoke the next morning and rolled over to see if Richard was up for a little wake-and-shake. Her hands slapped the empty bed and she pouted.
"Richard?" she called, a wonderful aroma meeting her nose as she did. "Are you making coffee already? I'll fall in love with you, or deepthroat you, your choice, if you are!"
He didn't answer.
She opened her eyes and saw that his new suit was missing. An empty hanger was hooked to the coathanger next to the closet. She climbed out of bed, frowning, and walked out into the living room.
It was empty. She could smell the coffee even stronger, and she walked into the kitchen to find the coffee pot full and a business card sitting next to it. She picked it up and peered at it with sleep-bleary eyes.
"Eric Stephens, Private Investigations, Corporate Espionage, Bail Bonds, Security Consultation," she read out loud. There was a QR code on it, so she picked up her phone from where it had been flung to the floor last night and scanned it. While the page loaded, she glanced in the bathroom to see Richard's old clothes still piled there.
She glanced at her phone to see a very clean-shaven and well-dressed Richard smiling at the camera at the top of a very tastefully designed web page. She scrolled through it for a moment, confused. This was clearly him, but why had he given her a fake name? She supposed he could have had this nice website built back when he was still working enough to afford it, but... It seemed off. It didn't fit. Sookie didn't get it.
That was, until she looked to her own pile of clothes by the safe and saw the door still hanging open. With a gasp, she rushed over only to find the safe empty. Both of her scripts were gone!
"Shit!" she shouted.
The door opened and a large, muscular man dressed like a lawyer rushed in, a gun in hand.
"Miss Ohma, is everything all right?" he asked after scanning the room and peering through the open doors.
"No," Sookie wailed. "I just got my scripts stolen!"
"The gentleman who left this morning?" her guard asked. She nodded. "I'm so sorry, Miss Ohma. I would have stopped him if I knew."
"No, you did fine," Sookie said as her eyes filled with frustrated tears. "You're used to men heading out in the morning. Usually they do it after I wake up and we can get another good fuck in, but still... You didn't do anything wrong."
"He left a note," the guard said. "I saw it taped to the inside of the door." Sookie looked over and saw a folded piece of paper taped there. She stalked over and ripped it down, sniffling angrily and wiping at her eyes to read it.

 Dear Sookie, Last night was probably the best night I've had in my life. It's certainly the best night I can remember. If you ever want to do it again, just let me know. I left you a card by the coffee machine, and there's a full pot for you, as well. If you don't ever want to see me again, well, I guess I understand. I'm sorry to have left the way I did, but I'm a man of my word, and my client was willing to pay a lot of money for that script. I hope this doesn't hurt you too much. For what it's worth, I'm sorry if I upset you. Wishing you all the best, Eric

Sookie crumbled up the paper and angrily threw it across the room.
"Motherfucker!" she shouted. The guard winced, but said nothing.
"He scammed me," Sookie said. "Got a nice new suit out of me, seduced me with that redwood growing between his legs and then ran off with my fucking scripts!"
She let her claws form and dug them into her thighs, carving bloody furrows that healed almost as fast as she made them. The guard started and rushed over.
"Ma'am, please," he said. "I'm not supposed to let you hurt yourself."
Sookie let him pull her hands up to her chest. She leaned into him for a moment. "You're married, aren't you?" she said.
"Uh, no," he said. Sookie turned her head to regard him. She didn't recognize him. "What's your name?"
"Devin, Ma'am," he said. "Devin Iglesias. This is my first shift on your detail."
"Who put you on this shift?"
"Uhh, Missus Williams. She said I'd enjoy this detail, and I agreed. I'm a huge fan of your show, Miss Ohma."
"Are you gay?" Sookie asked. Devin blinked. "Uh, no, Ma'am."
Sookie smiled. "I need you to do two things," she said.
"The second, and most important thing, I need you to call the office and ask for any information they have on a private investigator named Eric Stephens who works out of LA."
Devin nodded. "Yes, ma'am. And the first thing?"
Sookie smiled wider. "I need you to find out the real reason why Inanna thought you'd enjoy this posting."

