#emergency exit in light lake park

[preventivefire3340]

Navigating the Night: Exploring Emergency Exit Lights at Lake Park

Introduction

When it comes to safeguarding lives and property, there's no room for compromise. Emergency exit lights are an integral part of any building's emergency exit in light lake park, where ensuring safety during emergencies is paramount. In this comprehensive guide, we delve into the world of emergency exit lights, discussing their importance, types, maintenance, and regulatory requirements. Whether you're a business owner, facility manager, or concerned citizen, read on to explore how emergency exit lights contribute to a safer Lake Park.

Emergency Exit Light Lake Park: Illuminating the Path to Safety

In the event of a power outage or emergency situation, visibility and guidance are essential for a quick and safe evacuation. This is where emergency exit lights come into play. These lights are strategically positioned to provide illumination along escape routes, ensuring that occupants can navigate their way out of a building, even in the darkest conditions.

Types of Emergency Exit Lights

Emergency exit lights come in various types, each serving a specific purpose in different settings. Some common types include:

Exit Signs: These signs are installed above exits and display a recognizable "EXIT" symbol. They are often accompanied by arrows pointing towards the escape route.

Emergency Lights: These lights are designed to provide adequate illumination along escape routes, hallways, and stairwells. They typically operate on battery power, ensuring continued illumination during power outages.

Combination Exit/Emergency Lights: These lights serve a dual purpose by combining exit signs with built-in emergency lighting. They offer comprehensive guidance and illumination in one unit.

The Importance of Regular Maintenance

Just like any other safety equipment, emergency exit lights require regular maintenance to ensure they function optimally when needed most. Maintenance tasks include:

Monthly Testing: Test each emergency exit light to ensure it illuminates properly when switched to battery mode.

Annual Inspection: Engage a professional to conduct an in-depth inspection, checking for issues like corroded batteries, damaged bulbs, or faulty wiring.

Battery Replacement: Batteries should be replaced every two to three years, depending on the manufacturer's recommendations.

Regulatory Compliance

Compliance with safety regulations is crucial when it comes to emergency exit lights. In Lake Park, as well as in most jurisdictions, the installation and maintenance of exit lights are governed by specific codes and standards. Familiarize yourself with these regulations to avoid penalties and to ensure the safety of occupants in your building.

FAQs

Are emergency exit lights required in all buildings?

Yes, most buildings are required to have emergency exit lights, especially those with multiple floors or occupant loads.

Can I install emergency exit lights myself?

It's recommended to hire a professional electrician for proper installation to ensure compliance and effectiveness.

How long do emergency lights need to stay illuminated during a power outage?

Emergency lights should provide illumination for at least 90 minutes to ensure a safe evacuation.

Are LED emergency lights more energy-efficient?

Yes, LED emergency lights are more energy-efficient and have a longer lifespan compared to traditional incandescent lights.

Can I use emergency exit lights for decorative purposes?

Emergency exit lights should not be altered or used for decorative purposes. They should remain clearly visible and functional at all times.

What's the penalty for non-compliance with exit light regulations?

Penalties for non-compliance vary depending on local regulations and the severity of the violation. It's best to ensure compliance to avoid any legal repercussions.

Conclusion

Emergency exit lights are not just a requirement; they are a lifeline during critical situations. In Lake Park, where safety is a top priority, these lights play a crucial role in guiding occupants to safety during emergencies. By understanding the types of exit lights, prioritizing maintenance, and adhering to regulations, you contribute to a safer environment for everyone. Keep the path to safety well-illuminated and clear by investing in effective emergency exit lights that ensure protection when it matters most.

[theboywithburninghands]

Welp, another Funnybunny/Buttonblossom/Bunnydoll tidbit emerges. This one sorta rounds out the last three, with Ragatha being introduced into the relationship and Jax being a big baby about it. Buuuut I think it’s sweet and I think it’s a good jumping off point for more wild ideas. Hope you enjoy it!

t/w: mild relationship drama

Kiss and Makeup

Pomni woke up and wiped the drool off her cheek. She fumbled around for her alarm clock, forgetting for a moment that she didn’t have one. She sighed and sat up, yawning mightily and rubbing her eyes.

Pomni: What happened..?

Her brain, still murky with sleep, took a few moments to process what had happened. She got back from dinner, came to her bedroom and was going to lay down for a little while before she went to see Jax…

Pomni: And I guess… I fell asleep.

She groaned. Her eyes ached. It felt good to close them. Truthfully, she could have just flopped back down on her pillow and gone back to bed, but she wanted to see Jax. She had spent her free time yesterday at the amusement park with Ragatha, so it was his turn tonight. She hoped she hadn’t slept too long and missed the chance to cuddle with him…

She opened the door to the hallway and squinted at the light, shielding her eyes with one hand. She kept it on her brow as she shuffled over to Jax’s door, using her other hand to grip the doorknob and give it a twist. It opened onto an empty room. Jax’s various practical jokes were scattered here and there: his pink whoopee cushion on his chair (he was no doubt going to hide that later for someone to sit on), his joy buzzer sitting open on his desk next to a small toolset, a jar of rubber centipedes and cockroaches on his nightstand. But he was gone, his bed empty and unmade like usual.

Pomni: Whatever… there’s always tomorrow night.

Pomni closed the door and yawned again, dragging her feet back to her room.

Pomni: Bed…

She had her hand on the doorknob and was ready to turn it before she heard a soft, cloying voice in the back of her head.

“Something’s wrong…”

Pomni: *firmly* Bed.

As much as she hated to admit it, it was going to be impossible to get back to sleep now. Once anxiety stung, it started to unbearably itch, and she could already feel unease pooling inside her. She sighed, and even though her eyes longed to be shut again, she walked out into the main area.

It was also deserted. Pomni blinked more awake now, starting to feel the familiar burn of panic in her stomach.

Pomni: Jax?

Truthfully she hadn’t expected an answer, but maybe if she called out to him enough times, those big ears of his would eventually hear her voice. Pomni scanned the entire room several times, before grunting in equal parts annoyance and worry before she left to go look out on The Grounds.

The simulated night air was pleasant enough. The program had even gotten the smell of evening dew on the grass right. She heard the trill of nonexistent frogs as she looked out on the Digital Lake, it’s surface reflecting silvery-white moonlight.

She opened her mouth to call Jax’s name again before she heard a distant shriek. She blinked, looking around frantically to see if she could pinpoint where the sound came from. Her eyes fell on a lanky figure exiting the woods, and just from the silhouette, she could see the long set of ears atop their head.

Pomni: Jax! Hey, Jax!

She called out for him, but he must not have heard her. She was quite far away after all… she decided to meet him halfway and began to walk around the lake.

She stopped walking when she saw the rabbit pause and double over, as though in pain. Pomni watched him gradually stand up straight again, walk to the shore of the lake and sit down, arms across his knees and his forehead on his arms.

Almost like he was hurt.

Pomni: Oh s#?%!

Pomni raced towards Jax, the bells on her hat jingling with every step. She didn’t waste any breath calling out to him. She needed to get Caine. How did she get a hold of him after hours?!

She doubled over and panted about sixty feet from Jax. She took a few breaths to sate her burning lungs, then called out.

Pomni: Jax..?! Are you okay?

To her surprise and relief, Jax shot right to his feet. She was still a bit too far away to see his face in the dark.

Jax: Pomni! Wh- Why are you *wipes his eyes* why are you out here?

Pomni approached him a bit more leisurely, seeing that he wasn’t injured, but… what was wrong with his face?

Pomni: You weren’t in your bed and I saw you crouch down- Why are you out here? Are you crying?

Jax: No! No, I- *wet sniff* No, I-I got allergies is all… *clears throat*

Pomni: But… you don’t have a nose.

Jax: Speak for yourself.

As she got closer, Pomni could see his face at last. While he managed his usually toothy smile, the corners of his mouth were strained, and his eyes had a red glaze.

Pomni: You have been crying! Jax, wh-what happened?

Jax: No, it’s just hayfever..-

Pomni: Oh what’s next, “there’s something in my eye?” Don’t bull$#?% me. *walks closer and delicately takes his hand* Did something happen? Di-Did I do something wrong?

There was a long and painful pause as Jax tried to find his words. There was no way out of this except straight up running away, which was extremely tempting… but…

Jax: I just-I don’t get it.

Pomni: You don’t get what?

Jax: Why do you want to be with her over me..? What did I do wrong?

Pomni: You- …Jax, I told you, I’m not replacing you. You told me that you were okay with it…

Jax: I KNOW! I thought I could deal with it when I said that. And I wanted you to feel better. But I can’t deal with it.

Pomni: …You lied?

Jax: No, I didn’t. I didn’t lie. I told you, I thought I could deal with it. But she thinks I’m a kid, and she rubbed it in my face, and I just… it all fell down.

Pomni: Ragatha made fun of you? Ragatha? What did she say?

Jax: Answer my question first. What did I do wrong?

Pomni: Jax, you didn’t do anything wrong! You’re great! I just like Ragatha too!

Jax: But- what does she have that I don’t? Is she prettier than me? Smarter than me?

Pomni: Jax. Think about what you’re saying. Have I shown any less interest in you? How many nights have we spent talking for hours? Did you forget how I was ripping my hair out two days at the thought of hurting you? In fact- the whole reason I’m out here was because I went to your room to cuddle with you, and I got worried when I didn’t find you! I… I love you…

Jax: *fresh tears bead in his eyes* I love you too…

The two of them came together in a hug. Pomni felt a lump form in her own throat upon feeling Jax’s slender body shudder in her arms. She felt two or three warm teardrops land on her shoulder. She rubbed his back.

Pomni: But… I love Ragatha too. And I’m not forcing myself to choose between you and her. You’re both amazing.

There was a soft gasp behind the pair of embraced lovers. Ragatha had a hand to her mouth, her other hand holding Layla.

Pomni: Ragatha..?

Ragatha: I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I… oh, Jax…

The rabbit instinctively wiped his eyes, and broke the hug with Pomni.

Jax: It’s nothing. I’m sorry.

Ragatha: Jax-

Jax: No, shut up, let me just… let me… *sniffles and wipes his eyes* I know what you meant when you said you were proud of me. It stung because you… because I thought you were-

Pomni: Wait, that’s what she said?! She was proud of you?!

Jax: It felt like an insult okay?!

Pomni: IN WHAT WORLD IS THAT AN INSULT?!

Ragatha: Pomni, shush! Let him talk!

Jax: It was stupid, okay?! I know it was stupid, but- I- I know I don’t deserve it and I’ll just- I’ll just keep being an @$$hole probably but I’m-I’m not a kid, I’m… I’m…

Ragatha: Jax. You’re going in circles. Breathe with me.

Jax: I don’t need your help-!

Ragatha: Jax. Breathe with me. Come on, ready? In…

Ragatha took a deep breath, Jax rolling his eyes and glaring, but sucking in some air all the same

Ragatha: Out, like you’re blowing on a dandelion.

The two of them exhaled in tandem.

Ragatha: Okay, go on.

Jax: Don’t say “you’re proud of me” like you’re so much better than I am. I know I’m a jerk, but you’re not perfect either… But… I’m sorry. I thought you were trying to take Pomni away from me because I wasn’t…wasn’t cutting it anymore. That good enough?

Ragatha: *taps a hand on her chin, then points it at Jax* Promise you’ll stop hiding centipedes in my room?

Jax: No way.

Pomni: Jax.

Jax: Alright alright alright, no more centipedes.

Ragatha: And say you’re sorry to Layla. *holds up the microphone beetle*

Jax: ……..I’m sorry Layla.

Ragatha: Then all is forgiven!

Before the rabbit could react, Ragatha had her arms around him, Layla hopping off of the doll woman’s hand into Pomni’s, who caught her clumsily. Jax stiffened at Ragatha’s sudden hug, but couldn’t help but relax a little against her. She was… really soft. And she smelled nice. His cheeks warmed up.

Pomni: Jax, I’m sorry I made you feel like that… Even if it was a misunderstanding, I’ll try and make it up to you somehow, okay?

Jax: Nah. I feel better. About… everything, really.

Ragatha: We should get some sleep… Layla needs to go back to her room anyway.

The three of them walked back to the tent in comfortable silence. They all felt much lighter. After returning Layla to Kinger, (who was delighted to see her, even if he had forgotten that he lent her out at all), they all stood outside Ragatha’s bedroom.

Ragatha: Well, see you in the morning guys. Good talk.

Ragatha smooched them both on the cheek.

Jax: *with one eye closed in disgust* Eugh… *wipes the kiss off but blushes faintly*

Pomni: Ehehe… *blushes much less faintly and plays with her fingers*

Ragatha: Goodnight.~ *she smiles and goes into her room, shutting the door*

Pomni and Jax were left looking at one another.

Pomni: …Do you want to stay the night in my room? It’s your turn since Ragatha and I went on that date yesterday…

Jax: Nah. I honestly just want to sleep.

Pomni: …Tomorrow night?

Jax: Tomorrow night sounds good. *he smiles*

The two of them shared a brief but sweet kiss there in the corridor before going their separate ways. As Pomni rolled into bed, she felt exhaustion fall over her, and almost as soon as she hit the pillow, she fell into the gentle, muffled black clouds of deep sleep.

[modestowithjake]

What Every Newcomer Should Know About Modesto’s Roads and Traffic

If you’re new to Modesto, navigating the city’s roads and traffic can take some getting used to. With its unique blend of small-town charm and big-city traffic at peak times, Modesto’s roads have their own character. Here’s a guide to help newcomers understand Modesto’s roads, common traffic patterns, and tips to make driving in the area as smooth as possible.

1. Understanding Modesto’s Main Roads

Key Highways: Modesto’s road network is anchored by several main highways, including Highway 99, which runs north-south through the city, and Highway 132, connecting drivers to the west toward Tracy and the east toward the Sierra Nevada foothills.

Major Roads: Important roads like McHenry Avenue and Pelandale Avenue are hubs for shopping, dining, and services, while Briggsmore Avenue connects the east and west sides of the city.

