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kingofanemptyworld · 4 months ago

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pokémon: verdant winds — nirei and suo — part i

WBK Pokémon AU | 2.8k

The first time he meets them, he’s staying the night in the Verdanturf Pokémon Center.

He’s got a cot in the corner of the lobby because all the rooms have already been rented out by contest participants. He’d half-expected to be turned away at the door when he saw how crowded it was but the nurse just smiled and gestured for him to wait while she got things set up for him.

Absol lays curled up beside him, freshly treated from the battles they’d been in on the way here. His pokéball’s somewhere at the bottom of Sakura’s bag, hardly used and not worth keeping on hand. Sakura tangles his fingers in the fur along Absol’s back, feeling the steady beat of his heart through his fingertips. There’s a map unfolded on his other side, and Sakura squints down at it (more aggressively than necessary, but the lighting’s not great in here, alright?) as he marks off towns with gyms.

He’d skipped over one to get here, passed right through Mauville on his way to Verdanturf. He’s not ready, he knows that; he and Absol have only been traveling together for a couple of weeks, and they lose just as many battles as they win. Not because Absol isn’t strong — he is — but because Sakura has no experience as a trainer, and most of their opponents have had their pokémon for years. It’s not in Sakura’s nature to back down from a fight, but it’s not his body on the line when they battle.

Rustboro. Dewford. Mauville. Lavaridge. Sakura scowls at the path he’s drawn. The order matters, he knows that much; strength escalates as you go down the line of gym leaders. But the gyms you generally take on at the start of your journey are further south, which means Sakura has weeks of traveling ahead of him before he can earn his first badge.

The whoosh of the door opening registers but doesn’t prompt Sakura to lift his head. A few trainers have come and gone since he got settled and none of them have so much as looked his way. He marks the next town — Petalburg City — and scratches out a few notes for himself in the margins of the map. He’s heard the gyms all got revamped within the last few years, leaders and signature types changing with the times, so his old-ass data (pilfered from the books his mom keeps in the unused office) doesn’t tell him much about what he’ll be walking into.

It’s fine. It’ll be fine. Dark types don’t have a ton of weaknesses, and Absol knows a few moves to compensate. What matters more is Sakura’s ability to think on the fly, to accurately judge the strength of their opponent and counter it. He’s lacking experience, that’s all, and he can accumulate that just fine on the way to Rustboro from here.

“Oh, there’s still room! Just wait a sec, I’ll grab another two cots from storage.”

Sakura looks over the map again, left to right. He lingers on the lone island-like marking on the far right, far away from everything else — the Pokémon League, Ever Grande City. That’s the goal. Ever Grande City, the Elite Four, the Champion. Five battles he has to overcome, so he can prove he’s the strongest trainer in Hoenn.

And then—

“Excuse me?”

His brow furrows, mouth pulling sharply into a frown. And then what? There are other regions out there, other Leagues. Is that even a thing, though? World Champion? If you conquer all the Leagues does that make you—

“Um, excuse me? Hello?”

Noisy dicks, he thinks, and strikes another line on the map, Petalburg to Fortree. Talkin’ so loud this late. Absol’s sleeping, for fuck’s sake.

As if answering Sakura’s unspoken summons, Absol lifts his head from his paws, blinking slowly and sniffing lightly at the air. It’s what clues Sakura into the fact that, actually, the reason that voice sounds so loud is because they’re — three feet away from Sakura, and clearly trying to get his attention. His hand jerks, the map tearing under his pencil.

“Whaddya want?”

The blond guy straightens up, pulling in the hand he’d been waving to catch Sakura’s eye and hooking it around the strap of his stupidly big backpack. He’s shorter than Sakura, messy-haired, freckled. The jacket he’s wearing — a dark forest green, too big and hanging slightly off his frame — looks familiar, like Sakura’s seen it in a magazine somewhere, or on one of the ads plastered around Mauville. It’s the only understated thing about him, up to and including the tinted glasses sliding down his nose. Everything else is equally loud — patterns and colors Sakura would never dream of wearing.

His companion stands out for other reasons. His clothes are foreign and almost old-fashioned, but they’re nothing compared to the eye-patch, or the pretty-boy smile that looks as real as the diamond stud in blondie’s ear. He’s got a rucksack over one shoulder, more practical than the hiking gear his friend’s lugging around, and two pokéballs on a long, thin cord around his neck.

A trainer, he guesses. Or a contest participant. Blondie’s flashy enough for something like that, and Eye-Patch’s cool demeanor reads as the kind of confidence you need for a stage that big.

“The nurse,” Blondie says, gesturing to the front desk that’s been recently vacated, “she told us we’d be welcome to stay the night here. She’ll be back with cots in a minute, so, um…”

“Would you be troubled by us sharing your corner for the night?” Eye-Patch finishes, tilting his head with the question. His dangling earring catches what little light there is, flashing distractingly.

Sakura eyes the pokéballs around his neck again, his fingers twitching in Absol’s fur. He drags his gaze up, first to Blondie, then Eye-Patch, a quick and scrutinizing once-over that has Blondie fidgeting with his backpack straps and Eye-Patch’s smile widening.

Absol shuffles his paws, not quite kneading at the cot he’s lying on, and butts his head into Sakura’s thigh, before settling down again. No issue there, at least. He trusts Absol’s instincts as much as his own and if he’s unbothered, he doubts these two will cause them trouble.

“Not like I own the place,” Sakura mutters at last, turning back to his map dismissively, shoulders hunched. “Do whatever the hell you want.”

It’s another few minutes before the nurse returns with the cots, which the newcomers set up as far from Sakura’s gear as they can be without obstructing the way to the front desk. Sakura doesn’t look at them again, but he can’t ignore them completely — he tracks what they’re doing by sound as he makes a note about how he can get to Mossdeep City.

They’re quiet for all of ten minutes before Blondie clears his throat and says, “Ah, excuse me! We didn’t introduce ourselves, and… well, I’m Nirei Akihiko!”

Eye-Patch, in the process of unhooking the pokéballs from his necklace, chimes in with, “Ash Ketchum.”

“Suo-san!” Blondie — Nirei — whispers, not low enough to escape Sakura’s notice. He bats at Eye-Patch’s shoulder and then turns to Sakura with a sheepish grin. “This is Suo-san! Suo Hayato. He jokes around a lot and it takes some getting used to, sorry!”

“I don’t care,” Sakura says, sharp and succinct, looking at them only from the corner of his eye. “I’m busy here,” he adds, stabbing at his map with the eraser of his pencil. Then, after a short, awkward pause: “...‘m Sakura.”

Nirei perks up, pleased at getting a name out of him. Like it’s some indication Sakura’s actually in the mood for conversation. “Sakura-san,” he says. “Your Absol is amazing, by the way. I’ve never seen one in person before! Where did you meet it? I’ve heard they’re usually in the forests out of Fortree CIty but reports are so unreliable it might just be that they’re passing through that area occasionally. It’s so rare to encounter one in the first place, let alone to catch one, you really must’ve staked out a good spot for a while and waited, that’s—”

“Nirei-kun,” Suo interjects, still smiling, with a hand on Nirei’s arm mid-gesture. “Sakura-kun looks a little lost.”

“Huh?”

Nirei blinks and focuses on Sakura again, rather than Absol, and Sakura sneers to cover up the baffled expression he’d been wearing just seconds ago. Damn it, he hadn’t realized Suo was even paying attention to him; he’d brought out his two pokémon — some small, tan and red thing that Sakura doesn’t recognize and a Dratini of all things, which coils immediately around Suo’s shoulders like a dragon-scale scarf — and seemed intent on portioning out their food. Nirei’s pokémon, a fur-ball puppy-thing, sits in his lap, its head drooping every few seconds as it fights off sleep.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I just get so excited when I meet new pokémon, and—” He cuts himself off, scrambling to pull something out of one of the inner pockets of his jacket. It’s some… red rectangle, when he manages to find it. That he then flips open and holds in a death grip with both hands as his head pops back up, staring at Sakura with an overeager expression that makes his shoulders pinch with tension. “Would it be alright for me to scan Absol for my pokédex? I might not get to see one again, and the Professor would be really grateful if I can send its data back!”

“Hah?” Sakura’s eyes narrow. “The fuck’s a pokédex?”

Nirei freezes, still staring and decidedly less chipper about it. Even Suo glances up from where he’s been hand-feeding his Dratini bits of blue pokéblocks. Sakura’s ears burn, knowing instinctively he’s said something weird but, as always, unsure exactly what about it was off.

“Sakura-san, you didn’t get a pokédex when you started your journey?”

Obviously fucking not. They’d given him a handful of pokéballs and a card that certified he was a registered gym challenger, nothing else.

It’s something for data collection, based on what Nirei was saying. Pokémon data, useful for professors and their research. Sakura’s parents don’t have anything like that, as far as he knows; all their shit’s on their laptops or their phones. And don’t most trainers use phones, anyway? Navigation, sending or receiving payments after a loss, communicating with friends — everyone has Rotom phones nowadays and they never pull out anything else, so maybe the phones function as pokédexes, too? If that’s apparently a thing the average trainer has.

“Didn’t need one,” Sakura says. It’s true enough; he has a lot of basic knowledge from what he’s read in his parents’ books, and he can look up anything else at Pokémon Centers or libraries. His phone’s an older model, didn’t come with a Rotom to pilot it, and it barely connects to the internet, so physical stuff is more reliable. He also doesn’t have a reason to catalog pokémon — he’s only got Absol and it’s not like he’s trying to fill out the other five pokéballs he has on him.

“There’s an app as well,” Suo says, demonstrating by flashing his own Rotom phone at Sakura. It’s displaying a picture of Dratini right now, along with a few lines of text and other miscellaneous details. Height, weight, sex. What the hell does Sakura need with any of that? “It’s more common now to use this,” Suo adds, giving his phone a little shake for emphasis, “but plenty of people like the retro feel of models like Nirei-kun’s, and they offer them at registration centers. You generally have to ask, though, from what I understand, since the app tends to be more convenient.”

That explains why they wouldn’t have given him one. Sakura only shrugs — it’s still true he doesn’t need it, so it’s no great loss to him whether it’s commonplace or not.

“Oh, but…” Nirei trails off at another look from Suo. His shoulders sag, just for a moment, before he brightens again, holding out his pokédex towards Sakura. “Do you want to page through mine? I don’t have a lot filled out yet, I only just started my independent research, but you can look at what I’ve managed to scrounge together so far!”

Sakura’s tempted to just ignore him and return to mapping out his journey. He’s not exactly interested in whatever Nirei’s researching, and he wants this done before he goes to sleep tonight, since he’ll be up at dawn to head out again.

His gaze slides from Nirei to the pokémon in his lap, and then to the one Suo’s carefully grooming with a brush he’s drawn from his bag. He doesn’t have names for them and it fucking… rankles.

He takes the pokédex from Nirei in a quick, too-aggressive movement he doesn’t apologize for, even when Nirei jerks back in surprise. Suo said it’s an older model, but it seems pretty sleek to Sakura, if a bit clunky. Easy to use, at least; he thumbs at the pad on the right-hand side and it changes from the entry Nirei had been looking at — Shroomish, Sakura saw a lot of those on his way into Verdanturf — to the next. He presses down until it shows him the puppy pokémon Nirei’s holding.

Lillipup. Weird fur, good at making fight-or-flight decisions.

Sakura presses down again and eventually finds Suo’s pokémon, Mienfoo. Fights with flowing attacks and sharp claws, makes up for its lack of power with quantity. Sakura squints at the picture. It… fits this guy, Suo, in a way he can’t quite explain. Not that he’d tell him that, anyway; it’s a random thing to hear from a stranger and Sakura has no desire to prolong this conversation.

He goes to toss the device back to Nirei, then pauses, looking at Absol. It takes a second of fiddling, but he brings up the scan option and points it at Absol. The entry pops up almost instantly.

‘Absol, the disaster pokémon. Absol has the ability to foretell the coming of natural disasters. It lives in a harsh, rugged mountain environment. This Pokémon very rarely ventures down from the mountains.’

Whatever Sakura’s face is doing must make Nirei fear for the life of his precious pokédeck, because he shuffles forward and hesitantly reaches out both hands for it, head bowed, like he’s making an offering or something.

“Um, Sakura-san, if you wouldn’t mind—”

“Here,” he says, dumping it into Nirei’s hands and sitting back on his cot. He drags the map back in front of him and finds the pencil he’d dropped at some point, hunching over to plot out the next point of his journey. “I’m going to bed in a minute,” he adds, scowling, as a reminder to them not to make a bunch of noise and keep him up.

“Oh,” Nirei says, “oh, you— Thank you, Sakura-san! For the data! The Professor is going to be so happy when he sees this, I really appreciate it.”

