#cold chain distribution

[mghyangoon]

Myanmar Golden Heart isn't just a logistics expert; they're a champion of freshness. Their innovative cold chain distribution ensures your perishable goods reach their destination perfectly chilled. Utilizing state-of-the-art cold storage and transportation, they guarantee quality and extend shelf life. Trust Myanmar Golden Heart for a stress-free cold chain solution.

[metamatar]

$200k seems like quite a reasonable cost for a small sterile lab. It's not a plan to make it at home, it's a plan to make it in your town. As of now, there are so few insulin plants that the economies of scale aren't optimal for distribution (but they are for profits!)

did you miss the part that it was speculative? that it has never been demonstrated? also no, the economies of scale are fine for distribution cold chain distribution it is a solved problem. people aren't struggling to get insulin bc it can't be delivered, they're struggling bc its expensive.

im not sure you understand what economies of scale means, it means when you try to do things at larger scale – you are generally able to deploy productive technologies and innovations in organisation (specialisation) which make things easier to produce (less labour and capital input) on average. things become cheaper to produce. it is cheaper to weave cloth at a factory than in a loom you install in your backyard. that's why open insulin can only hypothetically get a vial down to the price of for profit insulin in the uk. big pharma is able to profit from insulin at 7 dollars a vial, ie it's even cheaper to produce. this is like, adam smith pin example.

the existence of a big factory or doing things at scale doesn't create destructive megaprofits... this is such a bizarre worldview of the world. you have to make a very sophisticated argument to prove this, which imo is immediately debunked by the reality of worker organised cooperatives in factories or even state run industrial production. profit tends to be a function of factors like labour relations + market dynamics like supply, demand and competition. us healthcare sucks bc your workers don't have rights, private insurance colludes with hospitals and competitors and the govt doesn't regulate pharma companies who are providing an inelastic good (medicine.)

also addressing this bc some people are mad at me but the only part of my argument that cites a piece hosted on RAND corp is the extremely high price of US insulin compared to every other country in the world. its like 30x. i don't think that is a fact that's a capitalist conspiracy, the data can be confirmed with other sources too, it just illustrates how dysfunctional US healthcare is. like, when your enemies agree...

[solarpunkbusiness]

The CoolCycle Project is the combined effort of Youth Sustainable Development Network and KAMIM Technologies, led by Damilola Hamid Balogun and Adekoyejo Kuye.

The CoolCycle Project repurposes parts from disused generators to create affordable, energy-efficient solar-powered cooling systems, addressing generator waste and cooling needs to transform waste into wealth for Nigerian farmers.

The cold storage systems will be deployed at farm clusters, first-mile distribution/ aggregation centres, local markets and other critical points across the food supply chain. This solution simultaneously tackles post-harvest losses and environmental challenges associated with end-of-life generators.

[myfavlinkistwilight]

Okay, so I've been writing this fanfiction where the chain meets villain versions of themselves, and I I just love them so much, so here is my villainAU chain!!

Gloom/ Villain Twilight

As his name suggests he's a rather gloomy soul, serious, and vicious in combat. He's tall, with a mask that Feral gave him, and with heavier tattoos than Twilight, though not overboard. He's an assassin, though mostly working for Gen, as he's not one to be hired easily. He uses his wolf dorm quite a bit, as nobody would suspect him for any maulings, and he can get away faster. He despises Azure for hurting someone he cared about, and hopes to one day get his revenge on the man. He doesn't hate the royal family as much as most, having interacted the least with them, but still considers them dirt scum, and even assassinated one of the princesses. While Twilight is kind and steady, Gloom is cold and rude at times, however if he cares about someone, then there's nothing he wouldn't do to keep them safe. Most wanted ranking #3

Feral/ Villain Wild

Anybody would say if Wild were a villain, he'd be an arson, and thats very true in this case. He doesn't hate the royal family nearly as much as the others believe, and even might kinda like some of them... While some may break laws for survival, or for revenge, he does it for fun. His strange obsession with lighting things on fire usually ends up with mad dashes from forests so that the group doesn't burn with it, but usually he tries to resist. His redeeming trait is that he can cook, and quite well for their standards, though he burns almost every dish, and only really can make two dishes. With an illegally smuggled fire rod from Tetrad, his job became a lot easier, much to Glooms chagrin. While Wild is honest and brave, Feral is unreliable and shifty, though is good for a joke. Most wanted ranking #6

Tetrad/ Villain Four

Out of the whole group, along with Hyrule, he is the one who doesn't want to hurt people in his feud with the royal family. So, he smith's, and smuggles illegal items to sell on the black market. Often times he buys from Myth to resell stolen wares, though many things he creates himself and distributes. He extremely dislikes the royal family, and if anyone were to start a coup, you could bet he'd support it with his stocks. Very mature, and with a business mindset, he's likely also the least loyal to the rest of the villains, and is the least morally skewed. While Four has strong common sense and loyal, Tetrad can be a bit greedy, and if paid enough, maybe he'd be willing to switch sides... Most wanted ranking #8

Myth/ Villain Legend

He is one of the ones who hates the royal family the absolute most. After they cut off supplies to his home island, despite all the hero work he did for them, he grew resentful. Having to watch someone close to him slowly starve without being able to do much, he wanted to take away from the royal family. Deep down inside he was never blood thirsty or a killer, so he stole. From the two years, it's estimated he stole over seven million rupees worth of stuff from their armory, treasury, and general palace. Most of which he has stored up or sells to Tetrad or his friend Ravio. A master thief, he's high on the wanted list, and has never been seen stealing, except once by a certain hero... While Legend is sharp and good deep down, Myth is hardened with tribulations, and rather callous to others. Most wanted ranking #4

Realm/ Villain Hyrule

He holds almost no personal resentment for the royal family. But hearing the hardships from Myth, he questioned if he was on the wrong side. He decided to join Myth on his stealing ventures, helping pull off nearly impossible stunts, like stealing princess Dusk's rapier, and princess Flora's slate. Desperate to prove himself to his friend, he's willing to go to far lengths to prove his worth, as often times he feels he doesn't belong in their group. He eventually was good friends with Feral, and the two got into many scandals. He's by far the most trusting and innocent of the group, but not naive. While Hyrule is humble and reliable... so is Realm! *gasp* Most wanted ranking. N/A

Gen/ Villain Time

He holds the most resentment out of all of them for the royal family. Having been exploited and used for their purposes as an orphaned kid, they experimented with magic, trying to lasso time itself. Instead, he ended up as a kid in an adults body. The project was called off, and he was given a small fund of compensation. Fueled by a want of revenge, he plunged into the underworld, and with ruthless measures became a crime lord. Known from the petty thieves to the blood thirsty killers, his reach is everywhere. He has knowledge of much, and his plans involve over throwing the royal family, though that would come in due time... having pitied Twilight, he mentored him and occasion hires him to take out competition. While Time is mature and wise, Gen is rather immature, and manipulative. Most wanted ranking, #2