Local Tip: McHenry Avenue can get busy, especially during weekends and evening hours. To avoid congestion, plan around peak times if you’re heading to popular destinations.

2. Peak Traffic Hours

Rush Hour Times: Modesto’s rush hours are typically from 7–9 a.m. and 4–6 p.m. Traffic can build up on Highway 99, especially at the Briggsmore exit, and on major roads like McHenry and Standiford.

Friday Evening Traffic: Fridays see an extra uptick in traffic as people head out for weekend activities or commute from nearby areas.

Local Tip: If you’re commuting, try to leave a little earlier or later to avoid the peak times and keep updated with real-time traffic apps like Waze or Google Maps.

3. Navigating Downtown Modesto

One-Way Streets: Downtown Modesto has several one-way streets, which can be tricky for newcomers to navigate. J Street and I Street run in opposite directions and are among the busiest downtown.

Parking: Street parking downtown is metered, and there are also city parking garages that offer both hourly and daily rates. Meters are free on weekends, making downtown trips more convenient.

Local Tip: Use the free Modesto Area Express (MAX) shuttle that circulates through downtown to avoid parking hassles and explore the area more easily.

4. Seasonal Traffic Patterns and Road Conditions

Summer Traffic: Summer weekends see increased traffic, especially on routes heading out of town toward Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, or coastal areas. If you’re planning weekend getaways, expect heavier traffic on Highway 132 and other outbound routes.

Fog in Winter: Modesto experiences dense fog in the winter months, especially in the early mornings. Fog can significantly reduce visibility, so be prepared to drive with caution and use low beams.

Local Tip: Keep an emergency kit in your car year-round. Summer temperatures can be high, and winter conditions can change rapidly, so having essentials like water, snacks, and a flashlight is helpful.

5. Common Traffic Laws and Driving Tips for Modesto

Right Turn on Red: In Modesto, it’s legal to turn right on red lights after a full stop unless posted otherwise. Just be cautious and check for pedestrians and oncoming traffic.

School Zones and Speed Limits: School zones have strict speed limits, typically 25 mph when children are present. Modesto’s residential areas also maintain lower speed limits to ensure safety.

Roundabouts: Modesto has introduced more roundabouts in recent years, which can be unfamiliar to some drivers. Remember to yield to traffic already in the roundabout and avoid stopping unless necessary.

Local Tip: Watch for pedestrian crossings, especially downtown, as Modesto is a pedestrian-friendly area and crosswalks are frequent near shops and cafes.

6. Construction Zones and Road Work Awareness

Highway 99 Projects: Highway 99 frequently undergoes maintenance and improvement projects, which can lead to lane closures or detours. Construction is often scheduled overnight, but it’s a good idea to stay updated on road work.

Local Road Repairs: Modesto’s streets, especially busy ones like McHenry Avenue, often undergo road work to keep up with city growth. Plan for potential delays on these routes and consider alternative streets when possible.

Local Tip: Follow the City of Modesto’s website or social media for updates on local road work and closures to avoid unexpected detours.

7. Alternative Transportation Options

Modesto Area Express (MAX): MAX is Modesto’s public bus service, offering convenient routes around the city and to nearby areas. MAX also connects with BART for commuters heading toward the Bay Area.

Bike-Friendly Roads: Modesto has several bike lanes and trails, making biking a good alternative for short trips, especially around downtown and Graceada Park.

Local Tip: For those commuting to nearby cities, Modesto offers Amtrak service with routes to the Bay Area and Sacramento, helping avoid road traffic altogether.

Final Thoughts

Navigating Modesto’s roads and traffic can be manageable with a little local knowledge and preparation. From understanding peak hours to keeping an eye on road work, these tips help make your driving experience in Modesto easier and more enjoyable. And to ensure your vehicle is always road-ready, count on Mobile Mechanic Modesto for convenient maintenance and repairs, so you’re prepared for any road condition or traffic pattern Modesto may bring your way.

[indominusregina]

Please share this around. I went to college with Jerren and he’s such an adventurous sort, but he definitely wouldn’t go missing like this if he weren’t in trouble.

MISSING BACKPACKER

Olympic National Park requests your assistance in locating Jerren Fisher (corrected spelling).

Physical Description

• Age: 26

• Height: 5’11”

• Weight: 200 lbs

• Hair: Light Brown Hair in Ponytail, Thick Red Beard

NOTE: Fisher is known to hike in tie dye t-shirts and bright colors.

Jerren Fisher started a solo hike at Graves Creek Trailhead on 9/8/2021 and planned to camp at Enchanted Valley, Marmot Lake, Camp Pleasant & Sundown Lake. He was due to exit on 9/12/2021. Fisher was reported overdue on 9/16/2021.

Information from other hikers is often extremely valuable during searches. If you were in the area of Enchanted Valley, North Fork Skokomish or Six Ridge between 9/8 and 9/16 or have any information regarding this individual, please contact the NPS ISB Tip Line:

☎ CALL or TEXT the ISB Tip Line 888-653-0009

💻 ONLINE form www.nps.gov/ISB > Submit a Tip

📧 EMAIL nps_isb@nps.gov

⚠ EMERGENCY dial 9-1-1

NPS Investigative Services Branch

https://www.nps.gov/olym/learn/news/search-underway-for-overdue-backpacker.htm

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

List of incidents at Disneyland Paris

This is a summary of notable incidents that have taken place at Disneyland Paris in France. The term incidents refers to major accidents, injuries, deaths, and significant crimes.

On September 20, 2019, a 32-year-old man from Switzerland who took LSD was found nude after falling into a manmade lake in the park’s Adventureland section. He and his girlfriend were arrested by the police for narcotics use and were both released the next afternoon.

On April 25, 2011, five guests were injured when a fiberglass rock on the third lift hill fell onto a passing train. One guest, a 38-year-old man, was seriously injured and transported to a Paris hospital, while the other four were treated at the scene.

On October 27, 2011, two cars derailed on ‘big thunder mountain’ as one of the ride's trains passed slowly over a flat section of track. Two guests sustained minor injuries, and the ride was subsequently closed for inspections.

On January 2, 2013 at 8:45 pm, as the Disney RailRoad's No. 1 locomotive approached the Frontierland station with its train, the front car uncoupled from the other four cars. When the locomotive stopped at the Frontierland station, the three rear cars struck the front car. Forty-three guests and four employees were on the train at the time of the incident.  Thirty-nine guests were immediately taken care of by park agents to safely exit the train. The other four guests were taken to the hospital and later discharged with only minor injuries

On August 14, 1993, eight guests suffered injuries when the ride ‘Indiana Jones and the Temple of Peril‘ came to a sudden halt due to a malfunction in its emergency security system. Seven were treated at a hospital while a woman remained under observation.

On October 6, 2010, a 53-year-old cast member (subcontracted to Disney) became trapped underneath a boat on It's a Small World when the ride was inadvertently switched on while being cleaned. The man was taken to a hospital where he later died.

On April 2, 2016, the body of a 45-year-old cast member was found in Phantom Manor. He had been working on backstage lighting and his death is understood to have been due to an accidental electrocution. The ride was closed pending an investigation.

On October 30, 2013, a five-year-old guest fell out of a boat at the end of the ride after losing his balance and becoming trapped between a platform and the boat. He was taken to a hospital, where he was in critical condition but did survive.

On June 26, 2007, a 14-year-old female guest from Spain lost consciousness while riding Rock 'n' Roller Coaster avec Aerosmith and died.  Although paramedics attempted to revive her, she was dead before the ambulance arrived.  A ride inspection showed no mechanical problems.

On November 23, 2011, a 12-year-old boy was stated to have been paralyzed from the neck downwards after riding The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror. However, hospital doctors later stated that the boy's upper limbs were already paralyzed upon arriving at the hospital and therefore refused to link his injuries to the ride

On September 9, 2015, a 44-year-old construction worker fell from scaffolding during the  Newport Bay Club hotel renovation after a support rail gave way. Attempts were made to revive him, but he died 40 minutes after the fall occurred.

[hinatastinygiant]

Chapter Four

Aglais Io

Pairing: Haikyuu!! x Fem!Reader

previous | next | 2099

"This is the best I can do," you tell Bokuto. You've wrapped his leg in bandages with wood on either side to keep his leg straight. Luckily, you've got a pair of crutches to lend him, too. 

"Once you can walk without the crutches, you're free to do as you want," you tell him.

"When will that be?"

"Probably three weeks. Maybe more... It depends on how quickly your leg heals."

You hear Tsukishima mutter something under his breath. You look over at him in the front seat but don't say anything. He's still driving and you don't feel like starting another argument.

"This will help you, though, I promise. You really need it. If you want to leave, I can't make you stay, but it'll take way longer for you to heal and I can't let you take the crutches. I need them for future patients, too," you explain.

"That's alright," he nods. "I'll stay and do whatever I can to help you out. I really appreciate the help, Y/N. Besides, I don't really have anywhere else to be these days," he smiles sadly.

"You, too, huh? What happened?"

"Once the power went dead, my parents flew out of the country. But being a broke college kid, I couldn't afford it on my own. Even if I could now, all the flights have been shut down. There's nobody to pilot the planes either."

"Have you gone to an airport?" you ask curiously. Even Tsukishima looks through the rearview mirror to listen to the conversation.

Bokuto nods. "Yeah, about a month back. It was depressing. No way I'm going back there again. It was just a reminder of how shit the world has become."

The three of you sit in silence for a while until Tsukishima turns a corner and pulls into a parking lot. He puts the bus in park and calls out, "We're here. Let's make this quick."

You have half a mind to tell Bokuto to stay behind and rest, but you don't want him alone with your stuff and your gun. Instead, you help him up with a smile on your face. "It'll be good to get some food you like. Maybe it'll cheer you up a bit."

"Oh, I'm sure it will," he smiles back widely. "Thanks," he then adds as you hand him the crutches. Together, the two of you walk inside behind Tsukishima. But once you get in, you break off from the group and raid the place for whatever you can find. Tsukishima was right, this place looks like it hasn't even been touched, but it's on the outside of town so it's no wonder nobody's been here.

Suddenly, you see a light flash from the back of the store. You gently drop your things in a pile on the ground quietly and tiptoe over. "Where are you going?" Bokuto asks as he sees you walk past his aisle. You look at him and put a finger to your lips before continuing to walk towards the light. He shrugs and goes back to snacking on a bag of chips.

Near the back left corner of the store is an emergency exit. You gulp before nervously opening it, but a wave of relief washes over you when you discover nobody's there. It was all in your head. You only saw a reflection of light from outside.

With a sigh, you close the door. Suddenly, a hand slams down beside your head before you can even turn around. "Who the fuck are you?" a voice whispers deeply in your ear. Perhaps in a different setting, you'd find the voice attractive.

"Y/N. I'm not alone so don't even think-" you begin before the man grabs your shoulder and turns you around to slam your back against the door. He's a tall, handsome man with black spikey hair. He leans right over you, his face way too close for comfort. He can probably smell the fear on you. God, when was the last time you jumped into the lake to wash off anyway? Now you're surrounded by three admittedly attractive guys who all probably think you smell like shit.

"What're you doing here?" he asks.

"Same as you, I assume. We're just getting food. We don't mean to cause any harm."

The man smirks at your answer. "Y'know, when the power died, I was one of those criminals in jail."

"When the power died I killed some of the criminals who escaped from jail," you lie. You've been hiding in your bus the whole time.

This time he laughs at your response. "I like you," he says with a nod as he leans away from you and holds out his hand to pull you away from the door. "I'm Tetsuro Kuroo. Nice to meet you, Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, too, I guess..."

"Where are your friends at?" he then changes the conversation. "Maybe I can tell ya if you're hangin' out with the wrong crowd."

"I'll show you over," you tell him, ignoring the second half of his statement.

"Bokuto! Tsukishima!" you call out as you wander around the store which you're beginning to realize is bigger than you thought.

In an instant, Tsukishima comes running over. Bokuto, however, calls out saying that he'll be right there. You can hear the sound of his crutches in the distance. Tsukishima's eyes grow wide when he sees Kuroo standing beside you.

"Hey, don't I know you?" Kuroo grins.

Tsukishima shakes his head. "No, you most certainly do not."

Kuroo nods as he shakes his finger while he thinks. "I don't know. I can't put my finger on it but I swear I've seen you before."

Tsukishima clears his throat. "Y/N, can I have a second?"

"Be right back," you say to Kuroo with a roll of your eyes as you push Tsukishima a little ways from Kuroo. "What now?"

"You need to stop running into so many damn people!" he lectures.

"Why? So you can kill me when we're alone? Stop being so skeptical!" you groan.

"You're making this trip way too risky, Y/N."

Just then, Bokuto comes over on his crutches. "Oh, hey guys. Who's this?"

"Kuroo," you say to introduce him. "And Kuroo, this is Bokuto."

"Hey," Kuroo waves. "I just came for some food, too."

"Good stuff," Bokuto nods before looking over at you. "Has he got any weapons on him?"

Kuroo puts his hands up to his shoulder. "I don't, but feel free to search me."

You and Tsukishima look at each other. Bokuto can't do it and you know Tsukishima would rather die than go near Kuroo. And so, you sigh as you step towards the third stranger you've met in one day.

"Ah, I was hoping it'd be you," he teases as you put your hands on his torso.

"Don't get too excited," you smile as you run your hands up and down his sides before sliding them down towards the pockets of his pants.

"If you feel anything, it isn't a gun. I promise," he chuckles.

Immediately, you back away from him and almost knock over Bokuto. He's quite bold, isn't he?

"The three of you make an odd group," Kuroo then remarks. "Got room for one more? I'd like to see how this whole thing plays out."

Ignoring his comment from before, you smile at him. You must admit, you were thinking something similar since the start of your day.

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previous | next | 2099

Taglist: @isentsworld

[writingsbychlo]

smoke and fire (12)

word count; 8943

summary; you and newt are called to another unusual call.

notes; this is the first half (technically) of a mini sub-plot. the end comes in the next part.

warnings; violence, gun use, description of injury, slight gore, intentional harm, attempted murder, reference to drowning.