Original itinerary here for reference. We planned this trip primarily with Halal food in mind, along with regular sight-seeing locations + shopping for Switch games, clothes, and souvenirs
Overall notes / Takeaways * I rate our trip a 9/10. It was a great time with the authentic halal Japanese food, seeing all the cool sights & places, and experiencing a very nice environment + culture.

The amount of researching / pre-planning can be a double-edged sword. Things that were unexpected were some of the best experiences. At the same time, if we tightened our itinerary and squared away some details better: we could have saved some cash, lessened on-the-spot deliberations / route planning; and perhaps, squeezed a few more places to visit.
This is where the 1 point ding comes in, especially not realizing until after-the-fact that the 14 day JR Pass was not cost efficient for us, especially with our hotel locations utilizing local lines + purchasing two separate pieces of luggage whereas instead, we should have just brought them from home. (If we had our luggage situation better planned, we would have shopped a bit differently.) This 1 point ding is not a deal breaker at all, and we’re still super happy with the trip.
For our trip with the Halal dietary restriction, it would have been helpful to pickup a sim card for a Japanese phone # to make some reservations ourselves and taxi’ing around in Kyoto when we got tired of walking around. At the end of some of the shopping trips, the 10-15 minute walk back to the hotels were very tiring, and the cost estimates on Google didn’t seem too expensive for short trips.

First part of the trip - East side of Tokyo: Asakusa FRI 5/5 Arrival HND arrival was around 2pm, and we got to the hotel around 6:30pm. From there: We were able to start off our trip with Ramen for dinner @ Ayam-ya Halal Ramen Tokyo –> Senjo-jii and Nakamise Street at night (which was not crowded at all at night)

Airport sidenotes: If you do the JapanWeb form online, make sure to complete it all the way until you get the QR code. I had started the day prior, but didn’t realized I left it incomplete. So we had to step out of line to manually hand-write. Also, we didn’t realize there’s two sets of lines / forms: the first for customs entry and second for customs declarations.
SAT May 6: Edo Castle Ruins –> Tokyo Station (Ghibli, JUMP, Pokemon stores which were all super packed with long lines) –> (walked to Ginza and attempted late lunch at Ginza Tendon Itsuki, but line was too long and we went to MOS burger instead) → Tokyo Skytree Mall (first Takoyaki for my wife here! Some souvenir shopping here) –> Akihabara at night for videogame/anime trinket shopping → Antep Kebab Akihabara for dinner
Sun May 7: Ueno Park –> Akihabara again –> Sushi lunch @ Sushiken Asakusa –> (skip daytime Senso-jii due to rain, and instead return to hotel) –> Yakiniku @ Wagyu Yakiniku Panga –> Rescue Cat Cafe Asakusa Nekoen
Mon May 8: Early AM laundry @ hotel (only did this once), chill (play some Switch games) & Depart hotel (decided against baggage transport this time) –> Tokyo Station and some Ekiben from Ekibenya Matsuri –> Shinkansen

Notable Highlights Part 1:

Ueno Park was our favorite part from this portion of the trip - even though it was raining, there were so many unexpected sights! We thought Edo Castle Ruins would be closer to like how Ueno Park was.
Getting lucky at the halal yakiniku place for dinner without a reservation! Being there at open and the rain may have helped.

Notable Mid-light:

Going to Akibahara twice since the first time where second trip ended up mostly window shopping. The first night, I tried using Google Translate photos on the rows of Switch videogames. This was not efficient, and after the first night, learned it was better to physically and manually go through each game and ask the cashiers if they had specific games with photos/screenshots instead.
We went to different stores each day, and it was really only the first night where we actually bought stuff. I did not find collector Switch steelbooks which I was specifically keeping an eye out for. We didn’t find much luck anime trinkets we wanted here, and instead found those at the next part of our trip.
Notable Low-light: Even though the mall was fun for shopping and there was a festival ongoing, we were unable to reserve actual Tokyo Skytree Towers tickets. This stung a bit since this was after missing lunch at our original place. IIRC, I got stuck on the mobile webpage where it asked for a phone # that needed to be a JP #...although checking now, it doesn’t seem to ask for it.

