#I NEED ANSWERS GRAHHHHH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ananxiousgenz · 7 months ago

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hurhuhgurhgh JAY. JAY. PART OF ME WISHES I KNEW YOUR FULL NAME SO I COULD FULL NAME YOU RIGHT NOW BECAUSE OH MY GOD WHAT KIND OF PAIN TRIP ARE YOU ON??????

calypso isn't a morning person and that is so valid

ahhh calypso i feel you girl i too cannot be polite on phone calls (i once answered a phone call from my boyfriend by saying "what do you want" in a not very polite tone because i wasn't thinking and i apologized for like 15 minutes afterward)

frannie as a mother figure rights <3

dark eyes and freckles oooo eevee's a cutie!!!!

god in fucking heaven of course the high ranking constable is here to fuck her up (also interesting about the black epaulets i always pictured the constables in like snow white uniforms)

"you'll hear me sing and squeal" excuse me while i AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

oh so they're about to beat the shit out of her thanks for that that's great now im screaming even louder

hmmm yeah i WONDER WHY your stomach is flipping, calypso!!! i wonder why!!! couldn't possibly be the horrifying video you just watched, huh?????

it's tourism. oh god. i just read "a small place" by jamaica kincaid and like. having just recently read that and being forced to rethink how i view tourism makes this doubly horrifying

OSIRIS CYGNET. OSIRIS CYGNET. DO NOT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THIS NAME. OH MY GOD. OSIRIS, THE EGYPTIAN GOD OF THE DEAD. YOU NAMED THIS BITCH AFTER THE EGYPTIAN GOD OF THE DEAD WITH A LAST NAME CONNECTED TO SWANS (LIKE A FUCKING SWAN SONG?????) WHO MAYBE SAW THE BULLSHIT OF NEW KINSHASA AND TRIED TO CHANGE IT??????? AND SUCH A RIDICULOUS (meant with love) NAME IS THEE PERFECT ALIAS FOR A CERTAIN BELOVED MASTER THIEF WITHOUT A NAME. GRAHHHHH I'M GOING TO GET YOU JAY

calypso really got INSANELY lucky with this one

huuuutughutrhguhghhh i can't do this WHAT IF THE REASON OSIRIS IS DEAD IS BECAUSE HE FUCKIN DIED TRYING TO SAVE BAIRD OR IRIS i can't i can't i need to go home

she's singing. oh lord. she's singing. she's broken and bruised and still singing.

"Birdie, I’m not comin’ home, I'm sorry to leave you all alone." I'M FUCKING SCREAMING CRYING PUNCHING A GODDAMN WALL OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT DO YOU MEAN????? PLEASE NO PLEASE NO PLEASE NO THIS IS KILLING ME

cyrus still loves her and calls her baby and kisses her hand im just 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

cyrus is a cocky asshole and i love him

“'You and I only have each other though. I promised your parents I’d look out for you, and I intend to keep that promise, til’ death do us part and all that.'” when i say there are tears in my fucking eyes jay- they're divorced!!! but he's still sticking to his marriage vows!!!! he still calls her baby and kisses her hands!!!!!! he still loves her!!!!!!! fucking hell!!!!! this is the perfect man!!!!!!

they both wanna self sacrifice to save their kid why don't we all just go home and have a cup of tea instead huh why do we have to be here and do this and eventually die guys i mean come on

oooo calypso's got a bob!!! i love that for her tbh

"Eevee pushed Cyrus away because he wanted revolution. And he got it. He got a revolution and it took everything from Baird." i just made such a strangled noise reading this-

these are real people. real stories. a real community. and i almost feel like it's unfair to call charlie's family a spare, because they were always just as much baird's family as eevee and cyrus were

THAT'S WHAT I'M SAYING!!!! THE WHOLE MESSAGE OF THIS IS THAT EVEN IN TIMES OF GREAT HARDSHIP AND STRUGGLE LIFE CONTINUES TO BE LIVED!!!! PEOPLE FALL IN LOVE, GET MARRIED, DIVORCE, HAVE KIDS, MAKE FRIENDS, PLAY GAMES, AND BE ALIVE WHILE THE WORLD IS CRUMBLING AROUND THEM. THE MOST HUMAN THING TO DO IN A BAD SITUATION IS SURVIVE!!!!!!

AND BAIRD SANG IN THEIR MEMORY. i feel like every song baird ever sang after they lost eevee was just so tinged with loss and grief and that melancholy only increased as he continued to lose loved ones (something something every song is a song of mourning if you've lost someone you love)

she tried so hard to keep him safe. that's why she divorced cyrus. she wanted to keep her baby safe. and it did nothing.