“I feel disgusting.” You mumbled, water still dripping from your arms as you stood, shaking yourself odd a little and groaning at the chill that was beginning to sweep in. The lights on the firetruck were flashing, equipment still being loaded back up, and Newt was standing on the other side of the ambulance, a water bottle Minho had given him sitting in his hand as he took another large sip, gargling the water loudly and frothing it around his mouth before spitting it out onto the concrete and grimacing.

“I think I swallowed, like, half the lake.”

You felt bad for him, you really did, and you tried to peel the wet material of the shirt away from yourself. Unbuttoning it slowly, you frowned, wet hair plastered to the back of your neck in the ponytail you wore, and Newt choked on his drink, laughing loudly and spitting up water again. He patted at his chest, turning away from you, his cheeks going red as he tries to hack up water that had gone down the wrong pipe, and you patted his back, startled at his sudden reaction.

His eyes were watering when he recovered, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “You know, if I was straight, I’d be very flattered.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your nipples.” He beamed, and your brows furrowed, before you glanced down, noting the hardened peaks from the cold, showing clearly through your tank that had gone clear enough in its pale grey colour to show off the plain design of your bra, and you scoffed. “Truly, it’s an honour, but it’s doing nothing for me.”

“Oh, no, whatever will I do now?” You mused, voice flat of any emotions, and he only laughed again, peeling off his shirt, and ringing it out, goosebumps rising along pale skin as the chill of the air washed over his skin. The lake was clear now, a group of kids who had stupidly enough decided it would be a good idea to jump off the edge of the dock before realising the wall was too tall and slippery with algae to get out, beginnings of hypothermia and ingestions of dirty water before anybody had wandered past close enough to hear them calling for help.

Sometimes, you really hated teenagers.

“Think if we’re fast enough, we can get back to the house before the firefighters? First dibs on the showers with the best water pressure, and guaranteed hot water.”

His eyes twinkled a little as he lifted a still damp but no longer sodden shirt back onto his shoulders, grimy and covered in green and brown stains from the water, no bothering to button it back up. “I take that as a challenge, and I accept.”

You climbed in through the back of the van, pulling open the bottom drawer and finding the plastic seat coverings, chucking one of the sheet packages to Newt for his own chair, before he slammed the doors with you in the back, and rounded to the driver’s side. Smoothing the plastic over your chair to make sure it was covered, your shoes squelched a little as you collapsed down into it. Newt did the same, and the second the keys were twisted into the lock once he was shuffling uncomfortably on the plastic, you were flicking the heating on to the highest temperature you could get it.

The downside of working in a van filled with drugs and medicine? The heat didn’t get very high in order to keep what needed to be refrigerated at the temperature is was required to be at. His eyes checked the mirrors as he reversed, noting the firetruck that was beginning to back out, the Squad truck leaving first, Gally and Fry still milling around to talk to the cops, and so you and Squad had a head start.

It would seem that they had the same idea, because Minho had a positively dangerous look in her eyes as she pulled up towards the entrance alongside you both, and Newt smirked, hand on the gearstick as he switched gears and pressed his foot down on the pedal. He surged forwards, the van moving faster than the trucks due to their added weight, a delay in its start-up, and the pair of you shot across the uneven gravelly path towards the main highway.

The red truck wasn’t far behind, and yet you were laughing a little at the determined look on your partners face, what had been a modest challenge was now becoming a battle between yourselves and the Squad team. You had the edge, being a lightweight vehicle, easy navigation and more speed, but they had the edge, the big red truck was more noticeable to other driver’s and they tended to move out of the way more for firetrucks than they did for ambulances.

As you met the junction for the highway, Newt flicked on the indicators and swerved onto the highway in a gap between cars that was too small to be considered safe. The move left you pressed into the side door of the ambo’, turning to look at him as his eyes stayed fixed on the road, a smirk on his face as the red truck was left in the dust, having to wait much longer to be able to pull out.

“Alright, Vin Diesel, settle down.”

“You want a hot shower to get clean? Or do you want lukewarm water with weak pressure that takes hours to get you clean?” You considered it, knowing that the more the showers were used, the weaker the water pressure got and the colder they ran as the hot water was distributed out, and you weighed out the pros and cons. You gave in with a reluctant sigh, watching Newt weave between cars, and he let out a triumphant noise. “Exactly. So, be a good co-driver, and play something exciting.”

“This is an ambulance, Newt. We have the classical jazz station, the news station, the emergency radio, or static and silence.”

“Sing something.” He offered, and you laughed loudly. “Maybe just yell exciting things at the top of your voice like it’s a James Bond movie. You can be my Bond woman.”

“Exciting things? You mean like ‘Quick, Newt, watch out for the rock slide’ or ‘Oh my God, Newt, he’s shooting at us’?” He hummed, rolling his lips together a little, and looking into the mirror where the red van wasn’t all that far behind anymore. “Oh, okay, I got it. How about ‘Quick! Newt! The bomb that will destroy world peace and the alien trade federation is about to go off, hurry so you can disarm it and save the galaxy!”

“That’s the one!” He shouted back, laughter taking up the cabin between you both as he picked up a little more speed, growling under his breath as distant wailing took place. “Did they just turn the fucking sirens on?”

“That’s illegal! A crime! Disqualified!”

Only a moment later, the truck was passing you by, Thomas lounging in the front seat with a smirk on his face, not even bothering to look at the two of you as he held up his middle finger, feet popped up on the dashboard, before they were pulling ahead, and you gaped at it.

“He flipped us off!”

“He did what?” Newt sounded like he had been told that Thomas had run over his dog, before his face was growing stormy, and he peeled off towards one of the exits, and you sat up a little more in your seat.

“Newt, this isn’t our exit, why are we slowing down? This is war now!”

“We’re taking a shortcut! I think.”

You pouted, watching as he pulled off onto the quieter roads, already resigning yourself to the loss. The van moved slower, not by much and certainly still considered fast for these roads, and you didn’t recognise the area you were driving through until you were almost at the house, coming at it from a completely different angle. It was a side that the trucks would be unaware of, the roads on this side of the house too narrow for the trucks to navigate on, but an ambulance could definitely weave and dodge along them.

You were expecting the grey garage to already be stained with bright and shiny flashes of colour, but as you approached it, the bay was still empty, and you gasped.

Unclipping your seatbelt before the vehicle had even rolled to a halt, and as soon as it was in park, haphazardly and slightly wonky within the designated space but still inside the lines, and Newt was ripping the keys from the ignition. You didn’t even bother peeling away the plastic overs, both hopping down from the van, doors slamming, uncomfortable runs in wet shoes from the vehicle to the changing rooms, the door practically bounding from the wall with the urgency that you forced it open.

Your fingers were trembling with both the cold and the adrenaline as you opened your locker, grabbing for the towel and washbag that sat on the middle shelf, slamming the metal canister shut a second behind Newt, and on the other side of the room, you heard a shower curtain swipe open, before the water spray was coming on.

Kicking off your shoes onto the white tile, your socks were ridden with water, and you stopped into the basin, flimsy curtain closing behind you. Switching on the water, you didn’t care about clothes getting wet as they were all drenched regardless. The water was hot and strong, pouring down over you as you let out a breath in relief, sighing out at the feeling, and stripping the partially unbuttons shirt the rest of the way down.

Dropping it to the floor outside, your vest followed, bra dropping by your feet for modesty, not all too thrilled about the idea of the entire team seeing your underwear. One fireman was plenty enough. Your trousers came next, panties following your bra, and socks lastly, before you were freeing your hair from its bobble and scrubbing dirt from the tendrils. The water was murky as it pooled around your feet, and you grinned through the suds as you heard the locker room door open up.

“Nice of you guys to finally join us!”

Newt laughed at your words, and you scowled at the taste of shampoo that got in your mouth, eyes squeezed closed tightly, but you couldn't hold back your laughter at the several complaints that burst out.

The shower next to yours clicked into gear, a slight dip in the flow of water as it adjusted, and it was steadily growing weaker as the firemen all changed and climbed into a shower, but you had already shampooed, only some soap and conditioner to go.  

“How the fuck did you guys beat us here?”

“We played by the rules, Bren! Flicking on sirens, that was cheating.” You tutted, the girl scoffing from the cubicle beside you.

“Uh, playing it smart isn’t cheating!” She retaliated, and you scrubbed a bar of exfoliating soap over your skin, the extra shrub helping to rid you of the feeling of grunge from the lake away from your flesh. “But seriously, how the hell did you beat us here with so much time?”

“Newt knew a short cut, apparently.” She made a vague sound of agreement, the boys all chatting loudly from the other side of the room, and the build-up of steam was beginning to give you a headache. Running some conditioner through your hair and combing the knots out quickly, you finished up, switching off the water and finding your towel, hand fumbling outside of the stall for the material, before you were finding it, and wrapping it around your body. Wringing out your hair, you pushed back the shower curtain and stepped free.

Newt was at the lockers, pulling a shirt over his head, almost fully dressed, the plastic washing basket from the corner was sitting outside him, water pooling through the cracks to the floor as his clothes dripped, and you scooped up your own, dropping them in with his and flashing him a grateful smile as he all but nodded in a promise to load them into the washer.

His fluffy hair was almost dry already, messy and sticking up from his towel, and you envied how quickly he could get ready again. How quickly all men could get dressed, really.

Taking your kit over to the sink, you fastened your towel a little tighter around yourself again to make sure it would stay tight, before wiping a patch in the steamed-up glass to see your reflection. Running a collection of moisturisers and serums over your cheeks, keeping it at it’s best despite the smoky and dirty conundrums you found yourself in on a day to day basis, you rehydrated and cleansed your skin, before moving on to your hair.

Heading to your locker to get a new set of clothes, you lifted the catch open, the door swinging as you gathered belongings, checking you had everything for a new uniform in your back-up bag, before placing it down on the bench. As you closed it, you jumped, a body leaning on the metal on the other side, and a mumbled curse fell from your lips at the shock. Reaching up to clutch at the edge of your towel and ensure it didn’t fall, you glared at the laughing attacker.

“You fucking suck. Why are you scaring me when I’m in a towel? Dumbass.”

“Oh, ouch. Cranky today, huh?” Thomas teased, reaching out a finger to poke at your stomach through the towel, and you jumped, slapping his hand away as he chuckled more.

“I’m cranky when I’m in a towel, and risking flashing the entire team because you wanna’ startle me!” He smirked, eyes scanning over your body particularly slowly, as if to make a point, and you rolled your eyes, despite the heat forming on your face. Adjusting your towel again, he watched your fingers move, and you kicked at his shin, watching him hop around in his towel at the aggression.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You know what that was for!” You held your fingers up, pointing them from your chest to your eyes, and he got a wicked grin once again as he clocked onto what you were saying. “Go away so I can get dressed in peace!”

“So now you don’t want me around? That’s not how you felt a couple of weeks ago.” You glared at him again, crossing your arms and stomping your foot a little, knowing what he was referring to, and he hadn't been any less affectionate since. At the action, though, he gave in, hands held up in a surrender and his laughter following him all the way around to his locker on the other side, leaving you alone.

Members of the team were still wandering around, and so you tried to be as quick but as discreet as you possibly could, tugging your panties and trousers up under your towel. Your spare shoes were uncomfortable and tight, barely worn in as opposed to your regular ones, and you were cold as you put on the clothes that had been chilling in the metal canister, bag ready to be taken home to refill.

Rubbing your towel across your hair to dry it out better, you left it as it was, towel folding in the bag to be taken home, and you placed it all back inside. Adjusting your fresh uniform to sit a little more comfortably on your body, your fingers smoothed along the collar and flattened it down, before sweeping still damp locks away from your clothes.

The men were all filtering from the room, a faster turn around as they dried, all carrying dirty and sodden uniforms to the laundry room to try and get them sorted, hoping to find themselves with one less task to do when they go home, and not wanting to stink up their cars with the foul smell that came with the water from the dock by trailing the wet garments home.

The dull buzzing of the only hairdryer the fire station had was already in use by Brenda, shorter hair looking a little crazy as she only had her fingers to come through instead of her usual styling brush, and she was scowling at her reflection in the mirror as her hair curved up in the wrong directions at the edges, bangs looking untamed. She glared at your snickering as you approached, finger flipping over the switch to turn it off, clearly deeming the effort good enough, and she stuck her tongue out at you and handed it over, letting you start it up to reduce some of the water trapped in your own hair as she tried desperately to do something to control it a little better.

“Why don’t you just comb it all back?”

“And look like a starring member from ‘Grease’? Want me to start singing ‘Go Grease Lightning’ on the top of one of the fire trucks, huh?” She was so over-dramatic, and yet you loved that about her, shaking your head and smirking a little as she continued to struggle. You weren’t all that bothered about getting it completely dry, just enough that you wouldn’t catch a chill from it. You didn’t really feel like facing the next few weeks with a sore throat and a blocked nose.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you that I’m pretty sure I have a curled brush in my bag?”

She paused her work, arms crossing over her chest, hip leaning on the porcelain of the sink, and you could feel her burning glare on you as you continued to keep your one hair tame just with the use of the machine and your fingers. “You’ve had a blow-dry brush this whole time and you let me suffer?”

“Uh, first off, it’s not a blow-dry brush. It’s just a round brush. Make do. Secondly, you make it sound like I had food and you’ve not eaten for three days.”

“Same thing.” She hissed, playfully through it all, and she didn’t wait for permission, before she was meandering to your locker over hers and letting herself in, beginning to dig through the items in there to find the brush. She let out a triumphant little noise, and as she all but skipped back across the room, you decided you were close enough to dry, shaking your head to tame fly-aways and handing her the dryer back. You turned, walking away from her, and she let out a sound of complaint. “You’re just gonna’ leave me in here, alone?”

“It’s the changing rooms, not a back-alley at a nightclub at 3am.”

“What if I get lonely?” She pouted, turning the heat up and power down, the whirring going quieter so neither of you had to shout quite as loudly to one another, and you shrugged, backing away from her a little more, and smirking.

“Talk to your reflection. I’m going to make a snack.”

