#Arkley Gang

[sepublic]

💚

This time I'm picking Tamara; She's pansexual and open to romance. I guess she's a cis woman, but it's also possible that she's fully transitioned, because magic and potions make that sort of thing possible in the GEverse. And as horrible as the Arkley Gang is, I just like the idea that Arakchos and Draik WOULD help a student transition; Arkley has gone out of his way to provide stuff like holiday celebrations for his students, so this hardly seems a stretch by comparison.

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 12

~ The following day, Saturday ~

"Do something, Wesker! These fucking imbeciles at the papers are starting to question my competence as chief all because of a pathetic group of boys you can't seem to dispose of." Irons seethed, slamming his cup of whisky on the desk, knocking his nameplate to the ground.  

Wesker gave nothing away of his emotions, save for a tick in his brow. His hands craved to wrap around Irons’ neck, giving it a swift snap. It's how he felt most of his days at the station. Irons was replaceable. The man didn't realize just how worthless he was to Umbrella. His replacement could arrive this very afternoon.

"We are working on finding the gang's nest. The big players keep using young boys for the jobs but tell them nothing about insider information. There are too many eyes watching us right now. We cannot use any special means to dispose of the group in order avoid questions."

"Just Do your fucking job right. I can't stand the news conferences anymore. the journalist's questions make me look laughable." Irons clutched his glass, throwing it hard against the wall. Tapping a finger on the armrest, Wesker didn't bat an eye at the behavior of the chief of police. One couldn't expect much from such a lowly creature.

"You seem to forget why Umbrella put me as captain of STARS. It isn't to keep up your public appearance but to protect theirs. I'm not the one who isn't doing his job. Deal with the journalists while I handle the little boy scouts." pushing back his chair, Wesker made sure to leave deep grooves on the freshly varnished floors. The scraping sound was like music to his soul. He didn't miss the deathly glare on his way to the door like hot iron rods.

Returning to the STARS office, Wesker ignored the gossiping of Chris and Jill about the newest trouble between their captain and Irons. Shutting the door to his office, he took a seat behind his desk. Through the office blinds, he eyed each present member of STARS. of course, no one was getting any work done, lazing around the office, making meaningless bets.

This simply will not do.

It was time they did some undercover work, gathering information about Raccoon city's newest crime family. These boy scouts wouldn't last long around here, especially since they fell on the radar of the real monsters in the shadows of Raccoon.

---------------

She sat alone on the staircase, elbows resting on her knees, wondering how the hell she got here.  The house was familiar to her. How many times has she looked after Sherry here? Still, it felt strange. It was his space, and she was invading it.

This was now supposed to be her home. The place gave no hints as to who lived here, lacking any personal touch. It was likely the work of an anterior designer following the most fashionable trends. The home of a bachelor.

Speaking of Wesker, he left after dumping her here last night and vaguely pointing her towards the guest room with a 'help yourself' to any food. As always, he gave her the bare minimum of info, not that she asked what he was up to. She didn't care whether he spent the night hiding bodies or doing legitimate police work. She was too terrified to sleep under the same roof, only a few walls apart. Does the man ever sleep? Shower? Eat?

She won't lie. She was glad Wesker left. But even with him gone, she couldn't stop thinking about what happened. More so the kiss than almost becoming a guinea pig. It was a lot to process, and she couldn't even begin.

For the nth time, she forcibly pulled her fingers away from her lips, scolding herself for replaying the memory again. This man was absolute bad news. She needed to get out of the house, and an incoming call from Claire had her scrambling to answer as quickly as possible. Her friend presented an idea, and Cara was all too grateful to join in.  

Pulling up Wesker's name in the contacts, Cara's fingers hovered over the letters, unsure of what and how much to tell him.  Where did they stand? Did he really mean everything, or was it a trick?  Was she free to leave? Did he give up completely on the idea of killing her?

"Going out with Claire. I will be back late." she texted, fully knowing a lot of info was missing. But it's not like he ever gave her a ton.

"Stay out of trouble.' came a replay moments later.

The words were unsaid, but Cara definitely heard them.  'I don't have time to drop everything and run over to the rescue each and every time you get in trouble,'

'I asked for help only once. The other time's nobody asked you to come.' Cara grumbled but deleted what she wrote. she could've gotten herself out of those situations...with a little bit of thinking. Actually, a lot of thinking.

----------------------------

Cara had to walk several blocks away from Wesker's house to prevent suspicion. If by any chance, Claire knew the address of her brother's captain, it would be a hole she did not want to leap into.

Standing in front of an old bookstore, she waited for her friend. The building was slightly rundown, its walls covered in graffiti, but the owners were a kind elderly couple. They pushed discounts her way, and she was guilted to buy something. She ended up buying a useless cat plushie toy after seeing that most books were non-fiction or raunchy romance novels. She would rather die than have Wesker coming across an erotic novel lying around his house.

She stared at the plushie as she leaned against the wall outside the shop. Cara considered giving it to Sherry the next time they met. This would be the first present she ever gave the young girl, and she could almost imagine the excitement on Sherry's face. It made her smile.

A helicopter passed overhead, sleek black and adorned with the Umbrella white and red symbol. Cara watched the chopper get smaller and smaller until it disappeared, heading in the direction of the Arkley mountains. she wondered about their business up there was. Looking around, no one else seemed to notice nor care. Maybe it was best to keep all knowledge to herself.

Seeing a familiar redhead and a motorcycle, Cara waved as Claire pulled up, handing her a helmet.

---------------

The barn smelled of sweat, dust, and old wood. The unmistakable smell of alcohol was thick in the air as it was passed around freely in cheap red plastic cups. She recognized kids from school, but many more were older, likely from Raccoon university. A light disco machine was nailed to the wall, casting the barn in a series of flashing lights. Tall Straw piles of hay distributed across the barn ensured there was no shortage of dark corners for people to disappear to.  For a moment, Cara considered hiding in the straw and then going home when the party was over. But seeing the sparkle in Claire's eyes about hanging out with her best friend threw the idea out the window. With a sigh, she followed her friend.

Over the course of the night, the girls danced and drank, carefree. A blond-haired boy was staring at her, Cara noticed. He attempted to walk up to her but turned around before getting within ten feet. He tried multiple times but always chickened out despite his friends constantly cheering him on. Claire thought it was cute and refused to stop openly staring at him and giving a thumbs up.  Cara swatted Claire's hands before holding them behind her back in a pretend arrest, pushing her against the straw pile.

"Sorry Officer! I was just trying to help you get laid," Claire giggled. "I hope you're into blonde's though,"

"This is so embarrassing. Stop, or I'm leaving," Cara snapped, feeling a blush heat her face as Wesker crossed her mind. Fuck, why now?

"Oh? so you are into blondes," Claire's smile was cunning. "Let me help you,"

"No. Bad Claire, bad, bad girl. No treats for you tonight." Cara scolded, Stealing the can of beer her friend stole from a guy before cracking it open and downing its contents. She wouldn't yet consider herself drunk, just pleasantly buzzed.

The boy ran off again. Cara felt bad for him and was actually tempted to go up to him instead. His friends kept a steady stream of alcohol into his hand.

"H-hey, " And then he did it, with the help of liquid courage, of course.

For the effort, Cara decided not to openly embarrass him with rejection but not lead him on either. Walking away backward, Claire gave her a thumbs up along with a suggestive motion of the eyebrows, making horrid shapes with her hands. Cara covered her face, hoping to purge the image out of memory. She'll get her back in no time.

Ben was a bit shy at first, but soon they got talking and enjoyed themselves. His hair was a few shades darker and shorter than Wesker's. She didn't have to look up at him as they stood at a similar, comfortable height. Slender and skinny, he would shrink to nothing beside the captain. Cara grimaced, realizing she had been comparing the poor guy to a demon. It wasn't his fault that her mind was occupied with someone way out of her league... the legal kind.

The barn was becoming more and more crowded, and the dancing crowd swallowed them. Sticking out like two sore thumbs, they did their best to dance. Cara felt awkward but seeing the dimples in his smile made her feel better even as it became a tighter fit among the crowd. They had to dance closer lest they got separated.

She wondered what it would feel like to dance with Wesker. He seemed like the sophisticated type. The awkward moves of a teenager would never be adequate for him. Did he ever do anything that was remotely recreational? What do villains even do in their spare time? Manipulating the feelings of underage girls looks like. What stupid, stupid thoughts.

She prayed all these ideas would go away soon, as the thrill of the kiss wore off, and everything went back to normal. Did she want to go back? Why in the world would he like her? she knew who he really was, and he still let her live. Why take the risk with her? she was just a seventeen-year-old. Useless to everyone, with no connections and no money.  

Fuck it. Cara refused to think about Wesker anymore tonight. There was a perfectly alright guy in front of her, someone her own age, someone in her league, someone she wouldn't have to hide. Someone who was looking at her with a soft expression, blinking slowly.

Cara placed her hands on either side of Ben's face and pulled him towards her, connecting their lips. He reacted instantly, kissing her back. His hands awkwardly hovered over her arms before stroking them softly.

He was a nice guy, not a terrible kisser, but she hated it. Hated every touch because it wasn't as good as with Wesker. She couldn't stop comparing, and it was frustrating, spurring her to kiss Ben harder.

She continued, out of spite, to kiss the boy who looked at her with affection. in the background, she heard a few boys cheering, likely his friends. This was wrong, very wrong.

A firm hand gave her waist a painful squeeze before it was gone, and she thought it was Ben. Her eyes flew open as she felt a warm breath by her ear. It wasn't Ben.

"If I was not undercover right now, this lesser specimen of a boy would've made some unforgettable acquaintances a lot sooner. You could've done so much better, yet you have chosen to this..." Wesker seethed by her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Her body froze, but Ben didn't pick up the cue.  Wesker's muscles were tense as he pressed against her back. She could almost hear the exhale through clenched, grinding teeth.

Then he was gone, slipping through the crowd just as he came. No one notices anything. Cara broke the kiss and shoved Ben away. "I'm sorry, it isn't going to work out." She hurried after Wesker, but he was already lost in the crowd.  

She shoved her way through the throngs of people but only managed to find other members of STARS in civilian clothes. None seemed to notice or recognize her. They must've been here on undercover work, but why? she put that question aside as there were more pressing things to worry about.

She felt sick and wanted to throw up, but nothing was coming up. she burst through the doors of the suffocatingly hot bran, raking her hands through her hair. The cool night air hit her heated skin, but she couldn't find relief. She wanted to be swallowed by the ground.

She needed to find Wesker. But then what? Apologize? Apologize for making her own choices? They weren't a couple.

She continued to look for him nevertheless. She walked further from the barn towards an old car junkyard. She thought perhaps a fuming man would need some privacy. A strong feeling in her gut told her this was the right way.

Cara walked far enough from the party that the music was nothing but a distant noise. It was dark and quiet, the perfect place for an assault. If Wesker decided to murder her, no one would find her for at least a week, stuffed in the trunk of a car. If ever.  

Grabbed from behind, she was thrown against a car. Sliding to the ground, she cradled her aching arm, squinting in the dark to see her assailant. Wesker kneeled beside her, his civilian clothes dark and expensive.

