#and many people say ‘well they sent buses to evacuate people so they could have left’

[sophisticatedswifts]

Here’s your reminder that 1) People don’t deserve hurricanes just because they live in a red state and 2) Many people don’t have the means to evacuate so don’t cast judgment on them for staying

[polarisbibliotheque]

Nemesis (Vergil x Reader) - Chapter 3

Nemesis

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: The Abyss opening is a rare occurrence. In his youth, Vergil wanted to harness its power, but never thought he would meet his greatest adversary along the way. Years later, the Abyss is once again open and that might call for some rather unlikely alliances.

Chapter 1 (Prologue) | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 (you are here!)

Age restriction: 18+��- there’s a lot of blood, violence, cursing and all those things people want to forbid younger audiences of seeing. Also, cosmic horror is a thing here. Procceed with caution.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Deals with trickster entities and death omens :)

Special Thanks and Credits: @furyeclipse is the wonderful creator of a very main character in all this plot, Ovid - the trickster being the reader will be dealing with and who will have many interactions with the crew. Fury helped me to write some of Ovid's key moments, their realm, their appearance and their mannerisms - after all, it was all Fury's creation and I'm just honored to be able to share such a rich character and worldbuilding!

Thank you so so much for allowing me to add your character to Nemesis and for being such a wonderful friend!

You can check Fury's work on their Ao3, which you can find here: FuryEclipse Ao3

Strongly suggest you guys reading Devoid of Purpose, where you can understand Ovid better ;)

Author's Notes: It took me a little while for this one and I do apologize, but my health isn't the best currently. I will have to go through some medical exams in the upcoming weeks and I'll start taking some meds, so I might have some delays/disappearances from writing. But I will ALWAYS come back to post Nemesis!!

This was a very fun chapter to write. I do enjoy Ovid a lot and their interactions with the reader are 10/10 based on knowledge seeking. Get ready for fighting (and annoying) Vergil on the next chapter, though ;)

Chapter 3

The city reeked of blood and destruction.

After so many years from your city’s incident, you never expected your memories to feel so alive. But there they were, haunting every corner of a new disaster – ghosts of a past you longed to forget, back to cling to your slivers of sanity like demons burying their claws in human flesh.

That city had fallen into chaos. People were crying, screaming, running around in despair looking for solace – for something or someone to save them from whatever the Abyss had attracted.

They first looked at you with hope and admiration – only to change to fear and horror when they realized that, even if your victims were demons, you were a killer after all.

And a very skilled one. Behind your footsteps, no demons were allowed. To fall into your protection meant to be safe; to find salvation amidst all that hell. Even if people feared you and your bloodstained hands, they were grateful for being their only hope of survival.

“Is everyone out of the city already?” You cleaned the blood that spilled on your face while walking towards the captain of the city’s guard, in charge of the evacuation.

Even the soldiers looked at you with a certain unease in their eyes. No one would want to get into a fight against you.

“The last two safe buses are just ready to go.” The captain, though, was the only one able to look into your eyes without hesitation. He could use a soldier like you. “Next one is for me, my crew, and you, y/n.”

“Thank you, but I’m not going with you.”

Your comment sent a wave of whispers among the soldiers. Before the captain could answer, you explained yourself.

“The Abyss is far more dangerous than we know. Someone has to stay behind and make sure it’s going to close without anything going in or coming out.”

Of course, you’d never say it was the only place you would certainly find the blue coated devil who almost killed you back in your city. You were certain he would be there but, so far, no blue demons crossed your view.

And you were especially aware of it.

“Well. You have a good point there. Just make sure to come back alive, alright?”

“Will do. I have to help a friend with laundry next week.”

No one understood your comment, but they also wouldn’t ask. You swinged your silver blade to get it rid of the blood and paced back into the city.

It was time to meet an old enemy.

*

As your steps echoed through the streets of the abandoned city, you had this uncomfortable feeling at the base of your stomach. It seemed like eyes were fixed on the back of your head and hands rested heavily on your shoulders.

But no one walked those streets except you.

Keeping your silver sword in hand, you didn’t stray from your path. The Abyss was close: you had learned to discern between how demons and the Abyss felt like as you started working as a devil hunter. While demons were certainly unnerving, the Abyss had something of… Uncertain. A sense of unknown – and the knowledge of what that was could be worse than fatal; probably better left in the realms of shadows.

But there was a… Third energy. Something else you couldn’t quite pinpoint its origin. It was unnerving, yes, but it felt… Old. Older than whatever demons you could’ve met.

Your steps approached an ancient building – probably a public school; you couldn’t exactly tell what it was. And you would’ve remained focused on your main objective if you hadn’t glimpsed inside the building.

A pair of eyes observed you from the shadows. It stared at you before disappearing deeper into the darkness, but you could swear those eyes were yours.

“What gives…?” You murmured to yourself, barely feeling your feet unconsciously following those eyes, as you crossed the derelict entrance.

You should be going towards the Abyss. That was the reason why you were there, it was the main purpose of you being hired that day. But… How come you saw a being with your eyes inside that building? As you entered the main hall, you found nothing but a reception desk and paper tossed around, ripped and burnt as people fled. Observing into the darkness, that place was a library.

Infinite rows of old mahogany seemed to go deep inside the shadows – until your eyes could barely make out any shapes. It was all probably in your head: dealing with demons made one prone to hallucinations, sooner or later.

As you prepared your feet to leave, you heard a scratchy metallic noise – faint, in the distance, but still there. Turning around, you stared into the shadow and you could swear your eyes picked up something moving.

You couldn’t tell what it was – if it was a demon, a creature or a human. But it was someone. If it was a human, it needed your help. If it was a demon, it deserved to die.

You decided to let your steps follow the sound.

Upon entering the rows of destroyed bookcases and rotting books, you kept on following that light metallic noise – like gentle knifes scratching at the floor, wood or any surface it could touch. Your eyes caught glimpses of a shadow, but never its full form. You turned your head around, your feet followed with precision – your curiosity leading you further and further into the labyrinth of old pages and decaying wood.

When you reached what it seemed to be the center – a round open space, surrounded by aisles and aisles of mahogany bookcases – your white rabbit seemed to have disappeared. There was no other indication of which path you should follow to find it, and you couldn’t deny you were certainly lost inside the library.

Your steps circled the room, slowly, trying to find your way out or the creature leading you further inside. Perhaps… Perhaps it was him. The devil who defeated you that fateful day, the one you longed to rematch. Maybe it was his way of leading you into a trap – and, if it was, you would be ready. Holding your silver sword with certainty, you wouldn’t be caught by surprise.