She huffed, but smiled, turning back to her plans, and you were the only one to what your soft chuckle as you left, the chill out in the corridor being shocking as you stepped from the steam-filled room to the breeze-filled hall to the main bay, shuddering as goosebumps rose over your arms, and you crossed them across your chest to keep your heat in.

Thomas was standing at the entrance of the laundry room, a basket full of wet clothes, nose turned up a little as Newt and Jeff loaded the machines, and you didn’t envy them at all. The doors to the common room were sealed shut tightly, presumably to keep in the warmth, because Fry had turned on both of the space heaters, and the room was already warming up to being hot. The smell of garlic bread was filling the room, some kind of cheesy pasta following it, and Fry was already singing loudly to the song playing over the radio, almost drawing out the television as Gally watched a movie that was so old it was in black and white, but he wasn’t paying attention, rather, he was texting on his phone and enjoying the background noise.

Minho was sitting beside him much the same, fingers moving swiftly over the screen, and Clint was chewing on a pen at the table as he filled out the puzzles in one of the newspapers from last week's stack.

“What’cha making, Fry?”

“Chicken and mushroom pasta, you want some?” Your face screwed up, shaking your head, and he laughed. “Let me guess, you don’t like mushrooms?”

“They’re gross and slimy. No offence to your pasta.”

“They’re delicious, and healthy.” He corrected, and you grunted, opening the fridge, and pulling out a loaf of bread, shuffling through the contents of the fridge to find a topping you wanted. As you searched, a soft bumping at your ankle caught your attention, a sharp and chipper bark to follow it, and you glanced down, finding a wagging tail and a ball of golden fur staring up at you expectantly. “That dog is a bottomless pit of food!”

“He’s a growing boy!” You waved the cook off, taking a packet of ham out and peeling a slice off from the inside of the pack, holding it up at about waist height, and watching as the dog shuffled backwards, staring up at it and preparing himself. “C’mon, Scoot, jump!”

The dog did so, a happy yip sounding from him as he did, snatching half of the slice as it tore in your hands, and chewing down on it happily, pieces falling from its mouth and onto the floor, and he was quick to lick those up too. “He’s never going to learn any tricks if you pamper him like that.”

You looked up, Thomas having come through the doorway, Newt following behind him, your partner raising his shirt to his nose and sniffing at it, trying to determine whether the stench had transferred to his uniform just from doing the laundry, before collapsing down in the armchair. “He just did a trick! He jumped!” Scooter did it again, snatching the rest of the ham from your fingers, and you gasped as teeth brushed over your fingers, your hand snatching back, and Thomas chuckled, coming to a stop before you and taking the ham from your fingers.

“He did not jump on command, he just jumped for food.”

“Fine! You try!” You raised a brow, and Thomas took the challenge, a smirk forming.

“Scooter!” The dog’s head snapped to face him, from where he’d been occupying himself with pawing at one of your undone laces, now focused on Thomas. “Scooter, sit.” The dog remained still for a second, your lips pursing as he continued to pant and wag happily, stood on all four paws.

“What was it you were saying?”

Thomas’ eyes flicked up to you, narrowing for a second, before he was trying again. “Scooter, sit.” Your jaw was slack as the dog did exactly as told, sitting neatly and letting his tail brush over the flooring patterns, hearing the fridge behind you opening and closing, jars and tins rattling as Fry continued to cook. “Good boy, Scoot! No, lay down.” Thomas clicked his fingers, pointing at the floor, and the dog flattened out, staring up at Thomas expectantly, and you huffed. “Good boy. You want a treat?”

A bark signalled that, and Thomas rolled up a piece of the honey-glazed delicacy that Fry was snatching back a second later with mumbles about it being wasted, and Scooter stood up to snatch it, running away across the room in a pitter-patter of movements, scurrying away to his bed in the corner.

“See?”

“How the hell did you do that?” You demanded, washing your hands under the tap and drying them off, before going back to the sandwich you’d been preparing, and Thomas seated himself on one of the island stools with a shrug.

“I’ve been practising. Wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised.” You offered, grabbing a knife from one of the drawers, and Fry groaned beside you, shooting you both a dirty look as you began to spread the butter.

“Consider me revolted.” He gagged, and you rolled your eyes, swinging your foot out to kick at his shin, Thomas flipping him off despite the heat that was building on his cheek, and the chef wasn’t deterred from mimicking your conversation. “Seriously, get a room.”

“We have a room. It’s this kitchen. Two out of three, we win, majority rules.”

“Nice.” Thomas grinned, holding his hand out, and you slammed your palm against his in a satisfying high five, before pressing the knife down and cleaning it off, sealing the butter back up and putting it in the fridge, before grabbing your fillings. Layering them on carefully, you started slowly, constructing your sandwich carefully, and building it on your plate, before slicing it evenly down the middle, starting at your lunch proudly.

You only had a second to appreciate it, before a large hand was picking up a piece of it, taking it away and biting the corner off or it happily. “Hey! Who the hell said you could eat my sandwich?”

“Sharing is caring, sweetheart.” He winked, taking another large bite and speaking through his food, hopping down from the stool, and your face screwed up. You took your now half a sandwich, walking towards the empty couch and hearing Thomas trail after you, the couch the wrong way to the screen, but you weren’t all that bothered about what was happening in this movie anyway, and so you faced away from it, spreading out along the couch. “Move your legs.”

“Give me my sandwich back!”

“It’s half gone now!” He held it up, showing you the evidence of the half-eaten piece, and you shrugged. As if to prove a point, he pushed the rest of it all into his mouth at once, cheeks feeling with food and lips barely able to close, before he was brushing crumbs from his shirt, and picking your legs up at the ankles, lifting them up to be able to sit down.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Yep.” His words were muffled, your feet being laid back down across his lap, and you took a more polite bite of the remaining half. His fingers moved to your shoes, finding the undone laces and wrapping them around his fingers, before pulling them tightly and looping them into neat knots. He repeated the same on the other foot, before slumping back into the couch a little, still trying to chew the whole mouthful, and you wiggled a little as you got more comfortable, sliding further down until it was your calves in his lap instead of your feet, and your shoulders could rest on the armrest.

His hand rested on your knee, thumb smoothing over you lightly as his other hand produced his phone from his pocket, beginning to swipe at it absentmindedly.

“You two are honestly sickening. I have toothache.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Newt. You spent a half-hour on the phone to me two days ago talking about Derek.” Newt looked shocked for a second, pale cheeks flushing with warm colour, before he was shrugging it off.

“Yeah, well, at least me and Derek have never cuddled in a waiting room at his job.”

“We aren’t cuddling right now!” You scoffed, taking another bite of your sandwich, and chewing it as you process what to say next. “Besides, it would be unprofessional to cuddle in a waiting room where patients could see. This is totally different because we’re inside the house, an-”

Your words went flat as you heard the siren overhead go off, even Thomas’ thumb on your knee pausing its motions, everybody going silent, only the sounds of sizzling oil and the muted television static to go as the alarm went off. You deflated, only yourself and Newt being called for, and you heaved yourself to a sitting position, Newt already beginning to peel his body back up out of the comfy chair he’d seated himself in.

“At least it’s only a local call, we’ll be back before the shift even ends.”

Your partner’s words did little to comfort you, and he chuckled as you continued to glare, before forcing yourself into action.

Swinging your legs down to sit up, you looked mournfully at your only half-eaten meal, before handing the plate to Thomas, who beamed at the offering, your fingers tousling his hair before you were wandering away, and attempting to pull your hair back into something that resembled a pony-tail using on the bobble on your wrist and your fingers.

Newt grabbed the keys, ready to set off, and you followed after him as the doors remained yet to even start swinging shut in his haste. Reaching the van, you hesitated as you neared climbing in, stripping away the plastic over your seat and dropping it down into the footwell of the van, watching Newt do the same. Starting up the ambulance and fastening your seatbelt, Newt flicked on the SatNav, the machine taking a second to load up, before it was programming in your given destination and beginning to guide you.

“So, that’s something pretty new.”

“What is?” Your eyes flickered over yourself, the same uniform you always wore clad on your body, and a pair of sneakers, your brow raising as you turned to your friend, the silence saying everything, and he scoffed. Switching gears as he pulled out onto the faster roads, he spared you a look, dubious and unbelieving of your confusion.

“You know what.”

“I assure you, I don’t.” You shuffled a little, the radio crackling, but none of the chatter directed toward the two of you was coming through yet, and you waited.

He sighed, flicking on the indicators and pulling out onto the highway. “You and Tommy. That’s what I’m talking about. What’s up with you two?”

Heat flushed over your face, and you sank back a little further into your seat, but your lips wanted to form a smile, and you had to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to contain it. “I’m not totally sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Well, I kinda’ know. It’s all so new. It’s scary, but exhilarating.” Newt only smiled, eyes flicking to the mirror to check over everything he was looking at, before taking another turn following the SatNav, a side road to leave the highway, and you were still waiting on call details to come through on the radio. “I mean, I know it’s something. He knows that, too. We’ve talked about it, but we’re just, sort of, waiting.”

“Waiting for what, exactly?”

“The right time, I guess.” You sighed, realising how odd it all sounded out loud, to be talking like a teenager to your friend about a guy you liked, but it also felt natural and right. “Everything has just been crazy lately. I don’t think we would be like we were without the craziness, and it’s kinda’ weird to think that this job has changed my life so much, that this house has changed my life so much, when none of the others did before. I think we’re just waiting to see if it’s real, or just an in-the-moment emotional deal.”

“Seems pretty real to me.”

You smiled, knowing that Newt’s words were intended to be soothing, but instead, they made your heart race a little more.

Everything made your heart race nowadays, like you were in overdrive all the time, you were constantly on the edge, and not in an anxious way. You’d spent so much of your life feeling closed off and locked down that you weren’t used to how it felt to be on the opposite end of the scale. You had anxiety, and fear, and loneliness, that was your normal status, but since settling into Firehouse ‘21, everything had been turned upside down.

Your heart would race with thrill and excitement, and the heat flushing over you wasn’t so much from rage - after you’d sorted your problems with Thomas, anyway - but from flustered shyness. On the days when you felt lonely, when the urge to be around someone else was stronger, your phone was there, lighting up with notifications from a group chat and you knew you had friends you could call, someone who would spend time with you, when they weren’t on duty.

It was all still new, and a little scary, and still thrilling.

Then, there was Thomas. You weren’t sure what it was with Thomas, because you had nothing to compare it to. Your previous relationships had been quick and spinning. A fling that ended just as fast as it started, almost always ending after a first date with tumbling into bed and shutting down when the first signs of intimacy began to rear their heads. You moved around and you never stayed put long enough to invest in something, but you had no plans of leaving Firehouse ‘21 any time soon, and so you’d allowed yourself to let Thomas in before you’d even realised it was happening.

Intimate and emotional, a connection that wasn’t physical yet, you didn’t even know what it felt like to kiss him, and yet it still made you feel a little breathless and lightheaded to imagine it because there was a weight and meaning hanging to it now. There was something deeper than you’d ever had, a relationship that wasn’t pinned on sex and quick connections to chase away the cold sheets when you felt truly alone, but instead, left you feeling warm and loved even when no one was around.

“So, what about you and Derek?”

It was Newt’s turn to be embarrassed, the gravel and shale under the tires crunching loudly as the two of you began to trail up abandoned dirt roads, the rickety and deafening sounds of the trains of the metal bridges overhead shooting past were like the banging of metal against metal, hitting a spoon against a pan or steel-tipped work boots on metal platforms.

Pale skin turned dark pink, and he flashed a cheesy grin, eyes sparkling a little, and you already knew how excited he was. “That good, huh?”

“Things with Derek are awesome.”

“I take full responsibility for that awesomeness.” You teased, and he chuckled, the van coming to a halt, and your brows furrowed, amusement disappearing and confusion over as you stared out at the empty scene. The SatNav on the dashboard clicked green and shut down as you reached your destination, clearly telling you both that this was the correct location, and yet there was nothing, and nobody to be seen. “Put a pin in that conversation.”

He only mumbled his response, equally as confused, and the two of you stepped out of the car, a chill sweeping over you as it became eerily similar to the last case you’d received with nobody present, still so recent that the police investigation into it was still open, the court case over Chuck’s death was yet to be closed and the arson investigators hadn't even completed their analysis. “Check the radio. Is it turned on?”

You moved back in, knowing that it was because the static had been playing lowly in your ears all the way through, but there was nothing else. Normally, at a call on the edge of a town like this, the two of you would be greeted by someone, a frantic pedestrian, friend or family member, the person who had made the call would arrive to lead you to the person, and even as you listened, you couldn't hear anything.

No loud groaning or yells of pain, no mangled screams for help or even a blood trail to guide you. There was absolutely nothing to suggest why the two of you would be here, and it all became more and more suspicious as each second ticked by. Newt tucked his hands into his pockets, and you picked up the receiver, sitting sideways on your seat and turning the dial, before pressing the button down on the side.

“House ‘21 ambulance, calling in. We haven't had any more details, can we get an update?”

You waited for a second, eyes narrowing as the machine clicked you through to an operator, and there were muffled voices in the background of the call centre, before a clearer voice rang through. “‘21 ambulance, can you confirm your location, registration number and ID for me.”

Newt smirked at the frown on your face, knowing that every so often a caller came who actually required you to cite the information. While you couldn't deny that it was protocol, and they should be doing it every time, most of them took it simply at your word of being the paramedics, because they knew that most robbers wouldn't be bothering to call in on the radio of they were stealing from an ambulance, they’d just clear out all the medicines and run.

Listing off the information she requested, you listened and waited, the sound of long nails typing quickly at a keyboard sounded out, and you turned up the volume, holding the device out from you a little, so Newt could hear more clearly, even as he wandered a few feet away, looking around some more. “Still there, ‘21?”

“Yep.” You paused, hearing a few more clicks, before the woman was sighing.