"Why cut it short? You should've kissed him more while you still can because he will be the last boy you will ever kiss." squeezing her cheeks harshly, he dragged his thumb with heavy pressure over the flesh of her lips, still swollen from kissing Ben.

As Wesker let go of her face, she felt the cold muzzle of a gun pressing against her temple. Her heart skipped a beat, but she glared at him straight in the eye. Daring.

"I don't know what you want from me! You told me to keep out of trouble, and I did. Yet here we are," Cara lied. She knew what he wanted but didn't know why he wanted it.

"Were my intentions not clear enough? Do I have to spell it out for you? But I suppose intelligence was never your strength,"

Wesker pressed the gun harder against her temple, her glare unwavering. "Go ahead. Shoot me. why do you even bother?"

Neither moved, naked eyes locked with no shades between. Cara reached up and pulled the gun out of his hands with ease. He didn't resist, glaring at her with a tense jaw. Looking down, she almost laughed, seeing the safety was still on. This man couldn't bring himself to kill her. It was all a show of intimidation, and she wasn't falling for it. Not anymore.

As she made to stand, his hand pushed her down. Thinking he wanted the gun back, she returned it to his hand and tried to stand. again, he pushed her down. "Can I get up now?" she scowled, staring up at him.

Things happen too quickly for her to process. The hands on Cara's shoulder grabbed her legs, lifting her off the ground as Wesker wrapped her legs around him before slamming her against the car. She was winded, gasping for breath as he watched her with a smirk. She grabbed his arms, digging her nails into his defined muscles.

"You're up now," he whispered before his lips kissed her neck, sucking and nibbling the skin. A moan escaped her lips, and she covered her mouth immediately.

Grabbing both her hands, he pinned them against the car. "I need to clean your mouth of all traces of that boy,"

"Are you going to rinse my mouth with soap or something? This is childish and-" Cara's words settled in a moan as Wesker began grinding a very defined length against her growing sickness. She tightened her legs around his waist, drawing him closer.

Trailing his nose across her skin, he followed the curve of her neck to the ear, taking the lobe between his teeth. She melted against him when his hot tongue entered her ear. His tongue plunged in and out repeatedly like a preview of what he could do to her. Her heart went on an overdrive.

"Just kiss me," Cara breathed, a tension building in her belly. She wanted to taste him. in addition to sparing any additional marks on her neck to hide.

"No,” nuzzling into her neck, he grinded harder against her, earning a series of moans.  

"You know who else wouldn't mind kissing me-" Wesker slammed his lips to hers, kissing her roughly, their teeth clashing. Cara melted further, a smile on her lips as her tongue danced with his. She savored everything, The taste of him, softness of his lips, his warmth, and the building friction between their bodies. There was nothing more she wanted.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three gunshots were fired.

Cara was barely steady on her feet when Wesker dropped her to the ground, his eyes scanning their surroundings. What little they heard of the music was drowned out by distant screams of the partygoers.

"What's happening?" she questioned, grabbing his arm, but his attention was fixed on the barn.

"Stay here," Wesker warned, already talking to someone by an earpiece she hadn't noticed before.

With his gun ready, he took off, running towards the barn. Cara made to follow him but was pulled back towards the car by her hand.

The fucker handcuffed and left her in the middle of a junkyard in the dark.

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

Britain's child slaves: They started at 4am, lived off acorns and had nails put through their ears for shoddy work. Yet, says a new book, their misery helped forge Britain.

The tunnel was narrow, and a mere 16in high in places. The workers could barely kneel in it, let alone stand. Thick, choking coal dust filled their lungs as they crawled through the darkness, their knees scraping on the rough surface and their muscles contracting with pain. A single 'hurrier' pulled the heavy cart of coal, weighing as much as 500lb, attached by a chain to a belt worn around the waist, while one or more 'thrusters' pushed from behind. Acrid water dripped from the tunnel ceiling, soaking their ragged clothes. Many would die from lung cancer and other diseases before they reached 25. For, shockingly, these human beasts of burden were children, some only five years old. Robert North, who worked in a coal mine in Yorkshire, told an inspector: 'I went into the pit at seven years of age. When I drew by the girdle and chain, my skin was broken and the blood ran down … If we said anything, they would beat us.' Another young hurrier, Patience Kershaw, had a bald patch on her head from years of pushing carts - often with her scalp pressed against them - for 11 miles a day underground. 'Sometimes they [the miners] beat me if I am not quick enough,' she said. The inspector described her as a 'filthy, ragged, and deplorable-looking object'. Others, like Sarah Gooder, aged eight, were used as 'trappers'. Crouching in the darkness of the tunnel wall, they waited to open trap doors which allowed the carts to travel through. 'I have to trap without a light and I'm scared,' she told the inspector. 'I go at four and sometimes half-past three in the morning, and come out at five-and-half-past … Sometimes I sing when I've light, but not in the dark. I don't like being in the pit.' His master threatened to 'knock out his brains' if he did not get up to work, and pushed him to the ground, breaking his thigh. Eventually, bent double and crippled, he returned to the workhouse, no longer any use to the brute. Most were exhausted by their working hours - they were often woken at 4am and carried, half-asleep, to the pits by their parents. Many young trappers were killed when they dozed off and fell into the path of the carts. Ten-year-old Joseph Arkley forgot to shut a trap door, allowing poisonous gas to seep into the tunnel. He died along with ten others in the resulting explosion. But coal mining was just one industry in which children worked during the 18th and 19th centuries. The Industrial Revolution brought immense prosperity to the British Empire. Not only did Britannia rule the waves, she ruled the global marketplace, too, dominating trade in cotton, wool and other commodities, while her inventors devised ingenious machinery to push productivity ever higher. But, as a new book by Jane Humphries, a professor of economic history, shows, a terrible price was paid for this success by the labourers who serviced the machines, pushed the coal carts and turned the wheels that drove the Industrial Revolution. Many of these labourers were children. With the mechanisation of Britain, traditional cottage industries, which had employed many poor families, went out of business. Consequently, more and more poverty-stricken workers were driven into the major cities and factories. The competition for jobs meant that wages were low, and the only way a poor family could fend off starvation was for the children to work as well. These were the real David Copperfields and Oliver Twists. Beaten, exploited and abused, they never knew what it was to have a full belly or a good night's sleep. Their childhood was over before it had begun. Using the heartbreaking first-person testimony of these child labourers, Humphries demonstrates that the brutality and deprivation depicted by authors such as Charles Dickens and Thomas Hardy was commonplace during the Industrial Revolution, and not just fictional exaggeration. She also reveals that more children were working

than previously thought - and at younger ages. As British productivity soared, more machines and factories were built, and so more children were recruited to work in them. During the 1830s, the average age of a child labourer officially was ten, but in reality some were as young as four. Many child scavengers lost limbs or hands, crushed in the machinery; some were even decapitated. Those who were maimed lost their jobs. In one mill near Cork there were six deaths and 60 mutilations in four years. While the upper classes professed horror at the iniquities of the slave trade, British children were regularly shackled and starved in their own country. The silks and cottons the upper classes wore, the glass jugs and steel knives on their tables, the coal in their fireplaces, the food on their plates - almost all of it was produced by children working in pitiful conditions on their doorsteps. But to many of the monied classes, the poor were invisible: an inhuman sub-species who did not have the same feelings as their own and whose sufferings were unimportant. If they spared a thought for them at all, it was nothing more than a shudder of revulsion at the filth and disease they carried. Living conditions were appalling. Families occupied rat and sewage-filled cellars, with 30 people crammed into a single room. Most children were malnourished and susceptible to disease, and life expectancy in such places fell to just 29 years in the 1830s. In these wretched circumstances, an extra few pennies brought home by a child would pay for a small loaf of bread or fuel for the fire: the difference between life and death. A third of poor households were without a male breadwinner, either as a result of death or desertion. In the broken Britain of the 19th century, children paid the price. One young boy, Thomas Sanderson, went out to work when his family was reduced to eating acorns they had foraged after his soldier father had been demobilised without a pension. Children were the ideal labourers: they were cheap (paid just 10-20 per cent of a man's wage) and could fit into small spaces such as under machinery and through narrow tunnels. But while parents sent their children to work with heavy hearts, the workhouses - where orphaned and abandoned children were deposited - had no such scruples. A child sent out to work was one mouth fewer to feed, so they were regularly sold to masters as 'pauper apprentices'. In exchange for board and lodging, they would work without wages until adulthood. If they ran away, they would be caught, whipped and returned to their master. Some were shackled to prevent them escaping, with 'irons riveted on their ankles, and reaching by long links and rings up to the hips, and in these they were compelled to walk to and fro from the mill to work and to sleep'. Orphaned Jonathan Saville was sold as a pauper apprentice to a master in a textile industry. His master threatened to 'knock out his brains' if he did not get up to work, and pushed him to the ground, breaking his thigh. Eventually, bent double and crippled, he was returned to the workhouse, no longer any use to the brute. Robert Blincoe - on whom Dickens' Oliver Twist is thought to be based - was sold, aged six, as a 'climbing boy' to a chimney sweep in London. Forced to scale the narrow chimneys, only 18in wide, he would scrape his elbows and knees on the brickwork and choke on coal dust. It was common for the master sweep to light a fire under them to make them climb faster. Many climbing boys and girls fell to their deaths. After several months, Blincoe was returned to the workhouse. Then, aged just seven, he was sent along with 80 other children to a cotton mill near Nottingham to work as a 'scavenger' - crawling under the machines to pick up bits of cotton, 14 hours a day, six days a week. In return, he was given porridge slops and black bread. Weak with hunger, at night he crept out to steal food from the mill owner's pigs. Many child scavengers lost limbs or hands, crushed in the machinery; some were even decapitated. Those who