Azure/ Villain Sky

Likely the most different from his counterpart, Azure is a blood thirsty killer. Many said his heart died with princess Sun, which may as well be true as that triggered his first mass murder. Having no goals, instead to kill anyone he wanted, his sanity is questionable. On his figure he wears a torn bloodstained clothe around his neck like a cape, a gift from his lover. He hates Gloom with a loathing, and the two cannot be left alone or he may snap and attack the man. He hates the royal family for their lack of response for the death of his lover, and partially blames them for it. He's a talented musician though, his harp playing a soothing melody. While Sky is gentle and joyful, Azure is unstable and sadistic. Most wanted ranking #1

Legion/ Villain Warriors

Holding a large grudge against the royal family, his most famous move is the attempted coup of the royal family. It is said he managed to get the princesses at sword point, but was convinced by an old friend to spare them. He now considers it a moment of disgrace, and works as a mercenary, doing jobs for money. He eventually met Gust, taking to him like a younger brother, and funding the boy's pirate crew. He's intelligent and a genius in strategy, the main reason the group managed to evade the royal family for so long. He can kill very casually, and isn't afraid to get a job done. He was once revered as a military leader, he felt disposed of when the royal family forced him to retire after a war many considered to be his fault. While Warriors is prideful and charismatic, he's rather blunt, but still prideful lol. Most wanted ranking #5

Gust/ Villain Wind

Just a young lad, yet having been through as much as most of the other villains, he's a bit unhinged at time. He hates any and all authority, but will listen to Gen, as he looks up to and adores the man. Deeply tanned with scars that tell of his trials, and a hook he wears because he thinks it makes him look cool, his time of being a pirate have worn on him. While he travels with his friends, his friend Tetra watches their group. He doesn't despise most of the royal family, though thinks they are annoying. When his home island was in trouble he needed to save it himself by grouping with a pirate crew. After being chastised by the royal family, he decided to screw them and join a pirate crew. An absolute menace on the seas, he raids any royal ship, surprisingly successful often. He will raid villages if he needs food, but that's it. While Wind is outgoing and care-free, Gust is unhinged, but surprisingly thoughtful at times. Most wanted ranking #6

hehe, doubt anyone will see this, but I've been thinking about them alot...

[zeroducks-2]

I love your new ask chart you made—How does 30, X, and Sladick sound??

Hi guys ♥♥ thank you so much! I hope you don’t mind that you got lumped together!

30. Tortured together + C. “Let me have this one” + X. “It’s so cold” - Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson

(TW: blood, non-graphic torture, needles, long post)

Dick dangles from his chains like a dead body would, not an ounce of strength in his arms and not the faintest attempt of balancing on the balls of his feet; he just hangs heavily and Slade feels like a part of himself is seeping out of him at the same rate as the kid’s heart pumps blood out of his wounds. 

Slade hadn’t initially been worried about his own capture. Not the first time it happens, likely not the last. He has a lot of enemies with a lot of resources, he’s been held captive by superheroes and supervillains alike and he knows he’ll get out. But then they brought in Nightwing, bloody and battered to the point of being hard to tell it was actually him, but Slade would recognize him even if he was zipped up in a body bag. They hung him by the wrists to that cross-like structure, not unlike the one Slade is strapped to, and a registered voice announced that watching the boy die was going to function as retribution for the blood Slade had spilled. They provided names and surnames of who the blood actually belonged to, but it’s not like it mattered anyway.  

It’s against Slade’s protocol to show that he cares about a hostage, but it doesn’t look like he needs to show anything here; he and Dick have been kept close, so close in fact that Slade has been able to pick up the way the kid’s breathing and heartbeat change, the subtle glances Dick has been sending him from time to time, and even the smallest twitches and jerks his body made as he kept taking beatings and pain. 

It’s been… a while. Slade is not sure how long. They douse both of them with icy cold water every once in a while, but there doesn’t seem to be a pattern. They never unbind their arms and a needle taped to Slade’s arm constantly pumps him full of a foul dark thing which inhibits his metagene, takes away his strength and keeps his head foggy enough he can’t think of a plan… but. But his healing factor hasn’t been inhibited entirely, and his skin has been slowly but consistently pushing the needle out while regenerating. It is out now, still hidden by the tape, and Slade is sobering up and his strength is returning, soon he will manage to break free of those chains. But he doesn’t know when “soon” is exactly going to be, and right now Dick is dying. 

Someone walks in and it’s like they know exactly what is happening because they are uncapping a syringe, dangerously looking at Dick while they’re at it.

«I suppose you would want to say something to him.» The young man announces, regarding Slade with an emotionless expression like whatever was alive and vibrant inside of him just withered off at some point. «You robbed me of saying goodbye to my father and sister. But I’m not like you, and I will grant you the chance to say goodbye.»

Slade remembers that contract. He won’t focus on the details now but it was a nasty business… the sister in question was a chemist selling her produce to the highest bidder, which then distributed it to various drug lords of three major cities of the east coast. The father was… a collateral victim. It doesn’t really matter now, he’s killed very many people for very many reasons anyway.

«So, any last words you want him to hear?» The boy insists, eyeing an unconscious Dick for a brief moment. «He might not actually hear them, but he’s going to be dead soon. You might as well try.»

Oh, they’re just trying to humiliate him, Slade knows. This is not compassion. «I don’t have anything to say to him. I have something to say to you.» He comments in the flattest tone he can manage. «Let me have this one. He’s been tortured enough while I have barely been touched. I won’t die with that injection, you and I both know this… it is going to hurt me though, a lot. Give it to me.»

«You don’t understand, Wilson. I want you to watch him die. You’ll-»

«You’re a chemist too. Just like your sister.» Slade insists, sharpening his eye. «You know this will not kill me if you inject me. It’ll just make the torture longer and more painful, which is exactly what you want.»

The young man seems to consider, or anyway uses some more precious seconds to think about it. «And why would you want to prolong the torture. You know both you and him are not going to get out of this alive.» He turns to Dick again, then back to Slade. «If I were you I’d just allow him to stop suffering now.»

«Because,» Slade licks his lips, they’re chapped but his mouth is as dry as it can be, so the gesture doesn’t yield much. «As long as he breathes I can hope that you will change your mind and let him go. And I’d prefer to hope for one more day.»  

Something shifts in the boy’s expression, and the dull emptiness of his eyes grows anguished for a moment. «This might actually kill you.» He says and tilts the syringe. «It probably will. I am indeed a chemist but my sister was the genius, and this toxin she crafted could flat-line any meta.» He takes one small step towards Slade. «Do you still want it?»

«Yes.» Slade replies, not even startled by how he didn’t really need to think about it for a fraction of a second. 