“We’ll be quiet,” Suo says with a curious smile, smoothing down the fur on Mienfoo’s head. Dratini’s asleep around his neck, its head tucked under the curl of his body with only the white fins visible near Suo’s throat. “We have an early start to the day ourselves.”

“Suo-san’s participating in the contest tomorrow!” Nirei adds. “You should come, Sakura-san! I don’t do contests, I’m not nearly coordinated enough for it, but it’s amazing to watch the contestants, and Suo-san’s a genius when it comes to making his pokémon shine.”

So not a trainer, Sakura muses, grunting to show he’s heard and offering no other response. Not worth my time, then. Damn, his Mienfoo looks strong, too. Would’ve made good practice for Absol.

Eventually, Suo and Nirei turn in for the night. Nirei sleeps on his side with Lillipup curled into a ball near his head. Suo’s flat on his back like a freak, hands folded over his stomach, his bag under his head as a pillow. Mienfoo lies down in the exact same position and Dratini is coiled on top of Suo’s chest. It doesn’t weigh much, according to the pokédex entry on it, but it still seems like an odd place for it to sleep.

Sakura rolls his eyes at himself, tucking away the map he’s finally finished notating. It’s not his problem and he definitely doesn’t care how comfortable Suo is.

The lights in the Center never turn off completely, in case late-night stragglers need emergency care for their pokémon, but Sakura’s gotten used to blocking them out with one of his spare shirts folded over his eyes. He settles beside Absol, his back to Absol’s side, and closes his eyes.

He half-expects to be up half the night with strangers this close to him, but Absol’s familiar warmth and even breathing are enough to lull him to sleep, as usual. Just before he slips under, he thinks, vaguely, that he might check out the contest after all. He could learn something from how participants command their pokémon, even if it’s not directly applicable to battling.

It won’t be much of a detour, at least. He’ll leave right after and get back on the road. Easy enough to make up the time later on.

#king’s court #wind breaker #pokemon #pokémon #pokemon: verdant winds #sakura haruka #nirei akihiko #suo hayato #can also be read on ao3!#link on my pinned post will get you there

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scrapnikmecha · 5 days ago

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longer post than normal but i was thinking about this on my commute a lot recently and i want to talk about Several bots so here we go. eggman has a pattern of controlling and punishing his robots by completely stripping them of their autonomy (often, bodily autonomy, resulting in some honestly horrific situations for the robot - all of the below are shown to be sentient, and these modifications to their selves cause them clear distress)

e-101, 103, 104, 105 and 107 (beta, delta, epsilon, zeta, and theta)

all of gamma's brothers were punished for losing to him. beta was the first, and it's immediately clear what good he is to the doctor the minute gamma beats him. spare parts. it's pretty evident beta is sentient and has some understanding that losing to gamma = something bad would happen and has already maybe been threatened at this point, and that's why he got all up in eggman's face wanting to come with anyway.

gamma is shown with delta, epsilon, and zeta to receive a new mission. when gamma succeeds, the other three are called "worthless junk" and teleported away...with delta specifically turning to look at gamma, as if pleading with his brother to help him. the three are "remodeled", in a process probably similar to beta, and delta and epsilon are ejected from the ship anyways. they are not even good enough for eggman with his upgrades.

zeta had a slightly different fate...

completely stripped of any semblance of his original body, zeta was reformatted into a stationary unit. this arguably traumatized him, as he's shown crying in a sonic channel comic.

according to the translation (x), zeta is who comes up when you search "disappointment" in eggman's database...for one failure.

beta would not be present later with his other brothers because eggman was making good on his spare parts comment and immediately started to "upgrade" him into beta mk. ii, which gamma accidentally stumbles upon, stunning him.

beta's discarded parts are strewn carelessly on the floor. he's being disassembled and put back together as something else. this is where gamma truly sees the price of failing eggman: he will take you apart and do whatever he pleases to you for one mistake. seeing his brothers thrown aside so callously is a major part of what made gamma turn, and all he could do was destroy them to save them.

theta, not present aboard the egg carrier during this time, is shown to have a similar style "body" to zeta: a stationary unit.

it's unknown how he ended up like this, but with how eggman treated his brothers, it's probably safe to assume theta made some kind of error and ended up stuck, forced to sit in an abandoned base until sonic, silver and whisper "freed" him.

the e-100s are one of the most egregious examples of how eggman treats his elite robots. they're so advanced they're sentient, but eggman gets so impatient and bored he scraps them to move onto the next thing. if he knows his creations are alive, he does not care in the slightest. they are spare parts and junk unless they are serving him exactly as he asks.

e-102 gamma (chaos gamma)

i wasn't sure whether to include this, but it rubs me the wrong way, so i'm just going to mention it...chaos gamma was made from the salvaged parts of gamma, who had died on the egg carrier. there's something disturbing about using the remains of gamma to make a more violent, bitter and vengeful version of him. the parts of the kind-hearted robot gamma was have been reshaped and turned into something else- just like his brothers before him.

e-123 omega

obviously locking someone in a room is going to reduce their autonomy to nothing and this is a huge motivator on why omega hates eggman. imagine being created as a walking arsenal and then put into storage, on guard duty, with no say in the matter...but what really bothers me with eggman's treatment of omega is when he was holding him hostage at the end of the metal virus arc. at this point omega's whole body was gone, and eggman hastily threw together a new one for him (small tangent: that hastily constructed body is not what omega is used to, and it probably felt awful for his head to be attached to that). omega has no control over this body whatsoever once eggman plugs his head in. and this is played for laughs, bc omega is the comedic relief, but he is clearly still unhappy about it

said "special project" being a freakishly cruel giant mech using a yet again immobile omega as the core.

omega is conscious during all this too, trying to fight off eggman's control over him

and of course eggman's rush job makes his body fall apart again after sonic gets him out of the giant mech and he shoots it full of 100000 holes (justified), leaving him incomplete yet again until he's finally fixed for good by tails and belle.

mecha sonic mk. ii

i'm including him as a more indirect example with my post here where i already discussed mecha's body related trauma. basically being abandoned by eggman -> the breakdown of his body, which he finds distressing

metal sonic

metal is the most infamous case here and i don't think i really need to explain anything much. he rebelled against eggman because of his own ambitions, took over as neo metal, and had his free will taken away as a result. metal is programmed to be totally and utterly obedient to eggman and cannot make any choices for himself. i would argue that being "downgraded" into his base form from his neo form is a body modification he did not want going off his voice lines of "i transformed my own body with my own hands" and "see me as i am"; he changed his body into something he wanted and was forced to abandon it to once again become eggman's pawn. eggman's stripping of metal's autonomy runs so deep in his coding that even when metal gets to return to his neo form, everything he does is in service to eggman- a polar opposite of what he intended his neo form for.

heavy king

heavy king lacks the body horror elements but still has his autonomy stripped in nearly the exact way and scenario metal sonic did.

heavy king, in order to fulfill his own ambitions, has usurped eggman. it's a pretty blatant comparison to neo metal sonic, and this part in the comic makes it pretty obvious

what really fucks me up with heavy king is this panel.

like he's right. eggman programs his robots like this and then goes all surprised pikachu face when they Do Evil. you made him like this, doctor. and his answer is to take away heavy king's free will, just like metal sonic. notice the sweat beads drawn on there...he's obviously not comfortable with this, but he has no choice if he wants to avoid punishment. he knows this. is that not terrifying

in conclusion

eggman is fucked in the head and i need to scramble him on high heat

#txt #sth #im so normal about robots guys i prommy <- said with an unsettling smile #cat's sonicposting

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prodigymoving · 6 months ago

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anteroom-of-death · 6 months ago

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Spin in the City, chapter 1

Synopsis: Malcolm Tucker is back in London and trying to gain employment. He grieves and plays himself openly.

A/N: another story from ME! I layer and add symbolism. There's many things wrong with me. Comments and thoughts appreciated...

Malcolm brushed his teeth, a task that got harder every day. Fuck, his depression and his arthritis starting to flare up every day for making it harder to operate this useless sack of cum.

He fucking understood he was sixty-two. He fucking got the message. Loud as the tinnitus he had from decades of screaming into a phone.

The taps stayed on as he paced in his old home. Sam convinced him to keep his Tottenham home when they got married and moved into their cottage in Wick. Storage and they could rent out the parking for a small fee.

His chest began that familiar widower’s ache.

Here he was back in the radioactive shithole that was England, yet alone London, their little home for a few years on the market. He couldn’t bear to keep it. A happy little thatched-roof where he saw his niece married last year. The place where they genuinely tried to live a life far removed from the cunts who framed him and used his existence to pass legislation.

The cozy little sitting room where the best fucking woman to ever exist breathed her last in May. (Possibly even the best fucking human to ever exist, but Malcolm admitted he may have heavy biases.)

He couldn’t bear it.

Fuck that.

Fuck this.

He just needed out and for something to do. Someone else to be for a bit.

He was shocked to find someone who was willing to interview him. Especially so quickly.

Maybe it was just because it was an American woman… no one from this Island or Northern Ireland would probably have him.

She sounded posh and mature, if not a tad bit full of herself.

He googled her separately from the firm she partnered with when he first saw the offer slide through his inbox from the recruitment service.

Confident, blonde and everywhere. She embodied the social elite of New York City. Dated celebrities and moguls, was friends with sex columnists and lawyers, hosted extravagant parties and had an endless string of sexy outfits. She seemed plenty intelligent and had eyes like a hawk with the posture befitting and outclassing any model.

Not particularly his type. He always liked demure brunettes with something deeply wrong behind the surface. Both of his wives were.

Not that Sam and Elaine were anything alike. No, Elaine was some hag bitch journo from hell whom he frequently thought of trying to start some political movement her for the entire goddamn world’s protection. Sam just was both a sadist and a sweetheart at once.

He shoved those thoughts down as he called an Uber and collected the folder he made of his accomplishments over the years.

He didn’t want to cry before his interview.

Or give off the impression that Malcolm F. Tucker was someone who had the capacity to cry.

The suit felt itchy and constricting against his being. Not unlike a noose, it felt so alien to wear one after years of Aran sweaters and jeans with flannels. The man who wore suits was executed for his alleged crimes in 2012. This man? In 2021? No.

This man was a new man, older, tired and more timid than he liked to admit.

He just needed to do something, be something. Anything but some begrieved widower with increasingly dead eyes.

The firm was a stone’s throw from his old stomping grounds in Number 10 and Westminster.

Nonetheless, he trudged onward into the office.

It was modern and luxurious inside. Nothing too ostentatious, but the bright lights and plush chair the receptionist led him to wait for Samantha Jones but his teeth on edge. Her desk was simple and glass, only a small stack of papers, a pen and a sleek laptop were on display.

He would have thought something vulgar, but he was trying not to. He was also on display.

The woman glided in, clad in something that seemed custom-made. He was no fashion expert, Sam always just bought him his suits and gave him the bill to forward to treasury for reimbursement. Once in a while he’d recognize a name from one of the designers on the high streets or the luxury shops in richer areas that were bespoke.

His perfect Sam. Knew him better than he did himself…

Malcolm got up and offered her his hand. She took it, her handshake firmer than any man in politics and twice as assertive. She had a bizarre smile on her face. One that was un-fucking-readable.

Probably some American blow-off look. They did love their meaningless grins and fucking pointless niceties.

It was fascinating to him how an entire country operated on the same system of etiquette as pointless cabinet members with worse agendas.

She sat down and clicked something on her file and looked at his CV. The half-second she held each in her line of vision seemed to go on for eternity.

“Cut the bullshit, Malc. Why does someone like you want to demean yourself working for me?” She leaned back and bore her eyes into his soul, (he highly debated that he had a soul, but if he did, Samantha Jones was staring straight at it…) her index finger resting just behind a broach cleverly disguised as an earring.

Now Malcolm had the luxury of choice. Did he tell the truth or did he fabricate and spin a nice little falsehood?

What did he say to that emaciated Oxbridge twat that stole his place? Rabbits and hats? That rant came barreling back and hit him clearly between the eyes.

He had to act.

“Retirement isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, isn’t it, love?”

She clearly didn’t enjoy that response. Her eyes narrowed and he felt like he was melting quicker than a cone in the hand of toddler with ADHD during a heatwave. He had to amend his statement and do a little backtracking.

“Samantha, can I call you Samantha?” He felt his hand extend and the glimmer of his old self surface.

“Miss Jones.”

“Right. Miss Jones.” He nodded along. “I don’t expect you to care, but I can’t live how I was living. A man’s got to have a purpose. Can’t sit by the sea waiting to fucking pass from Parkinzeimers, can he?” Blatant honesty covered in bravado.