were maimed lost their jobs. In one mill near Cork there were six deaths and 60 mutilations in four years. Blincoe was lucky: he only lost half a finger. A German visitor to Manchester in 1842 remarked that there were so many limbless people it was like 'living in the midst of an army just returned from campaign'. A doctor who observed mill workers noted that '… their complexion is sallow and pallid, with a peculiar flatness of feature, caused by the want of a proper quantity of adipose substance [fatty tissue], their stature low, a very general bowing of the legs … nearly all have flat feet'. The average height of the population fell in the 1830s as an overworked generation reached adulthood with knock-knees, humpbacks from carrying heavy loads and damaged pelvises from standing 14 hours a day. Girls who worked in match factories suffered from a particularly horrible disease known as phossy jaw. Children in glassworks were regularly burned and blinded by the intense heat, while the poisonous clay dust in potteries caused them to vomit and faint. Supervisors used terror and punishment to drive the children to greater productivity. A boy in a nail-making factory was punished for producing inferior nails by having his head down on an iron counter while someone 'hammered a nail through his ear, and the boy has made good nails ever since'. But despite the growth of cities, agriculture remained the biggest employer of children during the Industrial Revolution. While they might have escaped the deadly fumes and machinery of the factories, the life of a child farm labourer was every bit as brutal. Children as young as five worked in gangs, digging turnips from frozen soil or spreading manure. Many were so hungry that they resorted to eating rats. Children in glassworks were regularly burned and blinded by the intense heat, while the poisonous clay dust in potteries caused them to vomit and faint. The gangmaster walked behind them with a double rope bound with wax, and 'woe betide any boy who made what was called a "straight back" - in other words, standing up straight - before he reached the end of the field. The rope would descend sharply upon him'. Another favourite gangmaster's punishment was gibbeting: lifting a child off the ground by his neck, until his face turned black. And yet, many of these children showed extraordinary resilience and lack of resentment. Children who worked six days a week spent the seventh at Sunday school, determined to better themselves. But whenever anyone sought to improve children's working conditions, they encountered fierce opposition from the proprietors whose profits depended on exploiting them. They argued that any interference in the marketplace could cost Britain her manufacturing supremacy. Even when regulations were eventually passed to improve working conditions, with only four inspectors to police the thousands of factories across the country they were seldom enforced. In 1840 Lord Ashley, later Lord Shaftesbury, set up the Children's Employment Commission, interviewing hundreds of children in coalmines, works and factories. Its findings, reported in 1842, were deeply shocking. Many people had no idea that coal was excavated by young children. But it was the immorality rather than the cruelty of the mines that shocked them most. An inspector described how, 'The chain [used to pull the carts] passing high up between the legs of two girls, had worn large holes in their trousers. Any sight more disgustingly indecent or revolting can scarcely be imagined … No brothel can beat it.' An Act was passed, prohibiting women and children under ten from working underground. Two years later, another Act was passed prohibiting the textile industry from employing children younger than nine. But it was not until the mid-19th century that children were limited to a 12-hour day. In 1880, the Compulsory Education Act helped reduced the numbers of child labourers, and subsequent laws raised their age and made working conditions safer. But it had come too late for the little white slaves

on whose blood, sweat and toil our great railways, bridges and buildings of the Industrial Revolution were built. https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1312764/Britains-child-slaves-New-book-says-misery-helped-forge-Britain.html#ixzz2ZKkYXGMW

[sepublic]

         Despite my prior clarification that the Queen of Tears is NOT an Escapee… In a way, she kind of is?

         Like the Escapees, she is a prisoner of the Tower of Tears; I included the detail of her being bound to that structure simply because it seemed cool to me, but now I have narrative justifications too. Like the Escapees, she is freed when Wayvren the Fallen destroys the Tower of Tears.

         The Queen of Tears is someone preserved for all eternity because of the Magical Tears… in this case, because she’s made of them. Her spherical, droplet shape mirrors the frozen globes the Escapees are trapped inside; She IS the prison, with nothing really inside as a result. But is a prison also imprisoned by itself?

         She gathered the Escapees to make her child feel happy, understood, and less lonely; And she sees her purpose as essentially doing the same, to alleviate the pain. The Queen of Tears believes she shares a calling with these Escapees, as tools and toys for her child’s benefit. They have a place with each other by her child’s side, and surely will be able to relate to one another over this, find happiness in that role.

         The Queen of Tears is obviously an outlier; She IS a Tear, she is the one who started all of this. She chose it completely, and she was not imprisoned by a Wayvren but herself. But as I’ve suggested before, I might explore the idea of a more conventional Escapee who wasn’t imprisoned by the Wayvrens, but by someone else, and/or the Queen of Tears herself. So that just further blurs the line and distinction between Queen of Tears and Escapee; Like yes there IS an imbalance and disconnect, she is their warden.

         But man. There’s a case to be said that the Queen of Tears is the Proto-Escapee, the original, before the concept was refined. Does she insist on differentiating herself from them, and to what extent? Does she insist on kinship, and believe the Escapees fleeing their assigned task is them denying this; Rather than the Queen of Tears being inadvertently freed, a reiteration of her parallels to THEM, instead?

         Would she see herself above these Escapees, or project a kindred understanding that she needs them to reciprocate, for her child’s sake? In the end, the Queen of Tears would be the only Escapee who actually wants to go back, and is working to ensure all of them return to that status quo, and revoke their status of freedom that made them known as Escapees to begin with. Speaking of, what would those dinguses be called, prior to them escaping?

         Because it’s not like the Queen of Tears would call them Escapees from the beginning, she doesn’t intend for them to escape! Transfer ownership to her child, which COULD be interpreted as ‘escaping’ the Tower of Tears, but not really in her droplet-shaped eyes. Prisoners is too ugly of a word for her, she wants something soothing and palatable for her kid, and everyone else!

         There’s lot of words and terms; She might refer to them as her ‘charge’, people she’s assigned herself over as she has done for her child. The Protected, the Meek, people who need to be preserved and saved. The Salvaged, mayhaps? I’m also partial to the Gifted; To the Wayvrens who don’t know the Queen of Tears’ true purpose, it might seem like a reference to each Escapees’ unique skills, talents, and danger they present to the world. Someone like Midas is ‘gifted’, in the sense that he was a brilliant scholar who became the Golden Man because of this; And his dangerous Gold Touch is a ‘gift’.

         Plus, there’s connections with Arkley’s alumni, who are also a menagerie of freaks and deviants, molded by an older person for a purpose within a tower… I’ve discussed them in a previous post, but there’s a lot to be said about how many alumni are burnt-out gifted kids who’ve suffered from the pressure and expectation to succeed and outdo the others, as can be seen in David Kress especially. People who feel like rejects and failures.

         So then it’s funny to make those parallels with the Escapees and these young adults who are in many ways still stunted kids, and who are being followed by a generation of actual kids; Kids they hate, kids among whom is Lloyd, which the Escapees seek to kill and/or exploit. And these kids escaping Arkley is an inciting incident, just as the Tower of Tears being fled is; The Arkley Gang pursues these children to bring them back, like the Queen of Tears with the Escapees. 

        She does it for her kid; Arkley does it, for many reasons, but part of it may be a twisted paternal sense that he hopes may offset his own empty loneliness and regret. Parallels and foils, one adult expects herself and others to do it all for the kid, the other adult expects all the kids to do it for him. And that goes with the idea that the Escapees are more alike with these kids they target than they care to admit, and that’s part of the senseless tragedy of it all, that they’d target of all people these fellow freaks, instead of recognizing the solidarity to become allies.

         But back to my point; That’s the initial interpretation, the assumption. Each Escapee has been ‘gifted’ with some strange body or power and skills that might’ve led to them becoming like that. But in reality, the Queen of Tears calls them gifted, because they’re the gifts; To be gifted to her child. The presents, the toys for them to wake up to. It’s a double-meaning that the Wayvrens are totally oblivious to.

        She’s a fairly serious person, but… c’mon, the Queen of Tears must’ve been chuckling, patting herself on the back at least a little, when she referred to her prisoners as such in front of the Wayvrens, knowing how they’d interpret it, and thus have nothing to fear of them picking up on that title as a clue to her real intentions. She must’ve felt mighty clever then.

[sepublic]

Arkley’s Alumni

            For years I’ve toyed with the idea of Arkley’s Alumni, kids who successfully grew up and graduated from that hellish academy, becoming fully-trained agents and assassins for the Arkley Gang. And while I struggled on how to make this work regarding the timeline and other logistical questions… I think I have a compromise!

         There’s a first and second generation of students. The first generation was pulled together some years ago, I dunno the exact number. Arkley gathered a bunch of kids, mostly orphans, within a certain age range; Not too far apart, but with some flexibility to work with, because he couldn’t always be a chooser. His teachers raise and train these kids up to adulthood, where they officially graduate. As gifts, Arkley bestows as many as possible something strange from his collection, or some weird experiment Draik and Arakchos devised; Anything to add to the armaments of these kids and make them stand out from regular humans.

         These Alumni are granted automatic positions of command and authority in the Arkley Gang, as Arkley’s beloved children. Regular members of the Terror Triad aren’t sure how to feel about this, but they have no say in it regardless and have to live with it. The project proves a relative success, and vindicated by the results, Arkley allows maybe a few years before he begins work on raising the next generation.

         This second generation is the one whom Lloyd, Breda, Lycan, Gene, etc., all belong to. They’ve got big shoes to fill, considering how the first generation of Alumni turned out. I think there’s a lot of potential for fun dynamics here; Like, how do the Alumni feel about this second generation, and vice-versa? Do some students admire the Alumni? Do some Alumni feel a camaraderie, a sense of kinship with this new generation?

         Do some of them have mixed feelings, object to more of them being created, put through the grinder? Or do they feel bitterly entitled to see the second generation suffer at least as much as they did? It’s a generational mirror to explore; Every Alumnus is an example to our protagonists of the kind of person they’re probably gonna end up as, if things go Arkley’s way. And do they want to end up like that? Are these Alumni something to strive towards, or a cautionary tale instead?

         Plus, there’s the personal stories of each Alumnus, the transition from being a student to a full-time enforcer and agent for Arkley. How do they respond to their authority over members of the Terror Triad? Do their subordinates accuse them of nepotism, or argue that since these Alumni trained and studied their whole life for this, it’s only fair? What is the relationship like between an Alumnus and a regular Triad recruit, who has a skewed idea of what life in the outside world is like; And how do the Triad members interact with these kids they’ve watched grow up and seen so many glimpses of?

         Having tasted the power and life that Arkley trained them for, how many Alumni decided it was worth it, and how many only resent Arkley even more, now able to definitively declare it was for nothing? Is there any twisted gratitude, lingering anger; What exactly IS the dreaded result of this whole process, what do you end up like, what impact can we see emerge from years of conditioning?

         It’s a lot to look forward to. A second generation in the shadow of the first, with a noticeable divide in age. Some of whom could act as mentors, twisted or otherwise, to these kids. Maybe one of the teachers IS an Alumnus! I’m still figuring out the timelines and ages for the teachers admittedly, and I’m not sure if it’s feasible for Trexdis to have taught the first generation, which raises the question of who was the English teacher before her? What happened to them?

         I might change up the age and timeline for Trexdis, add some more years, since I like the idea of a few Alumni who fondly remember their lessons under her, and feel a sense of loyalty and gratitude as a result; So when Trexdis defects and needs allies, a few of these Alumni call upon their old experiences and decide, you know what, I’ll follow you to Hell and back. I think there’s a very sweet tale there, even if these kids were basically kidnapped; But then again, they have the choice between Trexdis, who chose to show kindness, or the Arkley Gang as a whole. So they mean it when they decide.

         (That, or Trex never taught any of the Alumni and only joined after graduation; But a few did serve under her command on some missions, and that’s how they built trust together.)

         Which, having said that; I really should go into the ages and timeline for the Arkley Gang, for the faculty, alumni, and students. That’s something I never really got around to, so I should get started. On another note, I guess Nick Dragomir Kajumon might be an Alumnus, then…? That’s surreal; Imagine him being made during the tenure of the first generation, and then Arkley went F it and threw Nick in with the rest of these kids. Just this giant, hulking behemoth of armor and metal, who hasn’t aged at all since he was made. Imagine Nick hanging out with (mostly) human kids as they grow up and he doesn’t, at least physically; Developmentally, mentally, I imagine Nick progressed quite a bit. How did he stick out like a sore thumb, then and now?

[sepublic]

            I want to discuss Kress, and specifically why the Arkley Gang cast her out. As I’ve established, it’s because Arkley saw the type of magic she was getting into as too threatening even for him, or more specifically, it had too much potential to be turned against Arkley.