«Are you sure? He’s most likely going to die anyway. And I’m not letting him go even after you’re dead, Wilson.»

«Just give me the goddamn injection, boy.» Slade hisses between gritted teeth, muscles flexing in the restraints that don’t break, he doesn’t have his strength yet. «Come on.»

There’s a beat of silence, then another. Then the young man nods, very vaguely but he still does, and lifts the syringe more while taking another step towards Slade. The idea of watching him die a very painful death has to be too enticing, exactly as Slade was hoping. And then Dick is raising his head, his only visible eye open wide, something wild in the bloodshot and blue. In the quickest, most fluid moment Slade has ever seen he pulls his lower body up like he had no weight, and locks both legs around their captor’s neck, yanking him back and away from Slade. 

«No!» The mercenary yells as the struggling man chokes, digging nails into Dick’s thigh with one hand, and trying to stab him with the syringe with the other. But before he can manage there’s the telltale dull crack of bones snapping, then his arms grow limp and fall down, and then both him and Dick drop. The latter is still dangling from his bindings while the former hits the ground with a thud, his neck bending unnaturally. 

It takes five more minutes for Slade’s strength to return, enough so he can break free of his own restraints. He’s still way weaker than he should, his muscles are numb from lack of use. He forces them to work anyway.

«Talk to me, Grayson.» He grunts as he holds the kid to the chest after breaking his restraints as well, forcing himself to give a quick check to his wounds and patch up the most severe ones, or Dick isn’t going to survive their escape. There’s a muted mumble in response but Slade hears it anyway, and he thinks Dick just said they should be on a first name basis at this point. He snorts despite himself but it sounds choked like he was about to cry. «We have been for a while now, haven’t we…» He replies, stripping pieces of the dead man’s shirt for makeshift bandages, making sure Dick’s wounds stop bleeding. «You need to stay with me now, kid. Can you do that?»

Dick nods. His face is swollen, cut and bruised, he’s barely recognizable, and Slade prevents himself from holding him too tight because his kid is in so much pain already. He should really stop feeling like crying, though. «Talk to me.» He repeats, carefully pulling a black lock from Dick’s forehead. 

«’s so cold.» The other murmurs through split and chapped lips, and Slade doesn’t manage to stop himself any longer and hugs him to his chest, his body is indeed so cold. He’s lost so much blood. 

«I know, little bird.» He says to the side of Dick’s head, breathing in and out and pulling himself together. «Let’s get the hell out of here.»

Here's the ask game! Feel free to prompt me again or reblog it yourself.

[sychosid]

I've prayed enough, I rolled the dice

“Hangman” Adam Page/Swerve Strickland

[Ao3 Link]

Adam meets a strange man, unfamiliar to him. And then he remembers.

The Moon Doesn’t Mind.;Love Me Like You Used To.

It started with a search for a man, who he loved.

He loved him so much that he took a part of him and swallowed it and it became one with him. And he took that part of him and loved it and cherished it so much. That their blood became one. Acid melting the blood, distributing it through his body. The sweet taste of iron had stayed on his tongue and never quite left.

His eternal love had gone somewhere, and he needed to find him.

Driving with the moon by his side into an endless night.

—

The halls of the recording studio were empty, save for a faint light at the end of the hall. He watched a red light flicker off as he stepped in further. There were multiple doors down the hall he was walking, one notably labeled “RECORDING: DO NOT DISTURB.” He figured that was likely one of the actual recording studios.

The sound of dress shoes clicking on tile grew louder, until there was the silhouette of a man at the end of the hall. He had a cowboy hat on, and what Hangman could make out as a suit. Some deep, dark color. Green, maybe? A rather short man, he must’ve been about 5’5” if he had to wager a guess.

“Ah, our esteemed guest! Welcome! How are you doing?” The man spoke, in that strange accent. It was a genuine attempt at being a country accent, crossed with something Mid-Atlantic. Still on the back end was something a bit more Northeast, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’m uh…lost.” Hangman feels out of his depth as he looks around.

“Lost…” The man hums, tapping his chin. His hair was somewhere between waves and curls, dark brown like the bark of a tree in the night. “Well, maybe you can consider yourself found now.”

“Can…I?” He grit his teeth into something like a smile. His confusion was mounting and his palms were getting sweaty. Nervousness overtook him like an animal realizing it was prey. He didn’t want to be found, not like this. Not by whoever this was.

“...No, but you’ll get there.” The man gave a sad smile, like the melancholy of someone’s favorite childhood candy after years of never having it, when it doesn’t quite taste right anymore. Maybe the recipe changed, or maybe you have. “C’mon now, let’s talk inside. These halls are a little dreary aren’t they?”

Hangman had to agree. A feeling of unease stuck to him in these hallways, like there was something hiding. Waiting. Watching. That if he stepped through the wrong door he’d end up in the wrong place. Go somewhere he shouldn’t go.

There were dim green lights glowing through a door they passed, that he stopped to stare at. It was strange. It reminded him of something, maybe a long time ago. A trip north. Strange lights… Aurora Borealis? Or something else? Was it north, or out west? He remembered dense trees.

His head hurt, and this was as far as his memory was allowing him.

The man whistled, and he was properly snapped from his thoughts. Hangman stepped down the hall that felt like it kept expanding in front of him. No amount of steps felt like enough, until he finally reached the end of the hall where the man was standing.

Hangman barely notices that his own hands have been clutching the chain that was hanging around his shoulders. It was a cold burn, but somehow comforting. Grounding must’ve been a better word.

“Well, come on in.” The man stepped towards a door, pulling it open and leading Adam inside.

It was a small radio station. At least that’s what Hangman thought it was. He’d only seen them on TV, in movies and shows, and this one looked an awful lot like one in a horror movie he watched when he was way too young.

A song was playing.

“I have traveled many miles, I don’t wanna walk no more”

It was familiar, a song that inspired the feeling of being out on a road. On the way to a long lost lover.

Suddenly, Hangman was crouching on the floor. His head swam with the face of a man, handsome and almost brooding, a smile that was both sinister and earnest. Blood shared, swapped even. Veins that ran ice cold in the middle of the night, upon finding the bed next to him empty.

“Love me like you used to And I'll praise you like I should Love me if you choose to Though you say that I'm no good I dream most every night that I never left you”

He found himself muttering the line that played next, like a prayer on his lips.

“Do you love me anymore? Does my memory remain?”

There were dark skies, in his visions. A lake, vast and wide, pitch black like a deep grave. Something made to hide something forbidden and old, that should not have been awoken. Who fell in first?

Should he be dead?

—

It was a long, dusty road, in the middle of a never ending desert. Down from the mountains he had come, a journey from the highest grounds to the lows, stretched out roads of the mesa. He wasn’t even sure where he was at this point, the moon his constant companion. Hangman…no, Adam Page, couldn’t tell you when the last time he saw the sun was. It was unreasonable that he could make it so far out West into the desert from the mountains of Appalachia all in one night, but that was what had happened.