He thought he saw a flash of something behind her eyes, he didn’t want to dig himself a bigger hole. So he left that statement at that.

She was judging him. He felt cornered.

He didn’t like this.

“Don’t play games with me. I know there’s more than- “She gestured broadly towards his entire being, “Being purposeless.”

He deflated and decided to tell an unvarnished truth. No spin, no anything, he even pulled himself back from swearing. “I’ve worked since I was 8. I haven’t not worked my entire life. I spent a few years living a life I didn’t know a boy from Gorbals could get. It’s dead and gone. Give me something to do.” He gave plaintive plea as a firm demand.

He could physically see the gears turning in her mind. He obviously was a risky investment.

She pursed her lips.

“Trial period, I’ll have my assistant send you a temporary contract.”

Thank fuck, he relaxed.

“Don’t pull anything like you did to Mr. Tickel or I’ll have you unable to even run the tills at Iceland.” She levied against him as she got up and offered him a hand. The interview was over and she wanted him out of her office.

“Fair fucking offer.” He took her hand, yet again noticing her grasp and the fact you could feel her obviously well-earned cockiness radiating from the cells in her hand alone.

He felt himself crumple in the lift ride down.

Maybe it was too soon to work?

No, this was the right thing to do. There wasn’t anything for him left. Might as well fucking slide back in the old skin suit and concern himself with every wanker’s business except his own. Would keep his mind torn off of his intelligent, beautiful and loving bride dying from breast cancer than neither of them knew she had. She got the diagnosis too late and the chemotherapy was too rough.

It fucking shattered her.

She took the peaceful route, die with dignity in her home, surrounded by loved ones.

That was the type of woman she was. Quiet, simple and dignified. She did the job and did it well. Even dying was a class-act from her.

He missed her more every moment.

He got home and let himself cry, first time since he watched the life slip away from her eyes. It took hours and he felt literally disemboweled after it.

The email app on his phone pinged.

It was Miss Jones’ assistant. His contract was in for him to review and sign.

He didn’t know how he’d spun this far out of control…

#personal #i wrote this #malcolm tucker #samantha jones #the thick of it #sex and the city #in the loop #and just like that #samantha jones x malcolm tucker #malcolm tucker x samantha jones #yayyyy #crossover fics #i am fueled by my own delusional behavior #yeey #peter capaldi #kim cattrall #the white devil #yeerrrt

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helluvascribe · 4 months ago

Text

Ghostfuckers: Rolando Infests Millie

“You call yourselves assassins!” Rolando mocked Blitzo and Millie in the pool room of the One Star Wonder Hotel. He moved his head, and all the lightbulbs shattered, leaving the room in darkness, save for the glowing pool. An invisible force rammed into the imps, knocking them backwards. The pillars cracked and yellow sparks rained down from the broken bulbs.

Rolando cocked his head. He hovered off the ground and spoke in an eerie voice.

“Eenie, meenie, miny…”

Blitzo and Mille looked up with terrified looks.

His glowing yellow eyes widened. “…mo!”

This time, Millie screamed as Rolando zoomed at her and entered through her head in black goo. Millie collapsed to the ground.

0 0 0

Millie gasped and found herself chained to a worn seat in a movie theater. Seaweed and coral were spread out between the seats.

“What the…what’s going…”

Before she could finish, she grimaced as Rolando emerged from her chest surrounded by blue goo. He swirled around and ran his yellow-green tongue up her neck.

“Gross!” she flinched. She struggled against the rusted chains holding her in place, but it was useless.

“Not so tough now that you’re trapped in your own mind, huh?” Rolando whispered darkly.

He flew backwards in liquid shadow form and rematerialized next to her.

“Just so you know, combover,” Millie snapped. “I already have everything I need, a career, a husband and a life, so you ain’t gonna pry nothin’ outta me!”

Rolando merely smirked and brushed his clawed hand against her cheek. “Let’s take a look then, shall we?”

He manifested a tub of popcorn and lounged in his seat.

The curtains parted and the projector blinked to life.

The old-time movie countdown played on the green-tinted screen.

0 0 0

Millie saw herself as a little girl back in the Wrath Ring on her family’s farm. She was dressed in worn white overalls and was busy helping her brothers and sister Sallie Mae with various chores. She and Sallie Mae were plowing dirt fields, while their brothers were lifting pumpkins and vegetables for the harvest festival.

After their family showed off their vegetables and traded with their fellow imps, Joe and Lin held bags of coins. With glum faces, they paid the annual taxes to Satan and to the royal class.

Tired, they walked home, their wooden cart full of vegetables and fruit.

“Savor these wisely,” Lin told her kids. “They won’t last us all winter.”

“Ma,” little Millie asked. “Why do we have to give most of our money to the royals?”

Joe sighed. “My little pumpkin spice, that’s just how things roll, unfortunately. The elite need money to help govern the Rings and the cities need money for roads and to fix buildings.”

“But that leaves us with very little left!” Sallie Mae added.

“I know. Even if we didn’t have to pay taxes, we wouldn’t be that well off,” Lin explained. “We’re Wrathian imps, nothing but muscle to everyone else. We gotta do what needs to be done to survive in this desert.”

They headed back to their old farmhouse to store the food. Several of the brothers tended to their hell-hog and hell-cows, collecting the cows’ black milk to later sell at the local market.

A fire tornado had devastated their crops one year, and poor Millie was left hungry. She fought tooth and nail with her brothers for the remaining food in storage but was only lucky enough to get some scraps. She sighed and sat down with Sallie Mae in the barn.

“Want one?” she asked, handing her sister a kernel of corn.

“Thanks, sis,” Sallie Mae said with a small smile, popping it into her mouth.

“I’m so hungry, I can barely move,” Millie groaned.

“Well, there’s always lifting and exercising to do,” Sallie Mae playfully elbowed her. “That’ll help keep you in shape…hopefully.”

Millie glumly stared at the dry ground.

“Don’t worry. Winter will be over soon. We can plant new crops and get ready for the wrestling contests. For the kids, at least.”

“The teen and adult ones are more fun,” Millie mentioned. “They get to wrestle hogs and lasso bulls and play tug of war! All we do is roll around as the grownups take pictures.”

“Better than nothin’,” Sallie Mae remarked.

As the siblings got older, they learned more farm work, self-defense and the uses of a variety of weapons. Millie’s favorite was a large double-bladed axe. Before long, she was excelling at knife-throwing, doing flips in the air, and hand-to-hand combat. At first, she lost to her older brothers, but persistence paid off. She soon became one of the best fighters in the family.

Joe and Lin were proud of Millie…so then they began to set high expectations for her.

“Hey Mildred!” called Joe.

“Pa, my name is Millie!” teen Millie corrected, running over.

“Why couldn’t you defeat Brutal Brawn in the wrestling contest at the Pain Games a few hours ago?”

“I was very close,” she countered.

“You almost got killed! The only reason you’re still here is because you conceded!”

“I had no choice…”

“We needed the extra prize money to help with our food and fixing our house. Now we’ll have to figure out things from square one. Now…” he sighed. “Go feed our hog and carefully use our water for the vegetables.”

“But Pa, I’ve been toiling all day…”

“We don’t take no for an answer! You know that. Now go.”

Millie sighed and wandered off. She spotted Sallie Mae leaning sadly against a wooden fence.

“Sal, what’s the matter?”

“Oh. Hey Millie. My day’s been kinda rough.”

“I feel you. You wanna talk about it?”

“Ummm…I guess…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell no one.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “Remember when I was first born and my parents gave me a male name?”

“Yeah?”

“Then as I grew up, I wanted to change it? I started calling myself Sallie?”

“Um…not very well. I was really little.”

“Right,” Sallie Mae began.

“If you’re worried about your gender, you know that Ma and Pa accepted you wholeheartedly, right?” Millie mentioned.

“Ma more than Pa.”

“He got used to it.”

“I know. But…” Sallie Mae sighed. “It’s hard…sometimes. A few hours ago, some of the local imps noticed my horns and thought my name was too girlish. They were taken aback by my low voice and called me some bad names.”

Millie punched her own hand with her fist and scowled. “Those little punks. I should’ve been there.”

Sallie Mae shrugged. “It’s okay. I wasn’t in the mood for a brawl, anyway.”

Millie put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t listen to anyone under any circumstances, ya hear? You’re a wonderful, beautiful sister and one hell of a crime partner!”

Sallie Mae whispered, “Don’t tell Ma and Pa that I buried one of the contestant’s bodies by that cactus over there.”

Millie giggled. “Ooh shit, you’re so gonna be banned from the contest if anyone finds out.”

Sallie Mae winked. “Emphasis on ‘if.’”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

They shared a side hug.

“Come on, let’s get to work,” Sallie Mae sighed, leading Millie along toward the field under the burning Wrath Ring sun.

0 0 0

Millie eventually found herself bouncing between jobs. While her siblings stayed on the farm, extroverted Millie longed to make a bigger impact.

But of course, it wasn’t easy.

Millie remembered her two bosses. One was a muscular cruel imp with crimson skin, thick horns and sharp fangs. His eyes were somewhat obscured by a black cowboy hat.

“Ya think y’all have what it takes to be an assassin for me?” he began. He mentioned to the other interns, a variety of imps and a few succubi, standing outside a bar. “Welcome to your interview. Show me your skills first-hand…the survivor gets hired. BEGIN!”

Millie, her hair pulled back into a black ponytail, felt the heat and rush of combat. She would fight tooth and nail for this position…she had no other choice.

She yelled and maneuvered gracefully through the air as she slashed her golden knife at her assailants. Black blood splashed everywhere as Millie dodged bullets, fists, and blades.

She nearly collapsed as she stood around the lifeless bodies of her competitors.

The imp boss nodded in approval. He handed her a poster of an imp family and a bag of coins…a measly amount.

“T-that’s it?” she asked.

“If you’re not happy with it, then perhaps you should get nothin!” he roared. “I wanna see their heads at my doorstop by sundown. And if you fail…count yourself lucky if you ONLY get fired!”

Millie nodded, trembling, and with shaky legs, she raced off.

Her other serpent boss wasn’t much better. When an imp named Moxxie murdered an imp she had been assigned to kill, he didn’t pay her for a month.

“I really need my money, sir,” she mentioned. “Me and my family are starving enough as it is!”

“Only seems fair since you didn’t complete your assignment,” he hissed darkly to her. “Clean up those corpses before I decide to let you join them!”

0 0 0

It wasn’t long before Millie and Moxxie began dating the sexy, self-centered, charming shark demon, Chazwick Turman. The shark was connected to the mafia and was from the Greed Ring. He kept bragging about his big dick and how rich he was. Neither Moxxie nor Milllie had the idea to date him, but with the insistence of Moxxie’s father Crimson, one thing led to another.

Chaz, Moxxie and Millie got intimate at various times. There were times when Moxxie and Millie were both infatuated with him. But eventually, they saw behind his bad boy showman façade.

Still, it didn’t make it any less devastating when they broke up with him later on.

Chaz winked at her and waved goodbye as Millie cried on the porch after discovering a picture of Chaz with a new girlfriend on her social media account. “Chaz in a new relationship” read the text. Millie had never felt so heart-broken before. Moxxie was feeling the same way…Chaz had broken up with him, too.

“What a dirtbag,” Moxxie growled through his tears. He put a comforting arm around Millie.

“What happens now?” Millie asked.

“Well, let’s hope my dad doesn’t get mad…he thinks you, me, and Chaz will help him expand his shady mafia business…more killers, more profit. This may be hard to hear but…I’m glad the asshole’s gone.”

Millie paused. “Ya know…now that I think about it…I am too.”

Millie and Moxxie hugged each other sadly on the wooden porch of Millie’s house.

Another flashback appeared to when Chaz and Millie were having sex in one of Chaz’s fancy bedrooms, only fancy because he had stolen most of the items. Chaz was posing in rented clothes behind neon signs reading “Big Dick” and “Chad Dad” and “Truman the Man.” Chaz and Millie were both nude and he leaned over her as she was on her back.

Millie flinched in pain as Chaz sloppily thrusted himself inside her, whispering a bunch of nasty names.

Millie and Chaz leaned in for a kiss. Their tongues met and Millie was filled with a mixture of ecstasy and revulsion.

Chaz growled in pleasure and Millie stared at his strange glowing yellow eyes. She felt a long tongue inside her mouth. She froze.

“Oh fuck, that’s not…”

Rolando’s roaring laughter resounded from the Chaz illusion and darkness filled her vision.

Millie screamed and sobbed in her seat, her body numb. A dark voice around her whispered, “Give in, little farm girl. Your toughness masks your ultimate weakness. You’ll never be good enough for anything other than combat. Your family knows this and so do your coworkers.”

