#and then one of the specialists brought along for the mission murders it

[mikkeneko]

Anyone remember this guy?

obsessed with star trek repeatedly writing themselves into a corner by creating alien races that are supposed to be The Bad Guys when that explicitly conflicts with their previously established notion that no group of people is inherently good or evil.

first it was the klingons—they’re originally supposed to be this cruel, bloodthirsty, war-obsessed people—and then tng comes along and it’s like wait no maybe war and violence is a part of their culture and actually ties back to ancient traditions and philosophies so we have to be woke about it.

hey these are the ferengi and they’re supposed to represent everything we hate about capitalist society; they’re greedy, scheming, profit-obsessed, and they look like ugly little trolls to emphasize how much we fucking HATE capitalism. oh wait fuck here comes deep space nine and we have to recognize that they’re PEOPLE. okok what if the pursuit of profit is actually part of their culture and ties back to ancient traditions and philosophies. so we have to be woke about it.

this is the borg, they’re a hivemind race of cyborgs who have no sense of individuality and their only motivation is assimilating people into their society. they want to assimilate humanity and we are completely defenseless against them because their technology is eons ahead of our own and they’re incapable of being reasoned with. oh sweet we have a borg prisoner this is the perfect opportunity to commit genocide against them. fuck actually we can’t commit genocide we’re woke and communists and in space.

hey these are the cardassians, they’re part of a cruel and vicious empire which is supposed to be a representation of fascism and authoritarian regimes, they’re a cold, bloodthirsty people with no sense of empathy or compassion, their society literally references 1984 on multiple occasions, and they’re known for the insanely cruel and inhumane methods of torture they use against their prisoners of war. we hate the cardassians…….. except, here’s a cardassian kid who grew up on bajor, and……. fuck. he’s a person. now we actually have to consider his humanity. and being racist is actually……. bad.

this is the jem’hadar, they’re genetically engineered soldiers who have no sense of individuality and only live to defend the state. they’re all born addicted to a synthetic drug that’s manufactured by the state and administered by their masters—this is how they’re kept subservient. they’re ruthless and powerful and they’re incapable of being reasoned with because their only motivation is violence and killing. so we should kill them all, right? FUCK….. what if they’re actually people. goddamnit. now we have to consider their humanity.

hey these are the romulans. hey these are the founders. the list goes on. i just find it really interesting

[lets-try-some-writing]

Yo what are your thoughts on Decepticon Optimus? because I enjoy daydreaming about Optimus who decided to go disguise himself as another bot and joined the Decepticons to get information since no one else wanted to do it.

I just find such a concept interesting

A fascinating idea, but unless we are talking about some messed up brainwashing, logically I see no real reason why Optimus would go undercover considering his size, rank, morality, and everything else. But I can try and come up with a reasonable explanation since this is such a neat idea.

Undercover

After a particularly nasty battle, Optimus was out of commission. His armor was shredded and a good portion of his frame melted or otherwise misshapen in some way, shape, or form. His injuries could be repaired and he could still fight, but the demoralization that would come from him looking so horribly mutilated on the battlefield wasn't worth it. Not only that, but preparing the necessary materials and specialists to fix all the damage to his frame, cosmetic and practical, would take quite some time. And so at a meeting trying to determine the best course of action, Jazz piped up from the back.

Jazz: Why not make the best of this situation and send Prime out to the Decepticons undercover?

Ratchet: *choking on his drink* Send him WHAT?!?!

Jazz: Yeah, he don't look anything like himself at the moment, no offense Prime.

Optimus: *nodding along in understanding* None taken.

Jazz: So wouldn't it make sense to slap some new armor and paint on him and have him go undercover gathering info while we prep the medics? I have just the mission for him!

Prowl: We are NOT sending our Prime behind enemy lines. What will our soldiers think? The loss of morale would be devastating.

Jazz: *kicking his legs up onto the table* Just say Prime is doing some spiritual stuff and spread some rumors about something big happening. Then leave Magnus in charge and no bot will question Prime being gone for a while.

Ultra Magnus: *scowling* Optimus has received no training for such a position and he would be left incredibly vulnerable should he be discovered.

Jazz: Basic integration and stealth training takes three weeks at most, and Prime was an Archivist when he was still a civilian. I'm sure he can figure out how to get the data without the additional training in that department.

Optimus: *nodding as if it is the simplest thing in the world* He has a pretty good point.

Everyone else: WHAT!?!?

And so against almost everyone's better judgement, Optimus was sent off to train with Jazz, and then a month later, refitted to suite his new position. The Decepticons were always looking for new warriors, so all Jazz had to do was reformat Optimus (a process that was not at all difficult considering that the Prime had no real armor so to speak of), give him some basic training to integrate into his new armor, and then send him off.

When Optimus left base he was a sight to behold. No longer did he look graceful or have regal nobility, he instead looked heavy duty, dangerous, and ready to kill. His frame had been reformatted to be boxier, sturdier, and less elegant, his optics having special visor glass put over them to give the impression of them being red to really sell it. His paint was black and gray, with accenting red on his windshields and on his new axe. And on top of it all, he had chosen a cold and calculating personality to use, one not so murderous as to be a threat to Megatron, but also not so intelligent as to be a danger to the higher ranks.

With a status beacon imbedded directly into his processing units to alert the Autobots to his welfare at all times and a set of directions to a meeting place should he gather any intel, Optimus made his way to a Decepticon outpost. His insignia had been scrubbed and so he was not shot on sight, instead being brought to the local Decepticon officer once he made his intention to join up clear. After a quick glance at his forged documents and a spar with a Vehicon, Optimus was accepted into the Decepticon ranks under the name Nemesis. And while not exactly his intention, after dealing with a great many internal issues in the Decepticon order, more so by accident and due to his slight OCD than anything else, he rose through the ranks.

He regularly brought Jazz any information he gathered and took great care to ensure that other dangerous Decepticons took the fall for his actions. It was... difficult for him to not allow his strong morals to impede his work, but he did what he could. He kept up the ruse that he was a cold calculating individual, but to ease his own spark he threw in a deep sense of brotherhood and comradery into his new personality. He helped his Decepticon comrades, eventually befriending a majority of the Vehicons, gaining their collective respect upon going out of his way and saving them numerous times. He became the emotional support bot for the younger Decepticons who started to doubt the cause and the older ones who suffered from the loss of friends and family (he always found a way to smuggle the truly good sparked ones out of the Decepticon order, sending them to the Autobots under his name). And when on the battlefield he made his engagements look like the most intense battles ever conceived, only ever holding the line but never gaining or losing territory for the Decepticons. It was perfect to maintain his position but never raise any serious suspicion.

Eventually he caught the optics of Starscream and his trine who admired him not for his (nonexistent) kill count, but for his loyalty, skill in battle, and brilliance in dealing with morale among the troops. With Starscream's favor, Nemesis rose past the lower ranks and found himself serving directly under the seeker despite not being a flight frame. He didn't understand, but for whatever reason, Starscream liked him and that suited Nemesis just fine. With time he even found himself liking the seeker after he came to understand that his arrogance was largely a defense mechanism. They became incredibly close in only a few short months as Nemesis saved Starscream from numerous punishments from Megatron. They only grew closer after the death of Starscream's trinemates, leaving Nemesis as the only mech Starscream was willing to rely upon. They became brothers of a sort, and that made Nemesis's position difficult.

Eventually the lines between Nemesis and Optimus began to blur. Nemesis became part of Optimus, giving the Prime a more cynical and analytical outlook, one based more on reality instead of hopes. And Optimus gave Nemesis the morality and the empathy needed to allow him to bond with those around him while not falling into their influence. The two personalities were set apart, but quickly began to bleed into one another. By the time Nemesis was given the order to return, he found himself reluctant. He had bonded with his Decepticon brethren and he, while not caring for their goals or at all liking their actions, found himself attached. He didn't want to abandon them, not when the Vehicons would be abused and Starscream would be left all alone. And so eventually, Nemesis made a choice.

Jazz: Good to see you again Prime! You've done excellent work! But we got the medics all ready for you now, so you don't need to hide out anymore!

Optimus/Nemesis: In regards to that topic... I do not wish to leave the Decepticons.

Jazz: *sputtering* w-what?!

Optimus/Nemesis: Do not mistake my words, I hold no love for Megatron, his inner circle, or anything they stand for... but there are innocent mecha suffering under his rule. I cannot leave them, they need me.

Jazz: But Prime! We need you too!

Optimus/Nemesis: I am well aware of that, and that is why I would like to propose a compromise.

Few were pleased with the development, but none could argue with the end results of Optimus's plan. He got the necessary repairs to return to his duties as Prime, but at the same time, he also got some special upgrades to allow him to return to his position as Nemesis. He spent half his time as Optimus, leading his Autobots, raising and training Bumblebee, and keeping up morale. But the other half of the time he was Nemesis, an officer serving directly under Air Commander Starscream and silently collecting data.

The excuse Optimus gave to continue living both his alternate lives was interesting to say the least. To the Autobots, when Optimus wasn't around, he was communing with Primus and recovering from the long term affects of his wounds. Bumblebee didn't question his Sire leaving, he was no sparkling by the time Optimus was initially damaged and he was fully capable of operating alone. So long as he got affection and could see Optimus semi-regularly, he was content. Optimus's inner circle were less happy about the arrangement, but the data they received and the near constant flow of new bots smuggled out of Decepticon ranks soothed their irritation. Of course Ratchet was the least happy but he managed by having the status beacon available for him to view Optimus's health at all times.

To the Decepticons, Nemesis dropped off the map sometimes and that was just a thing that happened. No Decepticon cared enough to bother him about it since the Vehicons never said anything to superior officers and he always came back with either energon or some interesting item. Nemesis wasn't important enough for Megatron to give a frag beyond pushing Starscream around more since his bodyguard wasn't present. And Soundwave while suspicious just decided to leave the issue alone since Nemesis's presence only did good things for morale and efficiency. Starscream was less than pleased and incredibly suspicious about Nemesis's frequent disappearances, but he also never said anything for fear of losing his one remaining friend. He knew something was up and that his close friend and brother in all but CNA was hiding a secret, but despite having the ability to pry and discover the truth, he never did so. Instead he played along with Nemesis's excuses and accepted the increased affection and care from Nemesis upon his return.

Optimus/Nemesis played his roles without much issue for much of the war... that was until the Allspark had to be sent away. At that point both factions were preparing to leave Cybertron and Optimus had no choice but to pick which life he was going to stick with. He knew what he had to choose in the end, he made peace with that fact long ago. But that didn't stop him from spending his last few months as Nemesis doing everything in his power to prepare many a failsafe and all sorts of hidden escape routes for the Vehicons to use without him there to get them out of trouble. He scrubbed sensitive information regarding his subordinates to keep them from being blackmailed. And he also went out of his way to spend time with the remaining Vehicons, Soundwave's cassettes (who had taken a liking to him over time), and of course, Starscream.

Every moment he could spare, Nemesis spent with Starscream. He became incredibly affectionate, showering his brother in love and giving him little gifts. Starscream was suspicious but accepted it as Nemesis dealing with the loss of the Allspark in his own way. Little did he know that Nemesis was quietly preparing for his "death" and attempting to ease his "passing" as much as possible. He even wrote out letters to various Vehicons, Soundwave's cassettes, and Starscream. He made several albums with photos he had taken of and with his Decepticon friends and comrades for them to find after his "death". And lastly he prepared the necessary evidence to make his "death" look like a suicide instead of anything else. He didn't want Starscream or any of his other loved ones growing bitter, no, he wanted them to be able to move on, so he made sure to specify that his "death" was not the fault of any bot in particular. But before Nemesis enacted his plan, he spoke with Starscream one last time.

Nemesis: Starscream... I want you to know that I have always seen you as a brother and friend. Your companionship has been invaluable to me, and I am glad to have spent all these vorns by your side.

Starscream: *raising his eyebrow in suspicion* And what brought all this flattery on? You aren't planning on defecting are you?

Nemesis: *shaking his helm* No, nothing like that... I just thought it was best that I tell you the truth of how I feel. With the Allspark gone and the war still raging, it felt appropriate to say before it is too late.

Starscream: You aren't the emotional type Nemesis. Is something wrong?

Nemesis: All sorts of things, but you need not worry yourself. I will handle it on my own.

Starscream: ... If you say so... but if you need me to come beat some bot for you, just give the word.

Nemesis: Of course Starscream...

Nemesis quietly left later that same day. He purposefully left tracks leading toward a quiet location and set up the scene. A lifeless protoform made to look like him set up with a blade through its spark chamber. Energon was injected into the protoform to make it pour out of the wounds and Optimus left the body with a note that would seem convincing. He did not linger and cried silently in his quarters on the Ark when the cameras he set up around the body picked up Starscream's reaction. He was unable to watch for long as Starscream tenderly cradled the protoform with tears streaming from his optics.

Optimus moved on and did not look back, locking away the entirety of the personality he developed to be Nemesis and throwing himself into his work to try and ease the pain of knowing he abandoned so many mecha. He focused all his attention on the war effort and fleeing Cybertron, doing everything he could to not think about all he lost. But still he found himself going to Ratchet, the only other mech left who knew what he did to cry and pour out all his woes. He hated doing it, he hated having to burden Ratchet, but he couldn't help it. He missed ST3V3 the careless Vehicon and his brethren, he yearned for a chance to play cards with the cassettes, and he longed to comfort Starscream as he once did. Not even giving all his attention to Bumblebee and the team eased the pain entirely.

But Optimus has always been good at hiding his emotions, and so with time and after his arrival to earth with his team, he looked and acted as thought nothing was wrong. He fought on the battlefield as he always did, but after so many centuries of making his fighting far more extravagant than necessary, he learned to make his blows seem far more vicious than they actually were. He never cut down a Vehicon with the intent to kill them, only to inflict minor damage. And when Starscream came to battle, Optimus could never bring himself to harm the seeker in any significant manner and often left combat to the rest of his team. It hurt more than he cared to admit having to interact with his brother in all but CNA and have the seeker believe him to be dead.

He could see the pain in Starscream's optics, he could feel the sorrow. He knew Starscream well enough to know that his viciousness and manipulative behavior stemmed from his loneliness, only serving to make Optimus feel worse. Still he continued on, never daring to linger on his old attachment for long and only ever offering the Decepticons aside from Megatron and Soundwave the opportunity to flee when possible as his gift to them. All the anger he felt toward having to be torn away from his family on the nemesis he directed at Megatron instead.

No one save Ratchet knew of Optimus's time as Nemesis. No one needed to know. But when Megatron fell further into his madness and began openly hurting his followers, Optimus couldn't stand it. And for the first time since he left, Nemesis took control. His violence increased exponentially, and without any remorse he fought with the intent to tear Megatron limb from limb. His fighting style shifted and Nemesis took the place of Optimus Prime, standing up to protect Starscream and his Vehicons from Megatron in the middle of battle.

Nemesis/Optimus: *throwing Megatron away in rage* ENOUGH!

Ratchet: Optimus what are you doing!?

Nemesis/Optimus: *pointing at Megatron with his axe while speaking in an eerily cold tone* Touch him again and I will end you. I have no tolerance toward those who would harm my brothers.

Starscream: *looking up at Optimus from his place on the ground in mixed confusion, awe, and fear* Brothers?!?

It was never explicitly made clear, but as it happened again and again, slowly the puzzle began to fit together. Eventually both Autobots and Decepticons who were unaware came to put Nemesis and Optimus Prime together.

[treenahasthaal]

Dark Times: The Story So Far

Dark Times

A Summary

Before I post any new content, I thought a brief summary may be called for.

Chapter 1: NetworkTwo years after the battle of Yavin, Luke is part of an X-Wing squad on a mission to destroy an Imperial Munitions factory on the planet Escaal. He is shot down, hides his lightsaber, and is rescued by the local resistance lead by a man named Dade, who Luke does not meet (or so it seems). Luke is hidden in safe house and his injuries treated. Unfortunately, his hiding place is discovered and after a chase he his shot, injured and captured and brought to the local Imperial prison where Interrogation Specialist Erwin Rhovan questions him using enhanced interrogation techniques and torture.

Rhovan finds Luke’s lightsaber at his crash site.

Vader finds out that Luke is captured and heads to Escaal to claim his son. However, just as he arrives and when Luke is near breaking point Rhovan reveals himself to be the leader of the resistance, Dade. Vader only has a few moments with Luke as during the transfer between the detention centre, Artoo causes the turbolifts to malfunction and Rhovan takes the opportunity to rescue Luke.

Chapter Two: Pale ShelterRhovan takes Luke to the Rebel base on Ra’imar where he is reunited with Wedge Antilles and the rest of Rogue Squadron. He is severely injured (do I sense a theme?) and receives treatment. We find out that Han Solo had tried to get to Escaal, but with the planet on lockdown (we know how that feels) it had been impossible. He and Leia board the Falcon to go to Ra’imar.

It turns out that General Rieekan knows Rhovan and that it seems that they had been friends. Luke and Rhovan are debriefed on the events on Escaal and it starts to become obvious that Luke is struggling with PTSD.

Luke senses that Vader and the Empire are on their way and tries to warn High Command. He lies and says that he broke during Interrogation and told Vader of the base hoping to give the Alliance time to evacuate, but it’s too late. The Empire arrives and lands forces with Vader leading.

Luke is placed in the custody of two rebel troopers, Haslam and Thecla. Before they can get to the evacuation ship it leaves without them. Against orders Luke persuades the soldiers to get to the hangers and an x-wing. However, by the time they get there it is ablaze from an Imperial bombing run.

Han and Leia arrive and join the battle, shooting down TIE Bombers and Fighters. Rhovan is evacuated.

Luke and the two soldiers are trapped on the planet with no way off. Luke realises that it is he who Vader wants and prepares to give himself up. Just before Vader takes him, however Artoo (Yay again!) lands in between father and son and with Thecla and Haslam’s help Luke gets into the fighter. Han brings the Falcon down and Thecla, injured by a flying lightsaber, is taken onboard with Haslam.

Again, Vader is left empty handed.

Chapter Three: RhovanThe surviving Alliance Forces head to Ardalii VI, a new base set up on the side of a volcano. On the landing pad Rhovan, now intrigued by Luke, watches as he lands and is arrested for disobeying orders; much to Han and Leia’s, and Rogue Squadron’s anger.

Rhovan is introduced to Mon Mothma. It’s revealed that Rhovan is from Chandrila. During their meeting she seems interested on what may have passed between Luke and Vader on Escaal and she explains to him that after Bail Organa died, Artoo Detoo came to her with a holographic message from the late Viceroy. Bail told her about Anakin Skywalker and Senator Amidala’s relationship and the birth of their children. She explains that Luke and Leia do not know of their relationship and no knowledge of the truth of their parentage. She is fearful that should Luke discover his true identity that he will join his father against them. She tasks him with watching them both, but particularly Luke, and if it looks like Luke may betray them, Rhovan is to kill Luke.

Luke is fully debriefed by a panel led by Major Ehlen Anders, on Escaal and the events on Ra’mar. It is decided that instead of a full court martial, Luke would be reprimanded for disobeying orders. During a brief, tense meeting, Rhovan returns Luke’s lightsaber to him.

Chapter Four: ConflictThe Empire is clearing up on Ra’imar and Vader ruminates on his past and on his illusive son. Palpatine makes contact and is unhappy, but gives Vader the task of moving refugees from the planet Cusrean to an old orbiting research facility. Vader is perplexed by the order, but it turns out that it is a trap for the Alliance. Fake intelligence will be passed to the Alliance that the facility is researching weaponizing a deadly disease. This will allow him to root out spies within the Empire, and set up the Alliance who will destroy the station and kill refugees, thus the Rebellion will lose support.

It ends with Palpatine savouring the conflict in the galaxy, and the potential conflict between Vader and Luke. It is revealed that Palpatine has a spy in the Rebel ranks who Palpatine tasks with reporting on Luke.

Chapter Five: A Legitimate Target Luke is not yet passed for active flight duty and is still grounded. Han does try to lift his spirits and suggests joining him on supply runs, but Luke declines. Instead he decides to train himself and finds a natural hollow (an old lava flow) surrounded by forest in which to practise with his lightsaber. He is watched.

The Alliance find out about the orbiting research station and the disease the Empire is “planning,” on releasing. They plan to attack, however they are short on pilots and Leia suggests allowing Luke back in the air despite concerns for his mental health. Rhovan backs her up and Luke is welcomed back to the squad.

The Alliance attack the space station, Vader’s forces defend it with the Darth Lord himself in the battle. The fighting is furious. Luke is given the task (the order) of firing the shot that will take out the space station; but all he feels in the Force is innocence. He hesitates, initially disobeying, but his squad are dying around him. He takes the shot and the research facility is destroyed.

The Alliance fighters turn tail and bug out, but Luke’s X-Wing is tagged and Vader tries to capture him, but Luke eludes him again and jumps out of the system. He returns to Adralii VI to find the place subdued and during a debrief of the mission he is told he killed over 20000 innocent civilians due to bad intel. Luke is devasted and is haunted because he enjoyed destroying the space station.

The volcano begins to spew ash and the base in locked down. Luke gets drunk with Han on the Falcon, but later he can’t sleep and leaves the ship. Thecla finds Luke wandering in the ash fall and takes him to the hanger and the rest of the squad. He dreams of watching bodies floating in space; one in particular upsets him. It’s a little girl tumbling in space.

Mothma and Rhovan discuss Luke and the possible danger he presents to the Alliance.

Vader senses Luke’s turmoil through the Force. He decides if he cannot get Luke through battle or capture then another path may be possible.

Palpatine converses with his spy.

Later Luke is helping with the ash clear up, when Han is given the task of taking Leia on a diplomatic mission to try and repair some of the damage done to the Alliance. Luke finds himself in the mess hall with the rest of the squad and the holonet is playing footage (from Vader’s ship) when the image of a dead little girl appears – the one from Luke’s dream. It is then that one of the squads mentions that the faulty intel came from Rhovan.