From winding roads and blind turns to a straight shot into the merciless and endless night. There was an odd twinkle in the sky, something off color. He peered over the steering wheel, over the dashboard, seeing a large twinkling green star among the galaxy that lit his way.

The next thing he noticed was a roadside stand. A small black tent, that could’ve been easily missed if the sky wasn’t lit up by stars. Adam slowed his car, to a stop in front of the stand. There was a little banner that read ‘Free Fortune Telling’, and a single woman sitting at one of those fold out tables with a fancy velvet table cloth over it. Adam could kind of make out the details of some of the embroidery, it looked to be some space pattern.

The woman was definitely one of those people into goth stuff. At least that’s what Adam guessed, from the thick black hair, the blunt bangs, the black silk dress complimented by lace gloves and what must’ve been a black and brown wool shawl. Although under the shadow of the tent, it was hard to make out.

She had some piercings too, and heavy makeup.

Pretty.

“Take a seat, sir.” She smiled at him, gesturing with her palm up to the wooden seat firmly set in the sand. He obliged.

The wood creaked under his weight.

“You’re looking for someone.” She said. Adam noticed that she was shuffling a deck.

“Yea. I am.” He nodded. It didn’t startle him that she knew.

“You’ll be lost soon.” She put a card down on the table, right from the top of the deck. It was a tarot card, he assumed. He could barely make it out. It seemed to be…

“The Five of Cups.” She answered the unasked question. She put down another card. This one, Adam recognized.

“The Wheel of Fortune.” They said in unison, the woman smiling.

“You have a fate you can’t escape. You can’t control it. But the cycle will restart, and you’ll be at the start again.”

“Will I keep cycling?” He asked.

The woman put down another card. He could barely tell but it seemed to be upside down. At least the text was. There were daggers on it.

“The Ten of Swords. Reversed, I mean. It’ll end. It has to end. When you’re at the bottom, you kind of only can climb up right?”

“Unless you have a shovel.”

They stared at each other for a moment, before both laughing.

“Fair, but you’re no undertaker. I know that much.”

“No ma’am, I am not.”

“You should go now. Putting off the inevitable just makes it worse.”

“Fair enough.” He stood up, stretching as he did. The only thing keeping him warm was the wool lined denim jacket. He could feel the harsh cold even through his jeans.

“Oh, and Adam?”

“Yeah?”

“Look out for the chain.”

—

“I gotta get out of here.” Hangman, – no, Adam – declares.

“Wait!” The man was still there. “Before you go…would you mind picking out the next song we’re gonna play? Get your message out, you know?”

“…Sure.” Adam nodded. He stood up, the weight of the chain on his neck lighter than it had been earlier. He wraps it around his hand idly as the man drags over a case of tapes and records.

“Your pick.”

Adam looks through the box, knowing exactly what he wanted to play. His message to that man. His long-lost love. The sound of plastic shuffling and clacking together fills the studio.

“This one.” He hands a small cassette that was buried at the bottom of the bin.

“Good pick. You sure you don’t want one of them about meeting?”

“I can’t force my fate…not this time, at least. He needs this message more.” Adam offers a wry smile, which is met by a solemn nod from the man.

“Well…you know the way out. I got a show to run.”

“Never caught your name. Sorry, bad habit of mine.”

“Oh don’t worry about it. Quincy.”

“Thanks, Quincy.” Adam turns on his heel, not bothering to look back. He rounds the corner, down the dark hallway. It was less ominous. Shorter; in what felt like a few steps he was already at those heavy double doors.

With a deep breath, he held his arms out. Ready to push those doors open.

Anticipating anything to be beyond those doors.

He wasn’t even sure he’d be in the same place as he was. Or the same time.

It didn’t matter. Only he mattered.

His love. He’d find him.

And finally he pushed those doors open, into the unknown, a man with a renewed purpose and a path to follow.

Hangman Adam Page knew what he was looking for, finally.

[stellari-s]

🍨

request; kind of - a friend gave me a prompt "ice cream" and i wrote something based off of that. requests open!

wc; around 1 440.

tags; cozy vibes i think, x gn! doctor! reader, spontaneous pov changes, ⚰️ is a secondary character, 4am writing (you've been warned).

summary; you run into a boy named ithaqua and while giving him treatment, you give him some ice cream...

to people who don’t know, the cold should be a sign. if it feels cold anywhere, it’s always a sign of something to come, for better or worse, just as pain lets the body know there was something wrong. it is the first sign of winter and a chilly calm before a blizzard.

some people are used to this cold, while others - any normal person would naturally want to shiver. if one shivers, there is no need for concern, but if one is simply used to constant coldness, then it’s like not feeling any pain at all, numbing to a lethal point.

footsteps imprint the pure white snow beneath, leading up to two silhouettes: one a hooded figure - you - and the other masked. you crouch beside the unconscious boy, who appears to be in his late teens or maybe early twenties, but looks are superficial and could only tell so much. you pull up the boy’s dark sleeves, enough to reveal a thin, pale wrist, before you gently pressed three fingers, enough to feel the thump, thump of the boy’s heartbeat.

it was slow - you have no clock to tell the time with, but you have dealt with enough patients to have a general feel for what a “low heart rate” is.

“how is it, (y/n)?”

another set of footsteps comes from behind. you withdraw your hands and turn around, your eyes meeting with ashy gray ones that would look lifeless to anyone who doesn’t know better. “he was probably in the cold too long. He’s unconscious but alive,” you reply, “would you mind helping me, aesop?”

in lieu of words, he only gives a slight nod, approaching you as you bring one of the boy’s arms around your shoulder, with aesop doing the same with the his other arm. with his weight equally distributed, your journey back to the small cabin where you two were residing quickly comes into sight.

there are people who want to cross the snowy area the two were just in. there is just one problem though.

in this area it is strikingly common to get ambushed. some cases, you and aesop could only find corpses lying in the snow, blood pooling from various areas, staining the white snow crimson, fingers gone blue long ago due to the cold. other times, you two managed to find those badly hurt but still alive. you were essentially being paid to treat anyone you could find who was injured.

this boy is strangely not hurt or ambushed, which had given aesop a bout of suspicion, but he understands you are a doctor - someone who cannot make choices on who is a patient and who is not due to their backgrounds.

back at the cabin, aesop makes a fire while you set the boy down on the small, simple bed.

you start treating him, just as you would any other person on any other day.

when ithaqua regained consciousness, the first thing he could see through his mask was a wooden ceiling, illuminated slightly by the fireplace nearby.

for several moments, he doesn’t move an inch, though he feels like a piece of toast that’s been cooking all day. when he turns his head to look beside him, it hits him like bricks.

there is someone beside him, but not someone he knows.

usually, it is mother who’s on the bed, chained up and unable to speak, with an inability to utter coherent words due to how despicable humans can get, but now he finds himself on the bed with a stranger leaning face down, forehead on arms.

that’s right, it’s humans like them who tried to hurt mother, the very same ones who tried to keep me away from her…

his thoughts whisper to him like an invisible demon as he walks out of bed. looking around, he can see his stilts and axe-like weapon propped up against the wall some ways away. he tries walking, but dizziness makes his head spin and his vision blurry, and he falls unceremoniously on the ground with a dull thud, loud enough to wake the stranger up.

with eyes are half-open, the stranger spends a few moments rubbing their eyes. “you’re awake,” they say, “i would advise against walking like that.”

ithaqua wants to make a quip back, but it’s hard to do so. his vision is still fluctuating a bit and his head is spinning too. he’s starting to feel a bit nauseous from the heat. “who are you?” he asks, his voice a bit robotic, unused to conversing with anyone other than mother.