That library certainly looked like a proper place to defeat him and hold your sword to his neck, while one of your feet held his chest down on the floor, keeping him in his place. No demon was superior to a human, and you would prove him that.

The metallic tapping brought you back from your thoughts, dissipating the image of you finally subduing the blue coated demon. Turning around, you found your eyes again at the end of a long, dark aisle. With resolute steps, you plunged into the darkness, without flinching or thinking twice.

The eyes disappeared as soon as you started to follow them – but, upon reaching the end of the aisle, you found a great wooden door with an old plaque by its side. Cleaning the dust to see it better, you read what it was: “Forbidden Session – Entry allowed only upon authorization”.

Indeed, the door had an old black iron lock, probably requiring an iron key to enter. You tried to force it open a few times, but it was to no avail. With a deep, slightly frustrated sigh, you turned around to look for a way to open it – but your search wasn’t needed: as soon as you rotated on your feet, you found a great, heavy iron key waiting for you in one of the shelves filled with dust.

It didn’t escape your eyes the key was clean despite how abandoned the place looked.

Without questioning, you took it on your hands and finally opened the heavy door. Its hinges complained as you pushed it open and your steps entered the room.

Your heart slightly jumped inside your chest for a couple of quick seconds. It seemed like your eyes got used to the darkness, but soon you realized that session of the library was lit in a procession of warm candles that seemed to never really burn out. The door behind you was closed, and the reception desk had an old, heavy guestbook ominously waiting for you between two candles lit with purple flames.

You didn’t let go of your weapons. Strengthening your grip around the silver, you walked over the guestbook – finally noticing your steps weren’t the only sound to be heard: a faint, albeit calm, piano song filled the air. You didn’t know where it came from, but it was weirdly… Soothing.

“Traveler from afar, if you wish to drink upon the knowledge of forbidden and forgotten books, you must let go of your protections and sign your name. Only then, the library will welcome you among its pages and endless words. Beware, though, not to get lost in other worlds: some writings are tricky and the search for knowledge might claim your soul.”

Those were the words written on a blank, old page of the book waiting for you at the reception. Let go of protections and sign your name. Both conditions were tricky and asked too much of you: the protections were your weapons, and your name could be used in ancient spells for many purposes. The book asked you to be completely vulnerable and you weren’t comfortable with that.

“Hmmm…” You wiggled your nose while thinking, murmuring to yourself. That presence remained around you, but there was no reason to believe someone was really watching you. And, if there was indeed a being following you, they could at least try to answer any questions. “I wonder if this place has information about the Abyss…”

As you muttered, something seemed to fall in the inner part of the round reception desk. There was no one to receive you, so you took the liberty to inspect what made that noise. You found another book on the floor – this time bigger, older, and seemingly infinite: clearly a product of magic. There were no doubts you had crossed into another realm and, even if you didn’t know how to go back, your curiosity was bigger than your fear.

Taking the leather cover into your hands, you leaned the book in one of your arms, opening it with your free hand. Your eyebrows raised in delight as you realized you were staring into a library Index: all books and their subjects were noted down in beautifully crafted calligraphy, with a note on their location inside the library.

You turned page after page in what it seemed like an endless passing of time – as if Time itself didn’t exist in that wonderful realm of books and knowledge you had found yourself into. That presence seemed to keep watching you; intently, carefully… Curiously. As curious as your eyes running on the pages searching for more knowledge on the Abyss.

“Aha…” You finally found what you were looking for. The Abyss and other Ancient Realms – that was the only title on that theme. It was in the Restricted Session, and that could only indicate you would have a price to pay for that knowledge. “Alright. Let’s find the Restricted Session then.”

As you murmured those words, a path of purple flames lit the way to said Restricted Session. You wouldn’t have to worry about becoming trapped or never finding your way back: the library would show where the knowledge you needed was – your will would have to bring you back.

With a deep breath, you let go of your silver sword, leaning it on the reception desk. You placed your guns by the side of the guestbook, taking an inking pen and, after dipping it in the deep purple ink, you signed your name in the old, yellowish pages.

You were completely vulnerable, but you could use your arcane knowledge to your advantage. You had tested it before in several situations: the blood spell you did on your silver sword was very efficient in bringing it back to you in dire need. The blood inside it felt the calling of the blood in your veins, it didn’t matter the distance. It could take some time, but your trusted sword would be there to protect you – and that gave you some peace of mind.

The Restricted Session was less ominous than you thought it would look like. Behind the black iron bars of the gate that kept curious hands at bay, lied an obsidian box that could keep just one book inside, framed by the light of many sparkling purple candleflames.

“You who search the oldest of secrets must leave something in return.”

An old, golden altar stood beside the bars of the Restricted Session, keeping you between the knowledge of the Abyss. It was at your hand’s reach, so close and yet, so far away. You wanted it with your whole heart, but that altar was a warning and a deal: you had to sacrifice something if you wanted to learn something new.

No small offering would be enough for that book – no, it had to be a big one. Something beloved, something cherished. Something your heart would break to part.

Your guardian angel’s deep blue shawl.

You touched the soft fabric, your heart jumping inside your chest. Of everything you were willing to part of, that was your most prized belonging. It was the only thing that reminded you of some protection, of some gentleness. You didn’t want to let go – you wanted to keep the memory of your guardian angel close to your heart forever.

But you could never attain the knowledge you needed without making sacrifices.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep and slow breath. It was stupid to cry over a piece of fabric, so you wouldn’t – even if your heart wanted to weep. Unwrapping it from your neck, you once again opened your eyes, carefully placing your beloved shawl in the ancient golden altar. The purple flames reflected a beautiful dance in the only memory you had of your guardian angel… Of you being cared for and remembered, at least by someone.

With your heart sinking in your chest, a heavy click opened the gates of the Restricted Session, allowing you to go in.

The obsidian box was open, revealing a big, ominous book with a deep blue leather cover. The Abyss and Other Ancient Realms – the letters were in silver, slowly fading with time, but beautifully crafted inside a gothic frame of vines. You took it into your hands, the weight almost heavier than your sword. It shouldn’t be, but some books held more knowledge than others. Some enchanted books, with infinite pages, impossible to run out of space in its binding.

You left the Restricted Session, looking over your shoulders one last time to catch a glimpse of your cherished blue shawl. It seemed like leaving a piece of your heart behind, but you took a deep breath and kept on your path back to the reception desk – you wouldn’t cry, at least not with your eyes, and you wouldn’t turn back once more either.