More memories came up, scenes that reminded Millie of her innermost insecurities. She found herself at the summer camp on Earth, when she and Moxxie were in their disguises.

A jealous Moxxie stood up.

“All week it’s been ‘Oh look at MILLERD! Isn’t HE great? Oh look how talented MILLERD is!’ We have a JOB to do and you’re off dancing for views. Why does it matter so much how these yokels feel about you?”

“It doesn’t,” Millie began. “It matters how I feel about myself. And for once I feel like…like I’m important!” Tears came to her eyes. “Like I’m someone to be proud of.” She wiped the tears away. “And I had hoped my husband would be there to support me HALF as much as I’ve supported him THIS WEEK!”

She turned away. “You could have just finished that job any time if you had just listened to me. But you wanted to do things YOUR WAY.”

She turned around and shoved the poster into Moxxie’s chest.

“So fine. Finish the job, go home if you want to. But I’m gonna have my moment WITH OR WITHOUT YOU!” She stormed away.

She found herself sitting next to the campers by the campfire. “Moxxine” was singing about himself as she played the banjo. As Moxxie walked harmlessly through the fire, the banjo music became distorted. Millie gasped in fright as he leaned his face close to hers. Black mascara ran down his eyes, his grin was wide and sharp…and his eyes were yellow and blank.

“See, silly Millie?” he cooed in an eerie tone. “We all have our dark secrets.”

The scene shifted to her crawling through the vent with Blitzo.

“Wow, nice one, Mils,” Blitzo commented, looking at his remote. “I think I found the problem though! The readings were coming from above us, so let’s get up there and…”

“Ow!” Blitzo cried as he ran into Millie.

Millie turned around. “Enough!”

Blitzo fumbled to catch his remote.

“What?”

“I’m done. I don’t wanna play ghost hunter with you, and I…”

“Uh, it’s Ghostfuckers,” Blitzo said in his valley accent, reaching for his hat.

Millie snatched the hat and leaned angrily into his face. “I wasn’t done!” Blitzo flinched back as she continued. “You know, I always love to have fun with you, and I ain’t said boo to you moping around like a sad sack for weeks.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “But we have bills to pay.”

She shoved the hat back to him. “So look, you can go be pathetic and play sex ghosts if that’s what you need to do, but I gotta get this job done.”

She crawled off to the left, near a cobwebbed fan in the vent.

“Fine!” Blitzo spat. “Who needs you anyway?!” He crawled off to the right. He shouted in his valley accent, “Bethany Ghostfucker works ALONE!”

“Is being in I.M.P. worth it? With unreliable coworkers too caught up in their own problems to be concerned with how you feel?”

Millie pushed the dark thought aside.

“But they’re my friends! Sure, they make mistakes, but I know we can always find ways to get through things. Joining I.M.P. was perhaps the best decision I’ve ever made!”

“But your family on the farm…they miss you…and your parents won’t approve of you not being the muscle for the Wrath Ring.”

“That doesn’t faze me! I already told them about I.M.P. and they’ll know I’ll drop by for a visit. Moxxie always cares about me no matter what. And I know Blitz will always be there, too.”

Millie shook her head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts away.

“Millie?” Blitzo called from the outside. “Are you okay?”

Millie blinked and saw her boss looking at her, back in the pool room.

Millie heard a frustrated growl from behind her and cried out as sharp teeth sank into her neck.

She felt more chains manifest around her horns and her legs. Black liquid rushed over the seats and poured over her body. Millie strained as she struggled against the suffocating effect.

Millie landed a punch to Blitzo’s face, and he fell backwards. Blitzo rubbed his head and stood up. Millie stood up slowly like a zombie. Her eyes shifted from her usual yellow and red to blank yellow and back again. When she spoke, it was a strange, distorted combination of her voice and Rolando’s.

“Blitz…you are my best…FIEND!”

She wrapped a tail around Blitzo’s foot, tripping him. He rolled to the side to dodge her kicks. She roared at him, her tongue an unnatural yellow-green.

“SNAP OUT OF IT MILS!” Blitzo urged as he stepped back and barely blocked her fast punches. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! YOU CAN HANDLE THIS!”

“She thinks you’re a selfish, unreliable…I-I put my trust in you, sir.”

Blitzo had a puzzled look on his face. As he punched the semi-possessed Millie hard in the face, he could only hope that she would be able to overcome his influence.

She leaped into the air, aiming her feet at him. Blitzo grinned and caught them, swinging her off to the side. He briefly remembered the brawl they had at the bar before she had decided to join I.M.P. per Blitzo’s request.

Blitzo chuckled. “I remember our first fight like yesterday,” he remarked. “I saw potential in you, and I still see it now.”

“Potential…for me to kill you!” came her distorted voice.

She crashed her head into the pillar where Blitzo had been moments before. Blitzo promptly pushed her down.

“Millie knows she’s nothing but muscle and brutality,” she spat, punching him hard in the gut. “A disappointment in the eyes of her parents and the Wrath leaders.”

“Not to me,” Blitzo stated, stomping on her chest.

“Imps are nothing but lowborn trash, just like her and you!”

Blitzo grabbed Millie’s knuckles, turned her onto her back and held her in place. “That’s where you’re wrong. She’s the lifeblood, the very spark of my company. And my best friend. She helped make my dream come true, so naturally…”

Blitzo avoided Millie’s kicks… “I was more than happy to bring her dreams to life.”

Millie froze, tears spilling down her face. She looked up at Blitzo, her eyes returning to red.

Blitzo chuckled. “Who would’ve thought a guy like Moxxie would end up falling for you? I thought you’d hate him.”

Millie smiled weakly. “It was love at first…BITE!”

Millie lunged for his arms with her teeth and Blitzo backed away just in time.

“Stand down, Mils. I’m right here.” He winked. “Shall we banish this fishfucker once and for all?”

A tense pause.

“Gladly,” Millie said, strain in her voice.

“Mils can handle this, so buckle up, buttercup!” Blitzo called. He rained his fists down onto Millie when her eyes became blank again. Millie flinched and groaned with distorted sounds as Blitzo attacked and kicked with all his might. Blitzo lifted up Millie and tossed her hard against the wall.

Rolando emerged from her mouth in black gooey liquid after she slid down. Millie’s eyes opened weakly. Her eyes widened in fear as she saw Rolando reach a clawed hand toward her…

He then yelped as he was promptly sucked into Blitzo’s ghostfucker device. Blitzo stood up and aimed the vacuum with a gleeful look on his face.

“Looks like I caught a good one!” he said in his valley accent.

Millie sighed in relief and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Good to have my favorite assassin back,” Blitzo smiled, helping her up. “Wanna do the honors?” He mentioned to the device.

“Are you sure?”

Blitzo shrugged. “Meh. I can buy another one.”

Millie narrowed her eyes. “You still owe me, sir.”

Millie rolled her eyes and tossed the device into the pool. Electricity raced across the water and the device exploded from underneath the surface. The infestor demon had been defeated.

“Ghostfucking, am I right?” Blitzo winked.

Millie smiled and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah, fuck hotels!” Blitzo added, lifting his middle finger and walking beside Millie out through the doors.

0 0 0 0 0

Millie ran the faucet in the bathroom, staring into the mirror with tired stressed eyes. She threw something into the trash and banged her fist on the counter. “Shit!” Her green and red sweater read “SINSMAS IS KILLSMAS” with bloodstained dagger designs along the top.

Millie stared at her cell phone as she walked out of the bathroom. Moxxie held a Mammonopoli board game.

“Oh, hey sweetie!” Moxxie smiled. “We’re about to start board games!”

“I’ll be right there, baby! Calling the fam for Sins first!”

Millie headed frantically into the decorated hallway, tapping on her screen.

“Hay!” drawled her transgender sister Sallie May in greeting.

“Hey Sal. You alone?” Millie asked.

“Uhhhmmmm…” Sallie stood up and spotted her family watching TV. She scurried sideways out of the living room and headed onto the front porch.

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Millie breathed. “Good.” She choked, tears in her eyes. She whispered, “I just need someone to talk to about something.”

“What’s going on?” Sallie May asked.

Millie held up…a positive pregnancy test.

“I don’t know what to do!” Millie cried, sliding to the floor.

The lights above her began to flicker. She looked up, tears in her eyes.

A tense silence.

The lights briefly went dark before one of them illuminated a grotesque figure that appeared in front of her.

“Did you miss me, farm girl?”

Her sadness quickly shifted to shock and terror. Faster than thought, she scrambled to her feet and raced back toward the door. The figure reached over and yanked at the shadow of her leg, tripping her. An invisible force pulled her back toward her assailant.

“Mox!” Millie yelled before a gnarled four-clawed hand clamped over her mouth.

“You know it’s quite rude to run from someone saying hello.”

Millie’s eyes widened as she looked closer at him…a tall slender demon with cracked gray skin and small stubs of white fish fins along his back. A purple crystal was attached to his wrist. He wore black shoes, worn-out black jeans and a long black sweater with a black chain necklace around his neck. Saliva spilled from his sharp fangs. His fin ears were mostly stubs of their former glory and his red and yellow sunglasses had long been shattered. His white transparent hair and eyebrows were singed away. Most stunning of all was a stream of black lightning scars crisscrossing over his face and body. His right eye was missing and his left eye peered at Millie with an eerie yellow glow.

His black sweater had purple and green tentacle designs on it and the words “SINSMAS, JOIN THE INFESTIVAL.”

‘No…it couldn’t be…’ Millie thought.

“No,” she cried, her voice muffled. “You’re that infestor demon! You’re dead! Blitz and I saw you die in the pool!”

“Well, I’m back, bitch,” he hissed with a shrug. “After an agonizing recovery thanks to your boss!”

She strained to get free, moving his hand away. “What the fuck happened to you?”

Rolando briefly glanced at his body and then caught Millie’s gaze. “It appears that I haven’t been the only one being fucked around by fate. Perhaps you shouldn’t worry about what happened to me…and start worrying about what’s gonna happen to you!”

Rolando easily blocked her fast fists with his hands.

“How can you even see?” she snarled.

“Oh, silly Millie,” he drawled, “There is nothing that can stop me from sensing people’s innermost insecurities.”

He opened his mouth wide and spoke in a low distorted whisper. “…and your new fresh doubts are too intoxicating to pass up!”

Before Millie could react, Rolando morphed into black liquid and entered into Millie’s head. She instantly collapsed.

Millie opened her eyes and found herself chained to a seat in an old movie theater. The space was old and worn, with coral and seaweed sprouting in random places. The rusted chains held her in place, and she grunted in frustration.

‘Was this how Blitz felt when he got possessed?’ she wondered.

“Yes, pretty much,” Rolando answered, reading her mind. He appeared next to her.

“Good luck trying to get anything outta me,” Millie spat. “I have a fantastic husband, a great career at I.M.P. and an incredible family. You’ll never get me to be sacred of my past!”

Rolando laughed evilly. “Oh, I’m not gonna peer into your past. I’m just gonna take a peek at…”

Rolando reached under the chains and gripped Millie’s pregnant belly. Millie let out a gasp of disgust.

“…your future.”

Millie could only sob as her worst fears of motherhood flashed to life on the screen.

0 0 0

Seeing Moxxie’s face as she told him she was pregnant the day after the Sinsmas party was incredibly emotional. His eyes were full of surprise, bewilderment, but most of all, joy.

He embraced Millie in a hug. “Oh my Satan, I can’t believe it!”

“Hey congrats, Mils!” Blitzo cheered. Even Loona gave her a thumbs up in the corner.

“I-I was scared to tell you,” Millie began. “I was worried that…”

“I wouldn’t accept it?” Happy tears came to Moxxie’s eyes. “Are you kidding? I’m gonna be a dad. A real dad.” He chuckled nervously. “But still, I-I don’t know where to begin…”

The I.M.P. members celebrated for a few days. Then Karen, the previous lady who had come into the office burst through the room.

“Hey Blitzo, that your name?”

“The ‘o’ is silent, bitch!” he spat. “And what are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to let you know that you failed to kill my shitty ex-husband and his husband,” she folded her arms, brushing back her long magenta hair. “Why didn’t you do your job?”

“Because…” Blitzo faltered. “Because it was Sinsmas and I couldn’t bring myself to…kill them…”

“You denied me my Christmas present,” she snapped. “You probably think I have a grudge against gays…and yes, that’s true. But this gay man cheated on me…he’s just as bad as any other bastard.”

“Cheating’s not a big deal anymore…” Blitzo began.

“Tell that to your owl boyfriend,” Karen scoffed. “I’m sure he can dumb it down for you.”