NAH NAH NAH NO WAY IN HELL THIS CONSTABLE ROCKED UP TO EEVEE'S CELL AND CALLED HER SONGBIRD. HE CAN FUCK RIGHT THE HELL OFF THE EDGE OF NEW KINSHASA PLEASE AND THANK YOU

they fucking caught cyrus i will now be jumping into the nearest body of water

NO FUCKING WAY THIS MAN JUST THREATENED TO TAKE BAIRD AND USE THEM AS A PROPAGANDA MACHINE. HELL NO.

i'm having violent flashbacks to when i said cyrus and baird were eevee's brahma............

"say that I'm the Revolutionary's mother while you’re at it and publicly execute me" HUH??????? YOU FUCKING WHAT?????????? she's eve, the mother of humanity, the mother of the revolution and im just-

honestly half surprised and half relieved they let cyrus live tbh

so eevee turned into another legend with her lies. just like peter nureyev turned into a legend with his lies.

you fucking tell them about a free brahma cyrus!!!! go kick ass!!!

“'No wonder you got a divorce, I’d get one too if I was stuck married to you.' 'Charmed, though I don’t find you pretty enough to marry… maybe if you lost the scrappy beard–'” CYRUS DESROSIERS-BELL, ICONIC MAN THAT YOU ARE

i'm so obsessed with him iris and eevee move out of my way i'm about to get some

GREEN EYES COMMUNITY RISE UP 💪💪💪

"He takes a deep, calming breath, and flashes a quick smile revealing a dimple on his left cheek. 'My name is Peter Nureyev, and I am going to bring down New Kinshasa.'" apparently this fanfic is revealing my two tastes in men: soft-hearted wimps (affectionate) and cocky assholes who hate the government

EVE IS HIS ANGEL EVE IS HIS ANGEL EVE IS HIS ANGEL 🚨🚨🚨

“'No. You killed her.' 'Did we though?'" YES YOU DID YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE

you fucking kings cage'd her. you fucking kings cage'd her how could you do this to me!!!!!!!!!!!! ahahahahaa AND she's got a gun that's great that's lovely this is totally fine

i'm sorry. i'm sorry. JAY YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE THEY MADE EEVEE KILL CYRUS??????? THEY MADE EEVEE KILL CYRUS. AND CYRUS WENT OUT SINGING JUST LIKE CHARLIE. I AM CRYING SO SO SO MANY TEARS RIGHT NOW THIS IS FUCKING BRUTAL MAN

(also lowkey thanks for the quick reminder that i owe you another version of charlie's lament for young baird and now i owe you one for poor eevee)

"Calypso closes out of the video and turns away. She presses her head between her legs gasping for lungfuls of air." BITCH ME TOO

"Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell. He took Eevee’s last name? And then kept it after marrying Iris?" oh shit i didn't even consider that...... given all the evidence i think it's because he was still in love with her and didn't really want to move on

"How does Osiris Cygnet connect to all this? What was the collar around Eve’s neck?" I KNOW THE ANSWERS. I KNOW THE ANSWERS TO BOTH OF THESE QUESTIONS.

"I pray that whatever they did to Eve, they did not improve and inflict upon Charlie. " AHA. AHA. AHAHAHAHA. thinking about how iris said he looked pale and hollow and almost dead in the broadcast!!!!! HAHAHAHA THIS IS GREAT I'M SO FINE AND NORMAL AND WONDERFUL GUYS

so is rita lying to keep peter's secret safe and saying that he doesn't exist or did she actually not find jack shit? is this at some point in the canon timeline or is this precanon?

“'Rita is a really good friend of mine. Me and her go way back to when we were just little ladies getting our noses dirty and toeses wet with cybersecurity.'" i can hear the accent in this so clearly like frannie's voice is just a huskier, rougher version of rita's

"'Rita has been sacrificing her own health for the better part of three decades now trying to help her Boss. He’s a prick at best and an asshole at his worst.'" JUNO STEEL MENTIONED‼️‼️‼️ LETS GO GANG WE GOT A JUNO STEEL MENTION IN THE HOUSE

ohhhh the stress and fear of this finally got to calypso.........

honestly she reminds me a lot of the way juno gets when he's like really into a case, just completely unable to let it go even if it's personally detrimental in every way

ouchie frannie really came for her ass

i feel you calypso

"Maybe she ought to go off and find a cold ditch to lie down in. Or a warm ditch. Whichever she stumbles across first." hey sweetheart you know i think there's someone here who you'd really get along well with his name is juno steel have you ever heard of him??