What was done was done. You had made your choice, and you wouldn’t go back.

As you approached the reception desk once more, though, a dark figured towered around it – and the eyes. It had your eyes.

It looked like a Eurasian Eagle-Owl, feathers in deep purple and black, glistening with the trembling candle flames. Its chest carried a blood red glow, faintly able to see under its jet-black wings. It stood tall, far taller than you, smart eyes mimicking yours as it followed your every move with interest and mischievous curiosity. Only when your careful steps got close enough you were able to see it had two sets of wings – one close to its body, another resembling the mannerisms of human arms.

You had your eyes in it – carefully drinking its every move. You didn’t know if it was friend or foe; if it tried to attack you, your sword, peacefully laying behind it, would have to make its way to your hand.

“If you’re looking for that white rabbit, he’s not here.” Its voice reverberated through walls and the floor, catching your ears and your heart. You’d say it was a demon, but something about its energy was… Different. Ancient. “But I sense that you seek a knowledge that is worth pursuing to the darkest depth of the Underworld to find it.” As it finished speaking, a small laugh followed the words, clearly enjoying your curiosity that led you to that realm. “How will curious little Alice accomplish such a dangerous feat?”

“With courage. You have to be curious in order to be brave.” Your answer was certain albeit careful. Never before you had encountered a demon that resembled the creature standing before you – and the Codex Daemonica had no information about that. “I wonder. If I was led here but there’s no white rabbit to be seen, who am I talking to? The Cheshire Cat?”

Once again, that laugh reverberated through your chest, while its feathers shook with delight. Of all creatures you had met, that was the first who made you unsure. As far as your knowledge went, you could be talking to a trickster, like the ancient Norse deity, Loki.

“Alice should know better that names are not to be given so lightly.”

You just stared back into your own eyes, a small unsatisfied smile coloring your lips. You had signed your name; you had given it already. But words have power, especially the ones voiced by one’s own lips. If you wanted its name, you had to give yours – you had to voice it so it could voice its own. An eye for an eye, a hand for a hand, a name for a name.

“Y/n. My name is y/n, as I signed in the guestbook already.” You said after a deep breath. You could be making a huge mistake, but the book in your arms was worth whatever price. You had already left your guardian angel’s shawl – there was no going back now.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, little Alice.” The creature bowed its head slightly, making you mirror its chivalry. “You can call me Ovid, master of this realm.”

“You certainly have a wonderful library, Ovid.” You couldn’t keep secret the fact that you had a Restricted Session book in your arms: Ovid probably knew what you had given up for it already and you had every intention to check that book out. For good or for bad. “With knowledge that even the best arcane libraries in the human realm only dream of.”

“Indeed, y/n, indeed… How far would you go fur such knowledge, little Alice?”

“As far as necessary, dear Cheshire Cat.”

Its eyes reflected the same fire that burned in yours – but you didn’t look down. You had already met that stare before: years ago, when fighting the blue coated devil, it was that sort of glance that commanded you to give up and made you only ignore it and remain stronger in your own will.

It was rare for Ovid meeting such a strong-willed human. A journey alongside you could be quite interesting, after all.

“I see you have already accessed the Restricted Session…” Ovid murmured back, glancing quickly at the book in your hands. “To check out such knowledge, in the other hand, there are a few conditions.”

“As I said before, I’m willing to go as far as necessary. I already gave up something dear to me.” It was rare for you to put yourself in such a vulnerable position, but there you were. That book was worth much more than you could ever dream of and, if you needed to, you would fight that creature for it – even if you didn’t know what it was.

“And you can read it in my realm whenever you see fit, as long as your offering remains in the altar.” Once again, it bowed its head slightly, only to turn those bright, cunning eyes back to you right after. “But in order to return constantly, I shall need something in return.”

You smiled. There was always a catch. That’s how it was when dealing with demons.

“What is it?”

“For which purpose does little Alice needs such a book so desperately…?” You could hear it in its voice: they knew you had a goal, that you needed that book not only for curiosity, but for something else.

You had to be honest and vulnerable – something you avoided with all your strength. There were no cards left up your sleeve and the only thing you had in your advantage was that you could summon your silver sword at any moment – unless Ovid had sensed that spell already.

“There are no books in the human realm with knowledge on the Abyss. Whatever it is, I need to know more about it to keep it from destroying entire cities like it did to mine.” You took a deep breath, never lowering your eyes from Ovid’s cunning stare. “I will write a Codex Abyssae, just like there is a Codex Daemonica, so other hunters may be able to protect other people. This…” You looked down at the book in your arms, furrowing your brows. “This is the best source I found to this day. I can’t let it go.”

As your eyes went back to Ovid’s, you could swear it was smiling – after all, you knew how your eyes looked when you were doing so.

“Well, well, little Alice…” There was a tinge of delight in its voice, and you couldn’t refrain your heart from being wary. “It seems that the Fates brought our paths together, then. This book can only be read on my realm, however you might be able to come and go as you please for your research as long as you keep its information updated.” Those eyes, your eyes, glinted with a smart burst of energy of something that hadn’t had that much fun in centuries. “You see, my collection, sometimes, gets obsolete. Inside this book, you will find everything you need to know on the Abyss, but I’m afraid there is so much more yet to be discovered. It will be an honor harboring a copy of your Codex Abyssae along my many pages and oceans of words.”

One of their wings pointed back at the book. As you observed the cover, The Abyss and other ancient realms title disappeared, only to give room to the carefully crafted, gothic silver words of Codex Abyssae.

That was your book. That was your research. If you accepted it, all that knowledge, all that power would be yours – and you would get to update it, as well as write your own version for the human realm. It was really a lot more than you could have wished for, even if it bounded you to that creature you knew so little about.

“What happens when I am done?”

“You cannot return.” Ovid’s voice was calm, acting as if it was just another day in their eternity. Their eyes, though, glinted with delight. “The Codex will return to its safety in the Restricted Session. Your shawl will be returned. You will have your knowledge, and I will have mine. Our deal will be over.”

Of course, it was a deal. Something like that always had a price.

And you were willing to pay it.

“How do I access the library to read the Codex when I need to?”

“You can always summon me with one of my feathers, dear Alice.”

It seemed like you hadn’t noticed it before, but right by the guest book, there was a golden dish with a silky, long black feather in it. Like you imagined before, you would be bound to that creature to a certain extent, as long as you kept your part of the bargain. They would give you knowledge if you delivered knowledge in return.

It was a small price to pay, in your point of view.