“My files don’t have much. The caller didn’t leave a name or an identification, the only notes here are the address, and that you’re looking for a stab wound victim.” Newt's brows raised as he heard the words, and you only felt more confused. If someone had been stabbed, there should be a trail of blood or someone calling for help, you should be able to see them, they couldn't have gotten far without leaving a pathway of where they were, and yet, there was nothing here except the trains on the bridge overhead. “That all?”

“That's all.”

She hung up not long after, and you grabbed for your go-bag, chucking Newt his bag too, and he only just managed to catch it as the breath was knocked from his lungs, sticking his tongue out at you childishly as you grinned, before slamming your door back shut, and letting Newt lock it up, the van chirping and flashing as it sealed.

Swinging your bag onto your shoulder, your partner mimicked you. Wandering away together, you paced a few minutes from the van, staring out across the empty area, and crossing your arms. “I gave up my lunch for this shit.”

“You go left, I’ll go right, we’ll sweep around, and in ten minutes we meet at the van?” You only nodded, kicking at a particularly large pebble under your foot, and turning to face the direction you were told to go in. You heard Newt stepping away, pebbles shifting underfoot, and you followed suit, glancing back at the blond over your shoulder for a second. “Yell if you find something.”

“Will do.” You saluted, a grin thrown over his shoulder to you, before fixing your gaze ahead of you once again.

There were a few old houses, run-down and abandoned, nobody having lived in them for at least a decade. Broken windows were boarded up and front doors were hanging on their hinges, spray paint that was old and faded, drips and chips on the wood that was stained with years of abandonment, and wire fences with chains on that had been long since cut away. The grass was dead, yellowed and brown and overrun with weeds, and spoke spots ere charred blank with ash, where you suspected kids had come to light fires and get away from parents when they were bored; empty bottles of booze and cans of pop littered the ground, among wrappers and boxes for things too old to see the labels on.

You checked every garden, standing in the gate and calling out to offer help, but nothing except for silence came back. The rusty metal creaked as you stepped out from the last row, three random houses in an area of town that had clearly been skipped in the surrounding gentrification, left to fall into disrepair, and you didn’t blame it. The constant source of trains of the tracks overhead was already beginning to give you a headache, there were no real roads built to this area, and it was miles to the closest bus stop or shopping centre.

Turning back around, you didn’t walk straight back to him, but you walked a little to the side, taking an angle back towards the van just to be sure you were covering the maximum space that you could, checking over it all thoroughly, and just as you’d been giving up, your eyes caught the flicker of movement in your peripherals. When you focused on it, it took you a second to find it again, the trembling of metal stilts holding the bridge up forty feet above you disguising it, but then there was a twitch again.

In the shadows, easily missed, but then there they were. Sitting, leaned up against one of the bars from the other side, hand-pressed weakly over their stomach, head lolled to the side. You weren’t even sure if they had moved, or if they’d simply slumped forward because of the vibrations of the rickety bridge legs, and you felt a jolt of adrenaline race through you as you tried to jump into action.

“Shit!” You muttered, a slight rise on the hill before you as you tried to climb up it, the dust forming clouds behind you as the stones slipped at the sudden and uncoordinated movements, before you were stumbling closer to the person. “Newt!”

Another train shot overhead, drowning out the sounds of your shouts, and you hoped Newt had actually heard it, because you’d walked so far that he was more like a blur away from you, and you certainly couldn't hear his yells as he offered help anymore, they’d faded away a few minutes ago, but you couldn't be occupied with it now. The second the train had passed, you tried yelling again, out of breath and panting as you dropped to your knees before the person.

Their head was lying forward, chin pressed to their chest, fresh red blood seeping out between their fingers in weak bursts, and at least you knew they were still alive. Cupping their face, you pushed their head back, skin sickly pale and flushed with sweat, a very quiet groan leaving his lips, and hooded eyes cracked open barely at all to look at you. “Did you make that call?”

“Call?” He echoed, seemingly confused about what was even happening, but with the amount of blood that was staining the pebbles around you and clumping in the dust and dirt as it turned dark, you weren’t all that surprised.

“Alright, buddy, we’ll get you all sorted out, okay?” You circled a hand around behind his neck, the other on his side, and you needed to lay him down just to be able to get to the wound, because you couldn't see anything with him slumped over like this, daylight partially blocked out from the bridge overhead and shadows forming over the man. “I need to get you laying down, think you can handle that?”

He didn’t even nod, simply made a broken hum under his breath that you decided to take as an acknowledgement, before pulling him forwards. He let out a louder cry this time, the pain taking him over, and you heard the rapid-fire crunches of Newt running towards you, slightly uneven footsteps on his hurt leg, but you didn’t pay any attention to it, grateful that he’d heard you, but focusing on your patient.

His hands had fallen away from his wounds, and you fumbled for your torch, the light designed to check eyes did little to light up the wound but blood was staining the pale shirt he wore, leaving wet red patches as far up as his ribs. Newt skidded to a stop behind you, a hand running through the longer fringe in his face as he pushed it back, eyes wide.

“Well, shit, I’ll be damned.”

“Knife wound, pretty deep, can you hold the torch for me?” He nodded, stains of red smeared across it from where you’d already got blood on your fingers, and you pushed up the edge of his shirt, getting a look at the wound. He sank to his knees, holding the light over it more clearly, and you hoped he could sense your silent appreciation. It helped you to see, but didn’t clarify much, because blood was smeared over his skin and gave illusions about where his injuries started and ended, bubbling blood still leaving the gash. Dropping your bag down to your side, you opened it up, fumbling through for a pair of rubber gloves, and a tissue to be able to wipe away the blood with.

Snapping the latex onto your wrists and taking the folded clump of paper, dragging it delicately but firmly over the spot to try and get a better look. A second, maybe two, was all you got of clear skin before blood was beginning to fill the space once again, the man’s shallow pants and groans getting lighter and weaker, and you knew you had to hurry, lost time in having to search for him taking its toll now, but it was long enough to get a good look.

“We’re going to need some stuff from the van, probably the stretcher, but I don’t know how well we can wheel him across that gravel.”

“I can just pull up the van?” He offered, clicking off the torch to hand it back to you as you put the correct pressure down on the wound to stop the bleeding, pinching around the edges and holding tight to seal the wound, and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s good. Pull up the van!”

He nodded, brushing dust from his knees as he stood, and you used your other hand to begin searching through your bag for the disinfectant spray you needed to start cleaning up his wound so you could put a provisionary seal on it.

You found the canister, shaking it carefully and trying to squeeze the lid with two fingers to get it off, a ‘pop’ sounding before the fading footsteps Newt was making came to a sudden halt.

“Woah, woah, woah..” You looked up, eyes widening and blood running cold at the sight. Newt had his hand held up, a man who’d ace you couldn't quite see behind the baseball cap and the hood he had pulled up to obscure his features, sleeves reaching gloved hands, and a gun in one hand, finger pressed over the trigger as Newt took a few steps back toward you both and stumbling slightly, his leg going weak as he stood unevenly on a rock, and you couldn't help the gasp in fear that left you. “Look, man, we don’t want any trouble. We just got a call, for that guy.”

He reached out one hand, pointing to where you were kneeling still, and you leaned forwards, moving very slowly as you tried to press down gently on the top of the canister, spraying gently on the wound, but as the man let out a sudden and pained noise, the gun moved to you, and you froze, jumping back from the actions and dropping the can.

“I know, because I made the call.”

“You made the call?” You repeated, the face of the shadowed man becoming a little clearer, a large tattoo taking up one side of his face, and you shifted, the uncomfortable stones digging into your knees making you wince as you tried to hold still, an ache in your muscles as your heart raced with fear once again. “If you made the call, why can’t we help him.”

“You’re not here to help him, his wound is just to get you here.”

“You stabbed a man to get ahold of a paramedic?” The gun clicked, the safety catch off, and you swallowed thickly, internally berating yourself for asking such a question when the moment was so tense. “Look, we’ll come with you, we’re more than happy to, but just let me help him and then we’ll go wherever y-”

“Lady, if you don’t stop talking, I will blow your fucking brains all over these stones.” Your jaw snapped shut, heart freezing in your chest entirely, and you nodded dumbly. “Great, now get the fuck up, grab your bag, and walk over here real slow.”

You hesitated, only for a second, before lifting your hand from the man’s wound, hearing him groan out a little, and you ducked your head, knocking your bag over and the contents falling out across the gravel. “I don’t know if you’re even sentient enough to hear me right now,”

Your words were as low as you could get them, hoping then standing a few metres away wouldn't pick them up as he focused back on Newt, and you packed away slowly,

“If you can, I’m leaving the antiseptic and some gauze here. You need to pinch the sides of your wound, lay still, take deep breaths, and hold as much pressure as you can. In about forty minutes, we’d be due to make a call in, we’re supposed to every hour we’re out; when we don’t report in, they’ll send another ambulance. Just hold on, alright?”

You nudged the items a little further into the shadows, hoping the man had caught your words and had the strength to hold on, before you were peeling off your gloves, tucking them into your bag, and zipping it up to sit on your shoulder. Holding your hands up to show they were empty, you stepped beside Newt, the look on his face silently questioning if you were alright, and you gave him a subtle nod, raising a brow in return, and he ducked his head once in reply.

He stood behind you both, pushing the edge of the gun against Newt’s head to urge you both forward, and you matched his steps, the three of you walking slowly as you allowed yourself to be guided. There was a sleek black car pulled up, one you’d missed when arriving, and you suspected he’d driven away and waited somewhere for the ambulance to go past before pulling up again, because it wasn’t exactly hidden.

“Look, we’re going willingly, alright? No fight here, I’ll help. Our ambulance is right there,” You pointed to it, hands still raised up, arms beginning to ache and tire, and Newt folded his, resting his hands behind his head, and turning to look at you as you spoke, “Just let me call in for someone else to come help the other guy, they won’t even get here until after we’ve gone anyway, it’ll t-”

Your ears were ringing, the sound of the bang going off, the rush of air, and the way it felt like an explosion had gone off inside of your own head. You stumbled, falling to your knees at the impact as your entire body went weak, and your vision went black for a second as you tried to process it. You couldn't focus, everything seeming a little blurry, and you could feel Newt’s hands on your shoulders, shaking you, a very muffled shout of your name, before it was all torn backwards once again, and you felt nauseous as the shock swept through your body.

The man crouched down, pulling his hood back and directing an angry gaze straight at you as you blinked to clear your vision, barely able to hear a thing. “That was a fucking warning shot, speak again, and the next bullet won’t miss.”

You had to read his lips for half of the words he said, barely processing them, the bullet that had flown past your ear was making everything fade around the edges, and you were hauled roughly to your feet by a hand under your arm, leaning you against Newt as you staggered the final few feet to the car that was your destination. You could barely clear your head, shaking it a little bit finding even that action was too painful.

Blood was rushing, your headache felt like it was about to split your skull in half, and your shoulder ached as you were tossed down roughly into the open boot, unable to catch yourself in time. Newt followed, the lid slamming shut, darkness surrounding instead. You could feel Newt’s hands on you, the flash of light from his keyring over your irises making you wince, his fingers pressing along your jaw and around your ears, checking for any signs of a ruptured eardrum or any bleeding, but as the car rumbled to life, peeling out of abandoned area everything felt like it was slipping.

Your fingers scratched at the flooring of the car, nails digging into the felt, grains and dirt stuck under your fingernails, and then the car jolted, dipping into a pothole on the road, your head hitting against the floor of the car, and everything you were still clinging to was lost as well as you blacked out.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Love You Too Much

Part 13

Yandere!Namjoon x Army!Y/N

Warnings: Yandere fic, this chapter mentions nausea. Smut in the next chapter

(back)/(next)/(masterlist)

The underground is extremely busy when you board, but Joon manages to snag himself a seat. He tugs you down into his arms and cages you too him; tightly hugging your waist to keep you from sliding off when the train jerks. You blush noticing the eyes on you, public affection isn’t common in places like this. Instead of focusing on the glares of other passengers you try to look around the cabin, unfortunately, you don’t get very far before Namjoon stops you.

“You can’t look around; you’ll figure out where we are going too easily.” His eyes lock with yours showing how serious he is about this being a surprise. You pout back at him, bringing your finger up to poke at his cheek.

“Then what am I supposed to do for the next hour you said we would be down here?” The question is answered with a small kiss, and then another, and another. He kisses all over your face as you turn redder and redder at the attention. You try to push him back a little, but the death grip he has on your waist won’t let you.

“I know I could keep this up the entire time.” He says in between each peck. Its makes you giggle as his voice vibrates against your skin. You keep wriggling until he stops. Sighing dramatically he adds “Unless you want to spend the time on your phone, that’s good too I guess.”

“That sounds like a much more appropriate plan,” you confirm laughing. You kiss him once more before pulling out your phone for the rest of the journey. With each stop more people exit without being replaced, but even with ten empty seats around you Namjoon won’t let you slip off his lap grumbling and burying his fae into your neck every time you try. Anyone else would be thankful for the reprieve, having someone sat on your lap for so long can not be comfortable. Eventually the train changes from underground to overground and you can see the city around you.

Clearly nowhere near the massive towers and bustling stores of the centre. However, there is a very suspicious looking building on the horizon. The tops of blue turrets can be seen hidden in the distance. You dare to glance around the train and find a lot of people wearing character clothing and excessively bright colours.

“Joon?” you tap at his arms to get him to lift his head away from where it rested on your shoulder.

“Hmm?” he answers, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Are we going to Disneyland?” its hard to contain your excitement, as you start to bounce a little in his lap.

“I don’t know… are we?” he raises an eyebrow at you, completely failing to keep the grin off his face as he watches you get more fidgety.

It feels like the rest of the journey takes a lifetime, even if it is just two more stops. Namjoon lets you up just as the door slide open. You take his hand and follow him through the station. Instead of the expansive white walls and large advertisements of the other stations this one is coated in rainbow Disney character silhouettes, all it doe is add to the knot of anticipation that’s building in your stomach.

Along the walk-way different Disney princess theme songs play leading all the way from the station doors to the gate. Pathways are framed with cherry blossoms and ornate streetlamps. Even before you reach the park they try their best to make sure guests are fully emerged in the experience. A giant inflatable Donald Duck welcomes people from the nearby lake, many waiting to take their pictures with the beloved blow-up character.