         Right now, I’m trying to decide on the nature of this magic; What exactly was Kress dabbling in? I’ve considered that maybe she had a particular innate talent for Chimera Casting, having the potential to create entire armies of chimeras at her beck and call. But the thing about Chimera Casters is that their creations are loyal to them, and them only; They can order a chimera to prioritize someone else, but nothing’s stopping them from changing their mind, either.

         To Kress, there were only benefits to indulging in this potential of hers; The idea that she could turn her army against the Arkley Gang was unimaginable, she didn’t even bother to consider it. But to Arkley, the idea of one of his ‘children’ being such a load-bearing element for an entire aspect of his organization, and one that had all of the control for whom he could only depend upon the loyalty of, did not sit right with him. He didn’t like relinquishing that much control, and reasoned that any benefits of having an army of chimeras would be immediately offset the moment Kress realized she could turn against him.

         At least with Three-Bladed Sam and her Terror Triads, they were still their own independent people who could think for themselves and be reasoned with; Theoretically, Sam could order her troops to turn on Arkley, but Arkley could always appeal to the Terror Triads’ greed to have them maintain loyalty to him. But the chimeras were bound to their creator and wouldn’t entertain treachery, nor would they hesitate to uproot their entire system on the whims of someone who wasn’t even at the absolute top.

         This might be why the Arkley Gang discouraged Kress, who either felt betrayed and THEN attempted open defiance and was exiled, and/or was directly betrayed ahead of time by the Arkley Gang. I’m still figuring this out, but by the present day, Kress is working with Trexdis to gather materials for all manner of chimeras, gradually amassing an army, one beast at a time, and storing them somewhere. Chimeras are still very mortal, so Kress insists on saving them only for the big push against Arkley, and not against other threats like the Escapees, or even her fellow alumni; This is for balancing purposes.

         That’s one consideration… But I’ve also had another in mind;

         Remember what I suggested earlier about Nick Dragomir Kajumon just being Ottish Ven, after he lost his memories and was indoctrinated by the Arkley Gang? Arkley would have big reason to fear Ottish Ven, having heard the legends of this charismatic conqueror, maybe even having been alive during his big heyday. He’s a powerful force on a leash, but one that could easily turn against and rival him if it got back its memories…

         So maybe what Kress was doing, unwittingly, threatened to restore those memories. I’m workshopping different abilities/powers for Kress, and I’m currently partial to the idea of sound-based magic… There’s not too much of a correlation with memories and sound, so maybe I’d still have to change/add to Kress’ arsenal, or maybe it was a new field she explored. If that were the case, she’d probably continue exploring that field out of spite when she was betrayed, though…

         Regardless, Kress isn’t a Chimera Caster in this version of events; She doesn’t have the potential to create an entire army loyal only to her. It’s just that her type of magic could allow her to, by accident, undo whatever’s keeping Nick’s memories from returning to him, if it were some sort of mental block, something like that. And THAT’s what scares Arkley… And it’s what also breaks Kress when she finds out.

         Because in this scenario, she doesn’t know what she did wrong; All she knows is that this type of magic was considered a particular threat by Arkley, for some reason, and she didn’t know why. But she’d dive into it regardless to figure it out… For years, Kress nurtured herself on the reassurance that she really was something special and dangerous; That even if she felt stung about the betrayal, at least it affirmed for her just how much she could stand on her own, that she could do her own thing, and really was THAT good. She became Valedictorian for a reason, right?

         There’d be the belief in her capability, to uproot the Arkley Gang; And that’s what would keep her going, help Kress believe she could take on this massive goliath (maybe I should keep Kress male just to retain the name David for symbolism…), because the goliath itself seemed to think so, and was certain enough about that to betray! So to find out the truth…

         In the end, Kress herself wasn’t actually a threat; It was all just someone else. It wasn’t about what Kress was capable of, it was about what her fellow alumnus could do. And that could just add to Kress and Nick’s dynamic, Kress feeling like Nick is an idiot who has wasted his potential, being lowkey jealous… And then finding out that Nick is the sole reason for Kress being taken so seriously, for being cast out by Arkley, unloved. It turns out most of Kress’ coping confidence relies on Nick, so can you imagine how she’d feel? She's nothing without him, and now that Kress has fulfilled her purpose, she’s just nothing, period.

         I can envision it; The big twist that Nick is Ottish Ven, coupled with the big reveal of why Kress was feared. And it wasn’t actually about Kress, and someone, probably Draik or Metallicus, rubs that in her face when the truth is revealed; It was never about you. We never feared you specifically. All you can do is knock down a tiny domino that pushes forward the actual monster, Ottish Ven, and that’s all you’re good for, setting someone else up. And that someone is a person who can't even make full use of his potential, unlike you, at least until now...

         That would break Kress, and I might rub salt in the wound by having Nick’s memories return not even from her, but from some other method, making her feel truly useless. I can imagine Draik or Metallicus feeling particularly cruel, and rubbing it in her face by musing; Well, we only feared you because of your capacity to restore Ottish Ven. But now that that’s already done, you’re no longer the danger we thought you were… So why not come back to us? We’ll welcome you! We have no more reason to be afraid of you, not that it was ever you who mattered, really.

         I just feel like it’d really mess up Kress, even more than she already is, and tie into another character’s arc. It’d be thematically tragic. It’d play into Kress’ whole inferiority complex and struggling relationship with strength, feeling the need to prove a point to someone, to play by their game and its rules. Wondering if there’s anything else to her besides revenge, if she can have that other thing AND revenge, or if they’re mutually exclusive. How does Kress pick herself back up after this revelation, how does her feelings and potential resentment towards Nick, amplified, play into the chaos of Ottish Ven’s return? Does she help, does she just want him dead, what happens?

         So as you can imagine, I’m caught between these two takes, and for all I know I may even come up with a third in the future. Alas, I consider these options mutually exclusive; The whole point of Kress being the one to unlock Nick’s memories is that it’s a tragic realization that shatters her self-perception even further. But if she has an entire army of chimeras cooking somewhere, then that defeats the point. I’ll probably have Nick be Ottish Ven either way, for the sake of HIS storyline… But that raises the question of how Kress will factor into it, and whether it’s the one good thing she’s apparently good for, or not.

         Because I’ll be honest, I REALLY want to explore the fun of a character who can make all manner of horrible fusions from organic life, and have them be based in a ‘normal’ world in order to contrast with the setting. Maybe I should hand this role over to the Horned Demon, who is Tamericus’ master and an alchemist anyhow; That might make more sense. And then I figure out some connection between Kress’ sound magic and Nick getting back his memories.

[sepublic]

With how I compared Nykon to a Goliath that the freak show survivors must overcome as David, I feel like there’s something to be said about their ally named David Kress... I’ve never really written or imagined a particular conflict with Nykon or Kress, who fight mostly because of proxies, i.e. Nykon is trying to kidnap Lloyd and that upsets Trexdis, and Kress cares for both. Or the fact that he learns to see the freaks as friends, so by extension he’s going to hate Nykon. But I’ve never considered anything personal between Kress and Lightning Dragon, if they’d hold a specific stance towards that person because they’re that person, not because of their relations...

I mean, I did characterize Kress as kind of a ‘loser’ in the eyes of the Arkley Gang, simply not good enough, cast aside and given an inferiority complex for it. And Nykon also has this, because she was also seen as a loser, hence why she was assigned to hunt down the traitors; So it’s a sore spot and a desire to prove themselves.

Of course, Nykon has sort of moved on but not really from her dragon superiors; Deep down she still hopes for approval, but she knows it’s a lost cause. Whereas Kress is very much continuing to dedicate himself to his former superiors... With the express intent of overthrowing them. So Nykon has basically given up but won’t consider defiance, while it’s the other way around for Kress; He refuses to talk about anything else, and he wants to burn the whole thing down instead of finding his place in it.

But in the end, they’re both still affected by and dependent on that kind of approval, wanting to manifest it in different ways; Nykon as a valued underling or even a peer, while Kress wants Arkley and the teachers to fear him, to regret having ever made an enemy of him as he rises above and they fall.

Case in point, I could absolutely see Nykon reading Kress and figuring this out subconsciously, projecting onto him by mocking how he’s a loser reject and knowing exactly which buttons to push from experience; Deep down, Nykon sees herself reflected, and is practicing self-harm via self-recognition through the other (derogatory). So they’re both weirdly underdogs, in the context of their backgrounds? Still powerful and dangerous individuals on their own and to the common person, but that’s not who they’re always concerned about.

Though, I feel the David Vs Goliath metaphor works better for the freaks, considering they start off as so much more out of their league, freaks by human standards but in the larger context of the GEverse, mundane nobodies with nothing special to them. Whereas Kress was trained since childhood and has actual, dangerous magic, so it isn’t as much of a journey to see him getting strong enough to fight Nykon as it is for the freaks; He’s already gone through most of that work. Maybe I should just ignore Kress being a David, avoid name-dropping David and Goliath, and/or even change Kress’ first name since it’s not that important to his character.

[sepublic]

...Actually, new idea here; What if Nick Dragomir Kajumon isn't a new soul placed into the old body of Ottish Ven... That's what he's told, but...

What if he is Ottish Ven, but with his memories completely erased? And with no experiences, he was reset as basically a blank slate, influenced and taught by the Arkley Gang... Arkley knew the truth, he saw the chance to remold the dreaded Ottish Ven into HIS servant.

But it was also imperative he never regain his memories, that he'd simply be told that he was a successor, not the original. But somebody with their own agenda finds out, and in a last ditch effort, they somehow manage to restore Ottish Ven's memories... And thus, Nick is at odds with the reemergence of the ruthless, power-hungry side that is Ottish Ven, and the compassionate personality he cultivated with his friends.

Because listen; I really dig the idea/trope of “Amnesiac who seems pretty decent is implied by other characters to have been a total menace when they had their memories, and if they get those memories back their true colors will return and it doesn’t matter who they just were, they’ll go back once those formative experiences remind them why.” More specifically, there’s the very potential threat of that happening… It’s not set in stone, but the initial reaction to the truth may prompt a regression, a return to old habits before they reconcile the new and the old.

[sepublic]

            Meet Nick Dragomir Kajumon! I considered doing a redraw, but tbh, this sketch I did a while back has... aged fairly well!

         Nick is an interesting individual, born of magic and technology. Crafted by Arakchos and Draik as an ‘Ultimate Weapon’ of sorts, they took the Typhonus Infusorium Armor and wrapped it around a metal endoskeleton equipped with various mechanisms and devices. By implanting a manmade soul into the body, they created Nick Dragomir Kajumon (the name is as long as the story behind it).

         The dark blue Infusorium isn’t just armor for Nick, it’s a part of him, his soul entwined with it and the metallic frame within. Thanks to magic, he can open his mouth to chew on and absorb metal to repair his internals, if they’re ever damaged, though alas he has no sense of taste. His claws are made of Destonium, a silver metal that like his armor is also indestructible.  

         Nick can fly, with jet boosters built into his back that his shell will unfurl to reveal. He’s like a cross between a snapping turtle, a T-rex, a dragon, and a gorilla in terms of form; Nick is equipped with massive strength and can curl up into a rolling ball of destruction. Typhonus Armors are already indestructible themselves, but their serrated, sharp textures add additional destruction, as do the sharp scales that cover Nick’s back.