Second part of the trip: Kyoto * Mon May 8 continued: Hotel arrival around 4pm –> Downtown Kyoto shopping (Surugaya) and clothes @ Coco → 7/11 dinner (taxi here would have been really helpful to go to once of the local restaurants, as I started getting foot pains)

Tues May 9: Gion & Nanzaka, light street food for lunch, including better street Takoyaki –>(skip Philosopher's Path and Central Kyoto area) –> went straight to Kinkakuji –> Downtown Kyoto (luggage, insole, not much luck at more games/anime trinkets at this time) –> South Asian @ MABRUR for early dinner –> called it an early afternoon due to fatigue/foot pain (finally installed the insoles this night with borrowed scissors from front desk)
Wed May 10: Bus to Arashiyama –> Bamboo Forest –> (Missed the Sagano train, did not appear open) –> chill at the Katsura riverside instead → Japanese curry @ Yosiya –> Monkey Forest Hike –> (skip boat ride due to closure / high water levels) –> Fushimi Inari –> chill at Kamo River on our return to hotel –> called it an early afternoon with private onsen reservation waiting for us at hotel
Thurs May 11: chill (play more switch games) and pack in the AM (we used luggage transfer this time) → Ramen @ Ayam Ya Karasuma Kyoto prior to Kyoto departure (which turned out to be her favorite meal from this whole trip) –> Back to Shinkansen

Notable Highlights Part 2: * Experiencing all the nature on WED was our favorite part of this portion, especially the rivers! We did not realize the “20 minute walk” would end up a 45 minute hike as we were not prepared, but it was a very fun going up and taking breaks at all the stops.

We did not expect downtown Kyoto to be as lively and cool at night as we saw it, since we mostly researched the traditional parts of this city beforehand; and we did not expect Kyoto to be where we’d get a lot of our shopping done. The Surugaya here had the most Switch games I purchased at best prices (and the anime bins for trinkets as souvenirs, my wife had a lot of fun here); Gion had a lot of other souvenirs; and downtown had a lot of clothes.
Notable Low-light*: fatigue and foot pain at the end of those days when we did a lot of shopping, especially traveling between different stores (not all of which didn’t have what we were looking for, like the extra Bookoffs and Lashingbangs we visited). Some benches really would have helped. We did buy Dr. Schwartz insoles and cooling pads for our feets at the pharmacy stores here, which helped with some exhaustion, but not all.

Last part of the trip: Shibuya/Shinjuku * Thurs May 11 continued: Reach Shibuya @ 6:30pm → Shibuya Scramble once –> Walk to Yakiniku @ GYUMON –> back to Shibuya Scramble and see Hachiko + Tower Record –> grab Chestnuts –> Starbucks at night with upper view of Shibuya crossing

Fri May 12: Diet Building Observatory (no luck with viewing Mt. Fuji due to clouds, even on the Shinkansen rides) –> Ramen @ Honolu Shinjukugyoenmae –> Friday Congregational Prayer @ Tokyo Camii Center –> Harajuku & Takeshita Street (heavy snack with fried cheese stick + cotton candy) → back to Shibuya Crossing → Shibuya Mega Don Quijote (lots of shopping here) –> (missed the Pokemon Center) → picked up some takehome kebab from near Shibuya crossing → back to the hotel early afternoon/night due to rain and bags full of purchases
SAT May 13: Shinjuku Bookoff (notable for large inventory, but not too cheap compared to Surugaya Kyoto) –> Omoide Ally short walk –> Godzilla @ Toho –> Kabukicho short walk (was looking for the large entrance side, but did not find) –> Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden (just the north part, mainly the Botanical Garden) –> Ramen @ Honolu Shinjukugyoenmae –> Nakano Broadway –> Golden Gai (was super crowded, left halfway) –> Uniqlo –> Shinjuku Don Quijote (mainly for luggage scale that we missed) –> Surugaya –> Subway for dinner since we were not able to get in Zen restaurant for vegetarian or seafood okonomiyaki
Sun May 14: Tokyo Tower (one of the only reservations we made) –> Tsujiki Outer Market for light lunch (we ate only at places with small/no lines, everywhere else was packed) –> Odaiba & Diver City Mall + Gundam Base + Gundam Unicorn –> skip lunch for some crepes and banana smoothie, even though there were halal meat places around → (skip teamLabs that we didn’t end up reserving for) → Surugaya Shinjuku (last shot at games/trinkets) –> last Ramen @ Honolu Shinjukugyoenmae –> sad walk back to hotel, but also relief knowing that we’ll be done with all the walking soon.
Mon May 15: finish packing –> taxi to airport (through Booking.com where we made hotel bookings) –> kebab lunch @ Mrs. Istanbul (had to utilize bus transfer between terminals after luggage dropoff) → final souvenir snack shopping inside airport → Depart back home to LAX!