Luke, in a fugue like state, attacks Rhovan; drawing his saber on him before Wedge tackles him to the ground. Han helps remove Luke to the Falcon before returning to punch out Rhovan himself. Luke gets away from the rest of the squad and goes to his training places and loses himself in the Force as he trains. He has vision of a man standing by his grandmother’s grave

A search party is sent out to find him and secure him (and the squad for helping him get away). Thecla find him and they talk for a while before Luke agrees to go in with her. He finds Han, Wedge and the rest of the squad in lock up, too.

Rhovan meanwhile is perplexed as to where the Executor is going after Cusrean.

Chapter Six, Absolute: It turns out that Leia and Han’s proposed mission is to the planet Horaarn, who is one of the Alliances suppliers. They want to know what happened at Cusrean, and they want Luke to tell them. Luke agrees to go. However, on landing and after tense standoff Luke agrees to give himself into Horaarn custody.

Rhovan is sent by Mon Mothma to Horaarn. But is arrested. He is transferred to Vader’s ship.

Leia is given diplomatic rooms along with Threepio and Artoo. Han, Thecla and Haslam have to remain on the landing platform. However, they manage to get Thecla off the platform and into the city.

There is to be a public hearing at which Luke has to account for his actions. During this hearing Vader arrives and accuses Luke of murder and requests his extradition to Imperial custody.

Luke is taken back into custody (this time criminal proceedings), Leia loses diplomatic status and is return to the Falcon. On Horaarn it is guilty before proved innocent and Leia cannot find any Legal Representative who will take on Luke’s case. She has to do it herself, via hologram from the Falcon.

Luke has a “face to face,” with Vader where he confesses that he felt pleasure when he destroyed the space station. He tells Vader that he won’t win.

Meanwhile, the events on Horaarn are broadcast to the Galaxy on the holonet and the Alliance sends in the X-Wings to help rescue their people.

Stuck in the city, Thecla uses her comlink to contact her handler, revealing herself as Palpatine’s spy.

During a tense trial Luke loses and is given to Vader.

It is revealed that Rhovan has been reinstated into the Empire due his special status and codes. There is more to this man than meets the eye.

The Falcon and it’s occupants are ordered off planet and it’s a tense battle to get past the Imperial blockade, but Wedge et al, join the fray and the Falcon jumps to lightspeed.

Luke learns that his friends are safe and feels that he can face whatever Vader has in store for him as long as Han and Leia are safe. He is walked to Vader’s shuttle and as he steps on board he is faced with Thecla who is pointing a blaster at him. He tells her to “do it,” and Thecla shoots him in the chest.

Cradled in Vader’s arms and dying, Luke understands the visions he’s had, he hears Vader called him “my son,” and he dies after telling Vader, “I win, father.”

Dark Times: Interludes.A series of “quick” one-shots that takes us through the events of “Hoth,” during which Haslam dies and Rieekan is missing.

Leia grieves for Luke, has started a relationship with Han and in her dreams she hears a voice stating, “I am your master.”

Rhovan ponders is fate while thinking of Thecla now in his cells. Thecla, likewise, ruminates on events and on who she had really killed. Vader arrives and takes Thecla from her cell as the Emperor has a special task for her.

Leia remembers something that Threepio had translated from Artoo during her attempts to save Luke on Horaarn. While plugged into the Horaarn computer systems Artoo had been “forced,” to give information to a third party when a code from a previous owner was used. Leia askes the little droid about it, and after much protestations Artoo informs her that the code was Anakin Skywalker’s. He confirms that Anakin is alive and that it was he who used the code on Artoo. He confirms that Anakin was on Horaarn. Leia asks Artoo where Anakin was during Luke’s trial and is informed that he was in the court room with Luke and Leia realises that Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader as one and the same person.

And that Luke is alive.

Luke is indeed “alive.” He suffered a catastrophic brain injury through lack of oxygen, but his body was saved. Through manipulation of the midiclorians Palpatine was able to regrow brain tissue. However, Luke is comatose and vulnerable to Palpatine’s machinations.

Chapter 7, For Darkness Restores: Please go back to the start of this chapter as I have reworked and edited much of it. Sadly my writing is not what it once was… ☹

ooOOoo

Did I miss anything?

[theaurorfileshq]

Below you will find a conclusion to the various main events of season two. If you have any questions regarding any of these events and how they may have impacted your characters please let me know. 

The Fate of Judith Eames and the Vice Presidency 

Several weeks passed since Judith Eames and her husband vanished along with all of their worldly possessions from their Vermont estate. As time wore on, and MACUSA continued to investigate the disappearances through the Bureau of Covert Vigilance, many assumed the Vice President fled of her own accord, wishing to run away as the scandal surrounding her and the doomed Scotland mission grew after her son’s testimony against her. 

The many questions surrounding just why Judith did what she did, would never be completely answered- however, the mystery as to where she may have gone would be some weeks later.... 

Central Squad aurors Abel Montero and Ignatius Yaxley were assigned to work a homicide out of Kentucky. The victims were that of two sasquatches, who’d been found in the woods deceased- both appearing to have been murdered by a killing curse. After further inspection of the bodies, Beast Medical Examiner Imelda Hawthorne would make the astonishing discovery that the two sasquatches weren’t sasquatches at all, but rather the bodies of Judith Eames and her husband. 

The case would quickly be taken out of Montero and Yaxley’s hands and handed over to the Bureau of Covert Vigilance for further investigation. The Bureau would then spend the next two years chasing down lead after lead, each one only resulting in a dead end. Just who murdered Judith Eames and her husband remains a mystery to this day, and the case file on their deaths now gathers dust on the Cold Case Floor. 

House Speaker, Francis Harbird, would eventually take Judith Eames’s seat as Vice President. Harbird would later make what would become a rather unsuccessful run for president himself, after Ortega’s final term ended. The campaign, plagued by a sex scandal after several of Harbird’s mistresses came forward, would end before it nearly began. The Harbird name would not completely vanish from MACUSA after Francis’s failed campaign, however. Francis’s son, Daniel Harbird, was beginning to make a name for himself in the Auror Department. Two decades later, Daniel would find himself serving as one half of the Pacific Squad’s administration team, serving under Chief Victoria Lin as her Deputy Chief. 

The New Blood Order Attacks Port Steward

The New Blood Order was at its infancy in early 1998, with many aurors either not having heard of them- or had simply wrote them off as the ravings of a handful of criminals. This would no longer be the case though after the spring of 1998. In the early morning hours of April 11th, a series of packages would be mailed out across Port Steward, all finding their way to the windowsills and doormats of 50 muggleborns across the city. These muggleborns were the 50 refugees Port Steward had taken in from the United Kingdom, during the height of the second Wizarding War- and would include Central Squad’s own Miranda Amaro-Bott. 

Inside these packages were infant basilisks, too young to kill their victims, but old enough to petrify any who dare gaze into the eyes of the young serpents. Mountain Squad auror, Tobias Whitney, would open Miranda’s box, and become instantly petrified at the sight. Thirty-two other muggleborns would suffer the same fate before the alarm was raised and soon aurors were dispatched to collect the remaining packages. Upon further examination of the mysterious packages, aurors would discover each contained a note, all reading- 

“Consider this a warning, and your final one. A new dawn is coming, blood will cleanse blood, and order will be restored.”      

After the 1998 attack on Port Steward the New Blood Order would soon become known nationwide, and therein cause a resurgence in blood prejudice in the country. This blood prejudice would take a somewhat different form than what had once gripped America though. For centuries it was halfbloods, born out of the result of a pureblood and no-maj, that’d faced scrutiny. The New Blood Order, however, has branded both no-maj halfbloods and muggleborns as “unequals” compared to their pureblood counterparts. 

Over twenty years later, The New Blood Order has transformed from a small group of renegade blood purists to a terrorist organization. The 1998 attack on Port Steward would only be the first in a series, and sadly the attacks would only grow more brutal and deadlier as the years wore on. 

The origins of the 1998 attack would eventually be linked to a case that the Central Squad worked on- that of the Petrification of Peacemaker Fallow. The basilisks that were used in the attack had been stored in an abandoned mine near a Quaker community outside Iowa City. After a string of petrifications, and catching the attention of the Central Squad, the basilisks would be removed before aurors could find them. The wix suspected of the attack is Raymond “Rune” Vance, and is still considered an at large and still a very much active member of The New Blood Order. 

Allen Snow’s Warning from the Grave

In the midst of everything that was happening in Season Two, an investigation was quietly underway headed by aurors Marleigh McMahon and Baron Snow. This investigation, centered on the mysterious organization known as “Appius”, would eventually lead Baron Snow to try to communicate with her long dead grandfather- a former Appius member himself. 

With the help of Cypress Crow, Baron would be able to successfully reach her grandfather. When the line of communication was successfully established, Baron would finally be given the chance to ask what questions she could to the man who was the former Chief of the Eastern Squad in 1954, and died by his own hand after being discovered at the center of an extensive corrupt plot at the time. 

When the subject of Appius was brought up, Allen Snow delivered a swift warning to his granddaughter- that Appius was more far reaching than she’d ever imagine, and to never underestimate them. When asked why Allen was a member of the group, he explained that he (like most Appius members) was first seduced by the idea of what he could achieve with the group behind him. It wasn’t until it would be too late, would Allen discover the true lengths his “deal with the devil” would truly take. 

Before the conversation ended, Allen did give Baron one additional warning. He explained to her that all Appius members take an Unbreakable Vow when they are sworn in- himself included. The spell binding together the Unbreakable Vow included the inductee to swear to keep the group’s identity a secret, swearing on their own life to do so. Allen explained that his death was the result of him having to carry out his vow, and that should Baron believe she’s discovered an Appius member she should use extreme caution. If she were to corner that member and try to force them into divulging any of Appius’s secrets, then that member’s life would be in danger. 

The Second Appius Member

A week would pass after Baron’s conversation with her long deceased grandfather, when Marleigh McMahon would finally hear from Commissioner Moira Henshawe about a new lead. The message from Henshawe was brief, simply asking McMahon to go to Wand Specialist Romero’s office, with little more explanation than that. 

When McMahon followed the Commissioner’s instruction, they would find a much more solemn Romero, quietly sitting at his desk. The usually charismatic and personable wand specialist had clearly been disturbed by some news, and the grim expression he wore only worsened when his eyes fell on Marleigh McMahon. 

When asked what was the reason for the meeting, Romero would explain that Moira had been having him examine the training dummy used on the Scotland Mission. The same training dummy that someone first charmed as a portkey then had sabotaged quickly after twelve of the Central Squad aurors used it to get to Scotland. 

Romero would go on to explain that it took him several days to figure out just what kind of wand was used on the dummy. Once he was able to determine the wand’s wood and core, he then went to the wand permit office and began searching for MACUSA employees who both carried that specific kind of wand, and would have had access to the Auror Department. 

After a long sigh, Romero revealed that he found there was only one person who both carried a wand that matched that of the one used on the training dummy, and would have had access to the auror’s training facility- 

Abigail Langer. 

With this newfound information there was little left to do but to confront the Acting-Chief herself. Allen Snow’s warning would prove to be a difficult blockade to navigate around though. Should Marleigh and Baron directly ask Langer anything about Appius, then she would no doubt meet the same fate Allen Snow did all those years ago, in his own office back in the Central Squad. If they were going to confront Langer they would have to do so, but with an amount of tact that would likely not get them all the information they wanted, should they want to prevent their Acting-Chief’s death. 

When Marleigh and Baron did go to Langer’s office, three things became clear from the distraught and guilt-consumed look on the wix’s face. The first, was that she clearly knew what they were there for, and had likely been anticipating the conversation for some time based on how haggard she looked. The second, was that it was indeed Abigail who was the Appius member that met with Marleigh a couple weeks prior, wearing Margot Brendanawicz’s face, hoping to warn Marleigh before they too became another victim of Appius’s endless stratagems. And then, the last thing that became clear the moment their eyes laid on Abigail, was that her wand may have damned them in Scotland, but it was not her hand that used it. 

Abigail Langer was far from the looming monster in the shadows Appius seemed to be, but rather another one of its countless victims. Someone who walked into the lion’s den as a twenty-four year old, hopeful the group could help her one day become Commissioner, and give her the power she needed to make the changes the department desperately needed in order to fulfill its sworn duties. And while Appius certainly had helped her on that path she- like so many other of the young naive hopefuls Appius grasps onto, didn’t realize the true extent to the bargain she’d just made. 

None of this though Abigail could communicate with Baron or Marleigh, no matter how much she wanted to. She desperately wished that she could tell them that she didn’t know what her wand was going to be used for. That she was simply given an order to leave it in her desk and drop the security wards on the training facility. She wanted to tell them how if she’d known any of Judith Eames’s plot she would have prevented the Scotland Mission from happening, rather than unknowingly start the chain of events that’d leave the aurors stranded- her aurors. 

Instead, she could say very little, without risking the Unbreakable Vow she took to claim her own life. She could say very little at all, even with the clear amount of tact Baron was using to get her to reveal anything- something. When all was said and done, and after Marleigh stormed out of the office in a storm of curses and their resignation, all Abigail could do was leave as well, abandoning the position she’d only recently taken up. 

After that day Abigail Langer would not be found again in the Aurors Department, although she’d never fully disappear from MACUSA. The next work day the aurors would be greeted with the news that Abigail Langer had been transferred over to the Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance, where she remains to this day. 

Season’s Close

At the conclusion of the season, the Central Squad for the third time that year, found themselves welcoming a new chief. This time, that chief would be a wix by the name of Claudine Roy, Claudine was a former member of the Central Squad who’d left ten years prior to work for the MACUSA Surveillance and Wizarding Resources Department. Roy’s acceptance of the position was welcomed by some of the older aurors within the squad, who remembered Roy from the auror’s time as a Captain. 

For the next couple weeks following Langer’s abrupt departure, newly appointed Chief Roy worked on reestablishing a normal routine within the squad. They began holding weekly staff meetings within the bullpen to go over some of that week’s cases, and major events going on in the country. These meetings proved especially useful as The New Blood Order began to emerge as an increasing threat for the nation. 

It was during Roy’s third week on the job when they began to start seeking out a Deputy Chief within the squad to fill the empty position. Day after day, Roy would call in some of the squad’s most high ranking aurors, interviewing each one as a means to both get to know their new squad better, and see who would fit well as their second in command. 

It was on the fourth day when Roy called in the squad’s youngest inspector, Baron Snow. The interview would carry on just like all the other’s before it, the questions weren’t anything out of the ordinary, although it was clear Roy was impressed by Baron Snow’s dedication and ambition. When the interview concluded, and Snow turned to head back to the squad’s bullpen, Roy spoke up, the twang in their southern accent a little thicker than usual-

“Hey, darlin’,” they say, and they can’t help but grin as they see the young auror pause. Their voice may sound different now, but they’re certain Baron recognized it all the same. Opening their desk drawer, they retrieve a cigar out of the box that sat inside, and hold it up so that the inspector could see it. 

“You don’t happen to like cigars, do you?” 

Their smirk is a knowing one, but not malicious. They may be on two different sides to this quiet war that’s been brewing in MACUSA since Appius took its first breath in 1887, but they have developed a sort of fondness for Allen Snow’s granddaughter since they first met in that hotel room all those weeks ago. Baron Snow was meant for greater things within MACUSA, and while she may not have pledged her loyalty to Appius, Roy felt compelled to give her this first small step towards greatness regardless. 

“Congratulations, Deputy Chief Snow.” 

[becuztaelien]

2| The Beast

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

2.9k words, Warning: Intense shit, language

“Boss, I have visual on the boy, waiting for further instructions.”

Your body froze as thoughts of your best friend flooded back inside your head. Within seconds, you found your face being pressed into Yoongi’s chest.

“Sh… don’t worry” your boyfriend softly muttered into your ear. He always knew exactly what to do and foresaw your panic before it even had a chance to begin. “Nothing bad will happen.” He simply said and held your now trembling body tighter.

“Boss?” The familiar voice spoke again and you pulled away from Yoongi, searching his eyes, desperate to know how he would save Jimin. The truth was, Yoongi had no idea what he was going to do, his men were all in Seoul and there was no way he could rescue Jimin immediately. Zico’s gang would undoubtedly find out about his murder very soon and seen as Yoongi had ripped half the man’s neck off, it wouldn’t be much of a question as to who the dead man’s killer was.

Yoongi leaned in and placed a soft, endearing kiss on your forehead before pulling away and making his way to the man he had recently damned to the afterlife. He fumbled around Zico’s blood stained jacket and retrieved your phone along with the device making all the noise. He noticed Zico had been on a muted phone call the entire time. Fuck… the bastard was really prepared for me huh… he took a quick glance at the lifeless face beside him and somehow felt a rush of excitement, for once, someone had managed to put him in a pinch. He was momentarily impressed but upon hearing your soft whimpers, a surge of anger spread through his body. Zico may have planned well but he also made it personal. Yoongi grabbed the dead man’s face, gripping his jaw so tight it may as well have cracked.

How dare he make you cry? But more so, what could be done in a situation like this? Should he give up his codes to measly henchmen and rush to change them? No, they would realise Zico was dead and that most definitely guaranteed Jimin’s funeral. Even on the off chance they didn’t kill Jimin, there was no way of knowing whether Zico had hacked into Hoseok’s system and placed someone on standby, waiting to punch in those digits and take Yoongi down. Fuck, think, think, think. He scratched his head for a second, he could not execute a plan unless the probability of success was high and currently both your happiness and his empire were at risk. You desperately waited, knowing Yoongi would come up with the best plan but your patience was quickly wearing thin.

“Yoon-”

“Y/n, call Jimin immediately and tell him to get the fuck back in that building”, he spoke calmly and stretched out his hand- holding your cell- back, you grabbed it without a second thought. Before standing up, Yoongi gave the deformed man a deep glare followed by a psychotic grin; you died thinking you had won didn't you? Pft, don't make me laugh.

The raven haired man reached into his pocket to retrieve his own phone and brought the device up to his ear after dialling an all too familiar number. It would be a risky operation but out of all the ones he could think of, this was the only one he was the most confident in. Yoongi grabbed your hand and began making his way out of Zico’s den; in the process of calling Jimin, you could only pray whatever Yoongi had in mind would work.

“Hello?” after the third ring, your childhood friend finally picked up and you had never been so relieved yet terrified to hear his voice.

“Chim!! Oh my god, thank fuck, go back, Chim go back inside!!”

“Y/n? What? Wait slow down what are you rambling on about?”

“Chim listen, I don’t have time to explain right now, just trust me and go back inside the academy, you have to go, please hurry!!!” You voice was obviously jam-packed with panic and worry causing Jimin to stop in his tracks and turn around. He was extremely confused as to how you even knew where he was but judging from your tone he decided to do as he was told; the answers would surely follow.

“Get the Chopper to the closest rooftop you can find, now.” Yoongi instructed before the person he had dialled even had a chance to say ‘hello’. The moment both of you were outside, a professionally dressed, grey haired man, seemingly in his forties was waiting next to Yoongi’s Audi R8 V10, the black model, of course and you recognised it immediately. Your boyfriend hurriedly opened the door for you as he had been doing for the last 3 years and you slid in as he followed promptly. “Head for HQ” he ordered, “Jung should contact us with a location soon.” The driver had already stepped on the gas and gave Yoongi a quick nod through the rear view mirror. While you were busy trying to tell Jimin his life was in danger, Zico’s men spoke through the deceased man’s phone again.

“Boss, the boy is returning to the Academy, we need your instructions.”

Your face visibly went pale but before you had a chance to freak out Yoongi tightly held your hand. “Is he inside?” He asked in reference to Jimin and you quickly asked your best friend; Yoongi’s grip on you was really the only thing keeping you calm at this point.

“Yea, yea I just walked back in, y/n you need to give me an explanation rig-” you nodded to your boyfriend who had been closely observing for a response. The second you confirmed, Yoongi broke the blood stained phone with his bare hands and chucked it out the window almost too casually which resulted in a shook expression from you. He shrugged and smiled comedically in response and you were about to ask what in the hell he was doing but then Jimin’s voice went louder “-are you even listening y/n?!” your mind returned to the call and you decided there was no point in questioning Yoongi’s methods.

“Chim, listen, I really can’t explain right now, I just need you to trust me, stay in that building until I say otherwise, please just...” Your eyes started getting teary again just thinking about what could go wrong and of course Jimin recognised this immediately.

“Okay, okay I trust you, I trust you, please calm down.” You nodded into the phone trying to collect yourself and began taking deep breaths. Seconds later, there was a loud ding on the screen next to the driver with what you only assumed could be coordinates from Hoseok; Yoongi’s tech specialist and right-hand man.

“Where?” he asked but it sounded more of a statement than a question.

“Seocho Garak Tower, Sir.” Upon hearing the driver’s response Yoongi grinned, countless memories of himself and Hoseok returning.

“In this situation, he really-” he almost chuckled but brushed it off, knowing he had to be there for you, nostalgia could be delayed.

9:52pm, Busan Dance Academy

“Hello? Hello??” Renjun, Zico’s most trusted man, looked at his phone, confused as to why the call had suddenly dropped. He called his partner who had been assigned to the other exit of Busan Dance Academy. They had both been tailing and observing Jimin for months, learning his schedule, where he worked, where he liked to eat, where he bought his groceries. If there was anything to know about his habits, they knew it. Renjun didn’t suspect anything when Jimin went back into the academy since the boy was reasonably forgetful but Zico going blank was definitely suspicious.

“Yea?” his partner finally answered.

“Jae, I need you to check where the Boss is.” Jaemin was another one of Zico’s trustees; he had also been Renjun’s partner since before they joined their now dead leader’s gang. Both of them were a brilliant team; Jaemin specialised in weapons and tech while Renjun was better at close combat and guns.