She turned to face Millie. “If your boss can’t handle the job, perhaps you can?”

Millie stood up and eagerly nodded. She looked at her trusty double-bladed black axe. “This time, I’ll make sure he gets killed immediately.”

“And I’ll make sure I pay you guys double and change up my bad review of this place…if you can actually do your fucking job!”

“No promises,” Blitzo scowled at her. “As a matter of fact, Mox and I got this in the bag.”

“And me, of course!” Millie added.

Moxxie held up a hand. “Hey, honey, now that you’re pregnant, I really think you should sit this one out.”

Millie folded her arms. “What? Fuck no! I’m just as deadly and brutal as before…perhaps more so!”

Moxxie held her hands. “I understand, but don’t you think going on missions might harm your baby?”

“I’ll be careful, Mox, I promise!”

Moxxie looked into her eyes. “Please. For me. We’ll be back shortly. If you need anything…just let me know.”

Moxxie gave her a kiss on the cheek and turned to follow Blitzo through the diamond-shaped portal.

Karen humped. “I.M.P.’s powerhouse sitting on her ass while her coworkers fail at their job. What an utter disappointment.”

Her words echoed as Millie watched Blitzo and Moxxie slaughter the two men and stroll back through the portal, laughing, their clothes stained with red blood.

“Oh sir, that was one hell of a trip!” Moxxie grinned.

“Yeah,” Blitzo added. “The police tried to shoot us with their guns, but Moxxie snipped them out before they could blink. Oh Mils, you really missed out.”

Blitzo turned to Loona. “Come on, Loony! You can take Millie’s place!”

“Hey, no! I didn’t ask for…” Millie began, but Loona, Moxxie and Blitzo had already disappeared back to Earth.

“Hey, Mox,” Millie called as he came back. “Wanna wrestle?”

“No thanks,” Moxxie said, taking a step back. “Let’s wait until after our baby is born, okay?”

“Please, Mox! It’ll be a quick brawl. I gotta do something!”

“What you need to do is rest,” Moxxie mentioned.

“I don’t need to…” Millie started to say but promptly threw up onto the floor.

“Are you okay?” Moxxie asked her. Her belly gradually grew bigger, and she felt incredibly dizzy.

Blitzo shook his head. “Mils, I think you should take a few months off.”

“No, sir, please! I can keep doing my job. Assassination is my life.”

“I know it is,” Moxxie said with a sigh. “But in a few months, our baby will be our new life. We may have to…not do I.M.P. missions as much anymore if at all.”

“No, way, Mox! Anything, but that. I-I’m not ready to be a mom.”

“Of course you are,” he said.

“Name one mother who’s also an assassin.”

“Martha?” Moxxie asked.

“That southern Sinner doesn’t count!” Millie pouted.

“Anyway,” Moxxie shrugged. “Blitzo already has the future missions covered if we stay home to raise our little imp.”

Blitzo was talking and shaking the hands of three imps and a succubi.

“Congratulations, kiddos, you’re hired!” he smiled.

Millie paused in disbelief, then stuttered. “W-well, at least let me teach our child self-defense and fighting. They’ll need their all to survive in Hell.”

“Of course,” Moxxie chuckled.

“W-would you still accept me if I decided not to have it?”

“Whatever you decide…I’ll be here for you,” Moxxie gave her a hug.

Her relief was short-lived, however, as the I.M.P. office was soon filled with more horse merchandise that Blitzo had bought.

“We’re going bankrupt!” Moxxie cried, tossing paperwork into the air. “Thanks a lot, Blitzo! Now my wife and I can’t afford to buy supplies for our baby! What’s wrong with you?!”

“Stolas and I are still coping!” Blitzo called from the other room. Blitzo and Stolas sat on a couch watching a TV show about horses and porn.

Moxxie turned to Millie with a worried expression. “We only have a few packs of diapers, no crib, no nice toys. Worst of all, hardly any food.”

“Well…I could gather some food from my family’s farm…” Millie suggested.

“Still won’t be enough,” Moxxie sighed. Millie knew he was right.

“There’s no point in doing more freelancing jobs,” Millie sighed. “Even if I could do several, it still wouldn’t be enough to raise a baby. Plus, I’d rather stick my chances with Blitzo than my previous cruel bosses.”

“Come on, let’s go talk to your family,” Moxxie said, taking her hand.

“Mox, I’m not ready to…”

“They’ll know what to do. I bet they can help you.”

As they headed through the portal to the Wrath Ring, Blitzo smiled and waved.

“Bye, Mox, bye Mils! It was a pleasure having you at I.M.P.!”

“WHAT?!” Millie screeched. “You’re firing me?!”

Blitzo chuckled nervously. “Heh, I know I said you could come back in a few months…but…”

He laughed as he was surrounded by a group of warrior imps brandishing a variety of weapons. “I got a whole squad of young fucks locked and loaded for the job!” Loona appeared and waved softly.

“I promise to come visit you guys!” Blitzo called. “I know you and Mox will make great parents!”

“Blitz, NO!” Millie cried, but Moxxie pulled her through, and the portal soon closed.

Back on the farm, Sallie Mae and her brothers cheered and playfully ruffled Millie’s hair.

“Congratulations!” they sang.

“Aww, another warrior in the family,” Lin sighed. “What’s the sex?”

“I don’t know yet, ma…” Millie answered.

Millie’s father Joe came over, his arms folded.

“Pregnant, huh?” he drawled. “Tell me…are you gonna expect us to feed it?”

“Well, no…” Millie explained. “Mox and I are gonna live together…”

“How are you two gonna feed the baby by yourselves? You know how scarce food is already.”

“Come on, pa!” Millie shot back. “You and ma raised half a dozen of us!”

“While barely gettin’ by, might I add.”

Joe sighed. “I’m happy for you, Mildred…”

“It’s Millie…”

“But,” he continued, “Life out here ain’t a walk in the park. Lin and I are busy enough trying to manage the crops, sell our food and keeping enough water for all of us. Not to mention paying taxes to the rich and keeping food thieves away.”

“He’s right, Millie,” Lin added. “So…just know that you and your husband are on your own for now when it comes to costs. You…certainly proved yourself capable when you took those risky freelance jobs. Though we still miss you here on the farm.”

“Really not the same without you here,” Joe added. “We need all the help we can get. So…once your child is of age, come back and we’ll get him or her to work.”

“Working our child to the bone so early?” Moxxie asked, eyebrow raised. “Shouldn’t he or she get a chance to grow up at their own pace?”

“The only ‘own pace’ around here boy, is fight or die,” Joe glowered. “You may be my daughter’s scrawny husband, but don’t think for a moment I’m gonna let my daughter become so complacent because of you.”

“Pa, please…” Millie pleaded.

“Don’t listen to him, Mils,” Moxxie urged. “We as the parents are the ones who get to decide how to raise our kid.”

“Millie,” Lin said. “May I suggest you try out for the more lucrative assassin jobs after you teach your child full independence? You definitely need the money, all the help you can get.”

“But Mox and I work for I.M.P.!”

“Not anymore,” Moxxie mentioned sadly. “I know it’s hard, sweetie, but perhaps leaving the Earth missions is for the best. Hell is rough, but in many ways, it’s less risky than Earth.”

Sallie Mae sighed. “Well, I guess I won’t be seeing you in the Pain Games for a while…”

“Sal?” Millie asked. “What do ya mean?”

Sallie Mae shrugged. “With you being pregnant and all, the other Wrathians may think you’re too…fragile to compete…”

Too fragile…too fragile…too fragile…

The words cut like a deadly knife.

“You’re wrong, sis! Fighting is my lifeblood, my purpose! You know how life here works…being seen as weak is the worst thing…”

“Death is even worse,” Sallie Mae added. “And I don’t think you should risk pursuing your former passions over your child’s life…at least until he or she is grown up…” Sallie Mae looked at her with concern.

“Fighting is still my passion! You have to let me compete!”

“No more brawls. End of story,” Lin said firmly.

“Once you’re not pregnant anymore, you have a lot of catching up to do,” Joe added, mentioning to a pile of hoes, rakes and other farm tools in need of de-rusting.

Joe then whirled toward Moxxie, fist clenched in warning. “If I hear one word about troubles with Millie and her child…”

Moxxie gulped. “U-understood, sir.”

Joe grunted, glared at Moxxie again, then walked beside his wife.

Sallie Mae, Millie’s brothers and her parents wandered away under the orange Wrath sky.

Millie sobbed, her hand outstretched. “Please guys…I can’t lose you, too!”

Moxxie put an arm around her, and they sat in silence.

“S-should I g-get an abortion?” Millie asked in a whisper.

“Whatever you think is best,” he answered.

“I don’t know what’s best! Because of this pregnancy, I’ve lost my job, my passion, and now even my family treats me different! I can’t stand it!”

Millie tripped into the dirt and stared at her stomach. Hellborns had incredibly fragile lives…one stumble and…

‘What if I miscarry?’ Millie asked herself. ‘What if someone tries to fight me and I lose the baby trying to defend myself?’

Millie saw herself immersed in her passions again, free from her pregnancy and motherhood worries. But the feeling was shattered when Millie noticed Moxxie’s glum look.

“Mox?” Millie asked. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” he stated, sadly. “I’m just…I suppose I’m disappointed that I didn’t get to be a dad.”

Those words hurt Millie to her core. She had lost the opportunity to raise a family with Moxxie. Millie was fine with her freedom at first…but seeing Moxxie so heartbroken…

“I…I thought you would accept whatever choice I made…” she breathed.

“Yeah, I do…I guess…” he began. “I just…wanted to prove to myself I could be a great dad…better than my father, at least.”

“But I made the right choice…right?”

Moxxie kissed her and she found herself pregnant again on the couch in their apartment. “We’ll get through this, together.”

Millie, the fiercest warrior in I.M.P. and quite possibly in Wrath thought she could handle anything…

…but seeing herself suddenly in a hospital room violently giving birth was too much.

The pain was agonizing…she felt vulnerable and helpless, crying through the sensations.

“Flailing around just trying to push a baby out?” Joe asked in the background. “I thought my daughter was more resilient than that.”

Lin sobbed next to him, talking to the nurses. “Please don’t let her die, please don’t let her die…”

Millie’s nerves heightened.

The nurses frantically were helping Millie push out the imp, black blood staining the table and floor.

Just when she thought it would never end, one of the nurses pulled out her imp baby with red skin, a pointed tail, and a bald head.

Millie sobbed with relief and instinctively held her baby close to her chest.

“I wonder what we should name him or her,” Moxxie wondered. He peered closer. “Though I can’t tell at this point, it…doesn’t have a…”

“A what?” Millie snapped.

She looked down at her baby calmly sucking her breasts.

“There’s nothing wrong with…”

The baby looked up and Millie saw it had no face.

Even the wildest most brutal fights for Millie were nothing compared to a new nightmare she was experiencing.

She endured many sleepless nights as the baby cried and cried.

“Mils,” Moxxie groaned. “Can you change them, please?”

With tired eyes, Millie got up and changed the baby’s diaper. Then to her dismay, there were no more diapers left.

“Mox, what do I do? We’re out of diapers!”

“Just use an old cloth or something, I don’t know.”

The baby started crying again, the screeching wails pounding against her head.

Millie tried to feed the baby a handful of black beans in the morning, but they spat them right out.

“Oh, come on,” Millie groaned. “That’s our primary food source right now!”

A knock sounded.

“I’ll get it,” Moxxie called, opening the door. “It’s Joe and Lin!”

When Joe and Lin came inside to visit Millie, they both grew worried.

“Look at them, they’re as scrawny as a wild hell-coyote!” Lin remarked, staring at the baby.

Millie turned around and saw her baby, now a toddler, was bony-thin, wearing ragged clothes and babbling nonsense.

Moxxie dashed around the apartment frantically. “We haven’t paid our rent…no new clothes and worse…THERE’S NO FOOD IN THE FRIDGE!”

Millie’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the empty fridge.

“We have to buy some…”

“We’re running out of money!” Moxxie cried. “If we don’t pay the rent soon, our landlord will kick us out!”

“But we have to feed our child!” Millie mentioned.

“I know they need special formula, but that’s too damn expensive! I don’t think our kid will be happy if we become HOMELESS!”

“Moxxie, I believe you’ve caused enough problems here,” Joe scowled.

“I’m doing the best I can, sir!”

“Raising them here with hardly any food and a too-sheltered life. They’ll be a helpless runt on the streets.”

“You pa’s right, Mildred,” said Lin. “I know we thought you two could handle this on your own, but…”

“It’s obvious it ain’t working out,” Joe finished. He walked over to the child.

“Pa, what are you doing?!”

“Taking them back to the farm so they can at least have some stability there.”

“I’m coming too!”