“Well, then. You have yourself a deal, Cheshire.” You took a deep breath, declaring your will out loud. “I will keep the Codex Abyssae updated as long as I can come and go from the library and read it for my research, Ovid. Deal.”

That laugh reverberated through the library once more as you reached for the feather. You could finally leave the Codex on the reception desk, knowing you could come back any time and spend hours and hours reading it to your heart’s desire.

“I have to finish the job I was hired to do, but when I want to come back…”

“I will be there to guide you into my realm, little Alice.” Ovid made a small signal with their head, making you slightly bow in return.

“Thank you for allowing me to have access to your library, Ovid.”

“Thank you, little Alice, for giving me such knowledge to build upon, but do be careful on the road ahead.” Their warning caught you off guard, making you stop as you were ready to get your weapons once more. “You have been close to death once before, I can see that.” As those words filled your mind, you furrowed your brows. “Before you go, I shall give you a piece of advice to mull over. The next time you end up on death’s doorstep, it will take you without hesitation. So, live a fruitful and fulfilling human life, with the time you’ve got left. Death does not give second chances lightly.”

That warning placed a heavy weight on your heart, taking your breath away for a few seconds. You had defied death once but, as it seemed, you wouldn’t be able to do it twice.

With so much left to do, you kept that warning in a place you could think about later. You struck a deal. It was done. You couldn’t turn back now.

*

As soon as your feet left the door that got you inside the library, you found yourself back into the derelict building that led you there. You glanced back, hoping to see the purple flames and the reception desk once more – now with your weapons back to your grip and the feel of your trusted sword hilt calming your heart – but you only found an old empty room, with books and paper scattered all over the dusty floor.

You were back – and it all seemed like a lifelong dream. You would consider it all to have been just your imagination, if Ovid’s feather didn’t weight inside your coat’s pocket. Checking once more, your fingers found the silky touch of the feather and you knew; it was all true. You had struck a deal with a trickster, maybe a demon, maybe something older – you weren’t sure. But you had done it for a knowledge and a power the strongest demons could only dream of.

Your steps quickly led you back to the round hall surrounded by the labyrinth of mahogany aisles, lit only by a sheer light that entered through the cracks in the walls. Soon, you would find your steps away from that building, back to your job, to make sure the Abyss would close, and nothing would be able to go in – or get out.

“This time, I will not allow you to go any further… Little human.”

That voice. It was his voice. You were certain of it.

Turning around, you smiled as you saw a very well-known silhouette lit only by the stray rays of light, framing his shoulders and his conceited head held high in the air – the sword on his hand, ready to attack; the smirk framing his arrogance… His eyes, defying yours with a fire burning in silver. The blue coat gracing him as a frame.

You smirked back, holding your head high and staring back with your burning eyes.

“Long time no see… Demon.”

**

To be continued...

[trains647]

Day 1 year 1

Z-day report

location: south west Missouri

Soldier: tell me everything you saw in that high school starting at 3rd period.

Witness: I-uh well I was going to wood-shop like any other day and I saw a girl who looked like she had a fungus in her teeth going to the nurse whilst I was going there…..why are you asking me this?

Soldier:con plan 8888 was activated at 0930 when your school resource officer sent his body-cam footage to us now you need to answer the question were there any other sick looking people?

Witness: four from what I remember but I drive myself so I don’t know if anyone was actually throwing up on the buses it could have been a rumor….

Soldier: how many people were at the school would you say it was less than normal?

Witness:yes because the hallways were very empty I saw maybe……20 people? on my way to class rather then the usual amount where I’m almost trampled. but why would the school resource officer send you footage from his body-cam?

Soldier: he deemed it appropriate and necessary. Now what symptoms did the sick people you see have?

Witness: maybe bloodshot eyes……someone had something that looked like a bulging vain slithering under his skin…….several people were drooling everywhere and coughing while drinking everything they could find but why is that important?

Soldier:because we don’t know what we’re fighting some are easily brought down with shots to the chest others need to be completely burned and destroyed now you and the others are getting evacuated to New York and Florida if we can’t clear up the caves in Branson now all that we need you to do is stay calm and cooperate with our investigation.

Witness: o-ok I’ll try to stay calm.

Soldier:were you ever bitten?

Witness:yes but it didn’t break my skin thankfully I had my coat on why?

Soldier:*slowly grappling his pistol under the table* show me the bite now.

Witness:*taking off his coat to reveal a bruise on his arm with the imprint of teeth along its edges*

Soldier:it didn’t break skin but you will be quarantined for three days now I’ll continue questioning you after that *slowly gets up and leaves the room and locks the thick steel door* it sounds like 3 or 4 plagues

Soldier 2:I’d be inclined to believe you as another said that there was worms in the blood and a different one said a fungus but there were several that had neither and those were the ones that went down easily.

Soldier: alright so we are going to need to start excavating a mass grave for the infected to be poured into and burned.

Soldier 2:understood

(Note this is a work of fiction but is part of a series hope you enjoy)

[starseedpatriot]

"I'm a military guy. Ask Franz, I told him the day Russian troops "invaded" Ukraine, that the Op had already been Completed: White Hat Russian, US, European and Ukrainian Special Forces did the deed while the troops were still massing at the border.

Proof: THE FIRST THING RUSSIA DID AT THE BEGINNING OF THE "INVASION" WAS TO BLOW UP ALL THE BIOLABS

No waves of Anthrax or Ebola etc outbreaks? No photos of actual bodies piled up--so desperate for dead bodies they stage endless "newscasts" featuring comedy like "wounded" actress "mothers" with rubber tummies and rows of "body bags" who were all wiggling, sneezing, scratching their noses and pulling the bags back up over their heads.

So: The labs were all SANITIZED and EVACUATED BEFORE BEING BOMBED, yes? (BIG job, difficult, dangerous, requiring extremely well-trained technicians.) NOBODY IN THEIR RIGHT MIND blows up a bioweapon lab, without securing all the pathogens first. Logic, (un)Common Sense and Sun Tzu.

The screeching is too-well scripted guys, the Players are hitting their Cues like the guy with the wand conducting Beethoven's Ninth.

Why the "invasion?" To protect the peeps from the freaks of course, and to mop up the freaks and their weaponry, defuse bombs and land mines, finish gathering evidence, freeing thousands of children from "labs," bringing everyone food and stuff..

Are people dying? Yup. By far, mostly freaks, you have ample proof of this also: Reporters breathlessly amping out the Holocaust News, with mildly curious Ukrainian pedestrians cruising past in the background going about their business. How many vids, the city buses are still running.