“Copy that.” After a minute of silence Jaemin responded finally, “He’s offline…? I can’t track his phone, the tracking device was either disabled or destroyed. Weren’t you on a standby call with him?” Renjun cursed under his breath knowing The Beast had compromised the mission. Of course this happened, they were going up against the man who practically owned Korea, there were bound to be hurdles.

“Shit… I should have known when he didn’t respond the first time.” He explained the situation to his partner all the while trying to figure out what to do considering they had no back up. Only the people involved in the mission knew about it and if Zico wasn’t responding, it was easy to assume none of the other men would either. “We have the upper hand right now.” He finally concluded, “Min and his men are in Seoul, the boy will come out soon, we have to capture him alive. The Boss was confident that this was the Beast’s only weakness, we have no choice but to use it.” He crossed his legs and the bench beneath him made a subtle creaking sound. He was dressed casually; blending into the crowd, the only difference? No one else was carrying five guns hidden in their coat.

“Jun… do you think the boss is-” Jaemin didn't even have to finish his question, Renjun had already been thinking of it.

“If The Beast came personally then we have to assume so.”

10:07pm, Seocho Garak Tower

You stood in the 24 story building’s private elevator with your boyfriend, hands still intertwined. It was silent at first, the only sound being that of the elevator itself and Yoongi’s soft breathing.

“Yoonie…” you muttered softly “Busan is 4 hours away, how are we ever going to get there on time?” The raven haired man smirked at your concern before taking your face between his hands and gently caressing your cheek with his thumb.  

“Princess you’re underestimating how fast a helicopter can go, don’t you worry about getting there on time.” He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead and proceeded to press your head against his strong chest “we will save Jimin, okay?” You nodded through watery eyes and wrapped your arms around his frame. If you were honest with yourself, you were still worried sick and you had no clue how you were going to tell Jimin that you were literally dating the most insane criminal mastermind in Korea, if not all of Asia but you trusted Yoongi. He may have been insane and ruthless but he was never anything but kind, gentle and caring towards you; you trusted him more than anyone and anything but you weren’t sure if you trusted him with Jimin’s life.

The elevator doors opened and there were three men waiting for both of you. “It’s ready, Sir.” One of them stated as a matter of fact and Yoongi pulled away slightly to see your expression. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before giving him a small nod.

“Let’s go save Jimin.”

10:58pm, In the Helicoptor

Your phone started buzzing and you quickly scrambled around your pockets trying to find it, knowing there was only one person who could possibly be calling.

“Chim? Are you okay?” you asked worriedly. The last hour had been full of panic and Yoongi holding you tightly but even in his warm embrace, Jimin was the only person on your mind. What if he gets hurt? What if he gets kidnapped? What if they kill him?! That’s exactly why when he called you were relieved but also anxious in case something had happened.

“Yea, I’m fine. There’s just one problem; the academy closes at 11 and I’m literally hiding in a janitors closet so you better explain whatever is going on right now.” You sighed in relief knowing he was safe but still struggled with how you would tell him about Yoongi.

“I think it would better if I explained in person, it’s a lot to take in and I’ll only be another 15 minutes-”

“YOU’RE COMING TO BUSAN? BITCH WHAT?” you had to pull the phone away from your ear because of how loud Jimin had exclaimed oh shit yea you thought upon realising you had forgotten to mention that minor detail. You couldn’t blame him though; it had been years since you both saw each other and you couldn’t help but smile at his excitement. Jimin had gone abroad after high school and by the time he came back, you were too deep in with Yoongi which made seeing your best friend risky. The last six months of your friendship was basically making excuses to avoid seeing him in case it would put him in danger and you cursed yourself for not deleting conversations and using untraceable lines of contact. It was your fault he was in danger and it was killing you inside but right now you had to make sure he didn’t get hurt.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m coming and I’ll explain everything but Jimin you have to promise me you will not move until I get there.”

“What is upppp with all this secrecy?” he exclaimed in annoyance, “I’ve literally been freaking out for a whole ass hour like just tell me!” it was understandable; anyone in his situation would have been scared and confused.

“I know, I’m sorry I just…” you decided there was no point in delaying it, he deserved to know what was going on, “okay, you have to listen carefully.”

11:05pm, Busan Dance Academy

Everyone had left but not Jimin. Jaemin and Renjun had closely been watching and they were absolutely certain the dancer had not left the building. The lights had gone off and the last person out had locked the doors. This was a trivial issue, both gang members had picked numerous locks in their lifetime so getting in the building had been a piece of cake, the real challenge was searching for the brunette man.

“You think he knows we’re here?” Jaemin asked his partner who was looking through a classroom on the lower floor of the academy.

“Oh he definitely knows we’re here, he wouldn’t be hiding if he didn’t. The Beast’s slut probably told him” he chucked momentarily “which is funny because it really wouldn’t matter if he knew he was being hunted or not; he lost the moment Zico assigned us here.” With no sign of Jimin in the lower left wing of the academy, Renjun motioned for his partner to take the stairs up to the second floor while he searched the lower right wing.

At the same time, in the Helicopter 

“Yoongi isn’t who I told you he is…” you nervously mumbled into the phone.

“What? What does any of this have to do with your boyfriend?” Jimin sounded puzzled; of course he was, you had never lied to each other and now you were about to tell him your boyfriend of three years was the one people called ‘The Beast’.

“He’s … fuck! I’m sorry I lied to you about this, I had no other choice, I’m sorry…” you took a deep breath, but even then your body quivered “he’s the leader of a really big mafia gang.” You heard a low chuckle from the leader in question causing you to inquisitively look at him. What did he find so humorous right now? Your look was returned with a ‘that’s the way you introduce me to your best friend?’ vibe which of course resulted in you smacking his arm and rolling your eyes; Jimin could literally be killed at any moment yet somehow your boyfriend made the situation light hearted, even if for just a few seconds.

“What. The. Fuck. Y/n please don’t fuck with me right now I’m literally sitting next to a mop that smells like dancer sweat.”

“I wish I was making this up right now” and it was true, you didn’t want to admit it but deep down you were having doubts and wondering whether it was ever right for you to get involved with Min Yoongi in the first place. “A rival gang leader wanted to get to him and they found out about you, I’m so sorry for dragging you into this I-” your words got caught in your throat and suddenly the guilt of lying to Jimin along with thoughts of leaving Yoongi got a little too much.

“Okay, um… let me get this straight… I’m being hunted by the mafia right now…you have been dating a fucking criminal and lying to me for the last three years and WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK Y/N?” Jimin spat and you had never felt more ashamed. There was no other way to put it. You let your emotions get the better of you and didn’t stay loyal to the person who had your back since preschool; Jimin was the family you never had.

“I’m sorry… I jus-”

“No, don’t even apologise right now, do you realise the number of levels this is fuc-”

Silence

“…chim?” The line had suddenly gone quiet. “Jimin?” Every form of panic and fear soared through your being, tears flooding your eyes and your voice cracking each time you attempted to say his name. “J-jimin?? Please answ-”

It was as though all your worst fears came to life when you finally heard something on the other end of the line. The sound of a phone dropping from a frozen man’s hand followed by a deep, venomous voice.

Jaemin smirked, pressing his gun hard against Jimin’s temple,

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here.”

// Part 3

[theyearoftheking]

Book Forty-One: Wizard and Glass

“His heart had been broken. And now, all these years later, it seemed to him that the most horrible fact of human existence was that broken hearts mended.” 

It was 1997 (you know, like 20 years ago) and I walked into my local bookshop (that would later employ me); and found this beautiful, pink, dreamy looking book on the new release shelf. Yes! Another Dark Tower book was released! I took Wizard and Glass on vacation to Maine with me, and my seventeen year-old, romantic self immediately fell in love with it. 

Like, hard, all consuming love.

 It still might be my favorite book in the series, even if I am a hardened old lady now. I’m more Rhea of the Coos than Susan  Delgado. Okay, maybe no... But this book is timeless. And I love the fact I still have my original copy of it... first edition, bitches!!!! As you can see, it’s well-loved and timeworn. But I love coming back to it. 

So, there was a six year gap between The Wastelands and Wizard and Glass. And the story picks right up where it left off: with Roland and the ka-tet stuck aboard the murderous Blaine the Mono. Blaine had challenged the ka-tet to a riddle-off; and if the ka-tet won, Blaine would not kill them. However, if they were unable to stump him, he’d continue on his suicide mission. 

Roland and Jake are busting out all their best riddles, but none of them are working. Finally, Eddie decides it’s his turn. He starts riddling some pretty awful puzzles (”Why do people go to bed?” “Because the bed won’t come to them!” “Why did the dead baby cross the road?” “Because it was stapled to the chicken!”). 

Eddie’s groan-worthy riddles melt Blaine’s mind; and the ka-tet lives to riddle another day. They emerge from the mono and find themselves in Kansas during The Stand times. They find a newspaper warning of Captain Trips; and graffiti telling them to, “Watch For The Walkin Dude!” and “All Hail the Crimson King!” 

But here’s where it gets all Dark Tower-y... it’s Kansas, and Captain Trips is a thing, but it’s an alternate version of Kansas. The baseball team is the Monarchs, the Takuro Spirit is a popular automobile, and Boing Boing Burgers is the fast food establishment of choice. Hmmm. 

So, the ka-tet picks up a new wheelchair for Susannah, and they take off turnpikin’. But there’s this strange sound... Susannah compares it to someone bending a saw back and forth. It’s a thinny. Roland has everyone tuck bullets in their ears, and continue on. But the thinny is getting to him... it reminds him of another thinny a lifetime ago. And that night when they sit around the campfire, he regales them with a story from his youth. 

Buckle up. This one is a doozy. 

So, after Roland was able to best his teacher Cort in a duel to prove his manhood, he promptly lost his virginity to a sex worker (as you do); and was then visited by his father. His father informs him that he knew all about his wife’s affair (you know, the one with his most trusted advisor... the one that caused Roland to duel in the first place). But he tells Roland he drew a shit-ton of attention to himself during his duel, and now he needs to get the hell out of Gilead, and lay low for a while. Maybe take some friends along? But not the goofy one. Spoiler: Roland totally takes the goofy one along.

So, he and his pals Alain and Cuthbert (the goofy one) set off for the Barony of Mejis where they’re going to pretend to work as inventory specialists for the Affiliation: they’re going to count every horse, fishing net, and other assorted good that could potentially be used in a war against John Farson. They’re working under assumed identities, and under the guise of boys from New Caanan who are being sent to Mejis as a form of punishment for some kind of boyhood shenanigans. 

Roland= William Dearborn

Alain= Richard Stockworth

Cuthbert= Arthur Heath

So, while the boys make themselves comfortable in the seaside and ranching town of Mejis; young Susan Delgado is off on a most torturous mission. Susan lives with her evil aunt, Cordelia, and since the death of her father, Pat, they have fallen on hard times. Cordelia has resorted to pimping Susan out for money. So, Susan is on her way to see Rhea of the Coos, the town witch to prove she’s “onnest”. Yeah... Rhea needs to feel her up, prove she’s still a virgin before she’s given to the Mayor Hart Thorin as his gilly: the girl he gets to knock up since his wife is old and barren. 

So, Rhea tears herself away from her magic, glowing pink ball (more on that later), feels Susan up, scrawls her symbol on a little strip of paper, and sends the girl on her way after hypnotizing her, and whispering something sinister in her ear. Susan all but runs from Rhea’s shack, and directly into Roland/William. 

Boom. 

Sparks.

Chemistry.

Instant love. 

But like all good lovers, they’re star crossed. Roland doesn’t understand it, he thinks they’re well met. But Susan knows she can’t mess up this gilly situation, so she tells him, “...if ye see me at Seafront- Mayor’s House- and if ye’d be my friend, see me there for the first time. As I’d see you.”

Susan is resolute in her words, but can’t help herself, and kisses Roland. 

Swoon.

Roland knows he’s got business to attend to, but he can’t get the pretty, blonde girl off his mind. So, he and the crew start introducing themselves around town, and are invited to a celebration at the mayor’s house. 

You already know. 

Roland and crew show up to Seafront, the mayor’s pad, and are introduced to all kinds of nefarious characters; including Eldred Jonas, one of the Big Coffin Hunters. The Big Coffin Hunters are nothing more than a group of guys with a blue coffin tattooed between their thumb and forefinger. 

Lame.

Of course Roland spots Susan, he finds out about her gilly situation, and during a dance he tells her, “I can be discreet, sai... As for propriety? I’m amazed you even know the word.” 

Sick burn!!! 

Later on that night, Roland is brooding about Susan (there’s a lot of brooding), while Alain and Cuthbert are out and about, and find the Big Coffin Hunters ganging up on Sheemie, a simple but sweetly loveable barkeep at the Travellers’ Rest Bar. There is a slingshot, and guns drawn, and the Big Coffin Hunters are pissed Roland and Crew ended up getting the jump on them. This causes some serious tension between the two crews. The Big Coffin Hunters get the idea that Roland and his crew are not the innocent boys they claim to be. Could they be... gunslingers? Nay! Too young... Or are they? 

Roland and Susan make up and make out (if you catch my drift); and The Big Coffin Hunters scheme. Reap Night is coming up, which is the big fall celebration in Mejis. They decide it might be fun to kill the mayor and Kimba Rimmer, his Chancellor and Minister of Inventory; and blame Roland and Crew for the murders. Bam! Immediate execution, problem solved. Oh, did I mention The Big Coffin Hunters are sneakily working for John Farson? Yeah, that’s a thing. 

Roland and Crew start noticing something is rotten in the state of Mejis... there are WAY too many horses. And oil tankers? Who needs oil tankers? And then their suspicions of support for Farson are confirmed when they find out Rhea has part of the Wizard’s Rainbow: thirteen glass balls, one for each of the Twelve Guardians of the Beam, and one that represents the nexus-point of the Beams. They’re basically magic balls that suck the user into it, and can show them things happening in the present, or the future. 

Rhea’s currently guarding the pink one, and it’s sucking the life out of her. She spends her entire day sitting and staring into it, learning about all the misdeeds of the people in Mejis. Including Susan and Roland. She even sends a cryptic note to an already suspicious Aunt Cordelia. Not good. 

So, the murders go down, and The Big Coffin Hunters leave a bird’s skull at the scene, which had been Cuthbert’s main accessory. So, Roland and Crew are arrested, Susan and Sheemie free them, and the mayor’s wife tries to get her out of town quickly. 

Meanwhile, Roland and Crew have a showdown with The Big Coffin Hunters, where Roland asks Eldred Jonas who his teacher had been. Was it Cort? Cort’s father? Jonas is rattled. But Roland and Crew kick some ass, kill The Big Coffin Hunters, blow up the oil rigs, and send most of the horses into the thinny. Deuces, Mejis! 

And... then Roland knows he’s faced with two choices: he can find Susan (currently pregnant with their baby) and live his happily ever after out in some shanty town, or he can metaphorically tip his hat to Susan, and continue on his journey for The Tower. 

Decisions, decisions...

I shouldn’t need to give you a spoiler alert. If you’ve read the other books in this series, you should know Roland is the ultimate Fuckboy: he’s heading out for that Tower. I couldn’t stop thinking of the Joni Mitchell song Case of You, “Go to him, stay with him if you can, but be prepared to bleed...”

Or in Susan’s case, burn. 

Oh, Joni Mitchell just gets me so damn good. 

So, before their untimely death, The Big Coffin Hunters had brought Rhea down from her house on the hill, telling her she needed to turn over the pink ball. She wouldn’t turn it over, but she would accompany them as its protector. In the meantime, she manages to bewitch the town, and convince them to burn Susan Delgado on reap night. Charyou tree... death for you, life for the crop... 

Susan dies on a burning pyre, screaming, “I love thee, Roland!”

Roland sees this all go down in the pink ball he steals from Eldred Jonas right before his death, and is an numb mess. He knew he and Susan were not fated to be together, but this wasn’t the end he had in mind. Honestly, not the end any of us had in mind. And every damn time I read this book, I wish it would end differently. Maybe Roland and Susan could have ended up together. Maybe baby would have made three on their search for the tower. Imagine the selfies they could have taken in front of the tower with Baby Suland. Suland: Susan and Roland... get it? Suland? Rolsan? Ok, maybe not. 

So, Roland wraps up the tale, and his crew is transfixed by the story. They ask all kinds of good follow-up questions, and keep turnpikin’. At one point, they find ruby red shoes for all of them, and end up in a strange Dark Tower/Wizard of Oz mash-up where they find the man behind the curtain is actually the Tick-Tock Man, who made it to Kansas (?) by some kind of underground network. He tries to kill them, they kill him, and then Marten appears. You know... the evil wizard. He tries to warn them off their journey towards the Beam, they refuse, and he sends them on their way with backpacks full of food. And this cute little note, “Next time I won’t leave. Renounce the Tower. This is your last warning. And have a great day!” RF

RF is of course Randall Flagg, who is the main baddie from The Stand. He wears a lot of hats, y’all. It must be a bitch keeping all his business cards straight.

So, the ka-tet continue on. The end. 

God damn, I love this book so much. It’s got it all: romance, suspense, gunfights, bad guys getting it in the end, and crossovers into the Constant Reader universe. So much good stuff. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 27

Total Dark Tower References: 38

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Needful Things: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Next is Bag of Bones, which I haven’t read since it’s initial release. Yep, I’ve got that first edition too, bitches!! I’m 100 pages in and have caught so many references that went over my head the first time I read it. It’s fun. Stay tuned for that review very soon. 

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

[neo-culture-mafia]

NCT 2018 as Mafia Positions

LEE TAEYONG ~ Leader (GOD FATHER)

He was brought up in a Mafia family himself so once he came of age, he branched his own syndicate. His father was furious...using the word ‘furious’ was an understatement though. He broke the family branch and created his own: Neo Culture 

Leads the work day with an iron fist, yet doesn’t hesitate to unwind with his members during the night time. Always looks out for his members when they show weakness and fatigue with their day to day life. 

“Oh no honey, I’m an angel...I swear! The horns are just there to hold up the halo.”

______________

MOON TAEIL ~ UNDER BOSS 1

He was there to step in for Taeyong whenever he was needed outside of the country for business. He held a lot of power within himself and the younger and inexperienced members. He kept quiet until needed, yet he was always lurking in the shadows taking note of everything and everyone.

Once he was needed though, you sure as hell need to know that he will make his presence known and he will instruct fear into his victims when needed.

“At times I feel like giving up, but then I bite my tongue and realize I have a lot of mother fuckers to prove wrong.”

______________

SEO JOHNNY ~ UNDER BOSS 2

The under boss who made his presence known from the beginning. He would always remind the others when Taeyong was out who they needed to be listening to. He would be by Taeyong 24/7 - ready. Ready to make the calls to blow something up or simply to call everyone to dinner. 

He holds the older members together and makes sure everyone has someone to go to if they needed it. Wouldn’t be afraid to get his hands dirty for the ones he loved and held close to him.

“Keep your head high...but your middle finger higher.”

_____________

NAKAMOTO YUTA ~ FOREIGN BOSS OF AFFAIRS (JAPAN)

Lives up the Neo Culture branch located in Japan. Rules his own soldiers with an iron fist that has all of them shaking on the daily. Spends most of his time reporting tensions of the Yakuza and Neo Culture to Taeyong. He knows when to pick his men up and transfer them back to Seoul for safety. Makes his own plans for his branch yet will always have clear communication with his hierarchy.  

Isn’t afraid to ask for help from his higher-ups. Has his life on the line every day with being so far away from Headquarters...but you wouldn’t catch him talking about his problems to his men because he has an image to maintain.

“The hottest lives have the coldest ends.”

______________

QIAN KUN ~ MEDIC

He didn’t even mean to get caught up in the mafia. It was a fluke thing, really. He had met Taeyong at a coffee shop that he had been working to get through medical school. Taeyong had walked in late at night with a huge gash on his shoulder. Kun being the almost certified doctor he was, took Taeyong and got him fixed up and out the door in less than 10 minutes with a complimentary coffee. The next night at the same time, his shop was bombarded by men in fancy suits with Taeyong offering him a proposal: Leave college and this job for the Mafia and be guaranteed protection for him and his family in China.

As he thought about his family, he knew he couldn’t say no. He wanted a better life for not only himself but his mom and dad. He needed this even though he hated to admit it. When they come back from a mission or a run, he doesn't get nosy and ask questions...he just does what he was brought here to do.

“There is only one hell: The one we live in now.”

____________

KIM DOYOUNG ~ HEAD OF WEAPONRY

Always had a thing for guns and knives...seems to call him. He makes sure everyone who is going on a mission or run is fully equipped for anything that may be thrown at them...literally. He makes sure everyone not only has weapons but also, safety gear that could withstand anything from a gunshot to a cherry bomb (which he also makes himself)

He has a cold exterior but once you get him out of his office and surrounded by his fellow members, he is very lively and very blunt in getting his point across in the most loving way possible. 

“If the enemy is in range...so are you.”

______________

TEN ~ TRAINER FOR HAND TO HAND COMBAT

He takes everyone under his wings. He works alongside Doyoung but in the opposite form: Hand to Hand. Ten makes sure that he teaches EVERYONE apart of Neo Culture hand to hand so just in case that a weapon fails or they are in close range, they know how to easily take out an enemy. He also teaches fatal shots to pressure points, temple hits, and body twists. Makes it so it seems as if when they fight, they are boneless. 

He is always open with his members from the get-go. He makes sure he is always available for his members...his family. 

“Your body is a temple...don’t let me knock it down.” 

________________

JUNG JAEHYUN ~ INTERROGATOR / TORTURE SPECIALIST

Jaehyun uses mental tactics to get inside his victims’ heads. Makes it feel as if he already knows what they have done when in actual reality he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be getting out of them. Yet when he meets a tough cookie that doesn’t fall for his mental tricks, he doesn’t have a problem getting physical with different instruments. 