You slow to take in your surroundings but Namjoon seems determined to carry on. He squeezes your hand to bring you back to him and starts moving a little quicker.

“Come on there is a ride I really want to take you on, but the line can be pretty long so the sooner we get through that one the better.” He smiles back at you but your stomach drops. You hadn’t thought about the rides. Yes it’s a theme park… but it’s more of an experience situation. Big rides are terrifying. As you waited to be admitted into the park you tried to come up with a way to break it to Namjoon gently that fast rides weren’t for you. He just looked so excited, and maybe its time to try something new.

Luckily being a weekday the line for entry was reasonably short. Just inside the gates there is a board with described wait times. You chew your lip anxiously as he searches for the ride in question. He doesn’t even bother to tell you the name before heading off in, what you assume is, the right direction. It doesn’t take long to reach the dreaded thing; Shanghai is a reasonably small Disney park after all.

*Soaring Over the Horizon*

 Terrifying…

The ride itself seems to be in a large amphitheatre. Hidden so you can’t tell how bad it is. Joon tries to keep heading for the ride but you force him stop.

“I’m sorry Joon… I’m… I’m not good at rides.” You force your stomach to stop flipping as he studies you. It’s uncomfortable for a moment and then his normal relaxed demeanour reappears.

“I promise you this one isn’t bad baby.” He reaches out to push a stray hair behind your ear. “It’s like a cinema, you get lifted up to watch a movie, no scary rollercoaster I promise.” You nuzzle into the warmth of his hand, allowing it to calm you a little. “If you don’t like it you just close your eyes and most of it just goes away. After the turn you had in the tower, I would never risk putting you on a fast ride. I just had all of these big plans 0for what we were going to do today. I know you’ll enjoy it all if you just try… Don’t you trust me?” the last words sting a little. The tone too severe for the context.

“Of course I trust you,” you take a deep breath and steel your resolve, determined to show him that you have faith in him. You charge towards the queue as he falls into step behind you. Inside the building is stunning. Modelled after temples in a desert, the ceiling has been strung with a million tiny lights to make it look like a clear night sky. You lean back into Joon to get a better view of what’s above you, also using his solid body to keep you grounded. The closer you get the more you regret you decision to force yourself onto the ride. With each shuffle forward you can feel your heartbeat faster. He must feel it too because he tightens his grip on you and leans down to whisper in your ear.

“I’ve got you Y/N, every moment.” The tension in your shoulders loosens a little, until it’s your turn at the front of the queue. The attendant usher two dozen people into a new room to watch a video. A video in Chinese. You glance around at the other guests wrapped up in the magic of the ride. Kids as young as eight stand around you, and you can’t help but feel a little silly. As the preamble ends, doors open to your left and you are told to strap into a row of seats set out like paraglider. You place your loose items in the tray under your chair and strap your self in, clinging desperately to the chair arm on you left and Namjoon on the right.

When the ride starts to move you can’t help but squeal, making Namjoon laugh. You shoot a glare at the idol before returning your attention to the screen at the front of the ride. It takes you throughout the world. 3D images of the world’s greatest wonders and animals. The entire show is breath taking, you almost don’t want it to end. But it has to.

You are lowered back to the floor and sent on out into the park. The stress of working yourself up hasn’t helped the queasy feeling that had been lingering since the bout of vertigo, Namjoon wraps his arm around you shoulder and pulls you close.

“See that wasn’t so bad was it.” He grins, you try to match his enthusiasm with your reply but apparently there is no hiding your unease from him. “Come on I think you need lunch before we do anything.” You start to protest, determined to do all the fun things he had planned. However, your stomach grumbling beat you to the punch. You check your watch to find out it had been a long time since breakfast.

“Okay, where so you want to eat?” you end up leaving the park. Just outside there is a large selection of restaurants to choose from. He pulls you into the cheesecake factory, citing something about familiar western food being easier for you, although you can’t hide your disappointment at not being able to try more traditional Asian dishes. The food is great though, and you get to share dessert. He orders an oreo cheesecake, feeding it to you from his fork “Accidentally” getting it on your face and leaning over to kiss it off. You can already feel the boost in blood sugar helping you to feel better. By the time he has paid the cheque, you are more than ready to take on the rest of the park for the afternoon.

Masterlist

[antoine-roquentin]

Twenty-four-year-old Lauren Mestas was already having a bad day when she noticed a cop car tailing her northbound on Interstate 35, headed into downtown Austin. She wasn’t overly concerned at first, as she wasn’t breaking any laws, but the patrol vehicle remained on her tail as she exited onto Riverside Drive, headed west. She started to suspect that it might have something to do with the slogans soaped all over the windows of her 2001 Toyota 4Runner. In addition to “BROWN PRIDE” and “BLACK LIVES MATTER,” written across the rear window were the words “FUCK THESE RACIST POLICE.”

Two days earlier and not even a mile away, a few blocks south of the Texas Capitol in the center of Austin, Mestas had witnessed an off-duty Army sergeant named Daniel Perry shoot and kill an Air Force veteran named Garrett Foster, who had been at a BLM protest with an AK-47 slung across his chest, pushing his quadruple-amputee fiancée in a wheelchair. At the sound of gunfire, Mestas and two other young women had fled across Congress Avenue, the main downtown boulevard, and hidden behind a column of the Frost Bank Tower. In the process, she had accidentally lost her cell phone, as well as the remote control to open the gates of her apartment complex.

That night, on arriving home, she’d parked in an ungated portion of the sprawling, 42-building apartment complex, located in far South Austin. Badly shaken by the shooting, she must have confused the spot, because when she went out the next morning, a Sunday, she couldn’t seem to find the 4Runner anywhere. “I was not in a good headspace,” she told me. “I thought somebody had stolen my car.”

She called the city’s non-emergency line to report the suspected theft. Eight hours later, she stumbled across the 4Runner while walking her dog, a chihuahua named Optimus Prime, and redialed 311 to retract the stolen vehicle report. The operator, Mestas told me, assured her that the 4Runner’s vehicle identification number and license plate number would be removed from the police department’s stolen vehicle list, and gave her a confirmation number for verification, should she happen to get pulled over.

Monday morning, she went to her job at Planet K, the longtime Austin smoke shop where she was employed as a shift lead. She had yet to recover, emotionally, from witnessing Foster’s murder. “I spent two hours on my shift sobbing,” she told me. “I had just seen somebody get shot and killed. I was pretty much catatonic.” A little after 10 a.m., her manager sent her to the bank to break $200 into small bills and coins. She took Optimus Prime with her for company.

It was on the way to the bank that the cop car picked up her tail. The officer, a state trooper from the Texas Department of Public Safety, or DPS, later filed an incident report which made clear that his reason for running a license plate check was that, in his words, “the vehicle had anti law enforcement rhetoric scribble [sic] all over the outside.” He followed her for a mile on Riverside Drive along the south shore of Ladybird Lake, and waited a full five minutes to hit the siren and lights.

“Oh my God,” Mestas thought, surmising what must have happened. “They think I stole my car.”

She panicked, and instead of pulling over, she came to a dead stop in the middle of the First Street Bridge, blocking the inside lane. The spot where she braked to a halt might well have been the precise geographic center of Austin, with Ladybird Lake flowing beneath her toward Longhorn Dam, Auditorium Shores and all of South Austin to her rear, and City Hall directly in front of her. It was 10:40 on a weekday morning, and normally the bridge would have been packed with traffic, but four months into the pandemic, there were hardly any other cars.

The state trooper, Garrett Ray, was joined by a second DPS officer, Jason Melson. Instead of approaching the 4Runner, they drew their service weapons and took cover behind the open doors of their patrol vehicles. According to Ray’s incident report, it was an “HRS,” or high-risk stop, also known as a felony stop: a procedure employed when an officer believes that someone in the car has committed a serious crime and could be dangerous.

The tactical terminology is worth noting because earlier that very same morning, the Austin Police Department had released damning dashcam footage of officers shooting and killing an unarmed man named Michael Ramos in a high-risk or felony stop that, like this one, had been based on faulty dispatch information. A 911 caller reported that Ramos and a woman had been using drugs in a parked car, and that he was holding a gun. Ramos had been spooked by the sight of eight armed officers pointing weapons and screaming at him to get his hands up. When he tried to flee, one of the officers opened fire with an assault rifle. APD later confirmed there was no gun in Ramos’s possession.

One hour after Mestas was pulled over, at 11:40 a.m., I happened to come across the scene by accident. I was riding my bike around Ladybird Lake, and I counted at least 40 DPS vehicles blocking the south end of the First Street Bridge. There had to be 80 cops on scene by that time, if not 100. The emergency vehicles included a fire truck, an ambulance, and two BearCat armored personnel carriers.

Every minute or so, a mechanical RoboCop-like voice repeated, “Driver, exit the vehicle with your hands up.” The dystopian intonation sounded over Auditorium Shores, where a crowd of people who had been exercising or playing with their dogs had gathered on the sidewalk to watch the spectacle unfold.

[preventivefire3340]

Beyond the Glow: Understanding Emergency Exit Light Regulations at Lake Park

Delve into the legal aspects of emergency exit lights in Lake Park. Explore the codes, regulations, and standards that ensure these lights are effective in emergencies.

Visit Us- https://preventivefire.com/emergency-lighting-2/

[sammystep]

No One Lives Forever- CH10

(AO3 link)

Stardust Crusader Wolf Pack AU

[From the beginning- CH1]

<Previous Chapter     Next Chapter>

Between the road noise and the insulation of the cooler it was easy to ignore the shouting from the gremlin. Kakyoin had taken shotgun this time, the rest of you piled in the back rows and passing around bandages and ointments as Polnareff drove. After cleaning away the blood you could see none of you had sustains injuries worse than some deep scratches. With the accelerated healing you all had they would be fine by morning, but you patched each other up with gauze and bandages just in case. It felt nice, satisfying even, to take care of the others and let them take care of you in return.

You lose track of time for a bit, content to sit quietly in the middle row and rest. You hear someone start snoring from behind you and turn around to see Joseph has nodded off, Avdol also has his eyes closed but looks more like he’s meditating than sleeping. Jotaro must have turned at the same time, you caught his eyes as he turns forward again as well, a small smile on his face. You smile at him and hold out your hand to him over the middle seat. His gaze flicks back again before he faces forward completely and covertly takes your hand.

You didn’t realize how tense you still were until he took your hand and you felt the muscles of your back and shoulders melt. A tingling feeling of relief, you were safe, your pack was safe, your mate…

You tense slightly again and grip Jotaro’s hand, where had that feeling come from? You are bewildered for a moment, you barely register Jotaro squeezing your hand back, his emotions hidden by his resting serious face. You relax into your seat again, coming to at least basic terms with what your instincts have been screaming at you for a while now. Yes, it was a terrifying situation happening when you first met him, and Jotaro could physically fit the definition of big bad wolf, but his actions so far have proven he’s anything but cruel or violent. When you had gotten a look at the cut on his leg earlier you had to suppress a sudden shift and urge to rip the monster that did that to pieces. Maybe he was experiencing the same feelings towards you?

It’s been a few hours after the events of the gas station and capturing Dio’s minion when Polnareff makes a turn off the road to a campsite. Although it looked well cared for there weren’t many campers ready to brave New York forests this late in the season, there were no other cars in the lot or in any of the designated spaces close to the entrance. Jotaro is surveying the space outside his window so he doesn’t see Kakyoin turn around and catch sight of your intertwined hands. You blush and look away when you catch his eye and he’s polite enough to clear his throat before announcing this was the nearest campsite he found to dispose of the gremlin in its prison.

Polnareff parks and you’re surprised Jotaro gives your hand a squeeze before letting go and climbing out. You suppress a giggle at Joseph’s sudden snort as he jostles himself awake. Exiting the truck, you enjoy a deep lung full of clean air, not even a trace of human scent present. The falling leaves and large lake to your right create a picturesque scene and you almost wish the pack had stopped for pleasure and not business. Speaking of… Jotaro and Polnareff are unloading your captive from the back, the creature either playing possum or it had finally run out of air. A couple of hard shakes to the container don’t produce the screeches you expected.  

Joseph has fully woken up from his nap and joins them in staring at the cooler. “Well, looks like we won’t be getting any more info out of that thing.” He puts one hand on his hip and scratches at his beard with the other. “Jotaro, what do you think? Risk it getting away to see if it’s really dead?”

“No. It didn’t seem all that clever, it probably had nothing more to tell us. It’s not worth the risk of it getting loose out here.” Jotaro motions with a jerk of his chin to the dense woods. “We’ll burry the whole thing and be done with it.” The rest of the pack nods in agreement and Jotaro and Polnareff haul the cooler towards the line of trees.

You all take advantage of the rest stop and walk around the campsite while Jotaro and Polnareff make quick work of disposing of their cargo. You douse a few paper towels with some of the bottled water as they make their way back and offer them to the guys to clean up with. “Ah, merci mon amie.” Polnareff looks around for a moment before leaning in slightly “Ah, say (Y/N), you didn’t see any restrooms around here, did you?”

Jotaro rolls his eyes as he finishes cleaning the dirt from under his nails. “Good grief Pol. It’s the woods. Go anywhere.”

“Fine! Fine!” Polnareff puts his hands up in surrender, “Just thought I’d check.” He backs away from you and Jotaro and towards the lake. You turn away to give him privacy and survey the rest of the pack. Avdol and joseph are going through some of the snacks; more like Avdol is trying to restrain Joseph from sampling each new type of jerky he finds. Kakyoin is making his way to you and Jotaro when you hear a sudden shout from behind you.

Polnareff had just finished his business and was headed back to the group when his leg gets caught on something. Yelling as he’s pulled to the ground, he re-evaluates, he hasn’t tripped on his own and whatever has caught him is dragging him back towards the lake. He catches a glimpse of what looks like seaweed wrapped from ankle to kneecap as he tires to scramble away. His claws dig into the dirt as he struggles to gain traction and from behind him he hears an ungodly noise of whatever has caught him.