"I choose to believe… Calypso takes a deep breath and starts counting back from ten. I choose to believe… " i love this bit more than words can say it's fucking phenomenal

"a Starr burns brightest before they go out. And if Baird Bell and Brahma are the undoing of her, then there’s nothing to be done about it." MMMMM THIS IS SUCH A DELICIOUS SET OF LINES. THE LAST NAME AS AN OBJECT WHERE THE LAWS OF THAT OBJECT APPLY TO HER. THE ALLITERATION WITH THE LETTER B. SO TASTY I LOVE

YES CALYPSO MY QUEEN!!! YOU GO CONTACT RITA!!!! FUCK THIS SHIT UP!!! I AM HERE FOR IT MY GIRL!!!!!

i am finishing this review at 4:08 am bc i couldn't go to sleep without doing my close reading and analysis for this thing. so so so good. cannot wait to see what fucked up shit happens next <3

Our Angel of Brahma, pt. xi

Hello Travelers, before we begin I need to stress that this part of Our Angel of Brahma contains explicit violence. With that being said, consider this your warning for the following content: kidnapping (mentioned), assault, police brutality, interrogations, and some self-harm. I will be going back to add CW to previous parts and will update when those have been added in. If there are any warnings that you would like added to this part or any others do not hesitate to reach out in my ask box or DMs! Additionally: I am planning on transferring this series over to ao3 in the coming weeks. The google doc is starting to crash and that is my sign that this is no longer a self contained one shot au. It is a drabble. a nearly 19k long (and counting) drabble @ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @the-private-eye @demonic-panini

Calypso walks into her office. Coffee mug in one hand, and her comms in the other. She hadn't checked her emails yet and had only briefly skimmed the messages Frannie had sent her early in the morning. Most of which didn’t make much sense and had been sent five hours before she was awake, which was by her standards, five hours too early to be doing absolutely anything important. She booted up the computer and took a long sip of her coffee. Her comms rang and it was un-surprisingly Frannie.

“Calypso Starr speaking–”

“Have you seen them yet?”

“Frannie. Good morning to you too. I believe conversations start with hello.”

“Right– hello, did you see them yet?”

“See what?” She opens her email and smiles reading the subject line “RE: THE CASE OF THE MISSING ANGEL”. Rita was creative. Calypso would give her that. But she also seemed just as scatterbrained as Frannie did at times. They both knew their way around computers and comms. More than Calypso ever learned from her mom, so she was in no position to really judge either of them. If anything, they had every right to laugh in her face for not being able to do all the work on her own. Some shit journalist she was turning up to be.

“The videos!” Frannie huffed and in the background, Calypso could make out the sound of a cabinet door opening and slamming shut. “Listen, I’m hanging up, and when you’re done with the videos and taking notes– and I mean all the videos, and all your notes– call me. Rita spent ninety-six hours trying to hunt all this down for you, kid. You better write the best damn article this side of the galaxy has ever seen! Because she ain’t helping you anymore after this, alright?”

Calypso opens her mouth to argue but the call ends right then. She sets her comms on the desk in its designated spot next to her coffee mug and one of the glass swans. She isn’t a kid. She’s a grown adult just like Frannie. Frannie was however much, much older than her. And it wouldn’t be the first time that she’s let an older lady step all over her.

Without anymore preamble, she takes a seat and opens the first video file.

The video starts with a lone woman sitting at a table. The room is bare and poorly lit with no windows. “State your name.” “Why should I? You already know who I am.” The woman’s dark hair falls out of her face revealing dark eyes and a few freckles. She glares at the camera. “And get that thing out of my face.” “No can do, now state your name.” The woman huffs hanging her head low to the table. “Eve Bell.” “Full name.” “Eevee Bell.” She jerks her chin up and snarls, “Happy?”

Calypso pauses the video. This is Eevee Bell. Eevee the same night she was taken from her home.The same night she tucked Baird into bed and promised nothing bad would happen to her. Calypso flips open her journal thumbing through the pages until she finds her notes on the “Dad” recording. She reads back over them and flips to the next blank page. She rummages around her desk for a bit before finding a pen tucked into her newly acquired swan pen holder. She hits play on the video, and begins taking notes.