“me? a humble doctor. my name is (y/n).” by this time, the doctor is fully awake as they stand. “i treat patients who get injured around this area. except you, that is.”

ithaqua tilts his head. “why would I be injured? i live around this area.”

“is that so? you’re quite brave then.”

“i have to be, or—”

he cuts himself off, realizing he was about to reveal information that the other does not need to know, nor do they seem that interested. in fact, it’s hard to read them at all. they wear a smile , but it’s neither cold nor warm.

ithaqua doesn’t know how to describe that in words though.

this time, it’s you tilting your head, but you choose not to question further, instead opting to ask, “your name?”

after a considerable pause, he replies, “just call me ithaqua.”

“that... is not your real name, is it?”

shaking his head, ithaqua stands back up. you reach to try and help him but are stopped abruptly when a claw, probably an extension of the glove he’s wearing, swipes dangerously close to your throat. “don’t touch me!” he shouts, his body trembling with what you feel is fiery anger.

at first, you stare back at him with wide eyes.

it’s the first time he has seen you with any other expression.

you quickly closes your eyes and take in a deep breath. when you opens them once again, your expression is back to that unreadable one ithaqua is most familiar with. “alright, then, i won’t touch you. let me at least get you something though.”

you back away to the table, where there’s a wooden bucket. atop of it is a type of spinner.

it doesn’t look dangerous, but it’s something ithaqua has not seen before, so he can’t help but feel suspicious nonetheless.

you remove the top part before grabbing a spoon and scooping something in a bowl.

it looks white, just like the snow outside.

when you are back beside his side, you hold out the bowl. “i’m not sure why you’re angry,” you say, “and i’m sure it’s none of my business, too, but maybe this can help calm you down a little.”

ithaqua raises a brow, but he accepts the bowl anyway. they seem really good at picking up on feelings...

the bowl feels cold to the touch, which surprises him a bit, but he doesn’t complain. the heat feels dizzying to him, so he simply eats what’s in the bowl without comment.

he was expecting it to taste like ice, but when a mildly sweet flavor hits his tongue, his face lights up behind the mask.

it’s like this little bite alone is threatening to freeze every feeling of anger and suspicion in his body and replace it with a cold sense of bliss.

but a little bite can only freeze for so long.

so he takes another bite, and another. he keeps taking small bites even when his tongue is numb from the coldness until the bowl is empty.

if this doctor isn’t here, will i never be able to eat this again?

when the bowl is gone, an idea pops into his mind.

if i bring this to mother, will she be happy too?

it’s worth a try. he is willing to do anything for her.

“i’m glad you seem to really like it,” you say from behind, breaking ithaqua out of his thoughts.

he turns back to you upon hearing your voice, holding the bowl out. “seconds,” he says, then adds as an afternote following a brief pause, “...and one more bowl.”

though the last part of his request comes out as a soft whisper, it’s not lost to your ears.

stifling a chuckle with your closed hand covering a part of your lips, you take the bowl from ithaqua’s hands while responding in turn: “as you wish.”

you are about to head to the table, but remembering something then and there, you turn back. “by the way, this is called ice cream, a cold sweet. if you ever find yourself wanting some more, you will always be welcome here.”

with that, you head over to the table, grabbing two disposable bowls from the shelf.

[mghyangoon]

Myanmar Golden Heart: Pioneering Cold Chain Distribution for Perishable Goods in Myanmar

Myanmar’s thriving agriculture industry produces plenty of fresh fruit, meat, and dairy products. However, distributing these perishable foods from fields to customers frequently faced a huge challenge: a lack of dependable cold chain infrastructure. This is where Myanmar Golden Heart comes in, establishing itself as a national leader in cold chain distribution.

The cold chain is a temperature-controlled supply network that preserves the freshness and safety of perishable foods as they travel from farm to table. This critical technology reduces spoilage and extends shelf life, lowering food waste and increasing profitability for farmers and companies alike.

Prior to Myanmar Golden Heart’s creative solutions, the existing distribution system relied heavily on ambient temperatures, resulting in considerable spoilage and product loss. This not only affected farmers’ livelihoods but also curtailed consumer access to fresh, high-quality products.

Recognizing this gap, Myanmar Golden Heart launched a quest to transform the country’s cold chain ecosystem. They invested in modern cold storage facilities strategically situated throughout Myanmar. These facilities use cutting-edge technology to maintain ideal temperatures for diverse perishable items, maintaining their freshness and quality.

Read more.https://mghdistributors.com/cold-chain-distribution/

[shinjiist]

Curious about your apocalypse au... 👀

I'll open w/ the fact that this is a zombie apocalypse AU

Characteristics of an infected individual shown below (scratched this out really fast for the purpose of this post)

Site A - constant leaking of orifaces, mostly from eyes and mouth.

Site B - destabilization of body; lesions may appear

Site C - spines growing from wounds

Site D - darkening of ink + involuntary change in chromatophores

*also not mentioned in diagram but the white in Callie's tentacles is directly related to the involuntary change in chromatophores as well as the dehydration making it impossible for inkfish to hold artificial dyes in their tentacles/ink.

I'll note (so that this au makes any amount of sense) that I hc that inkfish biology works via like. A central core crystal is the individual and that crystal controls a finite amount of ink that will function as a specific cell when necessary + inkfish are more a membrane containing this ink than like an animal constantly producing more and more ink. Like, splatting is the destabilization of the membrane due to infavorable (acidic) conditions or something like that. And the change between forms is just the stretching of this membrane, swimming is the dissolution of the membrane and the movement of the crystal itself, etc etc. Idk how factual any of that might be but that's what I'm saying.