         What makes Infusorium stand out amongst other Typhonus Armors is that it can create constructs and weapons from itself, so Nick can generate blades, spikes, flexible tendrils to lash out with, etc. His mouth can open to fire a laser sphere, while his palms open to fire multiple; A barrage of these can whittle down any force, and at full power the cannons fire concentrated beams of energy.

         Not only that, but his chest can open to reveal a small compartment! Having decked it out with soft surfaces and cushions, it acts as a handy place to store objects and even small children inside of. As a result, Nick has been tasked with a fair number of escort missions, and his anchor-like tail can extend over his head to strike like a scorpion. He can even mash his hands together to form a giant drill, and by spinning as he flies, tunnel through the ground! His Typhonus Armor is already protean, but so are the features of the frame it’s wrapped around, and the configurations it can take.

         With such an arsenal of power, you’d consider Nick Dragomir Kajumon to be one of the most fearsome members of the Arkley Gang, and he is, to an extent… But also, he’s a very silly, clumsy, and easily flustered dude. Not the most stoic, kind of gullible, he’s a big lug who means well, a gentle giant, and his solution to a ticking bomb was once to carry it over his head as he ran as far as he could, screaming the whole time (he could survive the explosion, but everything else...); Despite his intimidating size and frame, Nick has a light, generic voice. If Nick wasn’t nerfed by his agreeable Just Some Dude vibes, he could reach his dreaded full potential.

         That said, Nick is no slouch and if he’s assigned to a mission, that’s the equivalent of caling in the big guns. He’s already an unstoppable juggernaut who can last against an Escapee, imagine if his personality was ruthless and focused enough to match…! In the end, don’t underestimate Nick just because he can be a bit goofy; Nick’s strength, combined with the sharpness and durability of his armor, means he can end a fight against even an Escapee within three direct, consecutive punches to the face. He’s knocked down people with regenerative abilities hard enough for them to not get back up.

        He’s been assigned as a bodyguard for the students a few times, and when Trexdis betrayed the Arkley Gang, he was one of the few members she could trust and count on to help her, having served beneath Trexdis’ command a number of times. He isn’t particularly familiar with a few of the other trusted friends Trexdis has roped into her defection, but Nick figures he’ll just have to get accustomed!

[sepublic]

            Melissa Arakchos, science teacher at Arkley’s and head scientist of the Arkley Gang, is a Techna… But she doesn’t exactly fit within the Techna League, having that other aforementioned affiliation.

         Arakchos once worked with Salazar, and I haven’t fully figured out the details yet. But I do know that by the present-day, she has her own Techna body that incorporates her signature style of ‘Spirius tech’ that is also manifest in her eleven Spirius Drones. Maybe as a human scientist, Arakchos approached Salazar during the early days of the Techna League, negotiated a Techna body of her own that didn’t have any of Salazar’s control, and then went her own way.

         Maybe the Techna program had its origins in these two, initially just a foray into cybernetics; But while Salazar was inspired to impose an upgrade on everyone, Arakchos was content to leave it with herself and whoever asked, and likewise saw the Techna program as simply one of many projects. Not her life’s work or anything, and arguably more of a stepping stone and tool. Salazar became obsessed with being Techna and went down one path, and Arakchos the other.

        Regardless, these two have a past. They don’t regard the other very well, with Arakchos seeing Salazar as an overly-sentimental fool who’s wasting time and resources, while Salazar is frustrated at Arakchos for wasting her Techna body on completely unrelated pursuits, and actively harming people in her experiments.

        Arakchos unnerves Salazar, since she’s a Techna that isn’t under his control, and has a mind to rival his own; Though her ambitions are not as extreme, or at least are directed in a different place. While Salazar is at the top of his own organization, Arakchos is content to serve Arkley as part of his inner circle.

[sepublic]

Ottish Ven and Nick Dragomir Kajumon

            I’m toying with the idea of Nick Dragomir Kajumon’s body, a combination of Typhonus armor and automaton, not originally being his own. Rather, it was made centuries ago in the ancient past, and the soul that inhabited this ultimate weapon was a charismatic conqueror named Ottish Ven.

         Ottish Ven had no qualms; He knew exactly who he was, and exactly what he wanted. He had deadly certainty and a strategic mind, enabling him to carve out a powerful empire of his own. Not many warlords can boast to being a one-man army in their own right, and his invincibility and unparalleled strength allowed Ottish to tear through entire battlefields on his own. Ven used his powers and abilities to their fullest extent, practically graceful in how naturally he took to his new form.

         With the technology at the time being less advanced, that just made the general populace even more helpless against the infamous Ottish Ven. Armies, villages, even cities quickly pledged loyalty to Ottish Ven; They could tell who the winning side was. Many battles, Ottish Ven would make a point to fight the main bulk of the enemy’s army on his own, before leaving the stragglers to his own human troops to handle and pick off; This made him even more attractive as an option, and those who rallied behind Ven were convinced of his victory and of their group’s invincibility.

         So it’s easy to imagine the vigor that blazed across the lands, armies confident knowing their leader was the dreaded Ottish Ven, a name he made sure to announce and carve into the memories of those who lived to tell the tale. But as unstoppable as Ven was, even he met his eventual match… For it was an opponent who had the power to remove souls from their bodies without even damaging them.

         In an unprecedented battle, Ottish Ven met his match and was defeated; Slain, even. His empire collapsed overnight; It hinged entirely on the assumption that with a juggernaut such as Ottish for a leader, nobody could defeat them! But with Ottish Ven dead, his troops were demoralized with the realization that their seemingly assured victories were no longer going to be handed to them on a silver platter. Ottish Ven’s legions dissipated, warring with one another before eventually being picked off by others.

         Ottish Ven’s invincible body was left intact, his soul having passed on. Centuries later, it was recovered by the Arkley Gang, who knew the legend of Ottish Ven, and hoped to weaponize it. But this body needed a soul, and they were stumped on how to bond souls, with this being a very elusive and unreliable process.

         As you know, they eventually succeeded in crafting a soul from scratch, artificially created; This soul was given the suitably grandiose name of Dragomir Kajumon, befitting a successor to Ottish Ven! Of course, unlike Ottish, Kajumon would use his talents in service of someone above him, Arkley…

         That was the intent. But the Arkley Gang was very quickly disappointed when the soul they received proved to be a gentle giant, a simple-minded soul who didn’t have the confidence and steel of his predecessor. He was not as clever, not as perceptive, nowhere near as ruthless. In a desperate effort, the Arkley Gang resorted to enrolling Dragomir Kajumon and his young, childlike temperament to the academy, a sore thumb sticking out amidst so many human students.

         Dragomir continued to be a disappointment; He insisted on being too friendly, too casual, too much of a pushover. He did not have the initiative, talent, nor brilliance of Ottish Ven; He was much more content to follow others and just hang around, enjoy life. He humbly accepted the nickname of ‘Nick’ and insisted on going by it as his first name. And when it came to actual conflict and danger, despite his invincibility and raw power, Nick was much more prone to panic and anxiety.

         He was set up to be the next Ottish Ven, but came embarrassingly short; So instead of Nick becoming Valedictorian as Arkley anticipated, that title went to David Kress, and then another. Instead, Nick settled as just another Alumnus, albeit a very powerful one, usually acting as muscle on behalf of a partner. He wasn’t much of a thinker, mostly brute force, a body guard or some protector, for others to guide.

         Nick was of course aware of the fact that he was quite the disappointment; Many he fought fell to his natural strength regardless. But those who could put up a fight likened Nick to a child wearing clothes several sizes too big; Especially those select few who had seen Ottish Ven fight in their own lifetimes, and could compare their direct experience to his successor.

         A lot of the students at Arkley’s are the children of infamous villains, and thus struggle with a huge shadow and plenty of expectations. Despite being artificially made, you could say Nick Dragomir Kajumon is the closest thing Ottish Ven has to a child; And indeed, sometimes Nick reminisces and wonders about his predecessor, his ‘father’ so to speak. Children inherit plenty from their parents, including their own bodies thanks to genetics. Nick’s body was passed down to him by Ottish Ven, but not intentionally; That idea was made and enacted by the Arkley Gang centuries after Ven’s death.

         What would Ottish Ven think of Nick, an heir he never chose? Would he regard him as an impostor, a thief, not even a decent one at that? Nick didn’t even seize this body for himself, it was given to him and it was wasted on him, a travesty to watch. But did Nick even care, considering what a ruthless tyrant Ottish was? Does Nick ever look at himself and fear that some part of Ottish Ven still lingers in these metal bones, and they may have their sway and influence over him, one day?

        I can see Nick having some impostor syndrome, given the enormous shoes he has to fill. And while he seems like the biggest baddest person in general, in comparison to who came before, Nick comes up embarrassingly short. He doesn’t make the most of his body with skill as he could and should, and that means a lot of mixed feelings for Nick over his strange existence and the legacy he may or may not be a part of. Sometimes he dreams about Ottish Ven coming in to take back what is rightfully is, and leave Nick a ghost. Who really was Ottish Ven, is it presumptuous to claim a kinship with him, what IS their relationship? Would Ottish Ven approve (probably not and why would Nick want that?), is there some secret in this body that Nick just has to find?

[sepublic]

David Kress, Tamara, Nick Dragomir Kajumon, and Sally the Slicer

            There are three alumni of Arkley’s who side with Trexdis, consisting of David Kress, Tamara, and Nick Dragomir Kajumon. And among these young adults, I’ve thrown in Sally the Slicer, who is no alumnus and has only ever opposed Arkley… But as part of the ‘main’ group of seven protagonists, she’s part of this age group of adults in their early 20’s. Sally’s obviously an outsider as someone who doesn’t share this camaraderie, and her additional issues don’t help. But she’d make a perfect fit as an alumnus in a different life, being a young person trained into a weapon, and Talikal’s always encouraging Sally to hang out with the other kids. So with all that, let’s talk about the four’s relationships with one another.

         Nick and Tamara get along fairly decently; Tamara’s got the confidence and leadership to guide Nick, so he’s basically the Brawn to her Brains. Tamara is patient with Nick’s antics and even supportive and chill, they’re the closest to casual friends, with no particular issues or baggage to deal with in their interactions; They can actually talk and bond over past experiences as students, unlike with the cold Kress. And the two are fond of this second generation of new students, taking it upon themselves to protect these kids and guide them.

         If Nick ever feels doubtful of himself, Tamara is here to back up the big lug and vouch for him, remind him he’s got plenty of worth! Likewise, Nick would die for his friend. They might not have been proper friends growing up, but there was nothing in the way when they reunited under Trexdis, so these two are happy to be dinguses with one another.

         Nick and Kress? This is different. Kress holds a lot of jealousy and resentment towards Nick; As a burnt out gifted kid who was cast aside for not being good enough, Kress has this whole complex and is frustrated by Nick’s relative incompetence when it comes to using his powerful body and its abilities. Nick is incredibly dangerous, mind you; But he could be even MORE efficient, and that’s what bugs Kress. Like a lot of people, it bothers him that Nick wields himself like a child in clothes several sizes too big for him.