“Very,” a figure walks around the camera to stand behind Eevee. They’re dressed in a freshly pressed uniform. Their epaulets are black, with two embroidered stars in silver thread. A Constable of high rank. They place one hand on her shoulder and grip her chin with the other. “Now look directly at the camera, and tell them exactly what you did.” She clenches her jaw and tries to pull away. The Constable keeps her firmly pinned in place. “Not gonna talk, huh.” “Over my dead body.” The Constable tsks and lets go of Eve’s face. Eevee, to her credit, rolls her shoulders as much as she could with her hands cuffed behind her back, and tilted her chin up higher. “You’ll hear me sing and squeal before I tell you anything you want.” The Constable shakes their head and laughs, “We’ll see how you feel after today.” They exit out of frame and a heavy door can be heard opening. Eevee looks over and her eyes go wide as three other uniformed Constables walk into the room. “Welcome to New Kinshasa, Eve.” The Constable says out of frame said. The video ends.

Calypso leans back in her seat. She glances down at her notes. Nothing. Blank. She puts her pen down and folds her hands over one another, leaning to rest her elbows on her desk. Her stomach does a strange thing, flipping up over on itself. The coffee is starting to kick in and give her heartburn.

From her research and based on Baird’s recordings, the Constabulary does not treat its prisoners kindly. Their treatment is not as harsh as Aurinko Permanent Corrections. No, nothing could compare to Palomine Aurinko, and nothing will ever come close to Hoosegow. But there’s a good reason the Solar Planets consider the Guardian Angel System a war crime and New Kinshasa has been charged off and on for committing multiples since the Galactic Civil War ended.

She grabs her comms and searches for anything she can find on the Constabulary on New Kinshasa and Brahma. She wasn’t expecting her quick galactic search to turn up anything. Just like everything else she’s been looking into privately, this too should have been a dead end. Instead, a tourism site hosted on a Saraswatan travelers guide comes up.

One of the main attractions to vacationing to Saraswati it turns out, is visiting New Kinshasa. Vacation to Saraswati, and set time aside for a three days, two nights trip to see New Kinshasa. Shuttle over on day one, and see New Kinshasa day two. Get to meet Constables, shake hands with Sergeants, and rub elbows with Inspectors off duty at hotel bars. Take a tour down main street and stop by the Skydeck: Edge of New Kinshasa and peer down at Brahma from up high.

The photos on the website are orderly and well lit. More than likely staged pieces of propaganda meant to make the average person forget about what happened to Brahma. If Calypso were anyone else even she’d believe it. But Baird’s recordings exist and Brahma has been suffering. Dark Matters can successfully scrub all records from the galaxy but they never stood a chance at stopping something from slipping through the cracks.

One of the photos on the website catches her eye. A Constable in uniform, with epauluets on their shoulders embroidered in silver thread. Perfectly stitched planets with tilted rings. They’re shaking hands with a man with grey hair and a peculiar mustache. A gold brooch with blue jewels is pinned to his suit. His wide smile reaches his eyes.

Calypso scrolls down to read the caption at the same time she reaches for her mug. She takes a long sip of her coffee.

Superintendent Constable Bishop shaking hands with art collector, Osiris Cygnet.

A “cygnet�� is a word used to describe a baby swan. So named after the swan-shaped constellation, Cygnus, and -et indicates smallness.

If Calypso were the average person, she shouldn’t know this. As she leans back in her desk chair and stares at the swan pen holder, Calypso is reminded that she is not the average person. As she stands now running through her apartment, digging through a cardboard box for a gold swan brooch with sapphire eyes, she has not been the average person since childhood.

The storage unit came from a deceased art collector. He had an affinity for collecting crystal swans and counterfeit paintings. She sold most of the glass swans back to collectors on Earth while on her visit to her mother’s grave. She held on to the pen holder as a memento and sought out a pawn shop to trade in the brooch when the shop owner said she ought to keep it, “you don’t find jewels like that out there anymore.” Or whatever that meant.

“Shit shit shit shit–” she finds the brooch and races back to her office clutching it tight. Sure enough, it’s a good match.

Osiris Cygnet, art collector that vacationed sometime within the last ten years to Saraswati and took a shuttle trip to New Kinshasa. Just how the fuck did he get ahold of Baird’s recordings?

Superintendent Constable Bishop, Eve’s prison guard, and most likely, her future executioner. And he was promoted. At some point in the last twenty years, he was promoted. Multiple times.

The pin back on the brooch digs into her palm. Calypso clenches her teeth. She should let go before the wound is too deep and forms an ugly gash. She reaches with her free hand and hits play on the next video.