Notable Highlights Part 3:

The Ramen with the Fried Chicken @ Honolu Shinjukugyoenmae was my favorite meal, especially coming back to it so many times!
Friday congregational prayer at Tokyo Camii Center: the sermon was done in 4 different languages (Arabic first, then Japanese, then Melay I think, then English) - that impressed me along with its architecture. It was such a peaceful and familiar experience in a new environment. They gave out some food after (rice+natto I believe plus sesame ball sweets I believe), although we passed since we were still full.
Shibuya Scramble was always fun to walk across! Busiest crosswalk in the world!
Tower Tokyo tour was the nicest tower experience that I’ve had (they served us Lemonade!) and my wife got to take a photo with the Tokyo Tower Mascot, Noppon.
Mega Don Quijote at Shibuya to finish up the bulk of our shopping, especially on souvenirs! Especially picking up Zelda Tears of Kingdom at release day!
Gundam Base & live Gundan Unicorn transformation @ Odaiba Diver City! My wife went into it mostly blind, and was very impressed.

Noteable Mid-light: Harajuka and Takeshita street were cool to window browse, but we didn’t find anything we actually wanted to purchase here. It made me realize, like our second time at Akihabara, that window shopping isn’t as fun as actual shopping. -Aside from the Gundam @ Odaiba, we didn’t get too excited about anything else here. If we visited here first / sooner, we may have had a better time (along with keeping an eye out for more Gundam merch earlier throughout the trip). There was a nearby amusement center that was on our original plan to visit too. But at this point, I think we ran out of gas.
Notable Low-light: * The last hotel for me, especially with its location being furthest out from nearest station and not being as nice as the first two hotel.

The Subway sandwiches (shrimp and tuna respectively) were pretty sad on SAT, although the potato fries they gave were okay (we forgot to ask for ketchup). There was another halal yakiniku place nearby that we stopped by in front of, but decided against it as we wanted something quicker / more casual.
Though not part of the actual trip, on upon LAX arrival: the lack of cleanliness, customer service and organization were immediately noticeable, which reflected on how nice Tokyo & Kyoto were!

Other notes

Biggest shoutout to my wife for being with me and her patience, especially while Switch game hunting and being chaotic while planning!
Hotels: all our hotels were listed as 3 star hotels. We learned that every minute walk closer to the nearest station(s) really makes a difference – i.e. a 5 min walk back to the hotel wasn’t as bad as a 7-8 minute walk, and 10-12 minute walks back where the worst. We did keep an eye on square footage for the rooms (wanted to avoid less than 150 feet² for 2 people). We averaged around $95 USD per night.
Henna Tokyo Hotel - Asakusa was a very nice hotel, especially with the animated front desk and great first time with bidets and warm toilet seats which the other hotels did not have. 183 feet² which felt small but sufficient.
Second hotel - Kyomachiya Ryokan Sakura Urushitei in Kyoto - was a bit further from local bus points, but this was also a very nice hotel, especially as a Ryokan with great customer service and hidden shelve compartments in the room. We also did not expect a 2nd floor for the private garden view, which was also very nice. 156 feet² would have been small by itself, but pretty sure this does not account for the 2nd floor.
Our last hotel, Cloud Himalaya felt like a re-designed local apartment, so it didn’t feel as nice, but it was the most spacious @ 291 feet². It was the furthest away from the local stops/stations. It was a low-light for me, especially compared to the first two hotels. My wife thought it was okay though: she thought it was comfy and the space inside the room made up for it.
-Local Transportation: We only got on the wrong train once, and it was on our first night when leaving HND airport. For the rest of the trip, we didn’t have much issues. The learning curve for us was short to navigate the trains with GoogleMap, by looking at train departure times on our phone directions and platform # to match info listed on the electronic train station boards that have or switch into English.
Even if we took an extra min or two to verify the train/bus to take, and we missed a train that was right in front of us, the trains were frequent enough such that it wasn’t a long delay – usually 5-8 mins at most. Having very little reservations in our itinerary helped in this aspect.
The GoogleMaps LIVE view on directions was a useful feature in finding bus stops, especially in Kyoto and Shibuya/Shinjuku.
Phone Plan: We decided against one Ubigi and one Airalo data plan and just got two Ubigi data plans. Overall, we used only 4-5 GBs each out of the 10 GBs available. Ubigi worked well throughout the 10 days. As noted earlier, having a JP phone # would have been helpful.
Flights: standard flight experience with Delta - around $750 USD roundtrip for each of us. The lack of space didn’t bother us too much except when fumbling around with the meal trays. We requested special accommodations for Halal food on the HND inbound flight, and they provided vegan food which we didn’t enjoy that much (i.e. PICKLE SANDWICH!).
On the return flight to LAX, we did not put in any special accommodations and had a better time with their regular vegetarian food (although the pasta salad was very creamy and the Hagan Dazs they gave were slightly melted).
Language: We were able to get away with just using from sumimasen and arigato for the most part, and used English/non-verbal language most of the trip otherwise.