Hint: Russia gets on the bullhorns, telling the local people to stay inside whenever they make a move: How many cellphone vids have you seen of things blowing up in the distance, FILMED THROUGH UNBROKEN WINDOWS.

You are watching theater, writ large.

Whatever Happens Next, it's time for us to push back from our screens, get even better at reading between the lines, go through the talking points in our heads so we are ready for all the breathless questions all the idiot Normies in our families and circles of influence will have for us, like, "I just had my third heart attack, what do I do my doctor just sent me home to die!"

...and ten thousand other questions you tried to tell them the answers to years or decades ago.

If you were paying attention, the prayer has been for years--since way back when Covid fizzled, failing to fill the hospitals--the freaks were in a white-hot panic to roll another bioweapon...and instead, we got Omicron. The White Hats inoculated the entire planet against Covid by rolling Omicron. Hats off to the White Hats guys, or we would have been up to our infected eyeballs in bubonic plague if the freaks had anything to say about it.

Still praying that prayer, that the Russkies and all the other White Hats stay real frosty keeping on top of this, with over 300 biolabs (that we know of) frothing in a panic to avoid their Nuremberg Debut, working to concoct a pathogen to kill us all. Instead we're seeing a huge Pfizer campus entirely emptied, without a word in the media. How, Who, could put that many locals out of jobs, empty the buildings etc, without a vid, a whisper of it happening? 😎

Inhale. Exhale. Breathe: Thou Shalt Not Let Your Own Team Play You.

Enjoy the Show!"

[stilldani24]

You Are Here 📍 -  A Bucky x Reader Fanfiction - 38 Planes/Blankets and Bedding/28 Hours/Wherever We Are

Description: On September 11th, 2001, the world changed forever. During the horrors in New York City, planes all over the world bound for the United States were promptly landed at the nearest airport. For a small town of nine thousand in Newfoundland, Canada, thirty-eight planes were grounded at the Gander Airport. As a Gander native, you were going about your normal day. For Bucky Barnes, a Brooklyn native, landing in this backwater Canadian town while terror was happening back home was a whole new adventure in it of itself. While this will be based on Come From Away, it is also a completely true story.

Warnings: This fic deals with the events surrounding September 11th, 2001. 

Word Count: 1815

A/N: Hope (not van Dyne) is based on @captainscanadian​

PROLOGUE//MASTERLIST//

10:02 AM, Tuesday, September 11th, 2001 

“How many planes are there now?” you asked as you approached the town’s constable, Clint Barton, while looking at the tarmac. The planes had been touching down all morning, constantly and at an eerie schedule. Every twenty minutes or so, the roar of a 747 erupted over the town as another plane came in for landing.

“Seventeen,” Clint replied, running his fingers through his hair with a heavy sigh. “Most of them are jumbos, eh. They have two, three hundred people on the average each. Holy shit.”

You look both ways across Airport Boulevard, the main road through town and leading up to the seemingly abandoned airport. Lined up, both ways, are cars. The cars of everyone in town, surrounding towns, and even news vans. They were backed up all the way to the Shoppers, crowding around the McDonald’s, and the only other constable was routing traffic as to leave room for when the plane people would be evacuated from the planes. No one knew how soon that would be, if at all, but the town was at a standstill. Stores were closed, kids were sent home from school, and nearly everyone was watching either the news or the planes touching down.

“Wanda’s getting the school ready with Hope and Maria,” you then told him, interrupted by the roar of another plane touched down. Eighteen. “Natasha Romanoff from the news is wanting to interview you about the planes in about fifteen minutes and Tony is announcing a state of emergency soon, too.”

Clint chuckled now, shaking his head as he turned his back to the airport. “How the hell did you get yourself into this? I assumed you were gonna be helpin’ at the school there, eh?”

You shrugged, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “I needed to do something other than watchin’ the news. Hope has the tubes at the school with different news channels and I needed to stop lookin’ at those images. Can’t even imagine what they’re going through right now.”

Clint clapped you on the shoulder, giving you a welcoming smile. “We don’t have time to worry about it, kiddo. We have nearly four thousand people on those planes achin’ to get off and we can’t let them until we’re ready. Go around town and ask what different people need and if locals are willin’ to take some guests.”

You did just that, first heading back to the school to help with cots and getting the cafeteria set up for a day full of cooking, then ran down to the Baptist church to ask what they needed, then down to the Lions Club. Every public space that wasn’t a store was being converted into a shelter. The Shoppers Drug Mart was willing to give anything off the shelves, Dr. O’Brian from another pharmacy down the road was ready to fill any emergency prescriptions as needed, and the town school buses were willing to end their strike for the time being to transport passengers from the planes to the shelters when the time came. After a couple hours, you returned to the airport to see Natasha interviewing different locals. Pepper Potts, who ran the SPCA and wife to the mayor, was giving an interview as you ran up.

“On a normal day, we get half a dozen flights. Now, we already got three times as many landing in such little time…that’s a lot of noise. You can smell the fuel,” she was saying as yet another plane touched down. Clint was looking at the tarmac yet again, counting up the planes. The lights in the control tower had gone out now, the air control not in the tower, signifying that no more planes were to be coming in.

Clint’s eyes widened now, dropping his hands to his sides where they once rested on his hips. “Jesus…we got thirty-eight planes. With two hundred people on the average…”

“Christ,” you cursed, running up to Natasha now as she was too just staring at the tarmac. “Nat, c’mon. You have to make an emergency broadcast, people all over town need things if we’re gonna play host to these come from away’s, yeah? Clint, go down to the Shoppers and help clearing out those shelves. Tony’s there loading up trucks to take to the school. We need to get going.”

Clint nodded, running back to his cruiser and heading down Airport Boulevard to get to the Shoppers. The road had narrowed so only one car was allowed through, since cars were lined up on either side to watch the planes, so it was a sight to see. You then handed Natasha a list of what different people needed to be able to operate as a shelter, and she quickly turned back to the camera man.

“11:53 AM, Tuesday, September 11th, 2001. Live from the Gander Airport. Any available community buildings will be converted into shelters. With thousands of passengers arriving at any minute, the town is asking for help with…well, anything you can do,” she spoke to the camera before reading from your list. “The Baptist church needs help movin’ their pews, Dr. O’Brian down at the pharmacy is ready to fill any prescriptions, oh, and the Lions Club is looking for some toilet paper, if you have any extra.”