Eevee sits on the stone floor of a prison cell. She stares pointedly at the door. Occasionally her eyes flick up to the camera. Its hard to tell, but her face looks puffy. Her arms have bruises running from her elbows all the way down to her wrists. There are red marks on both wrists from wearing handcuffs. She pulls her knees up to her chest letting out a long groan of pain. The camera zooms in. It is just near inaudible, but the camera's microphone picks up her quiet voice. I hear your tune, like a songbird at noon. What a lovely trill, it makes me feel ill. Eve looks like she would curl tighter around herself if it were possible. Shrink into nothing. Make herself as small as a mote of dust. Like chimes in the wind, we were destined. A full-body shudder wracks through her. Birdie, I’m not comin’ home, I'm sorry to leave you all alone. A figure approaches the cell. They’re not in uniform but the way they approach Eve’s cell is not without confidence. “It’s a good song.” Eve jumps with tears in her eyes as she blinks at the person in front of her. “Hey baby, I came to bust you out.” The figure shoves their hands in their pockets. “Cyrus…” Eve slowly gets to her feet and crosses over to the bars of her cell. She holds a hand out. Cyrus takes it carefully, pressing his lips to her knuckles. She is nearly breathless as she asks, “What are you doing here?” “Like I said: busting you out.” “I–” Eve shakes her head. “No, you can’t. What about Iris? What about Baird? They need you more than I do right now! How'd you even get in here anyways?” Cyrus shrugs and pulls a key card out from his pocket. “Snuck onto a shuttle, knocked out a Constable, stole their key card? C'mon, Eve, it's not that hard.” “Not that hard– Cyrus! That's a death sentence! If you get caught–” “I won't get caught, alright? Peter Nureyev”– Eve flinches– “scared them shitless. They’re scrambling right now and too disorganized to notice me.” She's quiet, staring at their hands. “How long has it been already?” “Day five of the Warden Strike, second day without you. Camilla was the one who reached out to. Everyone else apparently was too afraid to, and the other Wardens are losing steam without someone to keep their morale up and minds motivated.” “And what about Baird? And Iris? You left them alone to try and rescue me? Cyrus, I'm a prisoner, not a princess in a tower.” Cyrus clicks his tongue. “Iris has been alone for a long time, they’ll be fine. And Baird isn’t alone, the Spade’s are taking care of him.” He plays thoughtlessly with her fingers. “You and I only have each other though. I promised your parents I’d look out for you, and I intend to keep that promise, til’ death do us part and all that.” Eve jerks her hand away to grip one of the bars. “Cyrus, look at me.” He lifts his head and flinches in response only slightly. “I came here willingly. And I’m not going to make it out of here alive. Eber and Camilla can barely afford to take care of themselves and Charlie. And Iris lost their family like you and I did. You and I both know what it's like to lose your parents. I don't want Baird to experience the same thing.” Cyrus shakes his head. “Eve you're thinking this all backwards. I'm the one that dragged you into this, let me take your place and get you out of it.” The video ends.

Calypso drops the brooch on her desk to run her hands through her hair. She tugs on the ends of her short bob.

Eevee pushed Cyrus away because he wanted revolution. And he got it. He got a revolution and it took everything from Baird.

These are real people. Not just voice recordings or a bedtime story a mother made up to soothe her distressed child. Baird, Eeve, Cyrus, and Iris. A real family. Charlie, Eber, and Camilla and their daughter, Evelyn. A spare family. Josie and the twins. Hank and Mrs. Darius. The Rats. Brahma was full of life. And it still is. Peter Nureyev is a legend to these people. Even if it turns out the name was fake, he was just as real as any of them.

And despite all their hardships, Cyrus still married Eevee and then Iris. Josie still went on to have twins. Camilla and Eber brought a daughter into the galaxy. Charlie chose to go down singing. Cyrus went out singing. Eve echoed a song. And Baird kept his head high and trilled for their memory.

The recordings from the comms were real. Are real. Calypso knows this. She doesn't have any faces to put to any names except now for Eve and a rough idea for Cyrus. They were alive.

Calypso hesitates to start the next video. She's seen more than enough already. More than plenty. There are still two videos left. She already knows how this ends. Eevee Bell walked out of her apartment in the middle of the night so her son wouldn’t have to wake up screaming and watch her be dragged out the front door. She did everything in her power to safeguard him from a War she never wanted to bring home in the first place. And what did it get her? What good did it do when two years later Baird watched what happened to his father anyways? What good did any of it do when they broadcasted Charlie’s execution?

Taking a deep breath, she hits play.