“Not with your husband you’re not,” Joe chided.

“I ain’t leaving Mox behind!” Millie sobbed and growled. “Give them back!”

“You can either come with us and help shape them into another fine farmhand…or you can stay here with your husband, lonely in this here city box.”

Millie watched Joe and Lin take her child’s hands and head out the door.

“Wait, come back! Let me…”

The scene turned dark, and Millie found herself in a dark forest under a full moon. An owl hooted in the distance.

She glanced down and smiled. Staring up at her were two little imp children. One was a girl with curly black horns and long black hair, wearing worn black clothes like Millie. The other was a boy wearing blue overalls and wearing an orange baseball cap with Satan’s logo on it.

They raced toward her and Moxxie who was next to her, embracing them happily.

“I love you guys,” Millie said, “But what are we doing out in the woods?”

“You’re teaching us how to hunt, remember?” the girl mentioned.

“We’re taking a break from staying in the desert all the time,” said the boy.

“Wait…are we on Earth?” Millie wondered.

“Mils!” Blitzo and Loona called.

Blitzo held out his gun and Loona sniffed the air.

“Our next target should be around here,” Blitzo mentioned, cocking his gun. “That Sinner won’t get away from us this time.”

“Wait…I’m back on the mission?” Millie asked.

“Of course,” Blitzo mentioned. “Did you think I’d leave you forever?”

Millie and her kids headed through the woods, looking around.

After a few moments, the boy whimpered. “Mama, I’m getting scared.”

“It’s okay,” Millie said. “We’re Wrathians, there is absolutely nothing to be afraid…”

“OH SHIT!” Blitzo cried out as the sound of bullets rang through the air. “WE’VE GOT COMPANY!”

The I.M.P. family raced around the trees as the sounds of footsteps rapidly followed them.

The sound grew closer and closer. Millie glanced behind her, but there was nothing there.

She suddenly heard Blitzo yell as an ominous rattling sound was heard.

“Time for payback, Blitzo,” drawled a western voice.

“Striker,” Blitzo glared.

They fought and swore as gunshots rang out.

“Crimson has a huge bounty on your employee and his kid,” Striker mentioned with an evil glint in his eyes. “Should be easier than trying to kill that owl prince.”

“You stay away from my family!” Blitzo fired back.

“Keep going,” Millie urged. She, Moxxie, and the children raced through the woods.

Loona rushed to keep up with them…

…but a strange portal appeared behind her…

…and the Hellhound was snatched up from behind by two pairs of hands.

“Gottcha, mutt!” cried Agents One and Two in triumph. Loona let out a canine yelp.

“LOONA!” Millie cried, glancing back, but she couldn’t turn around.

Moxxie screamed and stumbled to a stop, the kids slowing down and huddling close.

“Moxxie what’s…”

Millie could soon see why he was so frightened. Standing before him was the glowering face of Crimson, Moxxie’s father. Standing beside him was a grinning Striker.

“Where’s Blitz?” Millie asked.

Striker smirked, holding up Blitzo’s severed head in response. Millie gasped and covered her mouth.

“This is what happens when a bunch of rogue assassins decide to mess with my business,” Crimson stated. “Moxxie could’ve married rich, stayed with me to support our dealings…” He stepped forward menacingly.

“...but instead, he decides to run off with a rowdy Wrathian poor farmgirl. I’d say just as big a betrayal as Chaz when he lied about his wealth! Now there is only one way to return the favor to my ex-son…”

Before Millie could blink, he tossed a knife, and it embedded itself into Moxxie’s forehead.

Millie screamed as Moxxie gasped, black blood trailing down his face. He collapsed to the ground and Millie sobbed into his body.

“I’LL KILL YOU ALL RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW!” Millie bellowed in newfound rage, looking up.

“Not if you want your kids alive,” Crimson warned. He forcefully grabbed the arm of her son. “Let’s see if this little runt still has his grandfather’s mercenary talent in him.”

“Mama, help!” the boy imp shrieked.

“NO! STAY AWAY FROM HIM!”

Millie raced forward but was knocked backward by Striker.

“Not so tough now that you’re a mother, huh?” Striker mocked.

Her fist moved right through Striker and he punched her hard in the stomach. Millie froze with anxious eyes. She was fighting her enemy and was somehow pregnant again!

“Watch where you’re going,” Striker mocked, tossing Millie into the air. “Your little one might get…”

“…HURT!” Striker finished with sinister laughter as Millie crashed against a tree and cried out. She sobbed and cradled her belly tightly.

Millie groaned as she stood up, waving a fist that moved through right through Striker again.

Then she spotted her daughter backing up, raising a trembling red finger.

“Mama…who are they?”

Millie looked up to see Stella and Andrealphus stroll by in their royal garb and crowns.

Stella lifted her beak in the air. “Andre,” she grumbled. “I believe we have come across a bunch of imp peasants.”

“Urgh, how revolting,” Andrealphus agreed.

“Can we get rid of them?” Stella asked. “I need to head back to the palace for my evening manicure and tea.”

“Don’t see why not, dear,” Andrealphus mentioned.

He waved his hand and Millie’s daughter froze on the spot in ice. A grinning Stella held an angelic knife and sadistically sliced the ice block. All that was left of her daughter were shards of ice and splotches of black blood that fell at her feet.

Millie screamed and ran as fast as she could…but all the villains chased after her with evil grins.

She glanced back at them, and they all had strange glowing yellow eyes.

Millie soon found herself falling through an ocean of pitch black. Below her, she saw her baby crying and falling.

Millie dived down after her infant. She winced as cuts began to appear on her skin. Black blood flowed from her arms, face, shoulders, and chest.

Not caring about her condition, Millie reached out to her baby, arms outstretched.

‘Moxxie,’ she thought. ‘Please help me escape this nightmare!’

“This is more than a nightmare…” spoke a distorted voice around her. “This is your DOOM!”

“NO, NO, NO!” Millie wailed. “MAKE THIS STOP, PLEASE!”

She watched in horror as her wailing baby fell into an open, gaping mouth…

…one that loudly snapped shut…

…and when she saw it belonged to a grinning Rolando…

She…

Couldn’t…

Handle…

Any…

More…

Rolando morphed out of Millie’s head, and he rematerialized in the hall. Millie sobbed and gasped weakly one last time before falling still. Her yellow blank eyes dimmed their glowing, leaving her regular red eyes expressionless.

He stood over Millie’s body and snapped a picture with his cell phone.

“A very merry Sinsmas to me,” he purred.

Black blood pooled over the hall carpet as Rolando began his feast.

From Millie’s cell phone on the floor, Sallie Mae spoke, “Ummmm…Mils? Are you okay? Are you there?”

#ghostfuckers #rolando #helluvaboss

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mariacallous · 9 months ago

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In less than a week, Israel has managed to significantly degrade Hezbollah’s military capabilities, communications systems, and chain of command. First, exploding pagers and walkie-talkies undermined the group’s ability to communicate. Then came the assassination of operations commander Ibrahim Aqil on Friday—along with 14 top Radwan Force commanders—which was a major setback for the Lebanese militant group’s top leadership and command unit, the Jihad Council. From the founding members of Hezbollah’s military structure, only Ali Karaki survives today.

This escalation comes after Israeli leaders decided to confront the continuous threat to the country’s north posed by Hezbollah. Last Monday, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s security cabinet decided to set a new war goal: the safe return of Israeli residents to the country’s north.

Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah is not conceding, however. In a speech given on Sept. 19, Nasrallah doubled down on attacking Israel’s north. Despite his acknowledgement of Israel’s technological advances, the leader of Hezbollah refused to back down and threated that “no military escalation, no killings, no assassinations, and no all-out war can return residents to the border.”

Immediately after his speech, Israel struck approximately 30 Hezbollah rocket launchers and infrastructure sites, which contained approximately 150 launcher barrels, according to a spokesperson from the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). The IDF also hit Hezbollah’s weapons storage facilities in multiple areas in southern Lebanon, followed by more intense strikes over the weekend, with Israel claiming on Saturday that it had eliminated 400 rocket launchers across southern Lebanon and the Beqaa Valley. The scale of these strikes indicates Israel’s appetite for escalation and willingness to widen the circle of targets.

Despite the calls to go all in, an Israeli decision to launch a full-scale war or land incursion has not been made yet. Such a decision would bring the country and its civilian infrastructure much damage, especially if Hezbollah unleashes its most advanced missiles. It seems that Israel is determined to push Hezbollah to change its strategy and revisit its involvement in the conflict, which the group initiated on Oct. 8, 2023, a day after the Hamas attacks on Israel.

Hezbollah now faces a choice: to preserve what is left of its military assets and leadership, or to maintain its threat over the north of Israel.

The losses that Hezbollah suffered last week were immense, but the group lost the deterrence battle months ago. Since last October—when Hezbollah decided to attack Israel in support of Hamas—Israel has been successful at degrading the group’s military capabilities with precise targeted attacks, and it has done so largely without causing many civilian casualties. In the past year, Israel has killed more than 500 people—most of them Hezbollah militants— including top and elite commanders, such as Wissam al-Tawil, Taleb Abdullah, Fuad Shukr, and others.

In addition, Hezbollah’s military infrastructure south of the Litani River has been demolished, along with a large number of its weapons depots and military infrastructure across Lebanon. The group’s responses focused mostly on the north of Israel, targeting military bases and infrastructure while mostly avoiding civilian casualties, major cities, and civilian infrastructure.

At the beginning of the war, the goal of Hezbollah and Iran—the group’s main backer—was to reap the benefits from any political or diplomatic solution that would end the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza. But along the way, they managed to achieve an unprecedented feat—to move the buffer zone from the south of Lebanon to the north of Israel. Around 60,000 Israelis remain internally displaced, and Hezbollah has communicated this to its constituency as the biggest ever achievement against Israel. It will be very difficult to walk back from this.

If Israel widens the circle of targets to hit advanced military assets, such as the facilities that store and produce precision-guided missiles, Hezbollah might revisit its threat to the north. Today, the group is walking a very thin line between its assets and its threats, and the question is how many more losses it can endure.

Israel sees this as an opportunity to push further—and raise the price for Hezbollah until it becomes unbearable. Although a full-scale war between Israel and Hezbollah is a real possibility, both parties still prefer a diplomatic solution. Israel is trying to keep its attacks targeted, and Hezbollah is trying hard not to provoke Israel or be forced to use and waste its most valuable military assets—namely, precision missiles—which Iran regards as an insurance policy.

Indeed, Israel could be escalating today to avoid war; that is, to push Hezbollah to accept the only diplomatic solution on the table—the one presented by Amos Hochstein (the U.S. envoy for international energy affairs) to delink Lebanon from Gaza and implement U.N. Security Council Resolution 1701, which ended the 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah. This means that Hezbollah will have to accept a separate cease-fire agreement, withdraw its military presence to north of the Litani River, roughly 18 miles away from the border, and allow displaced Israelis to return safely to the north.

Until last week, Israel and Hezbollah had been walking a very thin line between a full-scale war and a calculated pattern of attacks and responses.

Hezbollah lost military infrastructure, commanders, and weapons, but most importantly, it lost security and trust among its ranks. After every assassination or strike, and specifically with the mass explosions of pagers and radios, Hezbollah now fears more in-depth infiltration in its ranks by the Israeli intelligence agencies. And its militants lost trust in their own, fearing that anyone could be an Israeli spy.

The group also lost trust in technology and has no reliable communications system that it could rely on for any military response or war. The only way left is verbal communications, which its leaders resorted to when the in-person meeting between Akil and the Radwan Forces was scheduled—and then hit by an Israeli strike. The level of infiltration is deeper than they know.

Additionally, Hezbollah has lost the trust of its own community. If it cannot protect itself, many are asking, then how can it protect its constituency and supporters? It will be very difficult to assure its community of safety and security while walking—and exploding—among them. Worse still, the group is no longer Iran’s success story in the region.

The fact that Israel could kill Shukr and Akil in the middle of their stronghold in the southern Beirut suburb of Dahiyeh is a big breach. However, what is a lot more troubling for Hezbollah’s leadership is its loss of the element of surprise, which has always been part of its military strategy. Israel knew exactly when and how Hezbollah was planning to retaliate for Shukr in August, as the IDF launched a preemptive strike against the group’s infrastructure, including the launchers it had prepared for the operation.

All these losses, in addition to the group’s incapacity thus far to conduct an effective military response against Israel, is both humiliating and embarrassing for Hezbollah. But on the military level, it is worse: Hezbollah is more deterred than ever.

The group could eventually recover from these losses, rebuild its communication network, counter Israeli intelligence, and regain trust among its community. But this is all going to take a long time, a luxury that Hezbollah might not be able to afford.