Once off the job, he couldn’t hurt a fly. He relies on the care of his members to rid his mind of the horrific things he has seen during the day. Warm smile yet killer eyes that makes even the toughest man weak in the knees. 

“Do not let too much thinking paralyze the doing.” 

DONG SICHENG (WINWIN) ~ FOREIGN BOSS OF AFFAIRS (CHINA)

This boy couldn’t hurt anyone from the get-go. He learned from pain and mistrust that he only has himself and his members. He joined Neo Culture when his family was murdered in a Triad hit and run. He tried to leave China after that so he went to South Korea. He lived paycheck to paycheck until he was taken under Taeyong’s wing. He was put as Foreign Boss of Affairs for the China branch. Like Yuta, he reports tensions of local gangs and Neo Culture to Taeyong. 

When it gets too much for him - being in China - he always welcomed back to Seoul along with his own men. His anger sits locked inside of him...just bubbling over in the pot labeled as his mind. He believes that he should treat his men with a kind hand at night and a firm fist during the day. Always welcomes his own into his office to talk about their feelings. He felt as if he had no one for the longest time and he doesn’t want others to feel as if they had no one either. He’s there.

“You can tell how dangerous a person is by how they hold their anger inside them quietly.”

______________

KIM JUNGWOO ~ SNIPER / MANIPULATOR

His steady hand comes in use when he is needed for roof-top duties. Always knows where everyone, why they’re there, and what they’re going to be doing 10 minutes from now. Yet, when he is needed on the ground, he is used to getting people to come with him. He is used to using people. Buys pretty ladies drinks just to get them back to headquarters to find out what their partner is planning, or he could become friends with another leader to get insights on what they are doing in cases of funds, attacks, or pop-ups. 

Is relatively hidden in the shadows for good reason. Once he’s recognized more than once then he has some explaining to do to the person he was trying to seduce. He isn’t afraid to aid the others on the smallest of missions just to make sure that they get out of their alive.

“Never start an argument with a man that can take you out from another zip-code.”

______________

WONG YUKHEI (LUCAS) ~ MANIPULATOR

He is ready to get into anything just to find out sought-after information. A car, a brawl, a bed - you name it. You name it, he’s probably been in it to get valued information that will put his team ahead of everyone else so no one can touch them.

During work, he doesn’t let his emotion get in the way of anything, yet when he’s around his members he lets all emotion go and unwinds. He is always changing himself so he doesn’t get recognized. 

“Keep yourself closed off for it won’t give me the opportunity to get what I wanted in the first place.”

___________

LEE MARK ~ HEAD OF JUNIOR FORCES

Mark...he’s the man that Taeyong goes to when he finds another kid that needs someplace to go. Mark usually goes on hits with the other members, yet when they’re at headquarters - you can find him training everyone younger than him. He is skilled in everything from explosives to money transfers in hacking. He’s paving the way for all the prospering youths to be prepared for when they become legal. Once they become legal, then Mark won’t have to teach them anything else and will expect them to prove their skills to all the other members.

Super caring and fun to be around with the members (to be) during training, yet when he’s out on a run - he’s as scary as Taeyong. He was a natural born leader so even though he’s younger than all the official members...he’s looked up to. He paved his own road that he’s traveling on so he can teach others to do the same for themselves.

“You better watch yourself, I did this all by myself.”

_______________

HUANG RENJUN ~ ASSASSIN 

He was the second child in his ethnic Chinese family. His parents were poor and couldn’t afford him. They left him outside an orphanage and he grew up there with his anger boiling inside of him. He had terrible anger issues so once so many homes wouldn’t take him...he was transferred to Korea where as soon as he arrived at the new home, he ran away. Taeyong caught him stealing random scrap supplies from their warehouse and decided to bring him in. 

He has a lot of anger so he makes sure to put everything into his actions as he trains and practices. He wanted vengeance at first but now he just wants a safe place where he knows people care for him. 

“When you get angry, count to ten...when you reach eight, throw the punch that no one expected.”

_____________

LEE JENO ~ POISON / HALLUCINATION  SPECIALIST

Even though he’s still younger than most members, the members come to him asking for anything to drug a victim, especially Jaehyun. He always had a knack for making people go crazy in their own minds. He was a troubled youth which made his parents roam and eventually disown him. He carries a chip on his shoulder even though he has a family now: Neo Culture

He used to use his own Hallucination tactics on himself to escape his painful reality of being unloved. After meeting Mark and all of the other boys though, his own happiness became his drug he just couldn’t get enough of. 

“It’s not called dreaming when you induce it on yourself...it’s called a hallucination.”

___________

LEE HAECHAN ~ DECOY 

He uses his slyness and trickery to throw off others while on hits. He is used by the higher-ups in missions. No one would expect an innocent looking boy to be deadly and involved in such hazardous tasks. Whether it’s using prosthetic to disguise himself in the line of enemies, or stealing identities to get into elite social and business gatherings for other syndicates, he does it all. 

He always had an issue of figuring out who he was as a little kid. With this work though...he could be anything or anyone. Yet, once he takes off the fake body features and makeup, he becomes the classy and funny boy his friends have all grown to know. 

“Why be ordinary when I have the chance to be anyone?”

_____________

NA JAEMIN ~ ARSONIST

Jaemin always loved the idea of fire. Anything that you created could be gone so quickly. He loved being in control of it though. He loved being able to manipulate it to the point where he figured out to burn a single space in a matter of 5 minutes. He works alongside Doyoung in the aspect of learning what it takes to makes bombs and do it safely. Yet, sometimes he doesn’t care and just lets it range free as he watches in awe of its power to destroy something it took so long to build. 

His family kicked him out at 13 once they found his stash of explosives and fire equipment. Taeyong found his ability and hobby a good use and asset to the team. He acts super badass and hard when in actual reality, he’s super soft and a huge nerd when he is surrounded by his friends. 

“The most powerful weapon on Earth is the human soul on fire.”

______

ZHONG CHENLE ~ ESCAPE ARTIST (IN TRAINING)

He was always put in sticky situations as a child. He came from the same situation as Renjun, yet he was never taken in by anyone. When he finally was, he escaped as quickly as he could from that ‘home’. He was tied down by the people who were supposed to look after him, yet he got out. He uses his abilities to be able to get out of any situation. Whether he is in the situation, or he’s telling another member what to do, he is relied on to get them out of there in a safe and timely manner.

He uses his abilities in his day to day life. Whether Kun wants him to help with washing some bloody towels or Jaehyun needs help to scrub blood off the floor, Chenle will quickly, effortlessly, and seamlessly slip out of the room unnoticed. Once he escapes, he runs to his friends to hang out and play games.

“It’s not that I want to escape my life in itself, I want to escape the harsh reality OF my life.”

____________

PARK JISUNG ~ ANTI - DOCTOR (IN TRAINING)

Basically goes against Kun. If an enemy is brought in and Kun already fixed them up, he would be the one to go back in and reverse everything that helped. He worked under Kun for a while and learned everything he needed to in order to save someone, and then reversed it. Kun didn’t approve but he would never let Jisung know that. If it’s still confusing, basically: an enemy comes in all beat up and injured (shot) - Kun fixes said victim - Jaehyun gets information out of said enemy - Jisung comes in and takes out the stitches that held all his wounds closed. Slowly and painfully. He knows how to keep the person alive while still bringing the most pain as possible. 

His family kicked him out at age 11 for being ‘psychotic’. He learned how to fend for himself through the waves of wanting vengeance. Yet, with being the youngest, he has all his hyungs to lead him on a better path with the exception of his trained work. 

“I’m not afraid of monsters thanks to the one that lives inside of me.”

[smallmediumproblems]

Big List of Podcast Recs

I felt a need to share. I’m going to skip over Penumbra and all the Nightvale Presents shows simply because I feel like everyone has either heard of or tried them at this point. I’m also going to assume that if you’re near my blog you listen to the Magnus Archives and at least one other Rusty Quill podcast, so, if you don’t, do that. Do that right now. Tags used as follows: Completed (💯), Is it gay (🌈)

I put the full descriptions under a cut so it doesn’t clog your dash but here’s the short list:

Note: These are mostly in alphabetic order except for Wolf 359, which is at the top because it is one of my all-time favorites. As much as I love all the other podcasts on this list, I would recommend it over any one of them.

Wolf 359 (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, mystery elements

The Alexandria Archives - Mild horror, comedy, fantasy

Archive 81 (🌈) - Horror, sci-fi/fantasy, adventure and some dark comedy

Ars Paradoxica (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, political thriller, drama

Arden (💯) - Comedy, “true” crime mystery

Blackwood (💯) - Mystery, mild horror

The Bridge (🌈I think, don’t exactly remember) - Horror, mystery, light comedy

The Bright Sessions (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, drama, occasional suspense

Congeria (💯) - Thriller, mystery

Death by Dying (💯) - Dark comedy, fantasy, mystery

Girl in Space - Sci-fi, comedy, drama

LifeAfter (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery, drama

The Message (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery

Midnight Marinara - Horror

Our Fair City (💯) - Sci-fi, comedy, drama, horror elements

The White Vault (💯) - Horror, found audio

Wooden Overcoats (🌈) - Comedy, drama, more comedy, seriously this show is really funny

Wolf 359 (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, mystery elements

In the deepest reaches of space, research ship Hephaestus is staffed by a hapless communications officer, his uptight boss, a computer program with a chip on her shoulder, and a doctor with the worst bedside manner possible. Do they get along? Absolutely not. Are they an effective team? Also no. Is it funny to listen to them try? Most definitely.

The Alexandria Archives - Mild horror, comedy, fantasy

A college radio host chronicles the misadventures of her variously occult peers. Features “selections from the archives,” short-format scary stories that, while lightly referencing a consistent lore, mostly stand on their own.

Archive 81 (🌈) - Horror, sci-fi/fantasy, adventure and some dark comedy

A newly-hired archivist at a shady government facility stumbles across an entire parallel dimension’s worth of occult magic, science fiction, and high conspiracy. His bosses suck, but the monsters are surprisingly chill, which is good for our archivist, because he seems to be one of them.

Ars Paradoxica (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, comedy, political thriller, drama

Time travel shenanigans set in America during the Cold War, following the misadventures of the scientist who accidentally invented the technology and brought it back in time from the 21st century. I’d say she struggles to fit in despite her incessant wise-cracking and thirst for pop-culture, but she makes absolutely no attempts to stifle either, ever, under any circumstance.

Arden (💯)  - Comedy, “true” crime mystery

An overzealous journalist and a private investigator with a flair for the dramatic try their hand at a true crime podcast, investigating the closed murder of a teenaged celebrity. Their biggest challenge lies in putting aside their personal differences and putting up with the bizarre whims of their boss, who is both obscenely wealthy and absolutely out of touch with reality.

Blackwood (💯)  - Mystery, mild horror

A crack team of teenaged detectives investigate a cryptid from their hometown, but uncover a much larger mystery that they are all much closer to than they first realized.

The Bridge - Horror, mystery, light comedy

A remote outpost providing traffic reports and sweet, sweet tunes for the trans-Atlantic highway (which is a thing) is staffed exclusively by people with dark and mysterious pasts. Especially the DJ. Features eldritch sea monsters, a scary amusement park, and what I’m pretty sure are ghosts.

The Bright Sessions (💯,🌈) - Sci-fi, drama, occasional suspense

Plenty of people lead healthier lives thanks to their friendly neighborhood therapist. Some of those people have superpowers. Granted, that’s not the only reason they’re there, but it helps to have a specialist.

Congeria (💯) - Thriller, mystery

A private investigator is called on to find a missing girl who isn’t what she seems, facing off against mad scientists, rogue assassins, and a death cult who are after the same target.

Death by Dying (💯) - Dark comedy, fantasy, mystery

The obituary writer of Crestfall, Idaho finds himself doing a good deal of detective work for his job, both to satisfy his own curiosity and to ease the minds of his surviving clients. Fortunately, Death herself is there to help.

Girl in Space - Sci-fi, comedy, drama

After being stranded alone on a research vessel for most of her adult life, the surviving scientist of an apparently doomed mission is accosted by the outside world in just the worst way possible. She’s forced to simultaneously confront a corrupt paramilitary complex, navigate unstructured social interactions, and uncover the mystery of how exactly her former crewmates - who happen to have been her parents - met their demise.

LifeAfter (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery, drama

A young software engineer is coerced into committing corporate espionage by the digitally recreated ghost of his dead girlfriend. Unsurprisingly, greater things are afoot, and he grapples with the decision of whether to dig further or keep his head down.

The Message (💯) - Sci-fi, mystery

A team of scientists try to decipher the meaning of a mysterious signal from outer space. A little later than any of them would have liked, they discover that exposure to the signal can cause devastating brain damage, meaning that they have to work under quarantine and on a bit of a time crunch.

Midnight Marinara - Horror

Dramatic readings of a broad variety of creepypasta and similar internet horror. The twist is, they’re adapted to real-time narratives in the style of your favorite radio shows; no narrators here!

Our Fair City (💯) - Sci-fi, comedy, drama, horror elements

In the distant future, in the city of Hartford, Connecticut, mankind - or, at least, as much of mankind will fit into Hartford, Connecticut - lives in a gothic, campy, 1950′s-style steampunk dystopia that is about to be turned upside down. The city struggles not to collapse under the weight of its several mad scientists, a rebellion led by plumbers, and no fewer than three separate apocalypses.

The White Vault (💯)  - Horror, found audio

A repair team heads to Outpost Fristed, located in the most remote portion of the polar icecap. The darkness that they find there threatens to destroy them in every conceivable way.

Wooden Overcoats (🌈) - Comedy, drama, more comedy

A funeral home director struggles to keep his spot on the island of Piffling Vale against the competition of a second funeral home that has just opened up. His nemesis is handsome, charming, and all-around almost irrationally likable, but our hero is ready to pull out the stops on as many hare-brained schemes as it takes to beat him.

Honorable mentions:

Bubble (Lighthearted sci-fi comedy)

King Falls AM (Drama, comedy, mystery, sci-fi)

Mabel (Fantasy, suspense, romance??)🌈

Spines (Horror/sci-fi, mystery)🌈

Within the Wires (Sci-fi, horror elements, suspense, romance)🌈

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 29

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS: Madeline has a new target in the White Room to interrogate and one that refuses to cooperate. Section One’s leader, Operations calls a briefing meeting to outline the Intel de Marillac has disclosed about other members of the Rising Dragons especially a Madame Cheung. Claire Beauchamp’s angst is exacerbated when her superiors outline her role in the new mission.

N.B. This chapter contains a situation of a violent nature.

THANK YOU so much for reading, taking the time to write a comment, liking this fiction and for the reblogs as well.  I love reading your comments as they give me clues in how to shape this story.  It is very gratifying to know that you are enjoying this tale of life in Section One for our two protagonists ... the good and the bad.  

Previous chapters can be found ...  https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

 CHAPTER 29 (V)

Madeline made her way along the labyrinth of corridors to the White Room, located deep within the bowels of Section One, where interrogations were performed and where her newest target  ... the Canadian Ambassador ... awaited her restrained in a steel chair.

An expert at extracting Intel from hostile captives and in evaluating and manipulating Section operatives, Section One’s Second in Command, Level 9 and Chief Strategist could be positively Machiavellian at times. For the first time in days the woman who specialized in psych analysis, profiling, interrogation, and torture techniques smiled, albeit her trademark Mona Lisa smile, because of the adrenaline rushing through her body at the prospect of accomplishing what she had planned for this target.

Having worked her way up in the ranks of Section One over the past twenty years, with cunning, determination and manipulation, Madeline was a conundrum herself. Accused of killing her sister, Sarah, by pushing her down the stairs she, like most operatives was recruited from prison. She had no compunction for the terrorists who found their way to the White Room or for that matter, for any operative who tried to buck the system and would willingly manipulate anyone, including herself, to achieve her ends. Her angelic sweetness, diabolical intelligence, phlegmatic appearance coupled with her strategic patience and iced charm made her a formidable adversary. Because of her beauty and elegance Madeline was perceived to be amenable to manipulation by terrorists because she was a woman, but they soon discovered that under the facade of her persona was a measured, calculating and resolute woman who took no prisoners. Indeed her measures for torturing hostiles verged on cruelty and with utilizing the Torture Twins to motivate targets to speak was a testament to how far she would go to gain what she wanted.

Madeline’s gait was that of a confident leader as she made her way to interrogate her target in the White Room and expel any information that would lead Section One to capturing their main antagonist.  The Embassy mission had been successful and Claire Beauchamp had performed well in administering the tranquilizer that had brought on Alain de Marillac’s heart attack. The subterfuge that followed had also gone to plan and she looked forward to reading James Fraser’s debrief, but first she had a pressing appointment.

At long last the pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place. Tony Wong had implicated Alain de Marillac and now he would reveal what they needed to know about furthering their quest to find Sun Yee Lok.  De Marillac had been a wild card … someone they had not suspected especially given his position of authority in the community and government.  To find out that he was a member of the Rising Dragons was certainly unexpected, but Madeline knew she should never underestimate the human person’s propensity for evil.  Terrorists came from all walks of life but they had many things in common … all were ruthless, determined and unflinching in obtaining their goals.  

Ambassador Alain de Marillac was in a position of power but he’d obviously wanted more.  Total power was corrupting and given his position of authority this is what had happened to him. Power had corrupted his moral decency … and being involved in his own daughter’s death showed just how low he would sink to obtain his ends.  It … was contemptible.  He … was contemptible.  

Madeline had thoroughly scrutinized Geillis Duncan’s and Rupert Mackenzie’s debrief about the telephone calls that de Marillac had received at the embassy.  They had provided important Intel on a mystery man that had contacted him and now Madeline would find out his connection and where this piece fitted into the bigger picture.  She couldn’t wait to meet with Ambassador Alain de Marillac. He was about to pay for the consequences of his actions and would be surprised at what awaited him, for there was no going back to the life he had before coming to Section One … in fact there was no life for him at all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The brilliant glare of a ceiling light focused on the lone piece of furniture illuminating the man strapped in the chair.  Alain de Marillac sat shackled in the middle of a white room in a cold, metal chair. His hands and feet were manacled and there was no way that he could see to break from the restraints. He’d tried several times to loosen the binds that tied him to the chair but to no avail. There was no escaping and things looked hopeless for him unless he was able to outsmart the inquisitor he knew would eventually come.  

Like many others before him, he wondered where he was. This place was like no other he had ever experienced.  He had seen where Tony Wong had interrogated his victims, and he had seen pictures of torture chambers in books … but this room was surreal, eerie and ominously foreboding.   Casting his eyes around there was nothing to identify where he might be.  There was nothing too that he could associate with, but his imagination was overactive thinking that this room held many secrets … secrets of people in similar situations that he now found himself in.

He was aware that all was not as it should be.

So he waited.  Alain de Marillac … Canadian Ambassador to China … triad member … murderer … and terrorist … waited for whom may come through the door and for what they may want.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The sound of creaking hinges echoed in the sterile room as Madeline opened the fortified door and entered the White Room walking smartly until she stood in front of Alain de Marillac. She smiled but the smile didn’t reach her eyes on the contrary it was a foreboding smile that was tinged with a hint of a smirk.

“Hello Monsieur de Marillac … or should I say Ambassador de Marillac?”

He was taken aback by the sound of a woman’s voice and glancing up saw an elegantly dressed lady whose appearance he would soon find was deceptive. His tone was brash and laced with bravado as he replied.

“Whoever the hell you think you are you don't know who you're dealing with.”

Madeline smiled her Mona Lisa smile once more and circled de Marillac sitting in the steel chair.  As she slowly circled she observed the reaction of her guest noting the rapid breathing, the telltale throb in his neck vein and the darting of his eyes as he tried to avoid eye contact. He sat up more erect in order to give the impression of control which in fact he had none here in the White Room.

“My people will carve you up and feed you to the dogs.  I’m the Ambassador you know.  I have rights.”

Still circling the chair Madeline replied. “Yes … Let's talk about your people. They have recently been involved in multiple murders in Hong Kong with a man named Tony Wong.”

“How preposterous! I’m the Canadian Ambassador to China ... not a murderer.”

“We already know about your connection to the Rising Dragons triad. We want to know the whereabouts of your leader.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sun Yee Lok? The man who is your Boss and Shan Chu?  The man who orders the murders of innocents in Hong Kong?”

“Never heard of the guy.”

Madeline gazed at de Marillac with her steely cold eyes, “Do you think there's anything I won't do to get this information from you?”

“You can’t touch me.  I have diplomatic immunity you know,” he stated matter-of-factually.

“And … I’m trying to be diplomatic,” Madeline replied with an undermining menace.

As she was speaking the White Room door opened again and a man and a woman entered, each bearing a sinister yellow case. The Torture Twins had entered carrying their briefcases of instruments and potions that would leave the hostile with no other choice than to impart the Intel they were after. The two people stood waiting for their instructions to begin their modus operandi.

Addressing Henry and Elizabeth, Madeline stated, “Shouldn't take long. Let me know when you're through.”

“I intend to make a formal complaint for wrongful detainment. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers. I’m the Ambassador after all.”

Ignoring de Marillac’s retort, Madeline turned to leave while Henry and Elizabeth placed their briefcases on the bench and approached the target in the chair. Nervous laughter emitted from Alain de Marillac but faded as Madeline closed the White Room door with a decisive click, leaving her torture specialists to their tasks.

His scream of agony echoed in the room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sometime later Henry and Elizabeth exited the White Room to find Madeline waiting for them near the viewing window into the White Room. As they passed by her with their tools of trade, they stopped and Madeline asked, “How were the new units?”

“I think you'll be pleased with the results,” Henry replied with a wry look on his face.