“Songbird,” Constable Bishop stands in front of Eve's cell. They keep one hand on their blaster. Eve tucks her chin down while pulling away from the bars. “Tired of singing? That's a pity. You know, a few hours ago, I was alerted that someone came to pay you a visit. I had the cameras checked and we put the facility in lockdown. You'll never believe what we found trying to fly the coop.” Two Constables drag a man into frame. It's Cyrus. Eve stands in place, her face drained of all its color. Cyrus tilts his head up. The two Constables flanking his side force him to stand, hoisting him up by his underarms. His hands remain pinned behind his back. . “I wouldn't be all smiley right now if I were in your shoes, Desrosiers.” Constable Bishop pulls their blaster from its holster. They click the safety off and point it directly at Cyrus. “Now then, here's how this is going to play out. Ms. Bell, you're going to admit that you organized the Warden strike, you're going to take the fall and you're going to accept the consequences.” “And if she doesn't?” The Constables holding Cyrus pull on his arms. He hisses through his teeth. “If she doesn't, then we'll blame you both. And then, with you both out of the way, we'll hunt down that Little Birdie of yours, pluck him from the nest, and make him sing us songs about how beautiful it is to be saved by New Kinshasa–” “I did it.” Eve crosses her cell and reaches out as far as she can to grab the Constable Bishop’s uniform. Her fingers just barely reach their elbow. “I organized the strike. It was all my idea to begin with. I knew it was risky and stupid but I did it anyways. I poisoned the watering hole–” “Eevee–” “And Cyrus had nothing to do with it. Joining the revolutionaries and inciting the Dome Wardens was all me. Let him go. Blame me for everything, say that I'm the Revolutionary's mother while you’re at it and publicly execute me. Tear me limb from limb– just let Cyrus go and leave my son out of this.” Constable Bishop holds her gaze. He lowers his blaster and gives her a curt nod, “I wasn't going to go that far, but if that's how you feel, well…” He put his blaster away. “I’m pleased you came around, Ms. Bell.” He turns to the other two Constables and motions for them to leave. “Escort the Pest off of New Kinshasa.” They grab hold of Cyrus’ jaw and force him to look up. “And if we ever catch you sneaking up here again, you’ll be publicly executed.” Eevee looks away as they drag Cyrus out of frame. His voice comes as a muffled shout that grows quieter and quieter. “Don’t look so down Ms. Bell. You made the right choice. New Kinshasa thanks you for your candor.” The video ends.

She lied. Eevee lied to Constable Bishop. Even if half of what she said did hold some truth to it, there were still lies she sprinkled in that they believed. At least they chose to believe them. And choosing to believe in something only grants it more power. It warps reality, and makes it more real.

Baird’s first recording that Calypso heard echoes in the back of her mind. Some say that the legend isn’t true. Some say that Eevee Bell set the Dome Wardens on strike. At least one person believes that she is Peter Nureyev’s mother.

Baird and Iris did not know everything. For whatever Cyrus was caught for finally, Constable Bishop made good on their promise and did eventually come back for him. They did not however publicly execute him.

They got Charlie instead.

With only one video left, Calypso hits play. She’s only slightly surprised to see Cyrus in a similar interrogation room to the one Eevee was in in the first video.