Locals were quick to act. In under an hour, anything that could ever be donated was. Medicine, toothpaste, underwear, aspirin. Even jackets women’s kids grew out of last summer. Since the Rogers News station was the one to put out the call, that’s where all the donations were being dropped off. Except for the toilet paper, and truckloads were arriving at the Lions Club by the minute. At 1:17 PM, Natasha had to give another request.

“For the love of God, stop bringin’ toilet paper to the Lions Club!”

9:26 PM, Tuesday, September 11th, 2001

The mood on the planes was vastly different than what was happening outside. People were cranky, tired, and sore from sitting on the planes. Some people, from the beginning of their flight and the accumulated time sitting on the tarmac, were on the planes for twenty-eight hours. Bucky’s flight, from Paris and bound for NYC, touched down six hours after they took off. They were let out of their seats, but not off the plane. Something about the town they were in needing to get ready and the airport they were at not actually being a real international airport. No one even knew what was happening. The pilot wouldn’t tell them, and neither would the attendants. The phones on the backs of the seats weren’t working, so they couldn’t call loved ones, and those with cellphones only had limited service or battery life. Those who did get through weren’t getting any information either, just talking to their loved ones and assuring them they were okay. Bucky had no one to contact, as the one person he would have called in this situation was sitting next to him.

“How much longer?” one guy from the back of the plane shouted up to the front, irritated. The pilot had announced that the minibar the plane held was free, and people passed around the mini bottles of liquor. People got drunk fast, and while some people got friendlier, others got much more irritated. “We’ve been sitting here for twelve hours!”

Bucky shook his head, needing to get some fresh air. Many of the planes had their doors open to let some in, but it was still so stuffy and hot in there. He nudged Steve, nodding towards the door to let him know where he was going before getting up. He walked to the door, where a couple of women were sitting on the edge with their feet dangling from the plane. He stood behind them, looking out at the long line of cars along the road while the sun was setting behind them. It was almost insane. All he knew about the town that it was small, much smaller than he was used to, and seeing that many cars made him think that the entire town came out to watch him. While most people remained in their cars, he saw a small group of people standing in the middle of the road. One woman was a redhead, in a white button-down shirt with some sort of logo. She appeared to be a news reporter, since she was speaking to a camera and held a microphone while gearing to interview someone else. A man stood next to her, but off to the side in the grass of the ditch. He was obviously the police officer, as Bucky could see the gleam of his badge despite the distance between them. Finally, there was another woman. She stood at average height, with [Y/H/C] and dressed kind of like a stereotypical school teacher but with messy hair and a clipboard in her hands. From what he could see from his spot on the plane, she appeared to be the one in charge down there. He couldn’t help but give a smile, as seeing a woman take control of such a huge situation was surprisingly a turn on for him. He, however, turned back to the interior of the plane when the pilot made announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please quiet down,” she had spoken. “Please listen to this broadcast from the President about the situation that had occurred today.”

After a few moments of silence, the sound of George W. Bush’s voice began to play over the PA system, but a bit fuzzy. It was being relayed through a handheld radio. Bucky turned back to watch the people in the road, who had stopped what they had been doing to listen to the broadcast from the officer’s car.

“…I ask the American people to join me in saying thanks…for all the folks who’ve been fighting hard to rescue our fellow citizens and to join me in saying a prayer for the victims and their families. The resolve of our great nation is being tested but make no mistake. We will show the world that we will pass this test. God bless.”

Bucky sighed as he watched the people in the road look at each other as the broadcast ended, the officer getting in his cruiser with the woman and driving onto the tarmac.

“Attention, plane people!” A loud voice then boomed from the tarmac, the officer turning on the lights and obviously using his cruiser’s intercom system. Every plane had their doors open so thankfully, they could all hear in the area the cruiser was in. “You are going to be the first group to deplane! We’re not sure how long that will take, so please keep your patience. Thank you for your cooperation.”

After a moment, the intercom crackled to let someone else talk. A woman’s voice then spoke up through the system, making Bucky smile.

“Welcome to Gander!”

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You Are Here 📍 Taglist: @anastea​

[newstfionline]

Recovering from Harvey when ‘you already live a disaster every day of your life’

By Abigail Hauslohner, Washington Post, September 5, 2017

HOUSTON--The saddest part of all this redundancy, Marina Robles thinks, is that it’s unstoppable.

For the second time in three years, her apartment is a humid wasteland, filling quickly with the suffocating stench of mold, as she tries to decide, once again, if anything is salvageable. For the second time, she has carried her family’s rotting clothes and furniture out onto the grass, forming a pile of bedroom doors, mattresses, chairs, an oven and a refrigerator--all destined, once again, for the dump. And for the second time in three years, she’ll move back into the same apartment.

Some observers have called Hurricane Harvey an “equal opportunity” disaster, as the storm spread rain and floodwater widely and indiscriminately across Southeast Texas.

But as Houston airs out and begins to rebuild, the opportunities for what comes next are far more limited, and the divisions between those who can afford to escape the mold growing in Harvey’s wake and those who can’t will become more stark.

Greenspoint, the predominantly Latino and black neighborhood in north Houston where Robles lives, is a spread of two-story, low-income apartment complexes set close enough to Brays Bayou that residents say a heavy rainstorm almost guarantees a flood. Its layout was so poorly conceived--a product of Houston’s building boom--that local leaders say it probably should never have been built in the first place. And its working-class tenants already struggle to pay their rent--in the $600s and $700s for a small two-bedroom apartment--in a normal month.

It’s the kind of neighborhood where “you already live a disaster every day of your life,” said Carol Moore, the NAACP’s co-chair of disaster for the state of Texas. In Greenspoint, she said, Harvey’s floods constitute no less than “a disaster on top of a disaster.”

Many residents, like Robles, 41, are also undocumented immigrants, which means when disasters strike, they have no outlet to seek relief from the Federal Emergency Management Agency--as government assistance is only available to legal residents of the United States--and little power to challenge landlords who refuse to repair the damage.

“A lot of us don’t get no food stamps. We don’t get no help from the government,” Robles said. “We lost everything we have.” And now they’ll start over, she said, as they did before, “from point zero.”

Robles knows what point zero looks like because she was there--along with many of her neighbors--just last year. The “Tax Day flood” of April 2016 was “just a day of rain,” residents say. But it overflowed the bayou and flooded the first-floor apartments in Greenspoint.

That disaster brought mold and despair, piles of ruined furniture tossed to the curb, a slow trickle of FEMA assistance to those with legal status, and a desperate wringing of wallets for all. Though some people were able to move out, most stayed, like Robles.