         Likewise, Kress finds Nick frustratingly simple, and overall not worthy for the type of power he has at his disposal; So much potential wasted on a dingus like Nick. Kress had to work hard to get where he is, whereas Nick didn’t, and because of his simplicity, he was never as far up the ranks as he should’ve been. Nick could’ve been a rival but he wasn’t, and this is both good and bad to Kress; And surely he won’t be a rival now, right? Not when he’s stayed the same. On Nick’s end, Kress is a reminder of the pressure he’s under, but he’s not a total pushover in response to him, either.

         It concerns Nick how obsessed and damaged Kress was by the Arkley Gang’s teachings and abuse, and how close to his heart he took it. While Nick has taken a moral stance against the Arkley Gang, he recognizes that Kress is operating more from a place of revenge, and as such is a little wary regarding what Kress is willing to do to accomplish his goals, and the difference between them in ideology…

         Kress and Tamara are like siblings who really like to annoy each other. It was started pretty much purely by Tamara, who immediately liked to tease and egg Kress on, because ultimately she’s curious about her classmate and what’s up with him. She might seem a bit mean-spirited at times with her ribbing, but Tamara DOES care and wants Kress to lighten up. That said, they didn’t start off super chill…

         Kress is naturally abrasive and Tamara has to remind him to be a part of the group; But of course, Kress snaps that he never asked for HER opinion. Pretty quickly, the two remind the other of their shortcomings in life; Tamara notes to Kress that he was replaced as Valedictorian by another, while Kress bites back that at least he occupied and was considered for that position at all; Tamara isn’t exactly a weakling, but there just isn’t much remarkable about her either among their class.

         It’s mostly Tamara who keeps her cool as she gets on Kress’ nerves, being much more lighthearted and chill, and reminding Kress to be so. Kress on the other hand is obsessive and frustrated over Tamara’s playfulness, as well as the others’ tendency to ‘waste time’ providing emotional support for the kids. Tamara’s taken on a bit of a big sister role to the second generation of students, so that puts her at odds as she reminds Kress to be patient with the kids, as well as Nick.

         But over time, Kress and Tamara open up to one another more, until they reach a breakthrough where Kress lets go of a lot of toxicity and is overwhelmed by the simple fact that he’s part of a family now, he’s found unconditional love after never imagining that for himself. And Tamara, who’s been inviting Kress the whole time, gives him the space to cry over this fact. There is no judgment, no I told you so during this intimate moment of vulnerability.

         Tamara terrifies Sally, rather than the other way around. This is baffling to Sally, given she’s an actual serial killer (technically former, now an assassin), although Tamara is no saint herself. While Sally seems like the intimidating, messed-up one of the group, there’s something to be said about Tamara seeing Sally in all of her horrific, murderous glory, and deciding firmly that she’s interested and wants to know more. That social curiosity of Tamara’s unnerves Sally, as does her straightforwardness and superior experience when it comes to social interactions; It’s around Tamara that Sally’s fundamental social awkwardness becomes truly apparent.

         To Sally, Tamara is the popular kid everyone expects to be passive-aggressive and mean, except she isn’t. I mean, Tamara isn’t TOTALLY nice either, she is willing to kill. But with people on a general level, she’s friendly! Sally’s wondering what Tamara sees in the ravages of her twisted soul. Tamara forces Sally to confront the mortifying ordeal of being perceived, and maybe Sally should take the chance, why not? If she can take it with one, then two people… Maybe another? Tamara’s got a certainty that surprises the contemplative Slicer, even concerns her a little. It’s probably nothing to worry about, but it sure is ironic that the actual serial killer is more reflective and questioning of her sins than her approachable pal.

         Sally and Nick bond over the fact that they’re weapons; Unnatural, artificially-made, with bodies designed for destruction. They’re failures in different ways; Sally has made the most of her body, but Nick hasn’t. Yet they’ve both defied their ‘creators’, the ones who made them this way. Likewise, there’s a wistful curiosity Nick has over the physical sensations people have; Stuff like touch, smell, taste, etc. But while Nick can only ever wonder about a world he’s never known, for Sally she’s haunted because she does remember, and lost it.

         Neither can totally relate to the predicament of the other. But they can relate to each other more than they can others, so they work with that, as well as not being human. While Nick is hesitant about murder and destruction, Sally is a professional. She’s more lenient on him than Kress, but not as much as Tamara. They’re the powerhouses, the brutes of the group and aware of the roles they must step up for; Their unliving state grants them protection against many hazards for the living, as does their inability to tire, supernatural strength, and so forth.

         They’re VERY hardy compared to the others, and much more suited to open combat, fighting back to back in natural synergy, not having to worry about the other keeping up. They keep each other in check, with Nick curbing Sally’s murderous tendencies and being one of the only people who can safely subdue her with little threat to his own wellbeing; Likewise, Sally has a focus and stoicism Nick really needs to keep him in line. This is all well and good, because Nick and Sally are prone to getting into trouble together.

         Sally and Kress are definitely the most morally bankrupt of the young adults, although Sally has more self-awareness than Kress at least. Still, they’ve reached a mutual understanding of the dark sacrifices they must make for their goals, the necessary evils, and so there’s a recognition and appreciation for how they’re the most twisted, the most ‘villainous’. They don’t talk much and don’t really intend to, they’ve reached a professional agreement to work together and keep it relatively silent, and they’re grateful they’ve come together on this arrangement.

         Because of their shared darkness, it also means they’re willing to collaborate on some more messed up tasks, which leads to bonding moments where Kress feels a bit more willing to vent his frustrations over the pesky inefficiency and morality of the others. Sally, who did come from the same place, feels like someone he can trust more when she offers her own opinion; Because yeah, she’s been there. She’s felt the same, and this empathy and compassion stuff comes easier to Kress… And yet! Sally worked it through, contemplated, and chose it.

         They don’t really get it, how these others can relax and be at peace with themselves for the most part; Be so chill and hang out with others, make friends so easily. They’re outcasts in their own right; Kress was cast out of the Arkley Gang even before Trexdis’ defection, and was declared a pariah by the organization to the rest of the Alumni. He’s been fighting on his own before Trexdis, and he isn’t as loyal. Nor is Sally, who is more beholden to Talikal, and isn’t even an alumnus herself!

        There’s a shared awkwardness over trauma and its isolation that enables them to feel more at ease in admitting certain things towards one another, such as their struggles and attempts to ‘get’ the rest. They don’t have to worry about the other judging them for admitting the darker thoughts and feelings they’ve had, the callousness, because the other gets it too. So there’s a wordless trust when they reach a mutual idea and go off on their lonesome to perform ethical violations the others might be less receptive towards… Except Talikal, who’s giving a thumbs-up of approval too!

[sepublic]

Tamara’s Power

            A few days ago, I asked a physics question for a story I was writing, and after receiving some answers that seemed to share a general consensus, I’m happy to explain the context!

         Remember Tamara, an Arkley’s alumnus I introduced a while back? I’ve been workshopping on what her ‘abilities’ are, and I’ve finally figured it out: Tamara has the power to change the direction of gravitational pull on whatever she touches, including herself by default!

         I’m not sure yet how she obtained these powers through the help of the Arkley Gang, but I do know that she’s fairly devastating with them. If you can’t fly, which is most people, you’re automatically screwed as soon as Tamara makes physical contact with you; Ever wanted to know what it’s like to skydive, but never had the patience to go through the whole process of getting setup, knowing it gave one too many chances to chicken out? No worries! You can skydive from the freaking ground now, thanks to her!

         Tamara makes for a fairly effective assassin and deadly combatant, as a result; She can cherry-tap you once, and watch as you suddenly start plummeting into the sky like you jumped out of a plane. And you keep spinning and falling, reaching terminal velocity… until Tamara’s effect finally wears off; At which point, if you haven’t suffocated from thin air (I haven’t figured out the exact time it takes for this effect to wear off, much less how long it’d take to free fall into altitudes too thin to breathe), well. What comes up, what comes down; That’s a philosophy Tamara lives by.

         That’s if you’re outside, of course; Inside, you ever look up at a ceiling and think how far up it is, like if gravity was suddenly reversed, you’d go splat? Well, now you don’t have to imagine it! And Tamara can change the direction of gravity to whatever she pleases, not just reverse it… So imagine you’re just standing there, and suddenly you’re falling sideways for several feet until you crash into a wall and break every bone in your body.

         Tamara’s power is fully three-dimensional and she’s embraced this fact; She can apply her ability to objects as well, so imagine there’s a car between you and her. One tap, and the car is hurtling towards you, with the force a car normally has when it’s been dropped in the middle of the air. This ability to let gravity do all of the work in lifting and carrying objects gives Tamara the impression of having super strength, but not quite!

         If Tamara maintains contact with whatever she’s touching, she can also change its direction of gravitational pull as she pleases; So, say she applies this to a giant axe on the ground. By pointing its gravitational direction up, and then turning it like the clock of a hand as it ‘falls’ in her hands, Tamara can effectively swing heavy weapons over her head like they weigh nothing, and by that same logic, spin them around. Gravity does all of the work for Tamara.

         She doesn’t have to attack up-close either; As mentioned, Tamara can make objects fall towards opponents from a distance. The farther, the more force is built up until it reaches terminal velocity, so either Tamara attacks you from afar with makeshift meteors, or taps you on the shoulder and sends you spiraling into the atmosphere like a balloon you let go. It’s a painfully lose-lose situation, but like the original context for being stuck between a rock and a hard place, there IS a better, or rather less-worse option; The ‘rock’, or rather being attacked from afar. Because you can theoretically move out of the way or even defend yourself against speeding objects, but if you can’t fly…!

         Attacking from a distance is how Tamara deals with people who can fly; While initially disoriented, they tend to be fairly hard counters to her ability. But they’re not the only ones who can fly…!

         Remember what I said, about Tamara’s ability applying to herself by default? Remember that weirdly specific physics question I asked a while back? This is why; Tamara can change the direction of gravity’s pull on her to not only walk on walls and other surfaces, but ‘fly’ too; Although to quote Toy Story, it’s more technically akin to ‘falling with style’. By changing her direction of gravity as she falls, Tamara can soar through the skies, and quickly reach terminal velocity; Which for reference, is about 120 miles/200 km per hour. And it takes about twelve seconds to reach that, too!

         So if Tamara wants to get someplace fast, she’s flying; No traffic AND the top speed of the average car! If she needs to land, Tamara can reverse the direction of gravity, causing her to slow down until she reaches a temporary stopping point; By doing this just above the ground, Tamara can revert gravity to normal just as she stops, and safely land! And yes, I, or rather everyone I asked, did the calculations to see if this would kill Tamara or give her severe whiplash. So far, the forces seem akin to a roller coaster, so Tamara is probably fine! Also it’s fiction, so y’know.

         Tamara doesn’t always need to travel long distances at top speed, however; if it’s a short distance, Tamara can briefly point gravity’s pull in the direction she needs to get, and as soon as she begins moving, reverse it to slow down as she lands perfectly at her destination. Don’t bother trying to outrun Tamara, she’ll always cut you off and be much faster at it, too.

         As mentioned, Tamara can turn off her gravitational effect. While she needs to maintain contact with a victim/object to change their pull, she can always turn it off from a distance, reverting them back to regular gravity. This allows Tamara to alter something’s trajectory like an arc, albeit once, upon changing its gravity and letting it leave her. So yeah, she can hurl a car over a fence, so remain vigilant!