“There will be a free Brahma. There will be a free Brahma. Brahma will be–” “Do you ever, shut up!” Constable Bishop slams their fist against the table in front of Cyrus. His epauluets are different, now instead of two stars theres three. Cyrus winces clenching his jaw, but doesn’t draw away. “No wonder you got a divorce, I’d get one too if I was stuck married to you.” “Charmed, though I don’t find you pretty enough to marry… maybe if you lost the scrappy beard–” “Enough!” Constable Bishop drags a hand down their face, scratches at their stubble, and stares down at Cyrus. “All you have to do, is look at the camera,” they point to the one currently rolling, “and say exactly what you did.” “And then what? You’ll let me go scot free? You’ve already beat black and blue, I think I felt a tooth or two dislodge from my mouth. You willing to pay for my dentist bill?” “There are no dentist left on Brahma.” Constable Bishop circles around Cyrus and stands behind him. They grip his left shoulder, and guide his face up towards the camera with their other hand. “Now go on, tell them exactly who you are, and what you did.” Cyrus’ eyes are a muted green. His face is long and skin a darker shade of brown than Eevees’. He takes a deep, calming breath, and flashes a quick smile revealing a dimple on his left cheek. “My name is Peter Nureyev, and I am going to bring down New Kinshasa.” Constable Bishop lets go of Cyrus to whip out their blaster. They crack the blunt end against the back of his head. Constable Bishop’s hand and blaster come away slightly bloodied, and the shout Cyrus lets out echoes in the small room. “Think you’re so smart, huh? Try again.” “Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell, and when I get out of here,” Cyrus strains against his restraints baring his teeth in a sharp, sadistic grin, “I’m going to rip your fucking throat out!” Constable Bishop clicks the safety off their blaster. They press it to the side of Cyrus’ head. “Go on, keep talking. We don’t need you alive, you serve no greater purpose to your revolution. You get caught in New Kinshasa once and I let you go, shame on you. You get caught sneaking around New Kinshasa a second time and get far enough back home just outside your front door, shame on me.” Bishop tsks rechecking their blaster. “One jolt. That’s all you need.” “Well go on then,” Cyrus lifts his chin. His brows squish together. A small gasp escapes his lips. “You don’t scare me. Not the first time you’ve pressed that thing to my head.” After a moment, a comms goes off. The Constable checks it with a quick glance and relaxes. “You’re right,” they draw their blaster away from Cyrus but do not click the safety back in place. “I don't scare you enough. But she probably will.” A question forms on Cyrus’ lips but dies just as quickly as the interrogation room doors whirls open and close. Heavy bootsteps cross the room. A small shadow falls over Cyrus. His eyes go wide. “Eve, my angel…” Cyrus shakes his head, tearing his gaze away. He grits his teeth. “No. You killed her.” “Did we though? Constable,” the Bishop turns to the new arrival. They pass their blaster off to them. The new arrival walks into frame to accept the blaster. Standing beside Constable Bishop, is none other than Eevee Bell. The same dark hair, dark eyes, and constellation of freckles. A collar of some sort clasps snuggly around her neck. It is as if the soul that bubbled to life inside of her has been snuffed out. This may look like Eevee Bell, it may move like Eevee Bell, but it is not her. Not anymore. No song whistles from her lips as she levels the blaster pressing back against Cyrus’ head. “Eevee, baby,” the Constable places her finger over the trigger. “Now then, any last words, Desroisers-Bell?” Cyrus licks his lips and stares into the camera. “My angel, my angel. Set me free.” The Constable pulls the trigger. Her arm absorbs the recoil as Cyrus’ body seizes and–

Calypso closes out of the video and turns away. She presses her head between her legs gasping for lungfuls of air.

Rita spent ninety-two hours digging through Goddess knows what just to dig up this. The tumbling feeling in her stomach returns full force. Combined a racing heart and the rising bile in her throat, Calypso isn’t so sure anymore if she wants to call Frannie back. Maybe she ought to reach back out to Mister Mercury and try creative writing again. Maybe she ought to quit writing and journalism altogether, shuttle home to Venus, find a nice well off spouse, pop out another fucked up kid like her and her mother, and pat herself on the back for not dying to cancer or radiation poisoning or whatever. It might also do her a whole lot of good to find a therapist. At least looking for one wouldn’t kill her.

She waits until her heart has stopped racing and stomach settled back into place. Her pen feels like it’s barely there as she scratches down quick notes:

Eve gave the constable’s idea for public execution, thus Charlie.

Cyrus Desrosiers-Bell. He took Eevee’s last name? And then kept it after marrying Iris?

Cyrus was beat and taken away because he snuck on to New Kinshasa– twice. First time to try and save Eve (failed to) and second time for unknown reason (caught and tracked down). Could this be why/how Talia’s book club found a way to New Kinshasa?

Don’t know what song Cyrus sang as he was dragged away from Iris. Possibly some version of Charlie’s Lament?

How does Osiris Cygnet connect to all this?

What was the collar around Eve’s neck?

Constable Bishop’s promotions: have something to do with what happened to Eve? With what he did to Cyrus? (SIDE NOTE: I pray to my Goddess that whatever the hell happened to Eve, they did not do to Cyrus.)

… I pray that whatever they did to Eve, they did not improve and inflict upon Charlie.

She puts her pen back in the swan holder and examines the puncture wound in her palm. The injury is small, not a gash like she thought it might be. A bandage and anti-spetic and Calypso will be right as rain. Peachier than an Earthen Sunday morning.

“I need to find a hobby.” Calypso glances at the swan holder. Perhaps– no. Absolutely not.

She dresses her injury and calls Frannie back despite every part of her howling not to. Her coffee has long since gone cold. Normally this woudln’t be a problem. Just drop a few ice cubes in and presto. Or reheat the whole mug and presto. Today is one of those rare days where neither is an appealing option and the last of her six hundred cred coffee goes down the drain. Finally her call connects with Frannie.