Today, any response to Israel’s escalation requires the militant group to resolve the following concerns:

First, without a proper communications system, Hezbollah cannot coordinate on targeting, responses, or logistics. It also cannot easily use verbal or written communications—similar to the system that Hamas is currently using inside Gaza’s tunnels. Lebanon is much bigger, and without an efficient and fast communication system, Hezbollah’s military capability to conduct war is largely diminished.

Second, many top Hezbollah officials have been killed or injured. The pagers that exploded hit many of the group’s senior and mid-level operatives. The shipment contained 5,000 pagers, and Hezbollah’s fighting force alone has been independently estimated to comprise at least 20,000 militants. Pagers were provided to officials and fighters with special skills and missions; that is, those who need to be protected. Families of Hezbollah members of Lebanon’s parliament and high-ranking commanders, in addition to high-level security personnel, were among the casualties—not to mention Iran’s ambassador to Lebanon, who was reportedly in close proximity to an exploding device.

Finally, Hezbollah still hasn’t figured out how deeply infiltrated by Israeli intelligence it is. Sources close to its inner circle have told Foreign Policy that the group’s leaders are looking into every single piece of electronic gear they own, and that they are worried that their cars, motorcycles, and even their advanced missile factories are booby-trapped and could go off any minute.

The group will have to conduct an in-depth investigation to make sure that other items have not been infiltrated or compromised by the Israelis, which will take weeks. And if Hezbollah fears that its missiles facilities are booby-trapped or monitored, it will be logistically very difficult to safely move these weapons in order to launch them.

The Israeli government seems to think that Hezbollah’s setbacks are a good opportunity for the IDF to launch a war to further erode the group’s capabilities. But a war similar to that of 2006 might cause Israel real damage without leading to the elimination of the Hezbollah threat. Moreover, it could lead to more international isolation and more civilian casualties on both sides, as well as risk a regional war from multiple fronts.

What the IDF and its external intelligence agency, Mossad, have achieved in the past week has been very effective. There is no need for a full-scale war that would cause civilian losses, bring back “axis of resistance” rhetoric, and unite regional and international public opinion against Israel.

Until a long-term solution is reached, the best-case scenario is for Hezbollah to accept a separate cease-fire, disconnected from the war in Gaza. Diplomatic messaging from the United States and its allies needs to focus on this objective and pressure Hezbollah to delink the two fronts. For Iran and Hezbollah, nothing is more important than their military assets—especially precision missiles.

U.S. diplomatic efforts need to take advantage of Hezbollah’s vulnerability. In addition to forcing the group to accept a separate cease-fire, negotiations should be focused on preventing a full-scale war, allowing residents from both sides to return home, and undermining Hezbollah’s and Iran’s narratives of victory and resistance.

U.N. Resolution 1701 is not sustainable because it does not include punitive measures, and Hezbollah will eventually violate it. Therefore, a long-term policy will have to be designed after a cease-fire is achieved in order to contain Hezbollah in Lebanon—a policy that will address interrupting its weapons supply routes from Tehran via Iraq and Syria as well as help the Lebanese state regain its sovereignty when it comes to decisions of war and peace.

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byjovewhataspend · 2 months ago

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im so ubelievably disappointed by the cocoon adaptation

it took out 90% of the manga and then switched everything they left over to a mix of transphobia and girl power

its supposed to be like 'these were girls just liek any girls in a slice of life manga youd read today, and they suffered terribly. their own country this this to them. it was horrific. it was sad. it was cruel and there was nothign they could do about it'

and they switched it to

'san is so strong that she gets out because SHE Refuses to give up!'

literally the manga ends on her being taken as a prisoner of war and commenting that they were treated better as prisoners than they were by their own country

the anime is like 'fuck yeah i broke out of my cocoon!' (and didnt seem to realize that the silk moth that IS FREED FROM THEIR COCOON BY THE HUMANS is only alive to continue the cycle of suffering

im in agony

had such STRONG emotional reactions to this manga and well... i had strong emotional reactions to the movie too!! but in the opposite direction!!!

my disappointment is immeasurable

and sadly i cant do anythign about it because this was a very sad fictional accountign of a very real and horrific ww2 atrocity. i cant really make fanfiction about it XD

(THEY DIDNT EVEN INCLUDE THE WHITE SHADOOOWSSSSS T_T because havign her be afraid of men wouldnt be girlpower enough, i guess?? they moved the spell to later in the story and even though they still said something like 'white shadows' the spell instead just turned all the blood into flowers so that the studio wouldnt have to draw anything upsetting. they removed 'corpse storage!' they removed the sweet milk! they removed the artist girl going blind from malnutrition! they showed adults being in the cave with the girls the whole time so they were never alone! the firls didnt starve at all, so no one had to eat sugarcane!! THEY TRAVESTIGATED MAYUS ADAMS APPLE!!!! mayu was so ashamed to have tried to avoid the draft that he tries to kill himself!!!! he doesnt save ANYONE in the story and in fact advocates leaving people to die, when in the manga mayu carried the girl with a shot leg for what looked like DAYS (but mightbe been hours, still an incredibly difficult task when he himself was malnourished!)

but he end of the story San seems to outright hate him!! i litrally thought she was goig to drop him off a cliff!!

im so maddddddddddd

it felt so corporate and sanitized. the girls WERENT weakly sick and scared, they were tough efficient badasses that could handle anything! no things werent that bad either! there was only a SINGLE enemy soldier and he was smaller than her and too scared to shoot her!

im gonna bite my desk

i dont even know what i want here. i mean, obviously i want A FAITHFUL ADAPTATION. i knew theyd change it some, i wasnt expecting the maggots, i was prepared for censored, maybe offscreen gore, but this is a whole different level! why even adapt it?? why not just make a wholly original story about those real life girls??? you really read a manga and went 'that was the saddest most upsetting thing i ever read in my life-- i never want anyone else to read it so ill make a really TRITE anime instead

GOD they even removed the metaphor dream sequence about 'we have been ordered to sweep the beach clean of sand. once the job is done we can go home!' and slowly getting drowned in the sand that was completely CLEAN you couldve shown that in its entirety for the impact! but you just did a normal 'running through the field' thing.

im so mad we transvestigated mayus adams apple.. what are we fuckign doing...

aaaaaaaaaaaaa

go read cocoon it was SO GOOD and im SICK with anger about that anime

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exdraghunt · 8 months ago

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TF One re-write

Okay so, I didn't like TF One. But I think it had a lot of potential. So how would I have altered the story to make it better? Let me dump my thoughts onto the page for 3,700 words.

The scene opens with a desolate alien landscape. Rotting buildings, shifting metal shapes, dangerous and lonely. The camera pans down below ground to a fantastical underground city, full of shining buildings and alien robots on wheels, in the sky, and on foot. We pan to a building labelled “Archives!” with a sign stating “Intellectual Class only!” Around the side, a scruffy figure is climbing in through a vent to access a dim storage room.

Taking a stack of files, Orion plugs one into a display. It malfunctions, alerting a guard drone, but he manages to get it working. A history file, it explains how Primus became the planet Cybertron and created the great 13 Primes to rule the planet while he slept. The Matrix of Leadership was held by the Primes, only able to be wielded by true leaders with the purest of sparks. As long as the Matrix is held by a Prime, energon flows freely across the surface of Cybertron, the lifeblood and fuel of its children. But then the Quintessons came to enslave the Cybertronian race, and the Primes rose up against them. 12 of them fell. Solus, Alchemist, Quintus, Alpha Trion, Vector, Micronus, Nexus, Amalgamous, Quintus, Liege Maximo, even the great Prima, were lost to the oppressors. Only Sentinel Prime, the last Prime, was able to scrape victory from defeat, driving away the Quintesson threat. But the Matrix was lost, and energon stopped flowing. In his wisdom, Sentinel had the computer Vector Sigma create the cogless Mining caste, to make sure that energon could still be provided to the people of Cybertron, and implemented a caste system to make sure that energon is distributed in a way fair to all.

Orion is frustrated. If they could only find the Matrix, all would be well again. Everyone could be equal, with plenty of fuel for all. Unfortunately, archival guards find him. A chase ensues, the camera follows Orion and his pursuers across the gilded city, past richly decorated high-class bots, through a lower class district of lower caste mecha, and finally to the entrance to the deep mines. A silver miner, D-16, covers for Orion until the guards leave, and inquires if his friend learned anything. Orion admits he didn’t discover anything new about the Matrix, but re-emphasizes that if the Matrix could just be found, and given to Sentinel Prime, everything would be well again. D-16 chastises Orion for risking his aft on a dumb chase. The Matrix is a fairy-tale, nothing will change until the lower castes can prove they are worth something. Only they will be able to change their own fates.

Deep in the mines, dimly lit, we see where the miners live. In racks, closely spaced, with no privacy or space of their own. They report to work, Orion and D-16 running to ensure they aren’t late. Their supervisor, Elite-1, chastises them for running behind, and sternly tells them she won’t take the fall for their fuckups. They head into the latest adit, marching into the darkness. Tools flash as they begin to dig into the rough metal of deep Cybertron, searching for glimmers of raw energon ore.

One miner (Wheeljack) notes an unusually strong energon signature, and the miners become excited that they might break quota for the day. Elita is especially excited. If they can exceed their quote, she might be rewarded. Even, moved up a caste if they work hard enough.

The vein is unstable, however, and the adit begins to dangerously collapse. Everyone begins to evacuate, with Elita barking orders over the comm. Jazz stumbles, and falling ore traps his leg. Orion immediately stops and begins trying to free his companion. Elita commands him to evac, but he refuses. Even if he dies, risking his life would be worth it if he can save even one more. D-16 turns back, and with his assistance, Jazz is freed and the three escape. (Barely). Elita is blamed for the collapse, and knocked down to garbage duty. Furious, she is dragged off.

Jazz lost his leg and the supervisors decide he’s not worth the extra parts to have it replaced. Orion and D-16 protest. Orion tries to appeal to their better nature, not to sentence their fellow Cybertronian to an unpleasant death for lack of function. D-16 is accusatory, that the upper classes don’t give a slag about the cogless even though replacement legs aren’t that expensive.

Orion proposes breaking into medical storage that night, to steal parts for Jazz. D-16 goes along, and the two manage to get the replacement but not without being caught due to a blunder on Orion’s part. Jazz thanks them profusely for the effort, even as the two are sentenced to half-rations and double-shifts. D-16 grumbles at Orion for messing up their plan.

The next day, a public announcement is made by Sentinel Prime. The highest castes see him in person, everyone else by vidscreen. Everyone kowtows before him, giving a ritual greeting before listening to his message. Sentinel has been to the surface, making the dangerous journey to search for Quintesson patrols and signs of other Cybertronians. He sadly claims that the other former cities of Cybertron show no signs of life with the exception of Tarn, where the planetary defenses are and thus where much of their energon goes, and the Matrix is still missing, but he did fight off a Quintesson warship and their people are free for another day. The next day will be a city-wide holiday, during which a great Primal contest will be held. All castes are invited to watch, while only racing-class, intellectual-class, and class-exempt mecha may compete.

Orion is excited for the contest, D-16 accusatory. The contest is just a way for the noble-classes to show off, why enjoy it? Orion counters that they shouldn’t watch it, they should enter it. If they compete, they can show people that the cogless are worth something. Even if they don’t win. And if they do win, they can be reclassified alt-mode exempt. Do whatever they want, perform whatever job they please, enter any building in the city.

D-16 complains that, as they don't have alt-modes, they can't become "alt mod exempt" but Orion protests that the rules apply to everyone. The nobles can't just deny them this because they're miners. Besides, then they can speak to Sentinel Prime himself to ask for better treatment and medical help for their caste. D-16 can’t help but agree, it’s a crazy idea. But just maybe, it could work.

The competition is a mixture of intellectual puzzles, fighting, sharpshooting, and racing. It is meant to show that the Cybertronian people can fight the Quintesson threat, now made into a festival. D-16 and Orion crash the starting line and starts working their way through the crazy obstacle course. They struggle, but by working together and combining their respective skills, they manage to keep going. Orion excels in problem solving, D-16 in fighting. We see flashbacks of them using those respective skills in the mines. There is a snafu at the shooting stage, as neither can transform, neither has in-built weaponry. But D-16 comes up with a mining laser and scores a smoking bullseye. They run on to the race.

Now, they can’t help but fall behind. They are on pede, with no wheels or wings. They hop across other racers, gaining their ire and making several racers change their focus from winning to killing the miners. Using this against them, D-16 and Orion manage to continue to gain ground, taking out several racers in the process. But when Orion is injured, D-16 turns to help him, and the other racers roar past to the finish. Orion and D-16 DNF.