The flooding from Hurricane Harvey started here early on the first Friday morning of the storm--two days before many other Houstonians’ homes fell victim to meteorologists’ worst-case scenarios. As the rains soaked the parking lot with fast-growing puddles, the residents of Biscayne at Cityview and nearby com­plexes had nothing to do but cringe in anticipation. And when the bayou began to overflow, Robles knew it was “game over.”

Robles, her husband and her adolescent stepchildren hoisted two mattresses over their heads and carried them upstairs to the neighbors’ as the water spilled in the front door and crept up the wall.

There were few around here who stockpiled food and drinking water to wait out the storm, because stockpiling requires extra cash, and extra cash is not a luxury they have.

“When we started distributing food on Tuesday, there were people who said they hadn’t eaten since Saturday,” said Dannie Kelly, a youth pastor at the Harvest Time Church in Greenspoint, which has delivered thousands of meals along with stacks of clothing, diapers and cleaning supplies to the neighborhood over the past week.

“A lot of people are behind on their rent,” she said.

As the sun came out last week, drying the floodwater, the residents of Greenspoint, as in other parts of the city, ventured into their waterlogged homes and dragged out the furniture and belongings that had been rendered useless by the water and were fast growing mold. Robles and others began to consider their options--if they had any.

Television sets, soggy sofas, mattresses, dressers, clothing, shoes and piles of torn-up carpeting sat rotting at the curbside, the stench permeating the neighborhood along with a growing concentration of flies.

Residents like Fatima Vargas, a mother of three, and Mark Bryant, a lung cancer patient, thought wistfully about moving to hotel rooms but knew that they couldn’t afford it--”$130 for a night,” Vargas said.

The shelters seemed frightening for a number of reasons. First, leaving the neighborhood made you vulnerable to break-ins--something that several residents said they had already experienced during the storm. But more dauntingly, Robles and her neighbors said, shelters seemed sure to attract the attention of immigration authorities for those who are not here legally.

FEMA was also completely out of reach, or a mysterious option at best. No one from the Biscayne management office was available to help residents navigate the website to register. Even as local church groups and other volunteers filtered through the neighborhood with free hot dogs, clothes and outdoor church services, no one seemed to have answers to the bigger questions: Where can we go? What do we do about the mold?

Others said just asking for help was too risky.

“I don’t want them asking for papers,” said Cecia Ramirez, a 29-year-old house cleaner, who said she would figure out her own path to recovery for her and her children.

“They ask for your address, they go into your apartment,” she added.

Flood insurance--already rare among many better-off homeowners in this Texas metropolis--is largely nonexistent in Greenspoint, where renters live paycheck to paycheck. Even the developer, Steve Moore, who owns 5,000 of the neighborhood’s apartments, said he could afford to insure only about a quarter of them; and it was the responsibility of residents to request their own FEMA assistance, either way, he said.

“If we had insured everything, we’d be paying well over half a million dollars a year, maybe a million,” Moore said. He said he lost about $20 million after the Tax Day flood, as residents departed or didn’t pay rent on damaged units, even after receiving FEMA aid, he added. Plus, the tile floors he put down to replace the carpets then shouldn’t require removal now. They can be wiped down, he said--a claim that had many tenants feeling skeptical.

And then there was that other cost that Moore failed to mention, but that tenants like Ismail Baltazar, 40, ran into as soon as they walked into the leasing office to sort out their options.

“They said it was $600 if I break the contract,” said Baltazar, who was searching for a way out after his son developed a fever this weekend--he thinks from the mold--and who has another 10 months before his lease is up.

By Sunday evening, black mold was filling the corners of Baltazar’s white-painted living room, and he was thinking about taking his son to the hospital. Robles, who had also become sick, took breaks in between fretting and helping her fellow residents--to vomit in the grass outside her stinking home.

And a group of activists and community leaders had arrived to survey the wreckage and declare the quickly molding first-floor apartments “unlivable,” even as it remained unclear where else the tenants could go.

Finally, after some agitating--a representative from the office of Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-Tex.) declared the apartments were too dangerous to stay in--Biscayne at Cityview’s management office on Sunday night released a hastily composed flier that Robles volunteered to distribute.

“Biscayne at Cityview Apartments has been in touch with the Red Cross. Red Cross buses will be dispatched to evacuate residents whose apartments have been rendered unlivable by water damage,” it read, only in English.

“We strongly recommend that ... residents who are living in the water-damaged apartments accept transportation to the shelters. We are concerned about the long-term health effects of living in water-damaged units.”

The Red Cross said it sent city buses to the complex, but as Robles and several others expected: There were few, if any families, willing to get on them.

[politicalfilth-blog]

Foua And Kafraya: Two Syrian Towns Massacred By U.S.-Backed Terrorists

We Are Change

A tale of two Shi’a towns targeted by CIA-backed “moderate rebels,” as told by Sarah Abed in an exclusive to We Are Change.

The suicide bomber has been identified as Samer Hassan Yousef.

Exclusive article written by Sarah Abed for We Are Change.

Syrians took pride in the fact that their country was nonsectarian, secular and united. That is… until March 15th, 2011, when a carefully planned and calculated imposed war invaded their jasmine scented country. Since then, sectarian hate has surfaced and been empowered by terrorist groups that now boldly commit crimes against humanity in broad daylight without fear of of condemnation.

New information has surfaced from multiple sources and confirmed by my exclusive contact in Syria that the NATO/US-backed Nour Al Din Al Zinki movement was behind the massive suicide bombing explosion that took place in the Al-Rashideen area of west Aleppo.

During a negotiated population transfer deal, a suicide car bombing targeted the Shi’a civilians being evacuated from Kafraya and Foua; two cities with a population of roughly 40,000 people that have been besieged by “moderate rebels” since March 2015.

Previously this same group was responsible for beheading a Palestinian child named Abdallah Issa on the back of a pickup truck. I wrote about him more in a previous article.

Samer Hassan Yousef

The suicide bomber has been identified as Samer Hassan Yousef.

These terrorists are anything but moderate, they have traumatized, killed, and starved the civilians of these two cities on an almost daily basis for the past 2 years. Car bombs, rockets, gas cylinders, and shells have torn these two cities apart and rendered them almost uninhabitable.

By December 2015, entire families were homeless and thousands killed, mostly women and children. A true genocide of a religious minority. The one remaining hospital that was attending to all of the injured, performing sometimes five major surgeries a day, was bombed last year as well. Schools have been obliterated. Terrorist groups cut the citizens water off forcing them to carry water from wells which they empty into their tanks. They are eating grass and chard.