         Tamara can even combine her ability to ‘fly’ with her ability to send objects ‘flying’, in a very terrifying maneuver; By latching onto something, she can change its gravitational pull and her own in the same direction. Tamara could grab onto a boulder, and make it fly just as she does, swerving and turning multiple times in the sky, making passes as they swoop down in an attempt to hit a target. In practice, it looks like Tamara is Superman, flying and pushing a giant object through the air before she slams it directly into someone.

         As mentioned, the imagery of Tamara’s abilities can give a skewed perception of what they even are; If Tamara isn’t inclined to explain them to an enemy (so every time, basically), they might be under the initial impression she has super strength, and/or flight; Able to freely soar and send large objects careening into the sky like they’re nothing. Casually jump incredible heights and somersault over obstacles, before gently landing like a cat on its feet. But again, it’s all gravity doing the work, it’s all just ‘falling with style’.

         Naturally, it takes a VERY intimate understanding of physics to wield this ability to the fullest, and safely. When Tamara received her power, she devoted as much time as possible into experimentation, learning physics and how to calculate trajectories, and had advanced lessons from Frared and Arakchos on math and physics. She practiced frequently, wearing a parachute and cushioned armor to protect herself in the case of crashes. But as Tamara perfected her ability, she eventually didn’t even need these things. Likewise, she became a professional skydiver of sorts, learning how to optimize speed, airflow, and posture in order to maneuver mid-air.

         Tamara can be terrifying. It might look unusual and occasionally goofy to see someone in the air, skydiving but somehow sideways… But then she sets sights on you and swoops down like a bird of prey diving towards its prey; And when Tamara grazes her hand against you, to onlookers it looks like she just whacked you into the air. It’s like seeing an object in a videogame get hurled, but there’s no gravity effect so it just falls in a completely straight direction; Uncanny and also hilarious. If Tamara misses, she just soars back into the air and circles around, waiting for the right time and angle to strike.

         It should also be mentioned that if Tamara doesn’t want to break her hand while flying at high speeds, she needs to slow down as she grazes you with arm or leg to activate her ability. This is admittedly not that much of a help, since Tamara can always switch to walking and running on the ground like normal, but it is a window of relative safety!

         When it comes to mundane usage of her power, Tamara likes to hang around at odd angles, sometimes sitting sideways, upside down, with her stuff similarly beside her; It’s not uncommon to see Tamara stand upside down on your ceiling, or sit sideways on some railing as she sips a drink without a lid, with zero spill or struggle. 

         While exploring her power, Tamara admittedly got cocky once and had a bunch of other stuff around her in such an odd angle; But got absent-minded and forgot to regularly refresh her ability through contact, which led to something of hers falling back in the direction of normal gravity after a while. Hence, she makes sure to always hold onto something, as much as possible when Tamara takes it with her.

         As mentioned, Tamara also uses her power to travel in short bursts, and she’s admittedly cheated a bit when it comes to roller skating, briefly pointing gravity’s pull forward, albeit slightly angled downwards; And then letting it move her along before reverting it back to normal, enabling Tamara to build up some impressive speed that isn’t too ludicrous! She’ll do this periodically to refresh and maintain momentum…

         In general, don’t play sports with Tamara; Even if she promises not to use her ability, you can’t always tell with how she can cleverly return gravity’s direction to normal to restore an arcing motion. And if you accuse her of still using her power, Tamara will jokingly accuse you of downplaying her natural strength and capabilities.

         Unsurprisingly, Tamara can be a bit of a prankster, and take her tricks to malicious extents; She can set up traps by making objects stick to the ceiling, and then turn off the effect so they fall back down afterwards onto someone. Tamara has also made people quickly realize just how unaccommodated for multi-directional gravity most architecture is. But if she’s with you, expect a lot of fun exploring rooms and buildings at angles you never imagined; Though there might be a learning curve when it comes to landing properly, and especially in training yourself for dizziness.

         Luckily for Tamara, she wasn’t totally blind-sided when exploring the secondary effects of her powers; She made sure to test it plenty with… other people, particularly victims, targets, and enemies she was assigned to take out. Tamara toyed with people, and if they weren’t killed in the process of experimentation, she’d just collect the data and THEN apply a straight-forward, conventional method. This is how Tamara figured out how to slow herself down safely, after all… She’s the mastermind behind some fairly bizarre murders; Crime scenes where it looks like a victim was somehow launched into the corner of a ceiling, went splat, and then fell back to the ground after a few minutes.

        Ultimately, Tamara’s philosophy when it comes to her power can be boiled down to two phrases, both of them quotes; Again, “Falling with style” and “Gravity hurts.”

[sepublic]

Here’s a sketch of David Kress; You may have seen me refer to him as David Cross, or David Krauser, but this is what his name is now! Kress is another old character of mine who’s gone through countless revisions... But as of now, the working idea here is that Kress is another alumnus of Arkley’s, like Nick and Tamara.

Kress is a bit of a different case in that amongst Trexdis’ recruited alumni, he was fairly eager, early on, about rebelling against Arkley. I’m still workshopping the story, motives, and a lot of other things... But right now, I imagine Kress was trained to be a weapon, and when he took this mission to its next logical step, that meant dabbling in some powerful magic.

Not that Arkley has any concerns about unethical magic, but the kind Kress was getting into posed a potential threat, if Kress wielded it for himself. As a result, he was forbidden and kept in line, and Kress felt confused and betrayed because wasn’t this what he was supposed to do? Get stronger, make himself more useful, as he’s been taught his whole life?!

Maybe Kress ended up defying Arkley, or was betrayed and cast out due to paranoia. Maybe he’s still a member of the Arkley Gang when Trexdis defects, and/or has beaten her to that. Maybe they were always in secret contact, considering and discussing the possibility of rebellion, with Trexdis feeling sympathetic to Kress, and Kress having a soft spot for his favorite teacher.

In the end, he sees himself as a fellow collaborator and willing lieutenant. He’s understandably protective of Trexdis and wary of the other alumni she’s recruited, since Kress has some trust issues over being betrayed. Maybe he was once the prized Valedictorian, or slated for it, only to be cast aside in favor of some other student who was newer and stronger, and even more loyal; So there may be some bitterness for Kress as a result, a bit of an inferiority complex.

His alliance with Trexdis may start off as a mutual quest for revenge, and maybe Kress doesn’t particularly care for people or morals. But Trexdis hopes that by having Kress hang out with her other friends, including this new generation of students... Maybe Kress will learn to forgive himself for not being strong enough according to others, and accept how messed up his conditioning was. It was wrong and Kress shouldn’t have to worry about being the strongest weapon, actually...

If Kress had been cast out, he’d have become a cautionary tale the teachers would’ve taught the next generation of kids; An evil student gone rogue, beware and don’t be like him!!! Kress would’ve been demonized and made out to be the villain of the story, and that’s how characters like Lloyd or Breda might accept it at first. But after fearing Kress as this bogeyman, they eventually meet him as an ally of all people, learn his side of the story, and realize how victory is sometimes written by the winners... Maybe the archetype of the jealous traitor with the inferiority complex has more to him than that.

[sepublic]

So the Arkley Mansion where all the kids learn, where the Arkley Gang itself is ultimately situated, is a fairly elaborate structure. It’s a highly detailed mansion with all manner of confusing passages, hidden doors, puzzles that release unusual items, which themselves are actually keys.

In other words, it’s basically the Spencer Mansion from Resident Evil, with all of the overdramatic aesthetic and questionable design philosophy that comes with it. You know those memes about some poor employee at the Spencer Mansion, having to frantically solve a puzzle to receive half of an emblem that unlocks the bathroom on the other side of the building? That’s kind of it.

And okay, it’s not that bad. That sort of intricacy is more for the secret passages and functions. But the fact that the Arkley Mansion was originally some gothic horror set piece, with all of the trinkets necessary for a survival horror, is fairly obvious. Like Arkley may have repurposed a lot, and sure the eloquence of the place is nice. But sometimes it leads to moments like

Student: Mr. Frared, may I use the restroom?

Frared: Sure, take the bathroom pass with you.

Everyone is fairly certain that the keys to various doors are all expensive family heirlooms of Arkley’s, which makes it more awkward when somebody drops the bathroom pass down the toilet. Hope his family’s ghosts don’t haunt people for it. Arkley didn’t come up with this mansion’s insanity, just inherited it, but he did contribute to its weird mechanics, reasoning that sort of puzzle solving is good for growing adolescents’ minds. I mean I guess...?

Of course, tell that to the grown members of the Terror Triads, who roam the other parts of the mansion as their headquarters. Wouldn’t a keycard have been more efficient, not... This Wolf emblem that has to be combined with an Eagle emblem, with one hidden in a book in one of the libraries, while the other is inside of the mouth of a statue that only opens if you press both eyes at once? Everyone loves a good escape room but not when it’s your own house-

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 3

They weaved through the streets of the lavish neighborhood doing their best to lose their pursuers. They crushed countless flowers and shrubs beneath their feet as they jumped from backyard to backyard. The sound of gunfire forced them to pump their muscles harder, run faster as the rain beat down on them without mercy.

Why was no one calling the police? A commotion like this would at least draw crowds of families curious about all the noise or the dead bodies littering the street and their neighbor's home.

Sherry tripped, skinning her hands and knees on the pavement. She had a second to cry in pain before Cara was already pulling her up to continue.

"I can't. It's too hard." Sherry cried, breathing laboriously as her lips trembled. "Can we take a break?" She struggled to contain her tears, knowing full well it wasn't the best time to start crying.

"I'm sorry, Sherry but not here. We have to keep moving," Cara warned, glancing behind her. She saw no one and didn't hear any gunshots, but that didn't make it safe. "I can't let them take you, Sherry. Come on, just a bit more, and we'll find help."

Sherry nodded before she began to run again. However, one step, and she yelped, wincing in pain as she put her weight on her knee. It hurt worse than when she fell off her bike while trying to teach herself. She was alone and had to patch things up herself until her mother finally noticed days later.

"What's wrong?"

"M-my knee hurts," Sherry whimpered, watching the older girl move closer to inspect the wound. Blood trickled down the little girl's legs before getting washed away by the rain.

"That looks bad," Cara sighed, turning her back to the little girl before squatting down. "Here, get on my back. I'll get us out of here."

With Sherry clinging tightly to her neck, Cara ran to the edge of the residential area and down a dirt path leading straight into the Arkley mountains. She hoped to find a hiding spot for them to catch their breath and figure out what to do.

They hid inside the base of a tree, only having each other to keep warm. The spiderwebs were all forgotten, as the girls' fear was now too exhausted. There was nothing left to spare for the tiny arachnoids fuming over their ruined webs.

What felt like hours passed, and the girls grew too cold and tired. The little Sherry's knee wasn't looking so good, the bleeding had stopped, but an infection may already be brewing beneath the skin given where they've been.

Seeing the young girl wince every so often, Cara decided it was time to move again. She needed to find help. Perhaps the men all killed each other during whatever conflict brewed up tonight.