In the medical wing, the two bicker, only to be silenced when Sentinel Prime comes to see them. Orion immediately kowtows, awed by the sight of their god. D-16 grumbles a little, but half-heartedly follows his friend’s lead. Sentinel compliments their efforts, and says they’ve inspired their fellow miners to work even harder than before. Orion attempts to make a plea to better the conditions for his caste, but is brushed off. Sentinel leaves, and the two grumble in frustration. Then, one of the racers they sabotaged earlier bursts in and grabs the pair, dumping them down the nearest garbage chute to the great smelters beneath the city.

Popping out of the chute many stories down, D-16 and Orion are greeted by a little yellow bot who introduces himself as B127, or just B. He’s been sentenced to garbage duty, sorting trash for possible valuables, due to his incessant talking pissing off his supervisors. B is excited to show off his collection to the first new mecha he’s seen in ages. He’s spent much of his time pulling interesting junk from the conveyor, and is able to point out random crap as actually being antiques of dubious usability. B127 appears to know a lot about ancient history, more than even Orion, who questions where he's learned this. B reveals that someone has been dumping archival items into the garbage chutes, some of which he saves. One item he shows is a vidmessage, which briefly shows an incredibly fuzzy clip of Alpha Trion before the image breaks. B says it’s the only person he’s been able to talk to in ages.

Fascinated by the image of one of the Great Primes, Orion takes the vidmessage and is able to coax it into showing it’s entire message. It’s an SOS, sent out to the Primesguard in the moments before the Primes fell. A set of coordinates is included. Orion gasps. The coordinates aren’t far from Iacon and, just perhaps, where the Primes fell is where the Matrix fell too.

D-16 is skeptical at going to the surface to quest for a quasi-mythical item, but as usual, Orion is persuasive and convinces D-16 with images of a better life and better Cybertron. B is happy to go along, eager to escape the underlevels.

The trio make it to a first-level train station, where trains are being loaded. One of trash, headed to underlevels, one of energon, headed to the surface for Tarn. While sneaking into the surface train, Elita, loading garbage onto the trash train, follows them with the intent of catching the interlopers and turning them in. She gets trapped in the train alongside them, however, and ends up on the surface with the trio. Once again, Orion is persuasive, explaining their quest, and Elita, with no way of returning below once they are tossed from the train, reluctantly joins.

As they dodge the shifting, seemingly malicious landscape, a Quintesson warship decends and they flee into ruins to escape it. It is quipped “Where’s Sentinel Prime when you need him?” and they also wonder why the planetary defenses aren’t doing anything about the ship. They send a brief prayer to the Primes for their deliverance before continuing on.

Locating the coordinates of the message, they discover the cave containing the bodies of the Primes. Walking through the space, they name every one of the deactivated frames. Until they find a Prime they do not recognize, with a strange mask for a face. Why are there 13 bodies in the cave? Sentinel Prime is still alive, there should only be 12 dead primes. But no, there are 13.

It is realized that Alpha Trion’s spark is still slowly spinning, and he is reactivated. He explains that Sentinel is no Prime, he was, in fact, the head of the Primesguard in charge of fighting the Quintesson threat alongside the Primes. He lured the 13 to this cavern, to a Quintesson ambush. The mystery Prime, Megatronus, threw himself into battle to try and protect his fellow Primes, but all fell. Megatronus last, cursing Sentinel with his last breath. D-16 shares a significant camera frame with the offline frame of Megatronus, as he wonders over the Prime who fought so bravely, and snarled so harshly, before Sentinel erased his name from history.

It is revealed that all Cybertronians are born with transformation cogs, thus, the “cogless” class must have had theirs removed. Orion expresses disbelief, Sentinel created their people specifically to mine and they don’t need cogs for that. Every form has a function. Every Cybertronian is a cog in the machine.

Alpha Trion scoffs. No one is born into a function or task. They are Transformers, free to choose their own path. If Sentinel called them, he had their cogs ripped from their newborn bodies. Mining isn’t a destined job, as with the Matrix, energon flows free for all. But the Matrix dissolved in Sentinel’s hands when he ripped it from Prima’s chest, unwilling to be in the hands of a false Prime.

Orion is in disbelief, shaken that they’ve been ruled by a false Prime and such an atrocity has been committed. D-16 is furious, and claims that he will kill Sentinel for this. There is protest from Elita and B, he calls them naive, just like Orion, for thinking they can just talk to Sentinel to fix all of Cybertron’s woes.

Alpha Trion gives cogs to the four. Prima, to Orion. Solus, to Elita. Micronus, to B. Liego Maximo, to D-16. He tells them the Primesguard may still be out there, they may be able to help. But then, the cave shakes. Outside, there is a Quintesson ship descending from the clouds. There’s a train on the surface, accompanied by Sentinel and his retinue. They expect to see a fight, but instead. The ship unloads Quintesson troopers, who begin to remove the supplies from the train. Energon, but also transformation cogs. Their transformation cogs. A high-caste Quint, with the rotating, changing faces, comes down to speak with Sentinel. The false Prime attempts to be haughty, but is put into his place and forced to grovel. The Quints are dissatisfied with the amount of energon provided, and the t-cogs are not enough to fuel their experiments. They demand more of both. Sentinel complains that if the Quints would just take care of the damn traitors on the surface that keep raiding the trains, they wouldn’t have this problem, but the Quints won’t hear of it.

The four main characters are furious, and as the Quintessons leave, make a noise which attracts the attention of Sentinel’s guards. A fight and chase ensues. Alpha Trion is captured. The main cast transforms for the first time, and discovers they have in-built weapons. It’s hard to tell if they manage to kill any of Sentinel’s guards, or just wound them, but B is shaken by the thought he may have killed someone. D-16 snorts. Don’t feel bad, it was kill or be killed. You or him. Orion is more sympathetic, and tells B it’ll be okay. The four think they’re homefree, before being ambushed by unseen assailants and going into darkness.

Upon Awakening, they are in a darkly lit space full of vintage flight-frames. Clearly, these are the bandits that have been raiding the energon trains. B looks around and realizes who they are. Seekers. The former Primesguard.

Starscream sits on his throne before them, two unfamiliar mecha at his side. The 13 never respected their guards, going off on their own to fight Quints while leaving their guards to pick up the pieces behind them. Sentinel coerced their help in the betrayal (though they did not know the 13 would be killed), before casting them out as well rather than listen to them. He replaced his entire guard with sparkless drones who can never voice a dissenting opinion, save for his vizier Airachnid. Starscream thinks all Primes are liars and idiots, with no faith in any. Especially not the false Prime, Sentinel.

It is questioned who the other two mecha are. Shockwave, a scientist who realized that the energon supplies were not going to another settlement on Cybertron. Empurata’d and cast out for speaking out against Sentinel. Soundwave, an outlier cast out for protesting Functionism. There are others in the crowd, in the dark. Other Empuratas, other seekers, other outliers. The caste-less, the banished. The furious, and ready to burn down all of Cybertron.

D-16 is clearly enamored with this idea, even as Orion, B, and Elita are disturbed with the idea of violent revolution. D-16 stands, and claims that he will join them. No, he will lead them, because D-16 will follow another’s orders no more.

Starscream scoffs, that some young punk can think to order him, Starscream, around. A fight ensues, vicious and cruel. Insults are thrown. Orion begs D-16 to stop, but is shoved out of the way. D-16 has something to prove. Starscream realizes that this mech might just be the revolutionary they need, and encourages D-16 to be more violent, more vicious. He must shed any semblance of mercy to lead this rag-tag band of outlaws and former military.

An uneasy night is spent in the outlaw camp. D-16 is up late into the night, speaking with Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave, making plans. Orion attempts to stay, but can’t handle what they’re talking about, and sneaks up to the surface to see the stars for the first time in his life. B and Elita follow. Orion admits he feels like he’s failed as a friend, failed D-16. Failed his best friend. What can he do now? His every attempt to fix things has just ruined them further.

B protests quietly that Orion is not a bad friend. He is, in fact, the first friend that B has had in his life. Him not being able to save D-16 from his character arc does not make him a failure.

The emotional moment ends when there are lights in the sky. Prime drones descend, having picked up the trio’s spark signatures. Another fight, with D-16 accusing them of exposing their position by leaving the safety of the underground base. But then, he is captured, along with B and many of the outlaws.

Orion escapes along with Elita, but is crushed. Two of their friends are gone, they’re wanted criminals, and they have no proof of anything they’ve seen. How will they ever get the Cybertronian people to see the truth?

D-16 and the others captured are in Sentinel’s palace. He mocks them. D-16 refuses to kneel, and talks back to Sentinel. The false Prime is surprised, and comments that it’s been a long time since anyone dared stand up to him. D-16 brings up Megatronus Prime, and what Sentinel did to him. Sentinel laughs, and reveals that he took Megatronus’ cog for his own, just as a last fuck you. D-16 snarls and threatens revenge, Sentinel is like “If you love Megatronus so much, let me give you something to remember him for” and carves the Prime’s sigil into D-16’s chest.

Orion goes back into the mines, to tell the miners what he’s discovered and convince his former caste-mates to join him in rising against the Prime. They’re skeptical, but Jazz vouches for him. Remembering Orion risking his life to save him, and then again to have him repaired. Orion has done more for the miners than the Prime ever has. They agree to be his army.

Elita has gotten the remainder of the outlaws on her side, and they crash Sentinel’s party. More fighting, with the people of Iacon watching in horror at the ‘traitors’ attacking their Prime.

Soundwave manages to get a video recording of Sentinel’s bragging, and is able to hijack the Iaconian broadcasting system. The people of Iacon reel in confusion, unsure if they’re seeing the truth or lies.

As the miners and the outlaws fight off the seemingly endless army of Primedrones, the main fight spills onto a central plaza. In front of a statue of the 13 Primes holding up the Matrix. As D-16 seeks to murder Sentinel as painfully as possible, Orion is pleading with him to stop the violence and killing. Sentinel killed the 13, how does killing him make D-16 any better? He should live, so that he can be jailed, but D-16 disagrees. The false god needs death.

D-16’s death shot is blocked by Orion, devastating his body and sending him over the edge of a deep pit. D-16 lunges, and attempts to catch Orion’s hand. But his friend slips from his grasp, falling into the bottomless chasm. D-16 stands and mourns for a moment, before his fury reasserts himself. He shifts the blame for Orion’s death onto Sentinel. Sentinel is why his friend is dead, is why Cybertron is a pithole, why the Quintessons have not been chased off, as claimed, but are actually ruling the planet with Sentinel as their puppet. Taking their energon, and stealing their T-cogs. Soundwave is still broadcasting, sending these words across Iacon. Sentinel does not deny any of this.

Turning, D-16 sees the statue of the Primes and is now able to see how Megatronus was crudely reshaped into Sentinel. He demands to know why Sentinel killed him, killed all of them. Sentinel snarls that the 13 were idiots, Megatronus a dumb brute, and the entire planet would’ve become slaves if they were allowed to lead the war. D-16 thinks “dumb brute” is amusing, and decides to claim the name Megatron, to bring the forgotten Prime back into public view and finally allow him to seek his revenge on Sentinel. The false Prime is ripped in half, his t-cog removed, and Megatron rises. The outlaws, with Starscream at the head, cheer for their near leader. Megatron announces that there will be no more Primes, no more castes. The Revolution is Now.

Meanwhile, Orion’s battered frame falls through Cybertron, parts visibly transforming out of the way to draw him deeper and deeper to Primus’ very spark. The matrix appears, and Optimus Prime rises.

When Optimus Prime appears on the surface, glowing with the power of Primus and the Matrix on display, an audible hush falls over Iacon. The miners are clearly in awe for their former friend, the former Primesguard nervous and snarling at the sight of a new Prime.

Megatron questions whether his friend will renounce the Primacy and join him in the revolution. Optimus denies. Cybertron needs its Prime, its true Prime. The revolution will be peaceful, they will work with the upper castes to change things for the better. Megatron is tired of waiting. Of talking. Of hoping and debating about a better life while doing nothing to make it happen.

They fight, a fight as brutal and terrible as anything. Especially because it’s two former friends, now on the opposite sides of the conflict. Megatron begins to lose, and demands that Optimus kill him. But again, Optimus can’t. He can’t resort to murder. He instead exiles Megatron, and all his allies, to the surface.

Energon flows again, new cogs are presented to the cogless, and Optimus promises to end the caste system. But first, they must drive off the Quintesson oppressors. He’s sorry, but they must take their freedom and take their own destiny. While Megatron lurks, ready with his Decepticons, and goes searching for any other survivors which may still be hiding across the planet.

#ed rants #movie reviews #my fanfic #sort of

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