The Syrian government’s only way to send aid to the residents is through parachutes. Gaysh el Fatha, among other terrorist groups in the area, have been seen on video saying they will run over their bodies if these Shi’a traitors, and refer to them as pigs and dogs. They are heard saying that they will slaughter and behead them. Even young children are singing along and are being indoctrinated to believe that Shi’a are not worthy of living.

On April 15th, 2017 some 5,000 inhabitants of the northern cities, mainly women and children, were brought by bus convoy to the government held city of Aleppo but were stopped while still in the “rebel” controlled area. Inhabitants from the southern city had been brought up to Aleppo and were kept under government guard.

This latest evacuation was made possible under a deal struck between Damascus and militant groups in late March that envisaged the transfer of 16,000 people from Foua and Kefraya in exchange for the evacuation of militants and their families from the government-held towns of al-Zabadani and Madaya in Rif Dimashq Province.  

Iran, speaking for the Syrian government, and Qatar, a financer of the radical “rebels”, negotiated the deal. There are many other issues involved in the deal including Qatari hostages held by Shia groups in Iraq, very large payment from Qatar to “rebel” groups (Al-Qaeda) and some non-disclosed items.

In December an agreement had allowed for the exchange of wounded civilians. When buses were on their way to evacuate elderly and wounded civilians from the two northern cities they were torched by some rebel group. New buses had to be sent in order to facilitate the exchange.

It is now confirmed that Nour al Din al Zinki movement prepared the VBEID in Darat Izza and sent to al Rashadeen in advance of the bus convoy from Kafraya and Foua and waited for the right time to explode and cause maximum fatalities. It is widely known and accepted that the Nour al Din al Zenki group is financed, armed and promoted by NATO, as moderates.

The civilians in their buses, mostly elderly, women and children, were guarded by “rebels” of Ahrar al Sham. They were hungry. Someone appeared on the scene and distributed potato chips/crisps. When children flocked around the food distribution a blue car drove up and a very large explosion occurred.

Four buses full of people and a number of ambulances were totally destroyed. 126 of the civilians, only a mile or two from the safe government area, were killed in the suicide attack including 95 children. Many more were wounded. An unknown number of Ahrar al Sham “rebel” guards were also killed.

“Rebel” groups in the Idilb government are either aligned with al-Qaeda in Syria or with the Qatari sponsored Ahrar al Sham. Ahrar al-Sahm is the group responsible for the execution of the negotiated population exchange. Parts of al-Qaeda have publicly disagreed with the deal. This intentional act of sectarian hate took the lives of 126 people mostly women, children and elderly that were finally being transported to a government held area outside of Aleppo.

Nour al Din Al Zinki is no stranger to committing crimes targeted at pro-government civilians and specifically Shi’a. The group along with other Wahhabi practicing House of Saud backed terrorists consider Shi’a to be prostates, infidels, and have repeatedly referred to them as dogs and pigs in many videos that have surfaced over the past few years.

Previously, The Nour al-Din al-Zenki Movement, along with the 16th Division, the Levant Front, Ahrar al-Sham, and the al-Nusra Front, were involved in abduction and torture of journalists and humanitarian workers in Nour al-Din al-Zenki, along with the Abu Amara Brigades, has been accused of executing people by throwing them down buildings when they still controlled Aleppo.

In May 2014 al-Zenki received increased financial support from Saudi Arabia after it withdrew from the Army of Mujahideen. The group also received financial aid from the United States, in a CIA run program to support US-approved rebel groups, reportedly via the Turkey-based Military Operation Centre (MOC).

The US had stop sending them TOW missiles when there is a conflict between Ahrar Al Sham and Hayat Tahrir Al Sham in Idlib in March 2017

When the Red Crescent arrived at the bombing the “moderate rebels” turned them away. They did not allow ambulances and rescuers to take the remains and help the wounded victims until the White Helmets had taken their pictures and footage. Sources state that they were aware that the bombing would take place and were prepared to come in and shoot footage and act as if they were there to help the citizens. Additionally it seems now like the rebels took advantage of the chaos and abducted hundreds of the victims into rebel area.

Up until September, Nour al-Din al-Zinki was a recipient of financial and arms support from the U.S. as part of a group of so-called moderate opposition factions working with a logistics hub partly run by the CIA. The group has also received support from Turkey, Qatar and Saudi Arabia.

The government aligned forces have not committed any suicide attacks while al-Qaeda as well as Ahrar al Sham have committed hundreds. This was a “rebel” suicide attack, likely by al-Qaeda, against government aligned civilian refugees.

The Syrian army has resumed the evacuation of residents from militant-besieged areas outside Aleppo after buses carrying them were hit by terrorists on Saturday, killing at least 126 people. The monitor group added that at least 68 children were among victims of the bomb attack. The death toll may rise further as “hundreds” more were injured in the blast, it added.

Damascus decided that the deal and the evacuation should continue despite the massacre. The two towns in Idlib are too exposed and indefensible against a large scale attack. No bigger government operation towards Idlib could take place while they are held hostage. 55 buses from Zabadani and Madaya did reach Idlib city while 73 buses from Fuah and Kafraya reached Aleppo on Sunday evening as thousands of civilians exited enclaves to enter rebel and government heartland.

To make matters even worse, Over 200 civilians from Foua and Kafraya have been kidnapped in the Rashideen area after they were supposed to enter government-held Aleppo on April 16th. The majority of those kidnapped are young girls.

“According to an Al-Masdar News source, the Shi’ite residents from Fuah and Kafraya are believed to have been kidnapped by Hay’at Tahrir Al-Sham (HTS), an Al-Qaeda affiliated rebel faction which stands accused of killing 126 civilians in a car bomb attack yesterday.”

This video is dedicated to the souls of over 126 civilians from Kafraya and al-Fu’ah, who were massacred in cold blood by U.S. backed “moderate rebels”.  At least 68 children were among the victims. The bomber targeted buses full of evacuees from government-held towns as they waited in an Islamist-militants-held area on the outskirts of Aleppo. He drove his explosives up to their vehicles in a van meant to carry aid supplies.

This article is exclusive to WeAreChange.org and was written by Sarah Abed (Facebook, Twitter).

The post Foua And Kafraya: Two Syrian Towns Massacred By U.S.-Backed Terrorists appeared first on We Are Change.

from We Are Change https://wearechange.org/foua-kafraya-two-syrian-towns-massacred-by-u-s-backed-terrorists/