“You finished the videos?”

“Frannie.”

“Right, hello. You finished the videos.” It’s not even a question anymore. Calypso hums turning away from her sink to lean her lower back against it. Slowly she lowers herself to the floor. “I’ll take that as a yes, okay! I asked Rita about Peter Nureyev like you wanted me to. And she turned back around within a day to tell me that there was nothing she could find about the man. He doesn’t exist. Just another legend.”

Calypso scoffs, “Well that’s impossible, I just saw the videos. Eve and Cyrus both mention him by name. Baird mentions him in his recordings by name. Camilla mentions him by name at some point. He has to be real.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you, kid, but if Rita can’t find him, no one can. It’s impossible to find something or someone who doesn’t exist.”

“Or maybe he disappeared.”

Frannie hums, “Sure, maybe that. Look, kid,” Calypso bites her tongue, “I wanted to talk with you about asking for help. Remember how I said you won’t be asking Rita for anymore favors?”

“Yeah, yeah actually– Frannie what was that about?”

“Kid,” Calypso does not retain her inward groan, “Rita is a really good friend of mine. Me and her go way back to when we were just little ladies getting our noses dirty and toeses wet with cybersecurity. She went down the HCPD path, I went down a freelance one.

“My point though is that me and her aren’t the same little ladies we used to be anymore. We’re little old ladies now. And us little old ladies need our rest and relaxation. When Rita starts something she doesn’t know when to take a break. She puts her whole body into it.”

“Don’t you mean mind?”

“No, body. Rita has been sacrificing her own health for the better part of three decades now trying to help her Boss. He’s a prick at best and an asshole at his worst. He’s taken her for granted a lot.” Well, maybe she should find a better Boss, goes unsaid. “Their relationship is better now, but I’m not going to let another kid like you come and drag her around the whole galaxy.”

“For fucks sake Frannie– my name is Calypso! I’m not your damn kid!” Calypso pants. The swooping feeling returns. “I’m not you’re damn kid, I haven’t been anyone’s damn kid in over ten years, so stop calling me a fucking child! If you don’t want me talking to Ms. Rita anymore fine. I get it. You don’t wanna hear about my requests to her that’s fine. I’ll cut you out of it and–”

“Calyspo Starr.” Her jaw clamps shut narrowly avoiding biting her tongue. “If you reach out to Rita after today, I will cease to help you myself. You can take your little comms and find someone else willing to help you for free. All I’m asking, Ms. Starr, is that you don’t involve Rita any further. Have I made myself clear, Ms. Starr?”

Ms. Starr, I’m sorry but there’s nothing more we can do for your mother. Your next decisions are going to shape how the end of her life are going to be. Have you got a will lined up already?

Ms. Starr, I can’t accept your solo proposal. Everyone else found partners for this project at the start of the year. Maybe you can join a group and be their editor?

Ms. Starr, that will be a demerit for you. Let’s find you something more suitable in the lost and found. You wouldn’t want to mistaken for a ruffian, do you?

“Crystal.” Calypso ends the call before Frannie can respond. She calls back. Calypso decline the call and throws her comms across the kitchen. She watches as it skitters along the tile.

Alone. Shit writer. Parentless. Jobless. Flying by the seat of her pants and overpriced coffee grounds. She was never cut out to be a journalist. Maybe she ought to go off and find a cold ditch to lie down in. Or a warm ditch. Whichever she stumbles across first.

Just who is Calypso Starr? Who the hell does she think she is anyways? And what gave her the idea that any of this meant something to someone in the first place?

I choose to believe…

Calypso takes a deep breath and starts counting back from ten.

I choose to believe…

As she slowly exhales, true clarity rings through her mind. Baird chose to believe. And it doesn’t matter how, his recordings made it off-planet. And if not Calypso Starr to tell his story, to transcribe every last detail she can capture, then who else? Who else does that leave?

Calypso Starr, the rebel who didn’t wear the right uniform. The orphaned university student who scrapped by without any friends. And now, a Solar based, historical freelance journalist. Scratch that from the record: Galactic, historical freelance journalist. She’s worn half a dozen different hats over the years, but one thing has remained consistent: a Starr burns brightest before they go out. And if Baird Bell and Brahma are the undoing of her, then there’s nothing to be done about it. She’ll get to the end of the recordings and uncover the truth one or another. With or without Frannie’s help.

#the penumbra podcast #tpp #our angel of brahma

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