Anyway back to the fun part, what triggers this disease to spread is a period of uninterrupted rainfall (spanning six weeks of downpour). With inkfish cities being equipped for desert conditions and unprepared for prolonged rainfall and humidity, there is a lot of flooding and a lot of moisture trapped in places that ordinarily would not encounter these conditions. This is worsened by the storm being so prolonged that the air doesn't stay cold. Resultantly, bacteria and mold grow at highly accelerated rates.

The flooding takes a long time to get under control and even begin to drain, so there is a sort of tide pool effect in the desert. Lots of microflora grow, and many oases spring up especially near Splatsville (which become tourist attractions) but there is also an explosion of microfauna.

There is a chain of events specifically responsible for the disease's creation, but that's relatively unimportant rn

Timeline-wise it's kind of like annoying trying to find a cute spot in canon for it + I think canon events r like largely negligible for the purpose of this so like idgaf I'll say right before Splat 3 events happen. I haven't written out a definitive timeline for everyone yet but I'll talk a little bit about each settlement:

Marie is by herself.

Shiver and Eight are both in Splatsville and establish a stable settlement in the city. It's based out of the subway station, and is very small. At most there are around 12 individuals and it is semi-exclusive (aka. be able to bring something to the table), though they will go out of the way to aid individual families/people they run into. Between the Splatsville settlements there are actually like genuine turf wars between settlements (fights over buildings potentially full of resources, shelter, etc) which is the reason for this exclusivity.

Frye and Big Man are both relatively off-grid, acting more to connect smaller countryside settlements. Big Man works more toward diplomacy while Frye works more toward gathering and distributing supplies, leading/overseeing most of the runs into Splatsville. Frye has her eels run notes around for her in the channels of the newly-wetlands. The other agents are also technically connected to this settlement.

Marina and Pearl established a settlement on Pearl's property as it's on a hill and relatively safe from shamblers because they cannot tolerate any amount of water (I hc that healthy inkfish can tolerate being in water if they have enough ink in their bodies; with maintaining an ink tank to fuel their weapons taking any of the ink not immediately necessary to keep an inkfish alive, this is why jumping into water splats them). This settlement is not very exclusive. There are efforts being put into studying the disease, but given Marina is a combat/computer scientist and not a doctor, the going is slow. There is also a radio signal put out every 6 hours by Marina, recited both in Inkling and Octarian.

Those r like the basics of the AU, feel free to ask questions :) I've thought about this a fair amt and have a lot of useless info lol

[rrain-writes]

Rain's LU Febuwhump: Day 26

"Help them.": Wild & Hyrule

Warnings: Blood, injury, unconsciousness, mentioned drunkenness

Hyrule gasped at the frigid rain, soaking his clothes moments after the portal above them closed. It had been an abrupt transfer, falling through the ground before being dumped in such horrible weather. He stood woozily, looking around for the rest of the chain.

He found his sword and a couple discarded rupees from his and Four’s game they’d been playing just before the switch. Apart from that there seemed to be no one in sight but-

“Wild!” He cried, spotting the champions signature tunic. The other teen lay still on the ground, red trickling down from a head injury, the blood mixing with the rain. Hyrule rolled him onto his side, just incase, and hovered his hands over Wild’s injury. He felt the comforting hum of his magic pulsing in his fingertips, then groaned at the sudden wave of nausea, head pounding. That portal was not good on him.

“Okay.” He told himself. “Okay Hyrule.”

First things first - work out where he was. Luckily, the fuzzy outline of a wall was just visible in the distance. Perfect. Next step was to get Wild over there and find help. A doctor, maybe, or a potion seller.

He shivered with the cold as he tried to remember what Warriors had taught him.

Roll them onto their back.

He cradled Wild’s head as he carefully manoeuvred him.

Hook your arms under their armpits.

Hyrule shivered from his soaked clothes as he crouched by the other teen’s head, hooking his elbows under his shoulders.

Raise them to their feet.

With a grunt of effort, Hyrule stood using his legs, moving Wild to a standing position.

Place your dominant leg between their legs.

Slightly adjusting his grip, Hyrule moved his leg between Wild’s legs, leaning his weight on it.

Grab their right hand with your left.

He crouched slightly as he grabbed Wild’s limp hand, draping it over his shoulder.

Squat down, and place them over your shoulders.

Back straight, he told himself, as he pulled Wild over, trying to keep his weight as evenly distributed as possible.

Wrap your right arm around the back of their knee.

He reached between Wild’s legs to reach behind his right knee, getting a firmer grasp on his brother. 

Stand, lifting their right thigh over your shoulder.

Hyrule stood, shuffling Wild gently to be more comfortable. Water dripped of his wet bangs, and he shook it away. “Goddesses.” He complained to himself, like the healer he was. “You only weigh like 7 apples.” Now he was able to carry the champion, Hyrule set off towards the buildings.

When he finally reached the entrance to the town, he stumbled in, searching for someone to ask for directions, or at least a sign pointing him towards the village doctor.

A young woman with a shawl wrapped over her shoulders hurried past, and Hyrule reached out, hands snagging the corner of her shawl. “Please.” He said, when she turned. “My friend needs medical attention.”

Her lip curled in disgust as she tugged herself away from him. “Get outta here boy. Don’ need no filthy wanders round ‘ere.”

The next person he found was an older man, stumbling with a bottle in hand. “Hey!” He called out. “Please, I need help!”

The man turned, and when he saw Hyrule, laughed. He slurred something drunkenly, walking over. Hyrule flinched away from his grabbing hands, and the mans face twisted. The traveller quickly made his escape.

When he came across a building larger than the other ones, he nearly tripped over himself to get to it. It looked like a village hall. Perfect, he thought to himself. Unfortunately, Hylia was not being kind to them today. The door was locked.

The teen slumped to the ground, leaning Wild against the steps with his head on Hyrule’s shoulder. He was sure there were tears mixing with the tracks the rain made down his face.

“Please.” He begged to no one, nothing. “Help him.”

[the-writer-nerd-ro]

With this one, I am finally caught up posting my Sara Pena and Hunter Richardson (Sphere) fics!

This one is a follow-up to "All's Fair in Love and Uno". Hunter's cousin game night is a concept I loved and wanted to run with so expect to see a lot more game night fics. (How many? At least four!)

Together We Shall Partake in Game

Sara was even more excited for her second official Richardson Family Game Night than the first, because this time everyone was here.

Christmas had been a good start but now was her real chance to make a good impression on Morgan and Maddox.

“You don't need to worry about it,” Hunter had told her in the Uber on the way there. “They already like you, and if it ever seems like Maddox doesn't it's just because she's argumentative and contrarian for fun. It's her hobby.”

“I know people like that,” Sara said.

“She's a good egg, though. She just likes to butt heads with people. Mostly me.”

“What about Morgan?”

“Oh, you know, she's a writer, so she's a little bit unhinged. Loves romance for everyone except herself. She told me she thought we were goals, so I think you'll get along just fine.”

“I've never been goals before,” Sara said, looking excited.