*more review/input on food commented in original plan here

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Being the top hotel in Patna, accommodations at Red Velvet redefine luxury and comfort. The hotel offers a wide range of elegantly appointed rooms and suites, each meticulously designed to cater to the needs of modern travelers. The rooms exude a warm and welcoming ambiance, creating a perfect retreat after a long day of exploration or business meetings. Guests can expect plush bedding, stylish furnishings, modern amenities, and stunning city views from their room windows. The attention to detail in every aspect of the room design ensures an unforgettable stay for guests seeking a taste of opulence.
Red Velvet is not only a luxury hotel but also a hub for corporate events and business meetings. The hotel features spacious and well-equipped meeting hall in Patna that can accommodate a large number of attendees. These state-of-the-art facilities offer the latest audiovisual equipment, high-speed internet connectivity, and professional event support. Whether you are organizing a conference, seminar, or board meeting, Red Velvet's meeting halls provide the ideal setting to ensure the success of your event.
For those looking to celebrate special occasions or host grand events, Red Velvet offers exquisite banquet hall in Patna, that exude elegance and sophistication. These versatile spaces can be customized to suit any type of event, be it weddings, receptions, or social gatherings. With impeccable attention to detail, the dedicated events team at Red Velvet ensures that every aspect of your event is flawlessly executed. From the décor to the culinary delights, your event at Red Velvet will be an experience to remember.
Red Velvet takes gastronomy to new heights with its exceptional and best restaurant in Patna, where culinary artistry meets unparalleled flavors. The restaurant offers an extensive menu featuring a diverse range of cuisines, prepared by highly skilled chefs using the freshest ingredients. Whether you crave local delicacies or international fare, the restaurant's menu is sure to tantalize your taste buds. The warm and inviting ambiance, coupled with impeccable service, creates a memorable dining experience that will leave a lasting impression.
Red Velvet is the top hotel in Patna, leaves no stone unturned when it comes to guest satisfaction. The hotel offers a host of amenities and services designed to cater to every need. From a fully equipped fitness center for health enthusiasts to a rejuvenating spa for relaxation, guests can indulge in ultimate luxury and well-being. The attentive and professional staff is always ready to assist with any request, ensuring that every guest feels pampered and cared for throughout their stay.
In a city bustling with activity, Red Velvet stands out as a beacon of luxury and comfort. With its prime location of hotel near Patna Junction, state-of-the-art meeting and banquet halls, exceptional restaurant, and a plethora of amenities, this 4-star hotel in Patna.

Hello everyone,
I am visiting Belgium for a week with the family (total of 3 adults and 2 kids under 5 years old). Our hotel is in the area near the Montgomery station. Our plan is not limited to Brussels, as we're interested to visit different areas of the country (recommendations are welcome :)).
Our main concern is transportation with 2 kids. I am leaning towards renting a car from the airport, and use it when visiting other cities/towns, as well as Brussels spots outside of the center. Is that a sane decision I am taking?
Also the hotel doesn't cater for parking reservations in advance. If at the same day they won't have a parking space, I will have to use a public parking nearby (I don't know how that works).
Any comments or advice are very much appreciated.

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