“Thank you.”

They both nodded and Madeline acknowledged their tacit answer then she entered the White Room again.  

Hearing footsteps approach Alain de Marillac sat more erect in the chair a beaten but proud man who refused to show how defeated he really was. Prominent twin slashes inflamed his cheeks as his face bore witness to the distinctive techniques used by the two people who had just left.

Admiring the torture twins’ handiwork, Madeline asked, “Are we ready to talk now, Monsieur de Marillac?”

Nodding his head Alain asked bravely, “What is this place? Who are you people?”

“Who is the mystery person who called you at the embassy?  What is his role with you and the Rising Dragons?”

“I can't tell you what I don't know. You can torture me all day and that won't change.”

“It's a deal.”

“Who died and made you God?” He asked indignantly.

“Perhaps this might convince you Monsieur de Marillac.”

Madeline said nothing more, but just turned and picked up a stack of newspaper clippings which she showed to him.  What de Marillac saw made his heart sink.  He was staring at his own death obituaries.

Madeline looked at him, satisfied to see real fear in his eyes. “As far as the world is concerned … you’re dead. Now … tell me what I need to know.”

Later that same day...

Operations quickly walked into the Briefing room where Jamie, Claire, Fergus and other operatives sat waiting quietly with stony faces. Madeline too, sat to one side of the briefing table knowing what Intel Operations would disclose. Without any preamble he began the meeting by activating the holographic imager while the operatives listened to all that he had to impart. Those gathered watched as information and a picture emerged on the holograph screen. Pacing back and forth each time he spoke, Dougal Mackenzie relayed the Intel Madeline had coerced from Alain de Marillac about members of the Rising Dragons and in particular that of the oriental woman whose face glared back at those assembled. “This is Madame Cheung, the only woman member of the Rising Dragons hierarchy who was personally chosen by Sun Yee Lok.” Looking at the picture of the woman, Jamie asked, ���What is her role within the triad?” “Her main role is to procure women to work in prostitution and her exclusive high-class escort service. Alain de Marillac’s daughter was in her employ. Madame Cheung was planning on expanding her business but with Annalise de Marillac’s death this had set her plans back somewhat. She is now on the lookout for brunette Western women of Annalise’s age and build.” Feeling more than one pair of eyes on her, Claire inquired, “She is our next target then?” Operations’ nod towards her confirmed what Claire was thinking ... she just knew that she would be involved to snare the woman on this mission in some way. Dougal Mackenzie turned to his second in command to continue. “Madeline?” “Alain de Marillac was kind enough to reveal to us the location of his mole, and gave us a description of the mystery man who approached women on their own for this Madame Cheung of the Rising Dragons.” “I have also done a voice analysis of the mystery man who we suspect was Alain de Marillac’s contact from the audio tapes of conversation between them at the embassy.” Birkoff added confidently. “The plan's simple.” Operations stated. “Claire will meet with this man. We’ll then track and follow him to his meeting to discuss Claire. That's where we’ll find Madame Cheung.” “When and where is this meeting to take place between Claire and the informer?” Jamie requested knowing that whatever plans Operation and Madeline had that they would not bode well for his Sassenach. Operations gave no more details to answer Jamie’s question but only stated, “Details are on your panel. You’re on standby so stay close to Section until you leave. That will be all.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ As the field operatives left the room Madeline spoke quietly to Claire before she had time to leave the briefing table. “Could we see you before you leave?” Nodding at her, Claire Beauchamp acknowledged her request wondering what Madeline had to further add to this mission but knowing that the voice of doom was highly likely. She’d read between the lines during the briefing knowing that Madeline obviously had plans for her and this Madame Cheung particularly given her preference for western, brunette women similar to Annalise de Marillac. Covertly noting the exchange between the two women, Jamie realised that his initial inclinations about his superiors’ motives were not too far from the truth.  Madeline certainly had more in mind for Claire than what would be outlined on her PDA. He knew exactly just what she would propose to her for this mission given the Intel presented and Claire’s similar appearance to the deceased Annalise de Marillac. He would discuss it with her in privacy later at her apartment away from the prying eyes of Section One.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In Operations’ Perch, the two Section Leaders were grappling with the wisdom of their decision concerning Claire Beauchamp, hoping that she would be able to carry it off and also about Jamie Fraser’s reaction once he found out about it. 

“It’s time to put Claire to the test,” Madeline stated but her words had a double meaning which Operations failed to recognise.  

In her Machiavellian mind, she was not only testing Claire about her loyalty to Section One and what was to be asked of her, but also to see what she suspected might be true ... that Claire Beauchamp had a relationship with her partner James Fraser that was more than platonic. 

Operations, however, was not convinced and said so. “Do you think it's premature?” “No. This mission will surely grab Madame Cheung’s attention. Now it’s just a question of how far she’s willing to go.” “We knew the probabilities going in … just under sixty percent. Is that good enough Madeline?”

“If Madame Cheung is drawn to Claire as I suspect she will be given her resemblance to Annalise de Marillac … then I believe we can be confident in the outcome.” 

“And James?”

“James Fraser is Section. He will do whatever is necessary.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Come in Claire,” Dougal stated as Claire Beauchamp arrived at the Perch a little while later. She walked in and stood to attention with her arms folded in front of her. With a blank stare perfected like Jamie’s, and looking at Operations and Madeline, Claire waited for the axe to fall on her.

Without mincing words, Operations told her why she was there. “Claire, we feel that a connection to Madame Cheung can be extremely useful to us.”

“Of course.”

“However ... although the profile's already been set there are some changes.” Continuing Madeline outlined their plan. “We want you to undertake a deep cover on this assignment. It will be vital for the success of the mission. You will immerse yourself in Madame Cheung’s world and learn what you can about her dealings with the Rising Dragons and in particular Sun Yee Lok.” “Are you saying you’d like me to accept any proposal from her? “Yes.” “For how long?” “Indefinitely.” Claire’s heart dropped and her stomach was in knots. “And Jamie? ... Does he know about this?” “Not yet ... You can tell him in due course. Tell him you need to learn more about Madame Cheung and being in close proximity for some time is the best way. He’ll know this is true.” “Is that all?” Claire replied perfecting Jamie’s blank stare and not showing any emotion although her insides were churning up. “Yes.” Claire Beauchamp looked at her Section leaders while Madeline watched her closely too realising that she was internalising the fact that she was now on a deep cover mission. James Fraser had taught her well for Claire gave very little away in her stance and replies to their orders, but the fact they had asked her to go undercover with this woman was more than she could comprehend at the moment.  She needed some time to digest what the mission would entail and how she would find the strength and fortitude to endure such a deep cover assignment without Jamie.

With a blank expression on her face Claire turned and left the loft. As she walked out, Madeline looked at Operations again. The Section leaders traded a glance.

They both looked pleased.

In Munitions ...

Murtagh Fitzgibbons was fiddling with a modified cam’s expansion card seemingly lost in the task at hand; however, he looked up smiling when he heard the honeyed sounds of Claire Beauchamp’s voice as she approached his section. 

“Hey Murtagh,” she greeted him trying to appear upbeat for her friend upon coming into his area. “Hey Sugar.” She watched as he continued to fiddle with the apparatus he was working on. “I haven't seen you for over a week. Whatcha got there?” “Nothing much … just a cam I’m modifying,” he replied looking at her, “Heading out?” “Yep ... Have you seen Jamie?” “He just left.” “Oooh!” This was nothing new for James Fraser as he often left Section before anyone else. However, Murtagh failed to notice Claire’s disappointment in his reply about Jamie and continued to question her as he worked.

“So how are things? How’s the mission going?”

“So far … so good but we still don’t have Sun Yee Lok.”

“Proving to be a bit elusive is he?” “Yeah … you could say that.” “I see you have to go back to Hong Kong.” “Yeah.” This time Murtagh looked up at Claire finally noticing her reticent sigh. “Hey, why the long face then? You okay?” “I'm fine.” He put down what he was working on and gave her his undivided attention. “You don't seem so fine.” “Murtagh, it's just this place. It just gets to me sometimes, that's all.” “Is it the mission?” “Sort of … It’s another new mission within a mission.” “Well Jamie will be there to keep an eye on you.” “Maybe …” “What do you mean maybe?” “They’ve put me on a deep cover mission.” “What? ... Where?” “At Madame Cheung’s.” “Does Jamie know?” “Not yet.” “Don’t worry Claire; Jamie won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.” “I know ...” “You know how things are, Sugar. Things don’t just “work out” around here, they happen for a business.” “Yeah ... but, I’m not sure I can go through with it though.”         “It’s only a numbers game Claire. They pull the lever, whatever comes out three cherries, that’s the jackpot.” “Murtagh ... it’s just that …” “What?”

Claire let her thoughts materialize ... “I was in bad shape this time last year. I don't want to feel that way again and ... I fit the profile again for this mission. I’m getting a bit sick of it. Tall, leggy brunettes! I wish I was shorter and blonde occasionally.”

“Oh, I see,” Murtagh replied biting his lip in mirth. He looked at Claire and his eyes crinkled with mischievousness, “Hey … come to think of it … Madeline fits THAT bill! She could take your place.” He winked at her with the cheeky, craggy grin that Claire loved, breaking her from her melancholy. “Don’t worry ... You’ll knock ‘em dead Sugar!" Laughing, she answered, “Thanks Murtagh … you always put things into perspective.” “Keep your powder dry. Sure as hell going to miss you Sugar.” “I’ll be back,” Claire replied and began to walk away but paused when Murtagh added in all seriousness. “Talk to Jamie. He’ll figure out something.” “Okay.” “Goodnight Murtagh.” “Goodnight Sugar,” he replied as he watch Claire Beauchamp walk away from his station with much on her mind and hoped in some ways that his words had given her some comfort.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

 Should you wish to access the other chapters of this story … go to

https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

[impfiltration-archive]

The Victory Garden

Some drabble fun for @ardentsoldier​ because an idea I sprung up with them filled my head up with so many mental pictures that I needed to scrabble it all out

Warnings: Self-indulgent and too many plants

Haxus has never been much of a gardening person; overall, he found himself rather neutral when it came to any matters of botany. 

There were some Galra that were raised on colonies with lush vegetation, and it wasn’t uncommon for the cadets recruited from these lands to try and smuggle ferns or grasses into port. As a sort of momento to remind them of home. Others were raised in the protective hulls of civilian cruisers, and could get anxious when their world opened up to forever-rolling hills and way-too-tall trees teeming with unknown life. 

Haxus, on the other hand, was raised along the banks of Dreia-55. He found beauty in ripples and comfort from the sound of water running over rocks, but the ugly weeds and spindly trees that grew along the shoreline? He never developed any attachment to them, thus his sense of neutrality. 

He has found a new, twisted fascination in gardening, now, though. The Lions, you see, had elemental alignments, and this seemed to be transferred to their paladins.  

Some have asked if that was just an Earthling thing—they’ve come across a number of aliens with peculiar, evolutionary features—but the Champion never bled the sparkling, black goop he does now when first under their care. Which brings us back to the gardening. 

While fighting the Green Paladin, her (As opposed to the “his” they presumed) little drone knocked him over into the engine well. He was plummeting to his death, cursing his ignorance—why had he let himself underestimate an enemy just because of her baby-fat face—when he managed to snag himself on one of the ledges that narrow the drop. All the momentum went straight to wrists, making him keen in a way he hasn’t since interrogation-exposure training, but as the Galra mantra goes, “Victory or death,” so he clambered back up to the catwalk. 

Having lost his sword during his fall, Haxus had nothing but his agility and claws to finish his mission. So.. Actually, scratch that, since it seemed like he also had the element of surprise on his side. He found her running mad down the halls, cycling through the different files on her gauntlet and oblivious to his stalking. He was quick to slink up left and nick her along the side. 

He smirked, already counting down when his venom would make her to keel over with a whimper like a sick yupper, when all the sudden quiznaking plants burst out from her between her ribs—taking them both by surprise.

It started with an ivy-line that burst out before falling into a limp droop, followed by hard stems that twisted together into budding red ends that seal up all her cuts. Most bizarre of all, probably, was the a glowing, purple pulse that slowly seeped up the stalks protruding from the wound, outlining jagged lines of a nonsense pattern as it throbbed out. Likely the toxins meant to murder her, now being leeched out of her body.

It was unexpected (Was there any other word that fit?), but one of them was a child, and the other a solider who has been scarred again and again in learning not to lose focus. The battle was pretty much over by that point.

While she flailed and gawked at the leaves and stems spurting from her side, Haxus brought her down with a sickening thud, heel slamming against her breastplate. 

That seemed to bring her out of her stupor, since the paladin was actually trying to aim her bayard. Unfortunately for her, Haxus wasn’t playing any coy, battle games this time. His boot went crunch against her wrist, and her bayard scattered down the hall before it could take proper form. 

Then, in a fluid motion that could’ve only been trained into him, he brought out a magnetic pair of cuffs from his side-pack and slapped them onto her—ignoring her screech when he mishandled the hand that was very much bent the wrong way, now.

No mistakes this time.

With the paladin properly incapacitated, Haxus can’t help but admit that he finds himself rather.. curious about this strange occurrence.  

He walks a wide arch around her left, head tilted curiously before he bends down, glaring absolute contempt into her frenzied, tear-filled eyes. He at least meant to, but after neon-tipped clovers sprouted from wherever he dragged a claw over the girl’s face, there was no hiding his fascination. His fallen contender squirms, panting that sort of huff you only get under immense pain; still, the sprouts running down her cheek is a glaring blemish that absorbs most of the attention. 

Now, it’s important to know that Haxus is not exactly like Sendak. The Commander liked to play around with any of the more challenging adversaries they come across, whereas Haxus prefers his enemies cold and dead wherever he got a hold of them, but this little imp? The idiot child who nearly managed to wreck a 10,000 year long mission of the empire? The brat who almost hung all that humiliation on his shoulders? He’d be lying if he said it didn’t make giddy to watch her struggle and grimace. 

Besides that, he wasn’t quite sure how to kill her yet. Burning or spacing would probably work, but from what he’s observed, anything that could be inflicted right now would just result in more of those fauna-scabs or whatever they should be called. That’s when the twisted idea came to his head: Why doesn’t he start a garden?

He pressed the comm-piece fastened to his wrist before raising it up close to his face, hopefully muffling the girl’s sniffling about family this and help me that. “The saboteur has been aprehended; the mission is back on course.” 

Sendak replied back in a smooth voice. “Good.” Or was that a hint of relief he heard? “Get those engines back online.”

“Aye, Sir.” He waits for just the briefest of pauses. “There has also been a new development I’m sure you’ll find.. interesting.” 

Enter the greenhouse deck of the third fleet, some odd movements later.

A level like this is something you usually only find in specialized shuttles, given all the expenses and resources they require, but after returning the lions to Emperor Zarkon, they could’ve asked for commemorative luxite plates if they wanted to. But no, he was fine absorbing all the glory now fixed to his name (It came with so many benefits, like a bigger pension, a multitude of favors, his Commander’s pride), and requesting a housing unit for his little experiment. 

In there, Katie was more than less in a permanent kneel. Rather than shackles, Haxus had cut along her forearms and introduced the blood-smudged vines—all scrawling and numerous like veins—that spilled from her wounds to the soil covering any sign of metal floors. They had taken root quickly, keeping the girl bound to the ground like the life support system that left a mask strapped across her face, and multiple tubes either stuck into her back or arms. 

It all read her vitals or pumped in one nutrient or another. Whether she needs the oxygen-flow or not is debatable, but the specialists who examined her said it was better safe than sorry. Haxus could agree to that; however, he wasn't so attached to persevering this whelp's life that he'd let her medical needs to ruin this fine aesthetic of torture—meaning that all the blinking lights and vials those tubes are connected to were covered up by a thin layer of dirt, as well as the little viridescent buds littering the room.

One way or another, she was tethered to the ground and kept behind locked doors, where only those with the proper clearance could marvel at this spectacle:

Great big leaves flowing from her shoulder blades like wings, their ivory outline making wrinkles through the middle and enclosing the spry green that runs even deeper along their underside. Between these appendages sits big flower in per-bloom. 

The petals came together like a kiss, colored a pale pink turning fusa along its soft, frilly edges. As if guarding this rare beauty, a thorny batch of navy blue stems that fade into a softer blue around each pointed end circle it; although, some of them flowed past their ward. Several spill over her shoulders, others warp themselves into her remaining hair, while the rest stretch over an iris moss that runs down the girl's spine. Knobbly, bark patches infringe its borders before reaching well beyond her girth, housing all sorts of exotic plants that make up odd colors and shapes like small bushels of flowers with dovetail petals and patterned leaves. 

Even more of her back is claimed by succulents that build up like scales, or the swirling thistles, and while more flesh from her front has managed to survive, it is very much the same—like an overgrown garden bed. It stands much more shielded, though, having Katie’s own shadow conceal it; however, that also just accentuates the purple-ish, glowing outline of the different greenery dotting her stomach. 

Meshed with pale, smooth skin, it was all beautiful until you came to her human face—where green, leafy flakes slowly grew over her cheeks. As long as her mouth and nose were covered by the oxygen-mask, the girl’s eyes stand as her most prominent features, especially with the sad, mournful song those honey hues sang. They lost their watery beat a while ago—there were just too many tears—but they're the type of dim and tired seen on any work camp salve. 

Yet somehow they still manage to be expressive, as seen by the anxiety that filled them when the doors opened up to Haxus.

When she could still talk clearly—because the roots of all those stems and thorns hadn't grown into serrated, overlapping lines through her throat yet—she'd always try to make remark or another. Then, after the mask went on, she relied on her eyes to muster the same gusto or pleading she'd squeal before. Now, she just stared at him with an exhausted, half-distressed look, as if to ask, "What now?” 

That's how Haxus read it, and he responded in kind. "Don't wilt now, little Katerlily," he only called her the plant name he made up for her (Or more likely scrounged from her files) these days, "I brought a new addition for you."

Katie, no, the Katerlily would’ve burst into a sob right then if she still could. She didn’t want anymore, he’s already done more than enough—she can feel all these things growing through her insides. 

Unable to cry, she’s limited to staring insecurely at the potted seedling in his hands. It didn’t look like much, just an ugly, little weed, but where he usually just maimed her in some grizzly manner, then kept whatever grew out of those wounds watered, there were other times that he’d jam in different seeds or sprouts wherever he sliced her up to see what would bloomed. 

That’s how she ended up losing her voice to thorns, and the pads of her feet to sundew buds—perhaps the most excruciating points of her torture.

Haxus could feel her apprehension as she gawked, but that just made him light in the chest. It shows in his smug face, and the spring in every daunting step he takes around the room.

“I’m sure you’re going to love it. An.. acquaintance of mine gave it to me, after gasping on about some hackney metaphor all about how ‘it doesn’t look like much on the top, but the extensive root system underneath is beautiful all on it’s own’.” He paused to roll his eyes, quietly gagging to himself, too. He was never a fan of all the annoying poetics that people try to jam into every little thing. 

Haxus perks up, though, when he sees the Katerlily shuddering and trying to discreetly look over her shoulder to see what he’s doing, as if she doesn’t know exactly where this is going.

Just to goad her even furthur, he lets his dramatic pause swell some more, then walks up right behind her with a click, click, click of his heels. Her shoulders go rigid with how tense they are, and she keeps waffling between peeking or just letting her head hang—still unsure whether it’s better to watch or look away. It’s delicious enough of a sight to make him purr his words. “I’m sure you’d love the priggish sentiment it represents.” 

There’s a quiet shing of a dagger being unsheathed, and the Katerlily finally settles on nestling her chin as close to her chest as she can. It helps, she likes to tell herself, when you count, so she tries focusing on that instead of anything happening around her.

1, 2, 3—There’s a small clatter as Haxus lets the pot for his ugly plant fall, probably holding the newly uprooted sprout in his dagger-free hand—4, 5—What’s that shuffling?—6, 7.... 8.......

All the sudden there’s an eruption of pain from the small bit of space between her kidneys, where Haxus plunges his knife before pulling it back to create a pocket of fat and muscle. 

It feels so unnatural—she can actually feel Haxus’ fingers in her as he jams the sprout into the wound—and oh god, it hurts.

The Katerlily crumples into a series of screams. They’re muffled and strained from her mask and punctured voice-box, but they’re tortured screams all the same, and pair well with the way she contorts, arching her back with trembling shoulders and closing her eyes as tightly as possible.

Haxus watches it all with a cool, relaxed posture, making a quiet, “Oooh,” sound as he watched her skin meld over the protruding head of the weed then wriggle around beneath her first few layers of fat and muscle.

It was slow at first, that extensive root system from before was just starting to take root, then it erupted into fleshy ripples and the squishy sound that comes from guts. At that, the Katerlily thrashed about screeching, almost covering the beeping of monitors from someplace around the deck. If his ears weren’t so sharp, Haxus would’ve missed them, not that he was going to do anything about it. 

The beeping was the monitors indicating one health failure or another, but as far as he’s aware, this is a perfectly acceptable death for a rebel brat.  

Today’s not her day, though, since she’s still twitching when the bulging eventually stops. In another tick she’s limp and panting loudly, shaking like—for lack of better wording—a leaf. 

Haxus imagines she would’ve collapsed into a puddle of her own bile if in the position to do so, but she can only rest on sore knees while her head lolls around from what he presumes is a rapidly fading consciousness. 

Well, there was no fun for him here anymore. He kicks the little pot from earlier to the side and sheaths his weapon, letting his hand graze over some of the Katerlily’s leaves and branches as he strolls past her. “Well, I suppose a creature like you still requires sleep.” 

His claws come up to where her hair and thorns connect as he breaths out a quiet laugh to himself. “Let’s see if that’s still the case after we plant something in the back of your head.” It seems as if his victim is too tired to even try to flinch her head away, so he just tuts and leaves the greenhouse.