Hunter found that hard to believe. To her, Sara was the kind of girl that other girls either wanted to be or to be with.

When they got to Marian's house Sara was impressed at how meticulous everything was. The yard was perfectly mowed and weeded except for where flowers were starting to pop up.

“He's got a little herb garden and a firepit out back. In the summer when we do game night here we make S’mores.”

“Oooh, that sounds fun. Any party with S'mores is a good party.”

Hunter nodded in agreement before leaning over to ring the doorbell. She knew where the spare key was but Marian preferred it when she rang the doorbell so that he could keep the cat from getting out.

Hunter had checked beforehand that Sara was not allergic to cats, although it was incredibly unlikely that the beast would allow her to pet it.

Somehow, despite being a self-declared dog person, Marian had ended up with the meanest black cat in the history of cats. And, of course, the little beast loved Maddox.

“Hey! Welcome to the party, the food just got here.”

Sara looked around and noticed that the outside was much more fun and vibrant than the inside. Decorations were sparse and the whole place felt a little Ikea show-roomy. There was a beautiful painting of a willow tree by the door, though, with a familiar signature.

“What are we having?” Hunter asked.

“Jazzbees.”

“Zain's is better.”

“You just like their sauce,” Maddox said, entering debate mode, “everyone knows that Jazzbees is superior in every way.”

“Except for their sauce,” Hunter argued.

“Sorry that I don't go to a chicken place for the dipping sauce,” Maddox fired back.

“I like that one place that has the cayenne ranch,” Sara said unhelpfully.

“Ooh, yeah, that place has really good fried pickles,” Morgan agreed.

Sara nodded thoughtfully while the Zain's versus Jazzbees debate raged in the background.

“Some of the best in the city honestly, which you don't get very often from a chain restaurant.”

“Guys, these are all very good points but can we focus on the chicken we actually have before it gets cold instead of dreaming about pickles that we don't have?” Marian asked.

“Okay, okay, don't make a big dill about it,” Morgan joked.

The bad pun was enough to pull Maddox out of debate mode. She rolled her eyes at her sister and sat down at the table, the beast curled contentedly at her feet.

“What's your cat's name?” Sara asked as Marian distributed chicken tenders.

“Batman.”

“Oh, that's a creative name. Maybe if you ever get a bat you can name it Catwoman.”

Marian snorted. “Okay, I don't think I'll end up adopting a bat but if I do I will definitely name it Catwoman.”

Sara grinned and ate her chicken.

“What're we playing tonight?” Maddox asked after eating a handful of soggy fries.

“I was thinking Candyland.”

“Boooo,” Maddox said disapprovingly.

“What? It's thematically appropriate.”

“It's a game for babies, we're not babies.”

“You're literally five years old,” Hunter said.

Maddox stuck her tongue out at Hunter.

“Okay, fine, how about Mario's Meatball Manor?”

“Is it multiplayer?” Morgan asked.

“I wouldn't have suggested it if it wasn't multiplayer. I was watching some let's players play it the other day, and it looked fun so I picked it up at GameStop last night.”

Maddox shrugged “Aight, you're hosting, I guess we'll play your meatball game.”

“What let’s players do you watch?” Sara asked.

“If you've heard of the YouTuber/voice actor ProZD, he has a gaming channel and he's the one who played Mario's Meatball Manor.”

“Oh, I think I've heard of him, he was on Make Some Noise,” Morgan said.

“I'll have to check him out. I don't watch as many gamers as I used to, but I've been watching this one streamer and sometimes she does gaming streams.”

“Who?” Maddox asked, ready to judge Sara's coolness levels by the next words out of her mouth.

“Naruto.”

“Y'know Naruto lives near here, right? Not in the city but like an hour away,” Maddox said, decently impressed by Sara's taste in streamers.

“It's really creepy that you know that,” Hunter said.

“It's public knowledge,” Maddox said with a shrug, “though I'm not surprised you don't know that.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Hunter asked.

“You're too old and boring to know any of the cool streamers.”

“Sara is literally only two years younger than me.”

“Yeah, and much cooler. No new ground is being broken here.”

“I think Hunter is pretty cool,” Sara said.

Marian shook his head and whispered, “don’t get in the middle of it.”

“I know about streamers,” Hunter protested.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah I know that uh, that improv group. The one where that one guy died.”

“Of course you know about the funeral streamers, it’s so morbid.”

“They did the funeral stream at my funeral home,” Hunter said.

“Wait, seriously? How come you never told us?” Maddox was fascinated by this new turn of events, this was the closest anyone in her family had ever come to famous people, except sometimes Marian did landscaping for basketball players. This was much cooler than basketball players.

“It was super awkward and uncomfortable. They were crying while they were doing improv, I tried to block it out of my memory.”

“That’s fair. It was an awkward watch.”

“You watched it?”

“Of course I watched it, it went viral.”

Now it was Hunter’s turn to roll her eyes, “Zillenials.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, zoomer.”

Maddox stuck her tongue out at Hunter again, signaling the end of the argument.

“Are we going to play Mario’s Meatball Manor or were you gonna make us watch the funeral streamers?” Marian asked.

“Please don’t make me relive that,” Hunter begged.

“No, once was enough. Let’s play your meatball game.”

[a-drabble-a-dray]

1.1

Mist rolled in from the docks at the break of dawn. The growling of the motorcycle faded into silence. The woman walked out into the empty street, buttoned-up trenchcoat warding her against the chill.

She slowly scanned the road, catching glimpses of all the closed blinds and shuttered doors. She herself wouldn’t be working on a Friday morning if she could help it, but the thrill of the chase had her hooked. One last look at the cameras on the opposite side of the street was all she needed. Unbuttoning her coat, taking a step back, bracing herself, she broke into a sprint towards the chain link fence protecting the warehouse.

She couldn’t help but smile as she leapt, shoes finding just enough purchase to propel her a couple steps upward. Her hand reached the top of the fence, still wet with dew, and she vaulted over the barrier. She cast her shadow on the first sunlight of the day, coat fluttering behind her, and as her feet landed on the concrete she already began walking towards the building proper.

“Scarlet!” A voice called from behind her, thoroughly breaking her flow. “You know we have a key, right?”

“Well,” she shrugged, looking over her shoulder at her accomplice by the bike, “did you find it yet?”

He sighed, going back to rummaging through the assorted valuables she kept on her motorcycle in lieu of a helmet.

Scarlet paused, taking a deep breath. The cold sea breeze and the prospect of a solid lead were all she needed to uphold her mood, stepping forward regardless. The warehouse was silent and, according to her sources, long unused. The reports, however, contradicted the brand-new chain and padlock stuck to the weathered old door.

“Volk!” She huffed, stepping back towards the fence. “Bolt cutters.”