You and Jotaro turn as soon as you hear Polnareff’s distressed yelp. The unbelievable scene of a creature rising from the lake makes you both hesitate for a moment to comprehend what you’re seeing. Its body ungulates, a writhing mass of pond weed and lake plants twining together to take the form of what looked like a horse. Jotaro recovers from the shock first, surging forward and transforming as he ran. You are right behind him, transforming as well. The creature rears back and screeches as you both approach it, desperately trying to drag Polnareff to the water as the plants rooted to its body climb further up his leg to gain better grip on the struggling werewolf.

From your left more beasts are emerging from the water and you and Jotaro dodge the kelp and vines shooting out at you. You hear the rest of the pack behind you also start making their way to the lake but are cut off by more creatures. The one holding onto Polnareff has managed to drag the massive white werewolf to the water by the time you and Jotaro rush the last few steps to his aid. Both of his legs have been tangled by vines now but they fall away limp as Jotaro is able to cut through the main vine. You quickly help Polnareff to his feet in the knee-high water.

“What the hell are these things?” Polnareff’s voice is deeper and slightly distorted with his change and constant growl rumbling from his chest. The three of you take a defensive formation covering each other’s backs and claws out. Your ears flatten and you snarl at one of the seaweed horses as it gallops by.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” you huff and swipe at a tendril of lake-weed snaking too close for comfort, “Some kind of horses? Or we pissed off a plant witch or something?”

“Kelpies. They’ve never been sighted this far north though.” Jotaro growls out as he snaps at the beast in front of him. By now the things were running amok along the shoreline and around the pack, six of them in total working as a team to try and capture and drag you all to a watery grave. One of them turns and stamps its hooves before charging directly at you, Jotaro and Polnareff. You are forced to dive away as it barrels by but a vine of weeds wraps around your waist as it passes. You are lifted briefly into the air before landing on all fours, the vines tangling your legs as well. You hear two loud thumps behind you and see Jotaro and Polnareff were also bound by that last charge, their arms stuck to their bodies and unable to claw their way out.

You cut your own bindings as fast as you can and quickly cut them free as well before you are all dragged along with the galloping kelpie. It bellows as it realizes its prey has broken free and tosses its head making its mane of kelp fly about.  The three of you quickly move to the offensive rushing the creatures standing between you and the rest of your packmates. Jotaro takes the lead and you defend his sides, swiping away any tendrils reaching too close. Polnareff assists and keeps another beast off your backs. Ahead of you, Avdol, Joseph and Kakyoin are also struggling to keep themselves guarded and untethered, but the horses are galloping too fast to try and get any substantial hits in, circling in a pattern to keep the pack separated and vulnerable.

Jotaro narrows his eyes and growls louder as he realizes there is something more going on here. Although they are fast there are only six of the kelpies, the pack should be able to take them on one-on-one but their movements are too coordinated to be wild kelpies. He stops and takes on a defensive stance again as a sudden gleam of light catches his attention, what looks like spider’s thread catching the sunlight. He follows the line with his eyes and sees it connects to one of the kelpie’s heads. In fact, now that he’s noticed one of them, they all seem to have this silver thread connecting them to a single point in the lake. About 20 feet from the shore a figure has risen from the water, humanoid but draped in gold and blue lakeweed. It makes no move to come ashore, instead moving its arms like an orchestra conductor would to control the team of water horses under its command.

Before he can make a move towards this figure another kelpie blocks his path. Polnareff barrels forward from his right and slashes at the beast’s face with his claws. He yelps in pain at the same time the kelpie rears back and retreats, a pile of silver rope falling to the ground. Polnareff cradles his silver burned hand for a moment before his eyes light up in understanding. “It’s silver! They have silver leashes!” the kelpie he accidently freed runs past the fighting happening between its herd and the pack, running on top of the water to the far side of the lake. “It’s gonna burn like hell but we can free them!”

With one of the kelpies no longer under its control, the man in the lake’s movements become more exaggerated as the remaining five horses push themselves to move faster, biting, stomping and charging the pack. Jotaro seizes the opportunity to break another of the silver ropes as he dodges the kelpie charging at him but instead of letting go, he grips the silver line tight where he severed it. It burns something fierce but he’s able to control the horse long enough to force it to charge at the lake man and bring Jotaro along for the ride. When he’s close enough Jotaro slips the silver harness from the kelpie and throws it, hoping to tangle the puppet master. Up close he can see the man’s flashing amber eyes and although as a wolf his sense of color is limited, he can tell the kelp and weeds cloaking the creature would actually be red instead of gold if he had full color vision right now. A rusalka then. A male rusalka and a herd of kelpies under its control?

The rusalka hisses at him but it’s a mocking laugh and not a fearful defense mechanism like Jotaro expected. Instead, it seems confident in its ability to take on the hulking werewolf in the water. “Hssss… You are a foolish one, aren’t you? Making it so easy to carry out my orders. You think you’ll beat me in my element? Show me what you’ve got then, pup.” Vines of lake kelp lash out as the rusalka flails his arms, no longer focused on controlling the kelpies now that his prey was in range of his own claws. Jotaro growls and snaps the first volley of vines with his claws as he swims closer. Grabbing at the next vines that hurl at him he holds tightly and begins reeling himself closer toward the rusalka.

He’s underestimated the rusalka’s speed and he has to suddenly deflect razor sharp claws away from his exposed torso. Although it has the advantage of speed in the water it is still weaker than Jotaro and on its next swipe Jotaro is able to grab on and immobilize it while swiping with his own claws. The rusalka hisses in pain and thrashes enough to break Jotaro’s grip before getting a hit in on the wolf’s side. More lake weed vines shoot out from its body to try and wrap him up and finally succeed in binding his leg. With a great tug the battle is moved completely underwater. Jotaro is just barely able to resist the instinct to gasp as the cold water rushes into his ears and nose uncomfortably. Snapping his eyes open as he feels a shift in the water, he’s able to evade the claws that had been aiming for his face.

Now that he can see his enemy in his entirety, Jotaro realizes the reason the rusalka had been controlling the kelpies from such a distance. From the waist down, instead of legs or even fins is a thick tangle of lake weed and kelp that anchors it to the lake bottom, more vines branching off and shooting towards him from this central pillar. The vines were easily cut away as they reached him, but they were only a distraction for the rusalka to pull himself closer and unleash a flurry of slashing strikes. Jotaro blocks them with his arms and again grabs on to immobilize and pull in closer to deliver his own blows. He moves to the offensive, digging his claws into slimy flesh as the rusalka struggles in his grasp. He almost looses his grip when it lands a hard blow to his shoulder but keeps hold long enough to accomplish his final attack. With a powerful strike, Jotaro severs the thick tether keeping the rusalka anchored to the lake.  

The screech it lets out is almost deafening under water and Jotaro nearly looses his grip a second time. But with his claws embedded deep into the rusalka’s torso and his other hand gripping it by the throat he is able to swim and haul it to shore. With every foot closer it struggles harder, finally showing fear in its panicking eyes. Its movements are becoming less and less coordinated and it makes motions Jotaro recognizes as trying to call upon the kelpies for help through the silver ropes it had been using. The water is shallow enough now that Jotaro can stand and looks around for the kelpie reinforcements coming to its master’s aid. Instead, his pack spots him and rushes to help him drag the rusalka all the way to shore. Kakyoin reaches him first and the red wolf helps pull the creature the last few feet to the shore.

The change begins as soon as the last tendril loses contact with the water, some leaves shriveling and turning brown while others seem to rapidly decay and turn to sludge. The rusalka screams and thrashes as its body dries out and starts to flake away, but its strength is failing and it can’t pull itself back to the water in time. It collapses as it shrivels up, arms outstretched to the lake and it succumbs to the dry air.

You are the first one to let your transformation drop as you run up to Jotaro and Kakyoin, careful not to step in any leafy remains on the ground in front of them. Your sable fur falling away to reveal smooth skin and clothes is the unofficial signal for the others to drop their transformations as well. You reach the alpha and beta just as Jotaro lets go of his wolf form and you can see the damage the rusalka inflicted in their unseen underwater battle. You and Kakyoin nod at each other before reaching for Jotaro’s right arm and lifting it over your shoulder to support him, Kakyoin doing the same on his left side. You blush as you hear him chuckle but you’d be dammed if you weren’t going to help him after he risked his life to defeat the enemy. It seems he does appreciate your effort though as his chuckle turns into a huff and you feel his weight shift to lean on you as the three of you make your way back to the truck.

The rest of the guys move ahead getting the first aid supplied you all ransacked from the gas station opened and organized. Avdol takes charge of distributing bandages as Joseph and Polnareff drop dramatically to sit on the logs surrounding the unused fire pit. Jotaro is obviously sporting the worst injuries, but the rest of the pack is also covered in various bruises, bitemarks and silver burns. You and Kakyoin focus on getting Jotaro patched up together, you carefully clean the slashes from the rusalka’s claws and Kakyoin follows your wake drying and bandaging what he can. You don’t realize you are purring until Jotaro starts purring back and relaxes as your hands make contact with the bared flesh of his arms. You blush as you glance at his bare chest, looking in a non-clinical way now that things were calming down. Your hands only hesitate a moment though before you return to your task.

Your blush returns tenfold when Jotaro practically drags you down to sit next to him once you and Kakyoin finish bandaging each other as well. By the time everyone is bandaged up it’s getting late enough that you knew the pack wasn’t going to finish the journey to the city tonight. Everyone is sitting around the still unlit firepit and relaxing for a moment, watching the herd of kelpies you freed running and jumping across the surface of the lake when Avdol makes his suggestion. “Well, it seems like we’re not going to make much more progress tonight. We don’t have any camping gear with us, but we are already at a campsite.”

Polnareff flops over onto the log he’d been sitting on. “You mean we’re roughing it out here tonight? Can’t we keep going until we find a motel with actual beds? And proper bathrooms?”

Joseph throws an empty bottle at him, “Hush you spoilt pup! I don’t want to hear your bellyaching when you’ve got no idea what camping out here will do to my old bones!” You’re starting to recognize Joseph’s tell when he’s teasing Polnareff is to cross his arms and try and look stern, but a small grin gives him away.

“No, its too risky right now to be near humans. That rusalka, before we really got to fighting it mentioned ‘carrying out its orders’.” Jotaro shakes his head as he addresses the pack, joseph and Polnareff immediately back into serious mode. “We’ll be safer if we are able to fully transform to fight if we need to. I think that’s worth being uncomfortable for the night.”

You all agree with the decision to rank safety over comfort but you slump a little as you continue to watch the kelpies dance around the lake. You’ve slept in your car and camped out enough in your own travels that it’s not a huge hardship to do it again, but you also appreciated having a real bed to relax in. Especially after a day like today.

“I agree. However, on second thought…” Avdol motions to the kelpies, one had caught a large fish in its mouth as you had been daydreaming and now two were fighting over it and ripping the catch to pieces in the process. “Kelpies are carnivores after all. Perhaps a different campsite would be more suitable.”

Jotaro sighs and you feel him slump slightly into your side before he rallies himself and stands up. “Good point. Kakyoin, you’re navigator. Find a campsite we can get to quickly. Everyone else pack up and let’s go.”

   <Previous Chapter      Next Chapter>

Author’s Note:

So. A week late, but I swear its not my fault. Guess who lives in Texas and couldn’t use a computer for the week? This gal. Everything is fine now and I’m one of the lucky few who doesn’t have a 10k electric bill or burst pipes.

Anyway, this chapter was a lot of fun to write- I always thought it was weird the crusaders just jumped right in with the rest of the crew after the Dark Blue Moon episode when CLEARLY you can’t trust anyone. So this chapter is the “Captain” and his crew as cryptids and myths. If you haven’t been reading the notes so far, I’ve planned out all of the enemies in this fashion, each battle a new myth to discover (and for me to research). Also every Wikipedia article I’ve looked at for the monsters has a reference line that is something like “Appears on episode 25 of Supernatural”. I have not seen more than 2 or 3 episodes of that show, I got to the one with the Wendigo and NOPED RIGHT OUT. Was wwaaaayyy too scary. Couldn’t handle it! So any similarities to the show are going to be pure coincidence.

Also I had to do a gag at Pol’s expense

[pcttrailsidereader]

July 9, 2010 . . . A (Trail)Magical Evening at Drakesbad

By Rees Hughes

There are certain magical days on the Pacific Crest Trail that stand tall; days that rise above that broad forest of glorious days.   These are the days that your memory immediately races to when you reflect on your life on the trail.  There was the day we guessed our way around snow-covered Mt. Adams ending on a ridge with a commanding view of Mt. Rainier and a solstice sunset; the day we swam our way down Falls Creek marveling at the granite walls above Grace Meadows only to while away an afternoon in the soft, lush grass basking in the warm sun near Wilmer Lake; or the day we walked south from Cook and Green Pass past Kangaroo Springs to Lower Devils Peak with its ringside seat to the conflagration raging across the Klamath River Valley.  Every hiker has their transcendent days.

Such days do not always represent a confluence of everything wonderful.  It is their enchanted quality, what English writer Nan Fairbrother calls “exquisite moments,” that sets them apart.  Besides, time seems to blur the difficult and brighten the best experiences of these stellar days.  Such was the case this particular day.

The day dawned with vestiges of the tumultuous evening resting on the peaks above Lower Twin Lake in Lassen Volcanic National Park.  We tried to shake off as much moisture as possible but there was no alternative but to pack the tents wet again.  Dr. Howard tended to Don and Eli’s ailing feet.  Wet boots and long days had chaffed their feet raw with blisters compounding their discomfort.  There were unspoken thoughts of an early exit from the trail as it is no fun when each step hurts.  Perhaps a short day will improve spirits.

Speed bumps of late season snow gave way to long stretches of snow sheltered by the dense tree canopy.  I always find these situations wearing if not exhausting.  Climbing up and down the steep edges of the snow banks; picking your path around downed trees; add in a couple of postholes.   We carefully crossed several creeks swollen by the melt water and preceding night’s rainfall. About midday we reached the crest of a line of basalt cliffs that comprise Flatiron Ridge high above the Warner Valley and, more importantly, Drakesbad.