Carrying the young girl on her back again, Cara left the forest to walk along a side road. She was on the lookout for a passing car. But their luck was too dry at this time in the night despite the rain.

"Thank you, Cara. I don't think I would've made out without you."

"I... didn’t do anything. I couldn't fight. All I did was grab you and run. God, I'm so damn useless." Cara let out a long sigh and stared down at her feet.

"You're helping me now, aren't you? You could've just left me or...or listened to those men and gave me up, but you didn't. I will definitely ask daddy to give you a raise." Sherry giggled and rested her head against Cara's back. She knew that if her friend wasn't there tonight, she would've been in the dark all alone or worse. She might've stayed hidden in that closet only to be found by the armed men. She didn't have anyone to develop the skills of hide and seek with.

"Oh, you better, or else I'm suing somebody for the years shaved off my life tonight. Your dad sure pissed off some powerful people. Who sends a whole armed squad on some doctor's house?"

"Daddy says there are people who wanted to buy his medicine, use it for bad things. But he told them no, and now they want to steal it." For a split second, Cara imagined Mr. Birkin dealing drugs with a gang, but that image didn't last long. The disheveled, nervous reck of a man with a million things to do simply didn't look the type.

"Did he keep it in the house?"

"I don't think so," Sherry shook her head.

The older girl pondered over it, agreeing with Sherry. If Mr. Birkin had kept this medicine in his home, then surely the security would've been better. And he especially wouldn't leave his only child alone in the house with it.

"They wanted to use you as a hostage. Probably force your dad to give them what they wanted."

"Daddy probably wouldn't care if they took me,"

"Hey! don't say that. Your parents love Sherry." Cara stopped walking and gave the little girl a shake.

"Then where are they? They are never home."

"Their work is very...important, I suppose,"

"More than me?"

"No! Not like that. I mean... it's just a lot-"

"Cara, look! There is a car coming!" the little girl jumped with excitement on Cara's exhausted back, but she paid it no mind as her eyes greedily drank the glow of the headlights coming down the road.

"Thank god," Cara exhaled deeply, feeling as if all her worries had just vanished. "Wait here, I will flag it down."

Cara stood in the middle of the road and waved both arms, trying to get the driver's attention like a madwoman. She definitely looked deranged, out in the rain in the wee hours of the morning. The headlights became increasingly more blinding as the car came closer. She couldn't tell the color of the car or anything about the driver.

The driver showed no signs of stopping, the speed fast and steady. "Please stop!" Cara shouted, her eyes pleading. "Please!" She won't waste the opportunity, god knows when the next car will drive by. She refused to move, standing her ground as the car sped towards her. Neither her racing heart nor the car slowed. For a moment, she thought it was the end, becoming roadkill at seventeen, having done nothing with her life.

But then it stopped, screeching to a halt inches from her shivering form. Cara let her hands fall to the hood, knees almost buckling beneath her. The hood felt warm and soothing against her icy skin. As she moved to the driver's side, she recognized the design of the police cruiser, one explicitly assigned to the STARS unit. Her heart pounded as a new source of hope offered itself to her. This seemed too good to be true.

"Thank you so much for stopping, officer! It's been a hellish night." Cara said, glancing over with a smile at Sherry, who responded with her own.

The door opened, and the officer stepped out, shining a bright flashlight at Cara. She was blinded and had to shut her eyes. "I know this will sound crazy, but please hear me out. I was babysitting this little girl when a group of armed men broke into the house and then-"

"Where is Sherry?" He asked all too calmly. Cara frowned. It wasn't his sense of calmness that unnerved her. It was the familiarity of his voice.

'Of course, it was too fucking good to be true.'

"Wait, how did you know her name was Sherry?" Cara demanded, taking several steps back. While his shades were missing, his slicked blond hair stood out to her. The rain dowsed her like buckets of ice. "You..."

"I won't ask again," He warned, walking towards her with a hand resting on his belt, ready to draw his gun. His eyes were an icy blue, radiating with the power of his cunning intelligence.

"I won't give her to you. Sherry, run-"

"Uncle Albert? Is that you?" The young girl limped over to them with newfound vigor and threw her arms around the older man. He hugged her for a moment before pushing her away, his eyes searching her for injuries.

"Sherry, no! get away from him," Cara jumped forward, snatching the little girl's hand, pulling her away.

"It's ok, Cara. He's daddy's friend." The little girl shook Cara's grip off her before hopping back into Wesker's arms. Sherry snuggled into the warmth of the older man, completely oblivious to the way Wesker stood, looking down at Cara. He cocked his head to the side with a conceited expression. Clenching her fists, she decided she didn't like him.

Wesker loomed closer to Cara, enjoying the way she stumbled back to get out of his way, almost tripping over her own feet. He deliberately bumped into her shoulder as he carried Sherry to the other side of the car, settling her gently into the back seat. He could've chosen the closest door, but where was the fun in that?

Cara stood dumbfounded, staring as the man who had only hours ago slit a man's throat and was now slapping a bandage on a little girl's knee in the backseat of a cruiser. She watched him with narrowed eyes as he tended to the little girl, finally noticing his police uniform.

"Who are you? Why are you pretending to be a cop? Who were those people? What are you going to do with Sherry?"

"I am an officer of the law."

"That's a load of shit. Say, in the slim, extremely slim chance you are actually a cop, shouldn't there be more...officers? Backup? A news station? A public statement? Something like this wouldn't happen in Raccoon and no one crowding in to watch."

"I handled it," Wesker said, strapping Sherry in the backseat before shutting the door. The little girl was already on her way to snoozing off.

"I don't understand, why-"

"Enough with the questions." He hissed, grabbing her arm. He found the little thing a pretty sight, but that mouth of hers was dangerous. "You better kill off that curiosity of yours before it lands you somewhere you'll never leave as a warm body. Don't be another babysitter we have to send a severance package to."

"You're going to kill me," Cara's laugh was void of humor, succeeding in tipping her tears down her cheeks.

"Just be quiet and get in the car."

"Why should I? You could change your mind in a split second and put a bullet in my head."

Wesker twisted her arm behind her back before shoving her against the passenger door. "Then don't tempt me," his hot breath tickled her ear as he delivered his warning. "And if I did go for it, I wouldn't simply kill you. I'll get everyone you love. One unfortunate accident after the next." His hand trailed up her back to wrap around the back of her neck. She whimpered as he shoved her face harder against the glass.

Cara shuddered, processing the gravity of her situation. The man was a trained killer and supposedly an officer. She had already witnessed him kill, had felt his icy blade to her neck. There was no doubt in her mind that he would deliver on his warning. The real question was when?

The first person to cross her mind was Claire. Truly, there were so few people that Cara cared about and who cared for her. The Redfield siblings only had each other, and Cara couldn't live with the guilt of being the cause of her friend's death. Claire was her anchor when everything spun out of control in her life. She would do anything to protect those important to her.

"Fine," She grumbled, taking out her frustration on her bottom lip. She sunk her teeth into the cracked flesh until she tasted the metallic flavor, but that didn't help get rid of the bad taste already in her mouth.

"Great, now we can finally get out of the rain." Wesker stepped away from Cara, already missing the warmth of her body. Perhaps he should've prolonged it for a few more minutes, drove her further into tears. The thought alone stirred something inside of him.

The tension left Cara's body as her arms were freed, and she rubbed her abused muscles, cursing the bastards' existence. She would do all she could to never again make his acquaintance. He started the car as soon as she was seated.

She banged her head against the window as he suddenly leaned over her. "The hell are you doing? I knew it! You already changed your mind," She hissed, failing miserably to shove his hands away.

"Safety first." He purred, a low chuckle leaving his lips as he reached over and buckled her seatbelt in one swift movement. She sat straighter than she ever did her whole life and simply stared straight ahead. She decided that if she simply ignored his existence, he would cease to be, and she'd wake up from this horrible, horrible nightmare. Her body has to be taking revenge for all the heart-disease heavy foods she'd been stuffing herself with, concocting such an awful nightmare for her. How is this a wake-up call if she couldn't pinch even herself awake?

It took too much effort for Cara to keep her eyes on the road. She immediately attributed it to sitting next to a killer. There was definitely no other reason. She kept shifting in her seat, unable to stay still. On the other hand, Sherry was out cold in the back, a fuzzy blanket draped over her.

Cara's fidgeting halted as Wesker tossed something into her lap. She picked it up with furrowed brows, inspecting it. It was some kind of badge, but not just any badge. It identified him as Albert Wesker, captain of the STARS alpha team. It looked legit, something similar to what Chris was issued. She has a thousand questions, but the man with the answers was the most uncooperative bastard she ever met. One more question and she's sure he will throw her out of the moving car.

'He was a cop, a crooked one. How many more in the police could be trusted? Who could help her? Was Chris- No! he wouldn't be part of something like this.' Cara's thought, mind fighting itself, too many thoughts wanted to be the focus.

"You were quite the shatter box not too long ago. Why so quiet now?" Wesker asked, enjoying the sequence of emotions flicker across her face.

"You practically told me to shut up," she tossed the badge onto the dashboard before resting her head against the window. She knew she was in way over her head.

"I said to stop the questions. You can still talk,"

"No."

"Alright then, suit yourself then."

It must've been the warmth of the car or the fatigue of the night that lulled Cara to sleep because she was startled awake by a ridiculously high-speed bump. Her sleep hazed eyes scanned her surroundings before she sat up straight, recognizing where she was.

Wesker had parked the cruiser right in front of her apartment building, a living place for the lesser members of society as it was all they could afford. Her wide eyes found him, and she audibly swallowed. "How did you know where I live."

"Of course, I help my dear friend run background checks on all his employees. One in his position needs to be incredibly careful with whom he uses." Wesker said, reaching an arm to rest on the back of her seat. She recoiled away as if stung by a bee.

"Is this your home, Cara? Can I come with you?" Sherry asked, having woken from her sleep minutes before. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her uncle's muscular arm.

"I-"

"Maybe next time Sherry. After we drop off Cara here, we're going straight to your parents." Wesker said, a sense of finality in his tone that had the little girl obediently return to her seat.

Cara opened her mouth to protest him knowing her name but remembered his background check and shut her mouth. He must know everything legally in the record on her, including her parent's colorful histories.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Cara was surprised to see him exit the car. He came around to her side and knocked on the window, mentioning for her to get out. He barely gave her space to get out as he stood right by the passenger door with his arm resting on the roof of the car. She was forced to brush past him as his towering frame refused to step back. She caught the scent of gunpowder, soap, and the faintest traces of a cologne. And of course, blood. Despite her terror, she found herself taking a deeper inhale than she intended.

"Tonight, you watched Sherry until her uncle came home, and then they gave you a ride home because of the rain. Nothing. Else. Happened. You understand?" Wesker said, bending down to be at eye level with the trembling girl. With surprising tenderness, he moved her hair out of her face, but his eyes were anything but. She stood very still, wishing the ground would swallow her up. Her attempt at looking away was met with a firm grip on her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." She answered, voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. A lump formed in her throat as her eyes welled up, but she refused to cry.

"Don't mess up if you can't handle the consequences." Satisfied with his work, he stepped away, watching as the girl raced home.

"You can be so mean, Uncle Albert," Sherry whined once the officer returned to the driver's seat.

"Really? I didn't notice."