The doors slide close behind him, and his garden left to grow.

[xtruss]

The Future of American Power

Noam Chomsky on the Cruelty of American Imperialism

The United States remains unrivalled in military and economic strength, with terrible consequences for the world, says an American foreign-policy critic

— September 24th, 2021

— BY NOAM CHOMSKY

This By-invitation commentary is part of a series by global thinkers on the future of American power, examining the forces shaping the country's standing. Read more here.

In october 2001, a few weeks after the attacks of September 11th, Abdul Haq, probably the most revered figure in the Afghan anti-Taliban resistance, was interviewed by Anatol Lieven, a leading specialist on the region. Abdul Haq bitterly condemned the invasion, which he recognised would kill many Afghans and undermine the efforts to overthrow the Taliban from within. He said that “the US is trying to show its muscle, score a victory and scare everyone in the world. They don’t care about the suffering of the Afghans or how many people we will lose.”

It turns out that was not far from the doctrine of Donald Rumsfeld, America’s then defence secretary, when the Taliban offered surrender in 2001, a stance now being acknowledged 20 years too late. If there were reason to apprehend Osama bin Laden (which was not obvious—he was just a suspect then) the right procedure would have been a police operation, probably with Taliban co-operation: they wanted to get rid of him. But America had to show its muscle—as it has been doing in recent weeks by sending an armada into the South China Sea. It goes on and on: there is little new in imperial history.

Assessing the future of American power is a highly uncertain undertaking. The question might turn out to be moot. There is no need to tarry on the fact that the world is hurtling towards disaster. If the denialist Republican Party returns to power, the chances of pursuing responsible policies on environmental destruction will be sharply reduced. But assuming the best, we can at least identify the main factors on which American power is based, such as the state of the global order, the trajectory of America’s power and the justifications that have been offered to defend America’s actions.

First, the international system. The imbalance of military power is so extreme that comment seems hardly necessary. America increased its military spending in 2020 to $778bn, compared with China’s increase to $252bn, according to SIPRI, which tracks such expenditures. In fourth place, below India, is Russia at $62bn. America is alone in facing no credible security risks, apart from alleged threats at the borders of adversaries, which are ringed with American nuclear-armed missiles in some of its 800 military bases around the world. (China has just one foreign base, in Djibouti.)

One consequence of this madness—in a world desperately short of funds for urgent necessities—is a substantial contribution to environmental destruction. A recent study showed that America’s armed forces are “one of the largest polluters in history, consuming more liquid fuels and emitting more climate-changing gases than most medium-sized countries.”

Power also has its economic dimensions. After the second world war, America had perhaps a 40% share of global gdp, a preponderance that has inevitably declined. But as Sean Starrs, a political economist at City University of London, has observed, in a globalised world national accounts are not the only measure of economic power. His research in 2014 showed that American multinationals’ share of profits is more than 50% in many business sectors, and ranks first (sometimes second) in most sectors; others are far behind.

Another dimension of national strength is “soft power.” Here America has seriously declined, well before President Donald Trump’s harsh blows to the country’s reputation. Even under President Bill Clinton, leading political scientists recognised that most of the world regarded America as the world’s “prime rogue state” and “the single greatest external threat to their societies” (so said Robert Jervis and Samuel Huntington, respectively). In the years that Barack Obama was president, international polls found that America was considered the greatest threat to world peace, with no close contenders.

These sources of power can be illustrated by individual cases. Europe accepts America’s Iran sanctions only for fear of being expelled from the global financial system that is run from New York. The world accepts America’s torture of Cuba by its refusal to lift the economic blockade, while condemning it with virtual unanimity (a vote of 184 to two at the United Nations in June). “A decent respect for the opinions of mankind”, as it’s put in America’s Declaration of Independence, has long been discarded, along with such sentimentalities as the un Charter. The capacity to issue sanctions that others must obey is another dimension of power, where America reigns supreme.

A Rules-Based Order?

Turning to the trajectory of American power, its core features are familiar. Since its founding, America has scarcely had a year without resorting to violence. As soon as the British yoke was removed, the liberated colonists “concentrated on the task of felling trees and Indians and of rounding out their natural boundaries”—for defence, Thomas Bailey assures us in “A Diplomatic History of the American People” (Prentice Hall, 1940). On the side, America picked up half of Mexico in one of history’s most “wicked wars” (in the words of the general and president Ulysses S. Grant). The natural borders were rounded out with the robbery of Hawaii from its inhabitants by force and guile.

American power extended to Asia with the conquest first of the Philippines in a major slaughter. The subsequent years record constant intervention, often with extreme brutality (as happened in Haiti under President Woodrow Wilson), which regularly left a bitter legacy in those places.

There are inflection points. One was in 1945. In February America carried the Monroe Doctrine (which warned European powers not to meddle in Latin America) a step forward by imposing an Economic Charter of the Americas. It opposed “the philosophy of the new nationalism,” which “embraces policies designed to bring about a broader distribution of wealth and to raise the standard of living of the masses,” according to a us government official—a heresy that extended to the idea that “the first beneficiaries of the development of a country’s resources should be the people of that country” (not foreign investors), in the words of a State Dept official.

That was entirely inconsistent with the so-called “rules-based international order” that America was establishing, and has vigorously defended against the “radical and nationalist regimes” which are the main enemy, as formerly classified government documents emphasise, and history affirms.

Another inflection point was 60 years ago, when President John F. Kennedy sharply escalated the attack on Vietnam launched by President Truman and then extended by President Eisenhower (when he was taking time off from replacing the parliamentary regimes of Iran and Guatemala with brutal dictatorships). Kennedy also secretly ordered his terrorist war against Cuba to culminate in an insurrection to be followed by an American invasion—planned for October 1962, the month of the missile crisis, which brought the world close to ultimate disaster when Russian missiles were sent in part to defend the island.

One of his most consequential decisions in 1962 was to shift the mission of the military in Latin America from anachronistic “hemispheric defence” to “internal security.” That unleashed a horrific plague of repression throughout the hemisphere, culminating in Ronald Reagan’s murderous wars throughout Central America, still resonating in the tortured countries and in the continued flight of refugees from the wreckage.

The third element of American power is how it justifies itself. The grisly record above is just the barest sample. The record is sometimes partially recognised, and deplored, by some of those who reluctantly defend it. At the left-liberal extreme of policy planning, President Jimmy Carter’s Latin America specialist, Robert Pastor, explained in a scholarly study why the administration had to support the murderous Somoza regime in Nicaragua. “The United States did not want to control Nicaragua or the other nations of the region, but it also did not want developments to get out of control. It wanted Nicaraguans to act independently, except when doing so would affect us interests adversely” (his emphasis).

That’s a fair judgment, from the days of “felling Indians”, and is hardly unfamiliar in the annals of imperialist violence. Since there has been no change in institutions or in the culture of the political class, the trajectory and current state of global power give some indication of what one might anticipate about the future of American power.

Much of course depends on how the world is likely to change. Will Europe realise its potential as a civilising force, reversing the reaction to the grave crisis of almost a century ago, when Europe succumbed to fascism and Roosevelt’s New Deal led the way to social democracy?

Crises, Remedies and Action

Now the world is different. Mr Trump has brilliantly tapped poisons running below the surface of American society, stirring up a toxic brew that may destroy the country. The party he now owns is pursuing its long decline to proto-fascism. If that course persists, the reversal from the 1930s will be a cruel irony, particularly poignant for those whose lives it will have framed. And it will be devastating for the world, given American power.

The focus of bipartisan concern is the threat from China. In assessing it, some caution is useful. Hysteria over the “Yellow Peril” has a long history and is easily invoked. For example, over one-third of Americans believe “that the coronavirus was created by the Chinese government as a biological weapon”, according to the Annenberg Center, which adds that there is “no evidence” for the belief.

China aside, radically inflating threats is the norm. It is prominent in the most important internal documents, such as nsc-68, a once-classified policy paper drafted by the departments of state and defence in 1950, with its lunatic ravings about the “fundamental design... [of the] slave state”, the Soviet enemy, and its “compulsion” to gain “absolute authority over the rest of the world”. George Kennan and other sane analysts were sent out to pasture, along with officials who knew anything about China. We don’t want to relive that experience.

China’s growing power is real, often used in very ugly ways. But do these crimes threaten America? Internal repression is severe but is no more of an international threat than many other atrocities, including some that America could easily bring to an end instead of expediting: the brutal torture of 2m people in Israel’s Gaza prison with strong American support is just one example.

In the South China Sea, China is acting in violation of international law—though America, which has long refused to ratify it (the un Convention for the Law of the Sea), is hardly in a strong position to object. The right response to China’s violations is not a dangerous show of force but diplomacy and negotiations led by the regional states most directly involved. The same is true of other conflicts.

The crises that threaten the world have no borders. The future of the United States, and the world, rests on American-Chinese co-operation in a global society of genuine internationalism. But that is too obvious to require discussion.

There are known, feasible remedies for each of the crises that the world faces. An organised and mobilised public can confront the private and state power centres that drive the race to the abyss in pursuit of short-term interests, and can compel policy makers to implement solutions. It's hardly a novel lesson of history. Today, with global warming and the threat of nuclear war, there can be no delay.

Once we abstract ourselves from thinking “we are exceptional” and universalise issues, we start treating ourselves by the same standards that we apply to others. (On moral grounds we should hold ourselves to higher standards, but put that aside.) Why treat ourselves differently? Once we face this question, the world looks very different. ■

[iamtheswarm]

ORIGINAL CHARACTER BIO --- PRIEST (FFVII TURK)

triggers for ptsd.

general information.

full name: REDACTED. handle: priest. age: 39 as of 0007. date of birth: august 27th, 1968. place of birth: midgar, under plate. sector 6 slums. current location: travels frequently, base of operations is shinra headquarters in midgar. ethnicity: caucasian. nationality: midgardian. gender: cis male. pronouns: he/his. orientation: demiromantic heterosexual. religion: faithless. political affiliation: to the public eye he is pro shinra. privately he doesn’t give a shit. occupation: turk --- sniper specialist, public relations for shinra electric power company. living arrangements: formerly a large penthouse apartment topside midgar, closer to edge. currently a topside smaller scale apartment ten minute’s walk from the shinra building, but still too spacious for one man. language(s) spoken: common, wutai.

physical attributes.

face claim: charlie weber in seasons 1 & 2 of how to get away with murder. height: 5'11″. weight: 175 lbs. build: athletic, muscular - mesomorph. hair color: light brown. eye color: light blue. voice claim: charlie weber. tattoos: none.. scars: many small scars that are typically not noteworthy. a network of scars along his knuckles in varying thickness and notability. a bullet wound on his lower right abdomen, above the belt line, that appears like a thick cigar burn. a long, thick line running horizontal on his left bicep about half way around. it’s jagged in some parts – from a knife slash. clothing style: typical turk dress attire: a three-piece suit and usually a cobalt blue or black tie. the vest of his suit is black when he’s doing turk business and varies in a slew of darker colors and accents when he’s working pr instead. off duty he tends to wear thermal shirts or under armor, flannels, and sweaters. usual expression: neutral or apathetic. slightly amused at times. distinguishing characteristics: well-kept and full beard, slicked back hair, icy blue eyes. he’s a large man, so his size is also notable, specifically the width of his shoulders.

health.

physical ailments: his body is pretty beat from the years of service he’s endured. his knees are susceptible to pressure changes in weather systems and his lower back is prone to throwing out if he’s not careful in warming himself up before severe physical exertion. he also has a torn rotator cuff on the right side, but he won’t do anything about it — he just lets it grind. neurological conditions: ptsd. allergies: soy. sleeping habits: he can function well off of four hours, but usually sleeps six a night. eating habits: lots of protein, well-balanced. exercise habits: cardio and weight training. priest uses working out as a means to relieve stress, so he does it incredibly frequently. emotional stability: he’s incredibly poised around others, especially when it comes to dealing with the public. but the man’s a mess. a clean 2-3/10 for emotional stability with the primary ruling being anger and apathy which are somehow balanced out by patience … a trait only learned and mastered because of his specialized training during his time in the military. sociability: if he knows you, and he’s comfortable around you, he’s social. if he doesn’t know you, or he’s not fond of you … he’s a “k” kind of person. body temperature: average, if not slightly warmer. addictions: nicotine, caffeine. there’s speculation if he’s becoming an alcoholic. drug use: none. alcohol use: frequent. perhaps a bit too frequent.

personality.

label: type 3: the achiever. positive traits: adaptable, charismatic, focused, loyal, methodical, observant, resourceful, steadfast. negative traits: apathetic, blunt, cynical, faithless, greedy, indulgent, scornful, vague. goals / desires: at this point in his life priest just wants to do his job and be left the fuck alone. any goal he once had is either too lofty for him by now, or dead in a ditch. fears: commitment. hobbies: anything that keeps his hands or head busy. he whittles in his spare time, but he’s quite fond of puzzles too – like sudoku or crosswords. something engaging. he’d fuck with a rubik’s cube all day if it meant he wasn’t just sitting idle. otherwise, he quite likes shooting. habits: smoking and drinking are chief among them. otherwise he bites the inside of his cheek a lot, and taps on things: be it himself (arms crossed, tapping his arm) or drumming his fingers on the meeting table in the turk board room when tseng is debriefing.

favourites.

weather: chilly, light jacket weather. overcast. colour: cobalt blue and anything steely. music: little bit of everything, but he always leans into heavier rock. movies: psychological thrillers. sport: none anymore, but he used to have one hell of a throwing arm when he was younger. beverage: cognac. food: black and blue steak. animal: he doesn’t have a favorite animal per say, but he’s fond of cats.

family.

father: unknown. mother: cora (deceased). sibling(s): none. children: none, and it’ll stay that way if he has anything to say about it. pet(s): none. family’s financial status: lower class, hovering just above the poverty line.

extra.

zodiac sign: virgo. mbti: istp - the crafter. enneagram: type 3 - the achiever. temperament: melancholic. hogwarts house: slytherin. moral alignment: chaotic neutral. primary vice: wrath. primary virtue: patience. element: water.

born in the slums of sector 6 in midgar to a single mother, REDACTED knew a simple childhood full of work and duty to help his mother scrape by. at 16 he enlisted in shinra’s public safety division with the hopes of becoming a career military man. for a brief time he served as a security officer within midgar, but broke into his path of choice within two years of service. REDACTED, known exclusively as the handle priest, climbed to the rank of staff sergeant coming up to and through the wutai war. he served faithfully behind SOLDIERs and other brothers-in-arms alike until the end of the war in 0002 where he retired from active military service into public relations for the company he’d been so loyal to. priest currently serves as the public liaison for shinra: the face on tv and voice in the media in lieu of director scarlet’s busy schedule, and as a turk.

recruited into the turks 3 months after his retirement from the military, priest is one of the last brought in under veld’s tenure and had been scouted by tseng for his exceptional skills on and off the battlefield. once considered as an optimal candidate for the SOLDIER program, priest was passed over in the end due to his age at the time of his consideration with official (sealed) records stating he would likely not survive the rigorous mako treatments. to date, priest has not undergone any mako treatments, even throughout his service as a turk. a steadfast man, priest is loyal to shinra and a true military man down to his bone, with his morals resting comfortably in the grey and his nose firmly pressed only into whatever business the turks or public relations have presented. priest is divorced for five years, with his wife working under professor hojo in the science division of the shinra electric power company.

FINAL ANALYSIS.

priest is a capable individual with an arsenal of skills that are suitable to the shinra electric power company. retention of his skill set is active and as of 10.05.07 he is cleared for all active duty missions as assigned by the director of subordinates. should priest’s future analysis prove he is incapable of acting to the fullest of his abilities his association with the shinra electric power company will be fully and absolutely terminated.             ---tseng, director of subordinates.

[arcadenemesis]

So I guess I managed to update this monster...

Laws of The Universe 

[ao3 link]  words: 6k, ch: 2/6

Chapter 2: Matter

“What do you think happens to us when we die?”

Shiro stilled, looking up from his entrance essay. After a moment, he placed his pen down and leaned forward. At the desk across from him, Keith kept his gaze unflinchingly on his physics textbook, reading in the lamp light.

“Where's this coming from?”

He knew. It had been years since Shiro had found him alone, just a small boy crying for the loss of his father. But he knew just as well that spectres of the past never truly vanished. They would always linger, itching at the edge of his existence with little relief. Sometimes it was best to ignore it and allow the sensation to fade on its own. But other times, like now, it seemed that leaving it unaddressed only aggravated it more.

“... It's nothing.”

Shiro's bracelet tightened around his wrist immediately. He resisted the urge to rub at it when he saw Keith’s eyes dart to his hand briefly. The younger boy knew he was caught and his lips drew a tight grimace. Shiro saw no point in voicing the fact out loud.

Keith’s shoulders hunched up to his ears when Shiro’s chair dragged across the cheap linoleum as he stood. But he didn't push the older boy away when he leaned his forearms on the table next to him. Shiro glanced over the complicated notes spread out on its surface, mountains of equations and strangely artistic diagrams of trajectories. Keith had never been short on motivation, but as the launch of the HAT-1 rocket loomed, his work rate had increased to frightening levels. He was well on his way to chasing his dream of joining the space program at the Garrison Centre, and was determined to join Kolivan on his next mission whenever it would come.

On the notebook in front of Shiro, a calculation had been written, rewritten, crossed out and messily scrubbed at in frustration. The paper had been crumpled and re-smoothed, and under the mess in Keith’s neat cursive, he had written a short phrase before continuing the workings again.

        Patience yields focus.

The little happy face drawn next to the final, correct answer - complete with undercut - was hopelessly endearing.

“When does the meteor shower start?”

Keith glanced at his watch.

“About 35 minutes. But it won't peak for another 90 at least— hey!”

Shiro ignored his protest as he plucked the textbook from his hands, carefully bookmarking the page before setting it down on his other notebooks.

“Let's get a head start then. I don't know about you, but there's only so much I can write about ethics in lawmaking before my eyes want to fall out. Besides, gotta make sure we get the best spot.”

Keith rolled his eyes sourly. “No one ever comes to our spot.”

“And wouldn't it be such a shame if tonight was the first night they did,” Shiro replied with a grin.

He leaned down into Keith’s line of vision, tilting his head so it almost rested on the table in front of him.

“Come on,” he goaded, flashing what he hoped was a good attempt at puppy dog eyes. He was determined to fish Keith out of whatever mental dip he had found himself in. And nothing cheered him up more than stargazing, pointing out planets and constellations as Shiro listened on beside him. He watched Keith stare him down, ears turning pink before his expression relaxed in resignation.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But if you fall asleep out there, I'm not waking you up this time.”

Shiro looked wounded.

“That was just once! You try staying awake past midnight after three exams on completely unrelated areas of law in one day.”

Keith finally laughed and Shiro felt his chest grow warm.

“Good thing you're going to be the attorney and not me then,” he teased as he stood, swiping up his jacket.

The walk to the little abandoned shack overlooking the Garrison Space Centre was punctuated by Shiro talking about his worries about being accepted for his Juris Doctor next year. Keith listened dutifully, breaking his silence only to offer words of support and encouragement when needed. This was what their friendship had always been, helping each other chase their wildly different dreams and sharing in each other's trials and jubilations along the way. They kept each other focused and on track, and so despite the lack of specialist schools and private tutors, both had made significant headway into reaching their goals while they were still quite young. Shiro could hardly believe he was looking at fast tracking his path to becoming a defence attorney by the time he would turn 23. At 18, the end was still far away, but in sight nonetheless.  

“And I mean, I guess writing about how sociology and the law are intrinsically linked isn't as exciting as working out how to fly a rocket, but I'm actually really enjoying it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Keith grinned, throwing himself unceremoniously onto the grass. “I find the idea of having my own attorney an incredibly thrilling concept.”

“Just what are you planning that involves having your own attorney?” Shiro eyed him with mock-suspicion, lowering himself a little more carefully to lay on his back. “Besides, who said I was going defend your shady dealings in court?”

Keith smiled, pulling his knee up to his chest.

“You'd never abandon me.”

The words came out surprisingly serious, his voice soft but confident. Shiro blinked at the sudden shift, struggling to form a reply, and Keith’s watch blipped quietly before his brain could catch up.

“It's about to start,” the younger boy said, casting his eyes up.

Shiro tucked his palm under his head, the very first of the lights streaking across the atmosphere above them. Watching the meteor showers was much more for Keith’s benefit than his. But the time spent together was precious to Shiro in a way he couldn't put into words. And it didn't matter if he didn't want to chase his dreams into space like Keith. Away from the light pollution, the night sky was objectively magnificent. He didn't have to be a budding astronaut to appreciate that. And the time away from his books helped refresh his perspective too. A thought came to him as he recalled Keith’s question earlier that evening.

“The stars sure look beautiful tonight,” he mused as nonchalantly as possible. Keith just hummed his agreement unsuspectingly.

“You know what else is beautiful?”

He felt Keith flinch beside him slightly, but focused on staring right ahead and trying not to crack a grin. He missed the dusting of pink that spread across the other boy's cheeks in the dark.

“L. A. Hart’s concept of legal positivism and his philosophy of social influence on authority.”

There was a pause, then suddenly a fist thumped against his shoulder.

“Idiot,” Keith muttered as Shiro laughed, turning his face away.

Shiro sat up to fling his arms around the other boy’s hunched shoulders, scruffing his hair. Keith yelped his protest but didn't shove him off, and when Shiro settled one arm around him, he leaned ever so slightly into the hold.

“You asked me what I think happens after we’re gone?” Shiro asked, turning his face back up to the sky, where their personal light show was ramping up. "Maybe we turn into stars. And maybe some of us can't stay away. Which is why this happens.”

“Corny, even for you,” Keith scoffed. “How can we turn into stars when our bodies are stuck on the earth?”