“...Right.” He paused, having made a mess of the mess that was already there. Fishing the cutters out, he tossed them up over the fence, and into her waiting hand. “Maybe you could cut a hole into the gate here. Before I freeze to death?” He huffed, retreating into his fur coat for warmth.

“Right, right, I–” She paused, blinking, remembering something. A hand slipped into her coat pocket, producing a small, dull key.

“...Fuck you.” Volk glared.

“Right, thanks.” She threw the key back over the fence, into the not-so-waiting hands of her associate, and made her way back.

The padlock was new, but she always made sure to keep her tools sharp. Even smaller bolt cutters like hers managed to make short work of it, and the chains went limp, only to reveal the door’s own lock was broken through.

The door creaked open, sunlight and sea breeze following Scarlet inside. The dim warehouse had a single fixture: A wooden chair at its center, upon which sat a young man, bound and gagged.

“Mmph!” He called out, eyes wide.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” Scarlet approached, wasting no time in untying the piece of cloth stuck in his mouth, despite the complications of his squirming and muffled yelling all the while. “...There you go. What’s wrong?”

He yelled out once more, breathless. “Above!”

Scarlet’s eyes flicked up, and caught the glint of seawater just in time.

The creature lunged down from the ceiling, leaping at her with sharp claws, and even sharper teeth in a horribly distorted muzzle.

She inhaled sharply, stepping back and calculating her position against its angle. Its pounce still forced her onto the floor, knocking the breath out of her lungs, but she managed to push both its paws onto her shoulders, distributing the impact as best she could. With a grimace, she managed to push a foot into its midsection, and plant another on the ground. A second away from a bite, she poured all her strength into kicking it backwards as hard as she could.

As its weight left her and she rolled back onto her feet, she saw it fly straight into the steel shutter– And right through it, as the metal seemed to rust and crumble on contact.

Scarlet caught her breath, reaching into her coat. The second the monster broke back through the shutter, however, she thought better. “Volk!”

The monster growled at her, despite sounding like it should be incapable of doing so. Its body structure was that of a dog, but its face and tail were already taking on the round, hydrodynamic shape of a shark’s, patches of fur gone and substituted by smooth skin. The green mist occasionally puffing out of its half-formed gills ran thinner by the second; this creature was by no means stable. She was on her mark’s tail, just as he was on hers.

The amalgam’s nails scratched against the concrete as it charged forward. Scarlet ran towards a wall, and away from the hostage, noting the wet, slick look of the monster’s fur. As it sprinted at her, she leapt over it, watching it skid on the floor and crash into the wall.

“What’s wrong? Slippery?” She smirked, kicking off the wall herself in order to move towards the shutter.

“Scarlet? Wh– Oh.” Volk finally stepped inside, noticing the mess.

“No time!” She huffed, careful not to slip herself on the hybrid’s trail. “Five from below!”

“Five– Got it.” Volk nodded, pulling out his lighter and stepping out of the creature’s line of sight.

Scarlet approached the shutter door, counting in her head as the creature regained its senses.

One.

She stopped on her tracks, back against the half-corroded metal, almost inviting it to attack her.

Two.

Its claws left scratches on the concrete as it picked up speed from a standstill, eyeing her hungrily.

Three.

Scarlet hopped onto the door, careful to balance on the thin metal, feeling the rust crack under her weight.

Four.

The amalgam leapt at her, with the same ferocity as the first time, and a murderous glint in its mismatched eyes.

Heh.

Volk stepped in right on cue, the runes on his right hand flashing into existence as a spear of fire shot along the ground like a firework, before rising up and exploding right under the monster. It was launched right over Scarlet’s head, and she responded by reaching out into her coat once more, this time pulling out a pair of well-worn handguns.

Two shots rang out. The monster was dead before it hit the ground outside.

Scarlet stood still for a second, before the tension leaked out of her, practically leaking out of her pores. Almost like… She blinked, stepping away from the door, as the corpse began deflating in a large cloud of green-tinted mist. The metal door, and the supports caught in the haze, quickly rusted and crumbled into nothing.

Now safe, Scarlet properly let out a long, heavy sigh. Raising her eyes to the center of the warehouse, she happened to catch the moment Volk gave up on undoing the ropes tying down the hostage and simply incinerated the knot.

“So…” The young man blinked. “I–”

“Walker, correct?” She fetched a notepad from her coat pocket, reviewing case details.

“Y-Yeah.” He shakily stood up, likely too sore. At a glance, he seemed relatively unharmed, if too skinny. His clothes, formal as they were, had been stained by the brine– A good clue, if the culprit was still trying to be subtle.

“We talked to the ship’s crew. You can take the weekend off.” She noted, watching the sun breaching through the missing door and being reflected on the now-drying saltwater puddles. “We’ll deal with the bastard who put you here, too.”

“That– That’s good!” He nodded, trying to stretch out his joints after a night of sitting. “Just, well…” He raised his hand, pointing with hesitancy. “What’s, uh, that?”

Scarlet and Volk both followed his gesture to the amalgam carcass sitting there under the morning sun, impressively already starting to smell like fish.

Scarlet stepped over, eyeing the corpse, already out of blood to leak. Unceremoniously besides a silent compromise over her dignity, she punted it off the side of the warehouse’s concrete yard; a second later, the sound of it hitting the rocks below was clearly visible, followed by the splash as it finally found the ocean where it, questionably, belonged.

Scarlet snapped around, staring at the kidnapped waiter. “Nothing.”

“But–”

“Hey,” Volk leaned in, throwing a hand over the young man’s shoulder. Scarlet noticed a sniff from the waiter, dreadfully familiar with the strength of her resident caster’s perfume. “You’ve had a long night, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but–” Walker shifted, seemingly unwilling to just step away.

“Now, now.” Volk chuckled, moving over to the front of the other man. He looked down, compensating for the difference in heights by cupping the waiter’s chin and slowly lifting it up to meet his gaze. “No need for silly questions. Okay?”

“O-Okay.” The poor idiot blinked, eyes wide.

“We’ll take care of things right here. It’s our job. You, though?” He smirked. “Oh, you could do with some rest. Or… Perhaps a little pampering?”

Scarlet groaned as she walked past, flicking a signed business card for their usual restaurant towards the two.

“Now, we’ll meet you there in a bit for a little date. Our treat.” He winked, tucking the card into his victim’s hands. “Then we can talk more about this, okay?”

Volk pushed the blushing, stunned man back onto the chair, and then promptly caught up with Scarlet on her way out.

“Looks like we’ll be getting one more story for the road,” he declared, triumphantly smug.

“Not like we needed one.” She countered, seeing how high the sun had already climbed and calculating their schedule for the day.

“At least we have plans for breakfast.” Volk shrugged.

“...We should get that done with, then.” She paused, taking a deep breath while looking at the clear fall sky. “Our other plans for the day are, well, a bit more pressing.”