Shiro laughed, squeezing him to his side. "Good question. I guess don't know the answer... But I don't think it's the end. We’ll see them again, I'm sure.”

Shiro pretended not to hear Keith sniff, his response coming at a delay.

“Promise?”

Shiro rested his head on Keith's with a smile.

“Promise.”

Pidge was the first to look up when Shiro arrived late in the afternoon, round glasses exaggerating the surprise in her eyes.

“Shiro?!”

Allura’s head shot up, and immediately she abandoned the evidence list on her desk. She stood, smoothing the material of her pink pencil skirt. “What do you think you're doing here, Shiro?” she admonished, unable to conceal her concern. “You should be in a hospital bed.”

Shiro pulled the jacket draped over his shoulders a little closer. “No… I couldn't stay there, doing nothing. Not while…” He grit his teeth, looking down.

“You need to rest!” Pidge cut in. “Leave Kolivan’s case to us. We’ll take it from here.”

Shiro's eyes hardened, still staring at the ground. “Thanks… but that's not an option. Not for me.”

Allura looked troubled, pausing as she moved around her desk, placing a hand on the tabletop. “Shiro… your injuries.” Her voice was gentle and even, but it still grated against Shiro's raw nerve endings nonetheless. "You're putting your health in danger by being here.”

“I'm fine. The hospital provided me with everything I needed. I was just wasting a bed there.” He avoided the disbelieving looks from his colleagues. “Now that Shay has been cleared, the court has let Kolivan’s trial recommence, right? Tell me how the case is going. What progress have you made?”

Allura exchanged a glance with Pidge, but his junior partner seemed to decide keeping him informed was best, no matter what Allura was trying to silently communicate.

“We have a witness that claims a suspicious figure was spotted in the lounge just after the explosion at the launch pad. But the description doesn't match Kolivan. It has to be the real killer!”

Despite her enthusiasm, Shiro remained thoughtfully quiet.

“I thought you'd be happy to hear that,” Allura interjected gently after a moment, sitting on the corner of her desk.

“Mm?” Shiro snapped out of his reverie. “I… I am. And I'm going to make sure Keith's murderer is brought to justice.” His voice went cold. “Nothing in this universe will get in the way of that.”

Allura was solemn as she spoke. “Keith meant a lot to you…”

“He meant…” Shiro tried desperately to unfurl his phantom fist, the throb of pain starting to work its way up his arm. “He meant everything.”

“What was he like?” Pidge asked, chewing on her lip.

Shiro’s smile was bittersweet, because how did anyone begin to describe the enigma that was Keith Kogane: orphan, dreamer, astronaut, friend... much more. “He was focused. Passionate. If he set his mind to something, he would achieve it in the end. But never at the expense of anyone else. On the outside he could seem distant to those who didn't know him well enough, but his heart was always open just below the surface. Nothing was worth the pain of a loved one to Keith. He would sooner…” Shiro stopped, swallowing hard.

“And now he's gone.”

Allura’s shoulders tensed and Shiro knew she was fighting between her professionalism as his boss and her desire to comfort him as a friend.

“Shiro, about that jacket…”

“... It's Keith’s. It was given to him after he was selected for the HAT-2 mission. I remember how happy he was when he came home wearing it for the first time. He'd finally achieved his dream… and then…” he started to crack, “then…”

His fist connected to the wall behind him with a crack, making Pidge jump.

“It's not fair!”

Allura took a step forward as he drew a shaky breath, but stopped short when he squared his shoulders a schooled his expression back into something more neutral.

“I'll never forgive the person who took his dream from him.”

“I know,” Allura said softly. “Shiro, the way you feel… it's natural. You've been through a lot. Just… don't forget that as attorneys, our first and foremost task is to save our client, not avenge the victim.

Conflict constricted Shiro’s ribs tightly. “I-I understand that,” he said, trying not to let desperation bleed into his voice. “That's why—"

His voice failed him completely. Allura finally abandoned professionalism to close the distance, reaching up to touch his face. Shiro caught her hand though, gently redirecting it away. Up close, he could see his tired face mirrored in concerned blue eyes.

“Sorry Allura, but I'll be taking a leave of absence.”

Beside them, Pidge looked stricken. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Shiro, I could understand if you were taking the time to heal,” Allura said softly, “but clearly that's not the case here. I can see the files in your bag and I know you don't want to give up this investigation. Can you at give me a reason why you don't want to work with the Voltron Offices?”

Shiro turned his face away, unable to look Allura in the eye. There was no way he could tell her. That his reason was borne of the seed of doubt in his mind. That the roots of distrust and suspicion had spread and grounded themselves deep into his stomach. He had always trusted his intuition. And it told him now that he needed to do this alone.

“When I put on Keith's jacket, it was my promise to him. I'm going to catch his killer myself.”

“But that's our goal too!” Pidge insisted.

Allura glanced to the junior attorney, trying to offer her split-second reassurance. “Pidge is right. We should find the truth together.”

Shiro knew she was trying to watch out for him. It had always been this way since she had first recruited him, fresh from law school after the bar. She had given him his start and he would always be grateful for that. But right now…

“The truth…” He released her wrist, stepping away. “What if the truths we seek turn out to be different though?”

“What could you possibly mean, Shiro?” Allura sounded exasperated and horrified all at once.

“I'm going to find the monster who took Keith's life, my own way.” His tone was finite, turning away. He paused when he opened the office door, his hand on the handle. “Take good care of Kolivan. It's what Keith would have wanted.”

“Goodbye.”

"That's time, Keith. Pens down.”

Keith let out a long sigh as he sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair where it had been getting a little longer at the back. He turned a tired smile up to his companion.

“Thanks for keeping an eye on the clock. I know you have better things to be doing than watch me take another practice exam.”

Shiro waved him off. “I got a pretty big chunk of my torts essay done, so I'm not complaining. That's the last one, right?”

Keith nodded, fishing for a red pen and an answer key. “Then it's the real deal tomorrow,” he said, looking a little green.

Shiro tsked disapprovingly. “You’re fine, Keith. Say it.”

Keith sighed again, but replied obediently. “Keith Kogane is fine.”

Shiro attempted to channel all of his encouragement into a warm smile. “You've done the hard work and it's just one last hurdle. And what's your average score right now? Ninety-five?”

“Ninety-six,” Keith corrected, trying - and failing - not to look smug.

Shiro laughed.   “Why the hell am I being your cheerleader then? You don't need me.”

“Not true,” he rebutted immediately, eyes focused on his paper as he started marking his answers. After all this time, his determination still shone through as strong as ever, undeterred even in the face of the news of HAT-1’s disastrous launch a year ago.

Shiro watched as his brow creased in concentration, and the way he chewed on the end of his pen as he read. His boots tapped out an anxious rhythm on the floor, but Shiro found himself unbothered by the distraction. If anything, it was a little charming, watching his nervous habits on display all at once.

“You don't have to wait,” Keith said suddenly, without looking up.

Shiro felt strangely startled, as if caught out. Just how long had he been sitting there, staring, essay abandoned at his elbow? He cleared his throat.

“I was thinking we could go to the Space Centre after you finish marking. One last time for good luck before your exam. My treat.”  

Keith’s eyes shot up, violet and eager and Shiro felt his heart give an odd thump.

“Yeah?”

Shiro swallowed and nodded, suddenly not trusting himself to speak. The smile that spread across Keith’s lips at the gesture sent him into a spin. Shiro had to stop himself from reaching up to hold his head as he finally looked back down to his essay again. He tried to focus intently, but the words refused to sink in. Paragraphs sat idle on the pages in front of him and letters threatened to blur out of comprehension. Was he sick? Had he not had enough to eat before he agreed to join Keith as his adjudicator this morning?

He risked a glance up to the boy in question again, where he was marking his test with renewed vigor. Between questions, he twirled his pen between his fingers in an absent flourish. His mouth quirked at the corners with every answer he got right and he alternated between chewing his bottom lip raw and soothing it with a quick flick of his tongue. When he paused to blow his fringe out of his eyes, Shiro felt his insides flip over.

Okay, so he wasn't ill. It was far worse.

Takashi Shirogane had inexplicably fallen in love with his best friend.

[writlargefic]

RotG Jackrabbit Week: Fusion

Fusion with the B.P.R.D./Hellboy universe.

On AO3: Wingfic AU, Retail AU, Soulmarks, Royalty AU, Time Travel, Crossover , Fusion

Also, I likely won’t be posting for the Misc day, just working on adding chapters to the prompts I’ve written and not completed. The Wingfic and Retail ones need finishing. Subscribe on AO3 if you want updates.

B.P.R.D.: Fur and Frost

“We need to Bunny.” Aster’s ears perked up.

“Christ, would you stop calling him that?” snapped Agent Mendez, a recent recruit and former marine, Bunnymund’s memory supplied. Most of the agents wouldn’t dare speak to him the way Jack did for fear of his temper, but Jack was in a category by himself.

“Hey Cottontail, you listening?” Despite the static, he could still hear the smirk in Jack’s question, followed by snort over the line. That would be Agent Giarocco. She was one of Jack’s preferred team members and had worked with them long enough to be rolling her eyes at his impropriety.

“I’m here, Frostbite.”

“We’ve got some weird ass plants that are defying explanation.”

“And?”

“And we’d prefer not to be eaten by them. They are bitey.”

“Bitey is a bit vague.” It also meant things were worse than expected if Jack didn’t just flash freeze the damned things.

“Well, I’d send you a picture, but whoever was here left behind a lot of unfriendly magical residue and it’s completely fucked our phones.” Which was why they had the comms to rely on. Aster had helped build the heavily warded, nigh indestructible devices. They kept working when almost nothing else did.

“Give me half an hour,” he said, before disconnecting to switch his own custom fitted headset into a mobile unit.

Aster had chosen the spot for the mobile research station carefully, far enough away not to be affected by the phenomenon they were investigating, but close enough for quick access in case of emergency. The vehicle itself faded into obscurity as long as the door was shut. Aster pulled his long coat on, less in deference to the wind chill and more to accommodate a sense of modesty, exited quickly.

He didn’t join many mission teams these days. The expanded Bureau had plenty of specialists on hand. When he did tag along, it was typically as back up, maintaining tech and providing research. The less advance intelligence they had, the more often Aster was requested, due to his broad skill set. In this instance, they’d only had reports of general weirdness and unusual vegetation, which was why he’d let Jack drag him out into the middle of rural Manitoba to begin with. Plants were something of a specialty for him. Oh, he was a deft hand with tech and dabbled in a few magics as well, but he had his strongest abilities with plant life, to the point of being able to manipulate flora at a cellular level. Aster certainly had time to branch out, however, given that he aged slowly enough to be functionally immortal as far as humans were concerned. It unsettled everyone but Jack, whose powers had literally frozen his own aging process.

Jack Frost. If the man had been half the smart ass when they met that he was now, Aster probably would have put him through a wall. Jack had been in shock when his powers had manifested though. He’d survived a plane crash in the mountains and walked several miles through snow and freezing temperatures to the nearest town – in bare feet no less. The people who’d tried to help him had gotten frostbite from touching his skin.

The Bureau had picked him up the next day. None of the psych staff had been able to make a dent in Jack’s quiet stillness. When he’d stopped turning the furnishings brittle with cold and brought the room up to a relatively balmy -20 degrees Celsius, they’d roped Aster into spending time with him on account of having a ready made fur coat.

Forty years later, Jack was a little shit who got away with murder as far as Aster was concerned, not leastways because he’d gotten sentimental and married the brat.

“Bunny!” Jack grinned in welcome. Unconventional he might be, but weirdness worked at B.P.R.D. and Jack was an excellent agent. He was, bar none, best person to have at your back when things went to hell, literally and figuratively.

“Agent Frost,” Aster made a bid for professionalism. “Where’s the problem?”

“What, no kiss?”

“You saw me not two hours ago,” he grumbled, turning into Jack’s embrace to receive the quick, cold press of his lips.

“And I missed you, Bun Bun,” the cheeky brat skipped back. “Come on. The creepy little chompers are over here.”

Giarocco was doing a poor job of smothering her grin as they passed and Mendez looked like his eyes might pop out of his head. Huh. Aster didn’t think there was anyone left at B.P.R.D. that hadn’t been party to gossiping about him and Jack. Ah well.

“Right then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

[hoodsmoaked]

Let It Snow | Part 1 / ?

Summary: Oliver Queen spends the days before Christmas trying to find the murderous new archer in Starling City and renew family traditions. An odd request from Moira puts her son in a difficult position, but it also puts an unexpected twist in Oliver’s strange partnership with Felicity Smoak. (S1 AU)

Disclaimer: I do not own nor make any profit off of Arrow. It belongs to The CW, DC Comics, etc.

A/N: This is an AU story set during 1x09: Year’s End. It was meant for Christmas, but things went sideways and it wasn’t until this week that I actually put it down. Thank you @stygian-omada-fan for sensible words when I was feeling overly sensitive. <3

Chapter 1: Bits & Pieces

“Mom, you can’t be serious.”

At twenty-seven years old, with a veritable ocean’s worth of hell swelling behind him and a galaxy’s worth looming ahead of him, Oliver Queen still had absolutely no idea how to take up a debate with his stern, self-assured mother when she set her heart and mind on something she wanted.

Today, a mere morning and afternoon after Adam Hunt’s murder at the hands of the new Starling City archer, that something was Oliver’s honored presence at the Queen Consolidated annual staff Christmas party which his mother and Walter were set to attend in two days.

“I am exceedingly serious, Oliver,” Moira Queen looked as deeply frustrated as Oliver felt inside, at last setting down the book she had been attempting to read when Oliver stalked into the room waving a red and green invitation. “It does no harm to attend an employee party at the company. Why are you so averse?”

“For one thing, I’m not even an employee at Queen Consolidated, Mom!” Oliver reiterated for at least the fourth time in the discussion, growing irritated with his domineering mother. “I thought we clearly discussed my stance on working at the company after the Applied Sciences building opened?”

“You can still have the decency to represent our family and your father’s memory at a company function,” Moira countered with easy grace and authority Oliver remembered all-too-well from before the island. Even if her discipline had been directed at people other than himself, Oliver had never forgotten the sting infused with such taut coldness.

“You spend enough time up at Queen Consolidated to give people ideas,” Moira continued more reproachfully than Oliver felt was warranted. “A great deal of people have come to think you’ll be joining the company some time in the future, regardless your belligerent scene at the groundbreaking. It has been months since then, anyway. A person can change their mind and many believe you have or soon will. Hearing the way you talk now, I have to wonder myself what other reason could possibly draw you up to Queen Consolidated so frequently. Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?”

“Undoubtedly positive,” Oliver enunciated more clearly and slowly than strictly necessary, hoping to make his point and have done with the subject. He had a visit with an IT expert that couldn’t wait.

Observing his facial features with heavy focus, under which effects Oliver use to squirm self-consciously, Moira finally sighed and turned her eyes away.

“All right,” the Queen matriarch remarked after a pause, turning back to her son with another familiar, unbending expression that led Oliver nearer to agitated groaning than usual. “I’ll leave that subject alone for the present time. However, I am still asking you to attend the annual Christmas staff party with us. We’ve already sent your response and I wouldn’t want to put any of the planners out with extra money spent for a seat that won’t be filled. Humor me, Oliver, please?”

Suspecting far more in Moira Queen’s pleading expression and request than a simple desire to appease the party planners, Oliver nevertheless didn’t dare say anything in that regard and merely nodded his agreement. If he required another ‘public scene’ to nail the point home with his mother, then he could plan it later; time indicated other plans must come first.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Moira smiled warmly at her son and laid a motherly hand on his forearm. Settling back down to read her book, Moira left Oliver to evacuate the room on cautiously rapid feet.

Rolling back his shoulders to ease out some of the tension of the argument with his mother, Oliver headed out the front entrance and hopped onto the motorcycle for what had swiftly become routine visitation to a certain IT specialist at his family’s company.

The IT department was dark and yet comforting – despite the brightness outside – when the billionaire headed in, finding the ponytail-styled blonde sitting very engrossed in a tablet behind her desk. Incredibly engrossed, as a matter of fact.

Barely smiling at her inordinate concentration and allowing the tension with his mother to fade away, Oliver finally spoke up, “Hey.”

Felicity Smoak startled as though he had shot off a gun beside her, gasping a little and rebuking Oliver’s presence immediately, “Don’t you knock?”

“Felicity, this is the IT department,” Oliver retorted with heavily-buried amusement in his voice, shaking his head for emphasis as he added, “It’s not the ladies’ room.”

Laughing a bit breathlessly, Felicity looked down with some sheepishness as she agreed, “Right.”

Taking the time to close something on her tablet – curious, Oliver thought to himself – Felicity finally looked back up at him with wider eyes as she asked, “What can I do for you?”

Already spinning a rather elaborately carved lie in his mind, Oliver put a good deal of playful emotion into his voice as he answered, “My buddy, Steve, is really into archery. Apparently, it’s… it’s all the rage now.”

Turning away to put her tablet down on the desk, Felicity commented casually, “Yeah, I don’t know why… Looks utterly ridiculous to me.”

Felicity’s expressive face and blue eyes displayed a sense of ‘whatever floats your boat’ that forced Oliver to forcibly dispel a laugh that wanted to escape his throat. Instead, he remarked neutrally with a simple ‘mm-hm’ to guide the conversation along. Still, he couldn’t help staring a moment at the blonde; if only she knew what he did with his nights…

Rushing forward in spite of his humor, Oliver added, “Anyway, it’s Steve’s birthday next weekend and… I wanted to buy him some arrows.”

So saying, Oliver popped the lid off the container he held, pulling out the long black arrow of his nemesis with far more casual ease than Felicity’s widened eyes portrayed in her own senses.

“Thing is,” Oliver went as though nothing was amiss, “he gets these… special… custom-made arrows and I have… no idea where he gets them.”

Holding back the projectile in both hands with a pause to make sure he had the quirky woman’s full attention, Oliver finished with, “I was hoping you could find out where this came from.”

Allowing his request to settle in the quietly-charged atmosphere between them, Oliver at last rolled the arrow up and back down within reach of Felicity’s grasp, presenting it like a priceless artifact. And in truth, he supposed it was. Finding this new archer meant saving lives, really. As the new enemy had proven, he cared little for collateral damage.

Felicity’s smile looked more mysteriously invested with a mystic giddiness than Oliver expected from most people. Struck by the intensity with which he had brought the brilliant young woman into his dark activities, and the potential price that might already lay on her blonde head, Oliver couldn’t help feel suddenly wrong.

Yet it was too late now for that particular concern, wasn’t it? Oliver repressed a frown and decided he couldn’t change her involvement now. All he could do was ensure her safety from here on out. Besides, he found he needed her skills and knowing assistance more than he thought he needed anyone’s help in his mission.

“Careful!” Oliver warned the eager investigator anyway, pulling the bow back from her hand before she could actually grasp the arrow.

A shadow of exasperation and annoyance crossed Felicity’s still-eager features while she waited for him to drop the arrow to her clutch. She agreed more quickly than Oliver cared to hear, “Yeah.”

Dauntless even with his warning, the IT expert’s expectation led Oliver to release the arrow to her fingers as planned.

Taking it with a burst of smile, Felicity instantly began to examine the arrow in her hands, searching up and down the metal with subtle excitement. Within seconds of Oliver taking a seat before the desk, his constant researcher found what she needed to see.

“The shaft’s composite is patented,” she informed the billionaire, glancing between the patent name and her computer. “And that patent is registered to a company called Sagittarius.”

Smiling at her rapid success, Felicity looked back up at Oliver and offered up the black arrow. When Oliver did not immediately take it in hand, the blonde added informatively, “That’s latin… for archer.”

Shaking himself enough to reach for the weapon in the IT expert’s hands, Oliver responded slightly awkwardly as he put away the arrow, “Really... Could you find out where and when this was purchased?”

Felicity smiled again, her subsequent head tilt and sigh telling Oliver his question was very ridiculous, but she would do as he asked all the same. A few clicks and the specialist began answering him, “According to Sagittarius company records, that… particular arrow is part of a bundle shipment… Two-hundred units...”

Her face bespoke the growing disbelief in Oliver’s admittedly shoddy story-telling. Hobby archers didn’t purchase two-hundred highly customized special units for casual practice.

In spite of that, Felicity began to write on a notepad, explaining, “…sent… to this address.”

Ripping off the sheet, the blonde handed it over with what Oliver dubbed her ‘easy success smile.’ Felicity Smoak had many different types of smiles, he found out; this was only one of the vast multitude of bright expressions she wore.

“Felicity…” Oliver began, taking the paper with an unnecessary flourish and a wider smile than normal. Taking a little breath, the sandy-haired billionaire completed his thought, “You’re remarkable.”

“Thank you for remarking on it,” Felicity quipped instantly, eliciting a softer, warmer smile on her face – almost shy, if Oliver was to judge.

Still smiling, Oliver stood from his seat, grabbing the arrow as he made to leave. Before he could fully turn away, he leaned back towards the IT expert to add, “and Merry Christmas.”

“I’m Jewish,” Felicity corrected in a heartbeat, the words rushing from her mouth.

Oliver turned back thoughtfully at the sudden words, pausing to sincerely offer, “Happy Hanukkah.”

Felicity had brought nervous fingers to her lips, clearly worried over her expulsion of information, but Oliver felt pleased to know a little more about his babbling blonde acquaintance.

Before he fully turned back to the doorway, Oliver’s eyes caught on a familiar red and green invitation lying on the far side of the desk space. Struck by how awkward Felicity must feel being part of a Christmas-specific party, Oliver frowned slightly.

“The company should really expand to a holiday party,” Oliver commented out of the blue, drawing Felicity eyes back up to the man she must have thought gone from her office.

“Um… what?” she asked, bewildered.

“The annual staff party,” Oliver clarified, gesturing at the same invitation he had waved in his mother’s direction not an hour before. “It should be broadened into a holiday party, not just Christmas. Employees like yourself are being excluded for no reason.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Felicity half-laughed, the same nervous and awkward sound when she didn’t want to get into a particular topic or wasn’t prepared for the turn of discussion. “I just go to socialize a little. Make sure no one thinks I’m a total recluse.”

“Well, that doesn’t make it right to exclude your holiday,” Oliver smiled at her honestly. “I’ll throw a word to Walter about it.”

“That’s… really not necessary,” Felicity replied, making a very goofy face as she worked through words she did and didn’t want to actually say. “You don’t have to bring me into this. I’m just fine… Finest fine that ever fined… Uh…”

Intervening despite the amusing word salad tendency Felicity had, Oliver concluded firmly, “I’m going to say something about it. You don’t have to be involved, I’m sure there are plenty of others who would appreciate the gesture, so no names are really necessary.”

“Well, okay,” Felicity bit her lip at the anonymity she’d been granted on the subject. “That’s probably true. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Oliver nodded at her firmly. “I’ll see you at the party, then.”

“You’ll be there?”

Oliver bit back a real smile at the higher tone to Felicity’s voice as she asked.

“My mother seems to think I can be convinced to become a part of the ‘team’ some day,” was all Oliver explained.

“Ah, I see,” Felicity nodded knowledgeably, then stopped suddenly to shake her head in the negative. “What am I saying? I don’t see. I mean I understand what you said, and it makes sense, but I… you know what, I’ll just see you at the Christmas party.”

“Holiday party,” Oliver corrected slyly, smile lingering on his lips as he glossed over the blonde’s awkward spouting. “It’s not too hard to understand my mother’s hopes. Although I think it will probably snow in Starling City before that happens… Not that I would mind a little snow.”

“You want snow?” Felicity lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“I’m not saying I want a white Christmas, exactly,” Oliver paused, then shrugged. “I kind of miss a little snow here and there… Nevermind my odd wishes… I’ll see you at the party, Felicity.”

Felicity calmed in the face of his casual exit, allowing her face to ease into a little smile as Oliver walked out of the IT department with a fresher, calmer acceptance of his party attendance, all thoughts of causing a scene in any way dissipating completely.

The day of the party flurried into being with a great, fluttering to-do of activity overseen by Moira and Walter in tandem. After last minute orders and directions had been put into place, the Queen matriarch returned to the son she had literally begged to attend the event, joining him in a seat at the edge of the room where no one was working.

“Well, Oliver,” Moira spoke up with a knowing hedge in her voice, turning to look at her son with cunning expectation. “You seem to have picked up a peculiar investment with this party since three days ago. May I ask what changed?”

To the average observer, Moira’s question belied none of the hard edge of curiosity and suspicion that Oliver now heard like clockwork.

“It just didn’t seem right to exclude people in the workforce here who celebrate differently from us,” Oliver proposed with a casualness he didn’t precisely feel. For reasons he couldn’t pinpoint – reasons beyond keeping his secret – Oliver didn’t want his mother to find out about Felicity any more than she already might have.

“I see,” Moira allowed with secretive agreeableness.

“Can you excuse me, Mom?” Oliver attempted escape before the interrogation could begin, standing before his mother could even respond.

“Of course, sweetheart,” the socialite agreed more warmly than necessary, leaving Oliver wary of who he spent time with during the party. Moira Queen would not wait for an answer before drawing conclusions Oliver didn’t need.

Taking a trip out into the hallway, Oliver breathed deeply to calm himself and allay his concerns. Already dressed in his black suit and tie for the party, he had no excuses to actually leave before it all started. Sighing over his luck, the vigilante simply made his way around the floor as slowly as he could possibly meander without causing concern (or more likely, suspicion) from his mother.

With that concept in mind, Oliver amazed himself by finding a clear view of the city through a wall of empty office windows, and a hitherto untapped well of observatory staying power. Over all the hubbub and traffic and buildings far below, Oliver found a strange kind of peace in the constancy of Starling City’s populace he had never before felt.

“Oliver?”

Starting minutely at the intrusion on his surprisingly peaceful thoughts, Oliver turned to find Walter standing in the doorway with hands clasped behind his back.

“Walter,” the younger man greeted his stepfather with a nod.

“The doors will open in fifteen minutes,” the British businessman informed Oliver cordially, turning amused a moment later, “Your mother of course was worried you’d changed your mind at the last minute.”

Affecting a half-laugh, Oliver remarked wryly, “Well, we both know Mom likes to worry over nothing sometimes.”

Laughing as well, Walter added with a tilt of his head, “I must say I’ve found your mother to be far more rational than most, actually. But I suppose for children of any age, their parents seem overzealous much of the time.”

“I guess you’re right,” Oliver nodded as an end to the subject, smile stretching a little less than naturally on his features. “We’d better get back before she worries any more.”

By the time they reached the main space for the celebration, the guests had already begun to arrive, many employees followed in by spouses or adult relatives while more people than Oliver expected came all alone. Moira and Walter dragged him around the room meeting all the heads of departments and their assistants, sparingly followed by some of those not positioned in leadership yet holding respectably important jobs.

The party was in full swing, champagne flowing and wine swirling while canapés flooded trays around the room, when Oliver finally saw the familiar blonde ponytail bouncing through the crowd like a ball of sunshine. Repressing a smile with his mother so close, Oliver quietly and casually made his way through the employees towards the more secluded windows.

As expected, Felicity found him first, eyes widening briefly with pleased recognition behind her glasses as she made her way over. Much to Oliver’s pleasure in the moment, Moira Queen remained heavily involved in an intense debate with the Head of Accounting across the room, her back facing them.

“Oliver, hi,” Felicity made a funny, manic little wave at her shoulder level, drawing Oliver’s attention to the red dress that crossed subtly over the chest emphasizing a silver leaf necklace and tiny silver studs, the skirt flaring past the hips. Matching red suede footwear with a multitude of straps adorned Felicity’s feet. Just enough quirk to offset the basic dress, Oliver noted with the edge of a smile.

“Felicity,” Oliver nodded when the blonde stood close enough, a larger smile teasing his lips.

“You um… seem to have… you know,” Felicity blew out her lips and cheeks in a ridiculous expression as she gestured goofily around the room, “changed things up.”

“I told you it wasn’t right,” was all Oliver said, lightly shrugging.

“Oh! I, uh… got this…” Felicity began haltingly, reaching around in the small silver purse hanging from her shoulder with a sudden frown and pinched brows, until she exclaimed, “Ah! This. I got this for you.”

Smiling proudly, the IT expert whipped a rectangular item into the air before Oliver’s nose, gripping her purse in the other hand.

Allowing a brief moment to feel startled in spite of himself, Oliver finally took a better look at whatever hovered in front of his face. Surprised to find a bright blue envelope between Felicity’s fingers, the billionaire instantly responded, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Oh, I wanted to,” Felicity waved him off, the encased card fluttering between them like a butterfly. “It’s the least I can do for you – for being so thoughtful.”

Caught by her logic and the stubborn will settled into those blue eyes, Oliver sighed and let it go, accepting the gift from her to slit the envelope and open the card itself.

“No, wait, don’t—!” Felicity tried to stop him, hands rushing forward too late to stop Oliver’s fingers from popping open the folded greeting.

A plume of white burst into Oliver’s face as though a gust of wind had suddenly thrown itself into the room, bits and pieces of white, glittering confetti blockading the billionaire’s eyes.

“…open it…” Felicity belatedly completed her warning, cringing visibly at the sight of Oliver’s crisp black suit decked out with tiny white snowflakes.

“Oh, I’m – I’m so sorry,” Felicity apologized, hands holding her mouth like it might run away from her. “You… you said you wanted snow… I meant for you to open it after the party. Well after…”

Oliver closed his eyes briefly to retain his stoic image and opened them again to find Felicity worrying her bright red fingernails already. The brilliant blonde looked horrified, eyes wide and elbows almost locked together before her.

“Thank you, Felicity,” Oliver said simply, taking a moment to actually read the Christmas card and its grateful message for his party interventions before looking back up at his companion, “I appreciate you getting me this.”

“You’re welcome,” Felicity responded, the phrase nearly a question.

“I think attacking confetti is the least of my worries right now,” Oliver said as dry as a bone, the first real tease he’d made in a long time.

Felicity laughed, really laughed, with a sort of deep giggle from the back of her throat Oliver never heard before. The unexpected sound was warm and pleasant, with that same quirkiness this particular woman had always been imbued with.

“At least you aren’t giving the same kind of ridiculous stories you usually do,” Felicity commented boldly, leaving Oliver more speechless than he cared to admit.

“Ah,” Felicity instantly tried to redact her words, eyes closing tightly in mortification for her slip, “not that… you are… a liar. No, not at all. It’s just, amazing, how… creative… all of yourrrr… acquaintances arrrreee…”

The drawn out words came across even more ridiculously than Oliver could have imagined – if he imagined it, which he highly doubted. Felicity Smoak was startlingly unpredictable and unexpected in her mannerisms and reactions. How many times had she caught him off guard with her blunt honesty and quirky sarcasm since they met in October? Oliver had long since failed to keep an accurate count.

“I do have fascinating acquaintances,” Oliver nodded, lips firmed up with false realization. “Thank you. For noticing.”

“My… pleasure,” Felicity laughed low and uncomfortable through her front teeth. “Always glad to clear up a mystery for a frie-friend… friend? ah, uhm… friendly! acquaintance!”

The blonde Oliver had chosen to go to for technological expertise looked ready for the ground to swallow her whole. Had the billionaire not seen his mother turning slightly, he would have spent more time reassuring his go-to IT.

As it was, he still couldn’t leave it all to sit so oddly between them.

“As I said… you’re remarkable, Felicity,” Oliver settled for, adding a tiny smile that belied his acceptance of the blonde’s many verbal slips. Moira nearly turned around, her eyes practically approaching Oliver and his very female company…

“Of course, thank you,” Felicity ended their talk quietly and far more calmly.

Moira turned back around at someone’s new greeting, and Oliver exhaled softly in relief.

“You’re welcome,” he nodded once at Felicity, blue eyes reassuring under the social mask.

Nodding once in return with a mild smile tightening over her teeth, the blonde turned awkwardly around towards the rest of the party, ready to head into the nearby crowd.

Out of the blue, without a warning, Oliver spoke as carelessly as Felicity often did.

“We’re hosting a party at the mansion this Friday,” he nearly blurted out, stunned by his own barefaced suggestion.

Felicity whirled around in equal shock, eyes wide and wondering behind her glasses and red lips slightly parted.

“I know it’s technically a Christmas party,” he was able to recover a little, but still didn’t know quite how to move forward with the offer.

“Well, it’s a personal family party, so… that… makes sense,” Felicity appeared to recover herself a bit as well, slowly working through what precisely Oliver was saying underneath it all.

“Would you like to come?” Oliver pushed the words out, stamping out his hesitation. Felicity could be trusted and he had already put it on the line; may as well finish it.

“I… well… that’s nice of you,” the blonde managed, eyes still wide blue pools staring up at Oliver. “Why would you want—”

Oliver cut across the IT expert’s doubts with a wave of confidence he didn’t expect to feel as an idea washed over him, “You’ll see snow to rival the whitest of Christmases.”

“You can’t really promise anything about the weather,” Felicity smiled a little goofily, blowing out through her lips in disbelief buffered by rich amusement. “Everyone knows that.”

“Well, I can promise you snow,” Oliver swore steadily. “Come and see for yourself.”

“Oh, really?” Felicity challenged him with a light laugh. “You’re on, Mr. Qu–”

“Oliver,” he corrected immediately, head tilted sideways a moment.

“Oliver,” edited Felicity quickly, eyes thoughtful and struck by recollection all at once. “Point being… I accept.”

“Good,” Oliver concluded easily. “The party starts at six.”

“All right,” Felicity said in a mix of quiet and some shyness, already stepping back as though she wasn’t entirely sure how to end the moment they became so caught up in.

“I’ll see you there,” Oliver ended it more conclusively for the awkward blonde, tapping the card she had given on her red-capped shoulder.

Moira Queen never turned around and Oliver walked away feeling gloriously successful for the first time in many years.

My stories and story prompts can be found on the page called The Written Word on my blog.

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Please send this on    Maybe someone will contact her and she deserves to be recognized by those she helped  Natanya The Wartime Rescue You’ve Never Heard About, Told by the 100-year-old Jewish Woman Who Led It

In March 1941, a young Swedish nurse called Ilse Ganz Koppel helped escort 60 Jewish children from Stockholm to Mandatory Palestine. Now she is sharing her story for the first time

Ilse Ganz Koppel in her apartment in a retirement community outside of Jerusalem, July 2019.Emil Salman

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On a cold morning in March 1941, when it was still very much winter in Sweden and Hitler was gaining ground across Europe, a 22-year-old nurse named Ilse Ganz Koppel boarded a train in her hometown of Stockholm together with 60 Jewish refugee children. Along with three other adult chaperones, they set out over land and sea toward British Mandatory Palestine.

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“Everybody was engaged to help. You don’t know what it is to have a Nazi regime around you,” says Ganz Koppel, who at the age of 100 has decided to publicly share her account of the dangerous rescue mission that took 16 nerve-fraying days and covered some 3,500 miles (5,630 kilometers).

Ganz Koppel grew up in a prominent Jewish family in the Swedish capital, part of a 7,000-strong community. Many, including Ganz Koppel’s parents, were involved in refugee aid and relief work for their fellow European Jews. She says her father supported her taking on the mission. Most of the community stayed in Sweden, hoping the country’s neutrality would keep them safe despite fears of a possible German invasion.

She recalls that the children, who had arrived in Stockholm through Copenhagen from Germany, Poland, Austria and what was then Czechoslovakia, were sent by parents desperately hoping this would be their way to safety. Their route first took them to Haparanda in the northern reaches of Sweden, then to Helsinki and Leningrad (now Saint Petersburg), and then southward to Odessa. From there, they crossed the Black Sea by boat, stopping in a Bulgarian port before sailing to Istanbul. They then took a train through Syria and Lebanon. When they finally disembarked in Beirut, cars were waiting to take them to kibbutzim inside the areas of Jewish settlement in Mandate Palestine.

Standing under 5 feet (1.5 meters) tall, with snow-white hair, Ganz Koppel is remarkably agile for 100. She walks briskly despite her slight frame. Speaking from her apartment in a retirement community outside of Jerusalem, she can recall some of the memories with especially sharp detail. In each new country, she says, their group had to disembark and apply for travel visas in order to pass through it. She recalls the Finns being “very unfriendly” to the children, making them empty out the contents of their backpacks onto a big table at the customs office for inspection. She says it was painful watching them pull out “the very dear things from their parents, including photos and personal things … they had their whole lives in their bags.”

There was also a close call in Bulgaria. Ganz Koppel says that when they reached the port (she cannot remember the name of the city), she and the other chaperones noticed Nazi soldiers patrolling the docks. They quickly told the children to stay inside the boat so they would not be seen. She remembers too how relieved she was when their boat was not inspected by the Nazis and they were able to continue on to Istanbul.

A young Ilse Ganz Koppel (date and location of picture unknown).Emil Salman

She remembers the youths — in her memory, they were mostly in their early teens but there were younger children as well — as being strikingly stoic, with no tears and an understanding of how dire the situation was. “They knew exactly what they were doing,” she says.

“The children were unbelievable, nice, thankful and grown-up. And they were [just] children, and they helped each other,” she recounts.

As for herself, she reflects, “I had the responsibility for these kids — I could not be scared.”

Intensities of life

Just before commencing the trip, Ganz Koppel married Hans Schuman, one of the three other adults accompanying the youngsters. She did not know him before the fake marriage, but needed to share his resident status in Mandatory Palestine in order to legally travel there. She recalls that the two other adults were doctors.

After accompanying the children on the arduous journey, Ganz Koppel could no longer get back to Sweden, as she had initially planned. Many borders had since closed because of the war and she ended up staying here. Already a specialist in X-ray technology, she would go on to help establish the X-ray department at Afula’s Haemek Hospital and later worked at Tel Hashomer Hospital (now Sheba Medical Center).

A portrait of members of the Ganz Koppel family, including Ilse on the left.Emil Salman

The intensities of life quickly took over, she says. She lost contact with Schuman after the trip ended, went on to marry twice and was widowed both times. She has no children but does have stepchildren and step-grandchildren from her second marriage. She didn’t stay in touch with the children she brought over, who today would be in their 80s and 90s. She hopes this article might help connect her to some of them before she dies.

Ganz Koppel says the person who raised the funds and helped arrange this rescue mission was Eva Warburg, a member of Stockholm’s Jewish community and also a family friend. In fact, Warburg is known for overseeing the efforts to bring hundreds of European Jewish children to the Jewish community in pre-state Israel.

Warburg’s work was part of a wider undertaking of the Youth Aliyah organization to bring over Jewish children and teenagers in the Mandate period. Historian Orna Keren-Carmel, a specialist in Scandinavian history at the Hebrew University, says the trip Ganz Koppel describes would almost certainly have been part of these Youth Aliyah endeavors, which brought several hundred Jewish youths out of Europe, including through Denmark and Sweden. Even though by 1941 Denmark had been conquered by the Nazis, the occupation was unique for most of its duration in that it allowed free passage — even for Jews — through the country into neighboring neutral Sweden.

Keren-Carmel, whose doctoral thesis is on the rescue of Danish Jewry during World War II, is not familiar with the specific journey Ganz Koppel describes. But she and other historians say there were several such missions. The Jewish refugee children would usually first spend time on farms in Denmark, undergoing agricultural training to prepare themselves for new lives on kibbutzim. “This solved two problems: It saved Jewish youth from their home countries; and prepared them for farming work until they got visas to come to the Yishuv,” she says, using the term for the Jewish community in Mandatory Palestine.

She says the trip led by Ganz Koppel in 1941 would have been one of the last chances to get out of Europe. Soon after, successive borders stated to close, making such a journey impossible.

The historian adds: “These initiatives show there were people then who understood what was happening and how critical it was to get the youth out, and that even in these last moments that it was possible, so people were able to save lives. They managed to take action.”

A portrait shot of the Ganz Koppel family (date unknown), with Ilse on the right.Emil Salman

The Swedish connection

The Youth Aliyah’s Stockholm branch, led by Warburg, operated out of her parents’ home, says Pontus Rudberg, a historian and expert in Swedish Jewish history who is currently a post-doctoral research fellow at Sweden’s Uppsala University.

German-born Warburg was the daughter of Fritz Warburg, one of the heirs to M. M. Warburg & Co., the famous Hamburg bank. She left Germany for Sweden in 1938; after that November’s Kristallnacht, she immediately became involved in the relief efforts of Stockholm’s Jewish community.

After the Night of Broken Glass, Rudberg says that Jewish community leaders persuaded the Swedish government — which had been highly restrictive toward admitting Jewish refugees into the country — to create a quota for 500 Jewish refugee children. Most of them arrived in 1939. Warburg arranged for a collective home for some of these children in the Swedish countryside, where they were educated and taught life skills in preparation for their resettlement in Mandatory Palestine.

One group of 50 children arrived from the Baltic states in March 1940, on specially chartered planes. From Stockholm they were taken to Copenhagen, then Amsterdam, and then by train to Marseille. From there, they journeyed to Mandate Palestine by boat. Another group traveled through Finland, Russia, Turkey and Syria to reach Palestine. All of these groups escaped thanks to the efforts of Eva Warburg.

“The difficulties in obtaining visas to travel through these countries were enormous,” Rudberg says.

The children Ganz Koppel led out of Europe would have been either part of this quota or been allowed to temporarily pass through Sweden.

Undated black and white file photo showing Sweden's envoy to Nazi-occupied Hungary, Raoul Wallenberg, who saved tens of thousands of Hungarian Jews from being sent to concentration camps.AP

Complicated neutrality

Both Rudberg and Keren-Carmel acknowledge that Sweden’s role in World War II was complicated.

Like the other Scandinavian countries it declared itself neutral at the outbreak of the war, but unlike the others managed to hold onto this status — although it did give Germany some concessions in order to stay out of the war. After Norway and Denmark were invaded in April 1940, Sweden let the Nazis transport their troops on its railways and through its territorial waters. It also sold its much sought-after iron ore to Germany. But at the same time, it helped the Allies through intelligence-sharing and espionage. And once the threat of a German invasion passed, it started to cooperate even more with the Allies and participate in humanitarian efforts.

“This was, of course, partly opportunistic, as they had given concessions to the Germans and they needed goodwill from the Western Allies. But the public opinion in Sweden toward Germany had gradually shifted with the German invasion of the Scandinavian neighboring countries and increasing knowledge about German brutality,” Rudberg explained in an email.

The deportation of Norwegian Jews in November 1942 is considered the definitive turning point, because people in Sweden saw them as fellow Scandinavians. The deportation deeply upset the Swedes.

Toward the end of the war, Sweden also assisted with the rescue efforts in Budapest spearheaded by Raoul Wallenberg, the brave young Swedish diplomat who is believed to have saved tens of thousands of Hungarian Jews from being sent to concentration camps. And in 1945, Sweden helped rescue some 15,000 prisoners from Nazi concentration camps and brought them back to Sweden to recover as part of the so-called White Buses operation.

By 1945, there were some 200,000 war refugees in Sweden, Keren-Carmel says.

She was moved to hear the account of Ganz Koppel’s journey, which comes to light 78 years after the events themselves.

“People have these stories. But if they don’t share them, their stories vanish,” Keren-Carmel says. She encourages others who have not shared their accounts to do so through the Yad Vashem Holocaust memorial in Jerusalem.

“We are dealing with something so massive: the Holocaust and World War II,” she says. “As long as people are alive, new stories will come out that people should know about.”

Dina Kraft

Haaretz Contributor

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