Drakesbad, initially established clear back in 1900 as a guest ranch, remains a rustic refuge accessible via a corrugated unpaved road seventeen miles in from Chester (which is pretty remote itself) or on foot.  There are only nineteen units at Drakesbad some of which still rely on kerosene lamps.  However, the price for a night rivals the cost of a month on the PCT.  Yet, during much of the summer, accommodations have been reserved for years.  It really is a Northern California Shangri-la.

As we made the long traverse down, we could see the steam rising from the hot spring pool set out in a broad meadow.  The siren song of happy voices pulled us forward.  Our own chatter focused on the possibility of reserving a space for dinner.

We set up our tents in the Park Service’s Warner Valley Campground, hung a line and did our best to give the high mountain sun a chance to dry out our saturated gear.  Howard and I were nominated to walk the half mile to Drakesbad to ask about a table for four in the well ventilated section.  We donned clean tee-shirts and tried to sponge away the most offensive trail musk.

As we stepped into the closed space of the dining room, even our deadened noses became aware of the aroma that accompanied us.  The colorful tablecloths festooned the light wood of the dining room.  The room was set for dinner.  Salad forks.  Second spoons.  Wine glasses.  The ambiance was simple but elegant.   The realization that we didn’t fit here made us yearn for the opportunity that much more.

A tall woman brusquely emerged from what appeared to be the kitchen.  She had the air of a person with a long list of urgent tasks and little time for hiker trash.  Our first efforts to turn on the charm bounced off her and fell impotently to the floor.

We continued, “Any chance, any chance at all, that there might be a way to handle four more this evening?”  We weren’t above inserting a hint of desperation in our request.

“The Ranch is full and we usually only have enough food for our paying guests,” she replied without a hint of sympathy.  There was a pause as she saw our crestfallen faces.  “I will check with the chef and see if there is likely to be extra food.”   Perhaps it was her Germanic accent that underscored the futility of our quest.   Perhaps it was that she didn’t seem to be heading off to ask anyone anything.

We turned to go, tails between our legs.  Don and Eli will be so disappointed.  We had hoped this would be an antidote for their blistered feet and bruised morale.

With one foot out the door, Howard asked if it might be possible to use the phone for a quick call home as our cell phones had not been working along this stretch of the PCT.

It was if Howard had uttered a magic incantation that had propelled us into a parallel universe.  We were Dorothy trying to get into Oz.  “Why didn’t you say you were on the Crest Trail,” Billie Fiebiger exclaimed.  “We always have enough food for PCT hikers.”  In fact, Billie gave us the key to the city.  “Use the showers (please) and the pool.  Make yourselves at home.  Come back at 7 p.m. although you may not be seated until later.”  Still shaking our heads at our good fortune and this rather mysterious turn of events, we hurried back to tell Don and Eli the news before the spell was broken.

As the four of us returned the dark clouds that had dogged us the past several days were building quickly.  But, the warm showers and the hydrothermal pool kept us occupied until the rumble of thunder became more aggressive. Within minutes the remaining blue patches of sky vanished.  Lightning forced us reluctantly to vacate the pool.  The hail drove us for cover under the eaves of the bathhouse.   The gusting winds pushed tentacles of rain toward even the most protected corners.

Valiant employees raced down the trail to the pool in an electric cart to rescue the castaways three per trip.  The meadow had been transformed into a Sargasso Sea and the pyrotechnics kept us all jumpy.  Eventually we were deposited in the Lodge where we were to wait until dinner.

The photo albums and memorabilia in the Lodge deepened our appreciation for just what a special place Drakesbad is.  For two generations the Sifford family had built and tended this Guest Ranch.  For over 60 years they reclaimed the facility after each harsh winter for its four months of annual operation.  It had to be a labor of love.  The facility was incorporated into the National Park in 1958.  For the past 19 years, Ed and Billie Fiebiger have served as the hosts, caretakers, and stewards of Drakesbad.

Ed, in his chef’s apron, called us for dinner.  We crossed to the dining hall and were promptly seated.  There were several choices of entrees.  Or, Ed suggested, “Try them all!”  Heaping plates were brought to each of us.  The folks at the adjacent table took a special interest in our story.  One of their group had come annually for nearly fifty years.  Another from their table was sent back to their cabin and instructed to return with some of their wine stash to be shared with us.  “White or red?”  “No”, she instructed her husband, “bring one of each.”  We were peppered with questions and asked quite a few of our own.  We soaked up the attention that comes with being minor celebrities.

Ed pulled up a chair.  He had a bigger than life quality and exuded a warmth that permeated the hospitality of this magical place.

My cynical side wanted to peer around to make sure that we were not being fattened up by some wicked witch.  But, Drakesbad is a place that replenishes your faith in the generosity of the human spirit.  Distrust, doubt, and skepticism have no place here.

And, there was desert too.  In fact, there were three kinds.  “Try them all!”

It was tempting to linger much longer than we did.  I confess that it was all I could to restrain myself from asking if they served breakfast too.

Eventually we said reluctant goodbyes and enthusiastic thank yous.  The rain had stopped by the time we walked back toward our campsite.  If we weren’t walking down the road with our arms around each other, singing and talking loudly, then it felt like there was that sense of conviviality. 

The storm had spread our clothes across our campsite and sent cascades of water around our tents.   But there was nothing capable of dampening our spirits on this magical day.

[dark-and-twisty-01]

Chelsea's Revenge Was A Nightmare Before Christmas

Lisa Williams knew things were far from perfect between her and her boyfriend's ex. But she could never have foreseen how the other woman's need for revenge would suddenly turn into a nightmarish attack with fatal consequences.

Lisa, 26, was at the apartment in Midvale, Salt Lake City, that she shared with her partner Travis Cook on November 25th, 2018. She was with the three year old twins from Travis's former marriage to Chelsea Cook, 32. She didn't know that she was about to become the sole focus of Chelsea's "revenge" on Travis.

During the day she spoke to her sister, Bekah Williams, on the phone to share her excitement. "She loved kids," Bekah said. "I spoke to her an hour or so before it all happened, and she was so excited to give those kids something happy." Lisa had brought a popcorn maker so she could present the kids with fresh popcorn and Christmas music as they decorated the tree.

Chelsea, the twins' mother, was due to call at 6:45 p.m. with some cough medicine for one of the twins. Lisa hoped she would keep her distance. Chelsea scared her. Travis and Chelsea had divorced some months before Travis grew friendly with Lisa, but that didn't stop Chelsea from hating Lisa.

Travis and Lisa fell in love at the bank where they worked. Lisa was warm, supportive and nurturing as Chelsea was the opposite. And as soon as the two lovers became an item, in June 2018, Chelsea targeted Lisa with confrontations at the bank, social media posts and phone calls. Lisa was reluctant to report any of this because she didn't want to make life harder for the kids. "In hindsight, I think the best thing for the kids would have been a call to the police every time," Bekah said.

In August 2018, Bekah took the initiative and complained to Chelsea's employer on her sister's behalf. The sisters always looked out for one another. But it didn't do any good this time. "It seems to me that nothing was done," she later said.

Raised in Arizona, Lisa had travelled to American Fork, Utah, to care for her younger sister when Bekah was suffering from a lung condition. Lisa loved plants and amused her sister by seeking out the most pathetic specimens in garden centres. "She had a green thumb and passion for plants. One of her favorite things to do was find plants that were struggling and she'd bring them back. She'd tell me, "It just makes me love them more."

Back in Midvale, there was trouble in October 2018 when Travis arrived at Chelsea's apartment to pick up the kids for a routine paternal visit. He made a casual comment to the twins that they were going to see Lisa, wasn't that exciting?

Chelsea flew into a rage, made disparaging comments about Lisa, grabbed Travis by the hair and pushed him down the stairs. Lisa wasn't present. Travis lodged a complaint with the authorities but didn't pursue it. Lisa understood Chelsea's anger, she really did, but Lisa and Travis were six months down the road together and she hoped Chelsea could move on. "I won't have you trying to tear me down," she wrote as if to Chelsea in her journal, the best way she had to express her feelings. "I really hope we can move past this nonsense."

Rehearsing her words this way, she probably thought, might give her the courage to say them out loud. Nonetheless, Lisa was hopeful that things had improved. A few days earlier, Chelsea thanked her for picking the kids up from childcare. Signs of thaw, perhaps?

Chelsea arrived on schedule that Sunday, November 25th. She exchanged brief words with Travis and stood in the hall outside the apartment, then played with her phone, pretending to text, as Travis stepped out to the parking lot for a moment. "Mr. Cook exits his apartment and once he is out of sight Chelsea Cook enters the apartment without knocking," the charge sheet said. She ignored Travis as he asked her to leave, saying something like, "Come on Chelsea, we agreed you wouldn't come inside. Not after, you know..."

She darted into the bathroom and locked the door. Frustrated, Travis called 911. "I'm calling the police, Chelsea. Don't make this awkward."

Chelsea came out of the bathroom, picked up her coat and pulled out a gun. Immediately she turned and shot Lisa, who'd come to see what the fuss was about, three times in rapid succession Lisa was shot in the chest, hip and back in front of the twins.

Instinctively, Travis wrestled the gun from her and forced her to sit down next to the kids. He turned to Lisa and did his best with CPR, then picked up his phone again and continued his call to emergency asking for police and ambulance.

As he was speaking he watched Chelsea closely. Seeing her move towards her coat, he told the twins to go to their room and lock the door. Worried Chelsea might have a second gun, Travis pinned her to the wall and held her there until the police arrived. He told them there was a gun in his waistband as they entered. "Officers found the victim with at least two gunshots to her torso," the charge sheet said. "The victim was transported to a local hospital where she eventually succumbed to her injuries."

Chelsea, looking drawn and tired, pleaded guilty to avoid the death penalty in February 2020. She attended a sentence hearing in June 2020. A former health and yoga teacher, Chelsea apologized for killing Lisa. "I was only thinking of myself and the extreme emotional pain I was experiencing," she said. "I'm so sorry the twins had to see me shoot and kill Lisa. All she ever did was love them."

Lisa's family were unimpressed. "Because of you, I no longer get to hear her contagious laughter bouncing around the house," her brother Hyrum Williams said. "When you took Lisa's life, you took a light from this world." Lisa's other brother, Jonathan Williams, said he missed her radiant smile and how it brightened his life. "Then one day Lisa was stolen. She was shot in cold blooded slaughter."

Defense attorney Michael Peterson claimed Chelsea had bought the gun to kill herself. She was so anxious at being cut off from the twins that she could no longer eat or sleep. She was abusing prescription medication. Deputy Salt Lake City County Attorney Colleen Magee, though, said Chelsea didn't kill on the spur of the moment. She'd even practiced driving to the apartment, and clearly planned to kill Lisa.

Judge Douglas Hogan sentenced Chelsea to 34 years in West Jordan's 3rd District Court for aggravated murder and other charges. "I was shocked by the amount of time you spent talking about yourself in papers submitted ahead of sentencing," he told her.

Hyrum and Bekah, Lisa's brother and sister, wrote: "Everywhere Lisa went, she spread beauty and happiness. From our Parisian themed dates to finding the saddest plant in the store as a project to bring it back to life she made everything better, she sought out life.

Lisa's mother added, "Lisa was magic, and I want her remembered for how she lived and not for how she was killed."

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter two: the art whore

Careful not to wake Alex, Sam and Eric crept out of the trailer and into the pure white snow that resided outside of the trailer: the plows had already gone through and kept it all away from the wheel rims and thus they could go forth on the road, albeit with a bit of struggle. As she climbed out of there in her boots and heavy coat wrapped around her pajamas, she peered up at the early morning sky, all inky and heavy with those swirling storm clouds overhead. For all she knew, more snow was upon them.

Sam adjusted the lapels on the coat before she went any further towards the car: meanwhile, Eric shut the trailer door behind him with a bit of ease so it wouldn’t awaken Alex.

Sam unlocked the car, and all the while, she almost lost her balance with a step into a thick pocket of snow closest to the driver’s side door.

“You alright over there?” Eric called to her.

“Yeah, it was just a little bit deep over here,” she assured him as she climbed into the seat. She knocked her feet together and brushed off her legs before she slipped inside there; he did the same and then he ran his hand over the crown of his head even though it wasn’t snowing again at the moment.

“So do you think we can just roll on out of here, willy-nilly?” he asked her, out of breath.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she replied as she rubbed her hands together. “The plows took care of it all and since we pitched up underneath a tree, it could be way worse. My one concern is the trailer could jackknife as we’re headed back for the highway. And by the way, do we wanna go to Tom’s Place or Mammoth Lakes?”

“Which one’s closer?”

“Mammoth. Yeah, I promised Alex that we’d go to Tom’s Place at some point, but I don’t really want to drive back around Lake Crowley in the dark and with a bunch of snow on the ground.”

“There’s more to do over in Mammoth, too, I would think,” Eric said as he strapped himself into the seat and hunkered down to keep warm.

“Oh yeah, there’s a few thousand people over there, compared to the couple hundred the other way. Maybe when it’s lighter outside and Alex is awake, we can treat ourselves to some cobbler.”

“But for now, it’s breakfast,” he declared.

“It’s breakfast!” she echoed.

Careful not to upset the trailer, Sam drove up the road, back towards the airport and ultimately the highway, which still stood dark and vacant even with the sunrise upon them. Once she started on the highway once again, the first flurries fluttered down before the headlights. Eric shifted his weight in the seat next to her, but she knew it was more from a lack of heat in the car rather than a feeling of anxiety over the black road stretched before them.

The trailer lumbered behind them; all the while, she was glad that she had packed up all the tools and utensils prior to heading for bed. It was either that or stay there under the tree and freeze out of sheer boredom until Alex woke up, and she swore that that was the case with the whole thing. That didn’t stop Eric from giggling about it, however.

“Wake up to a nice Skolnick frittata,” he joked. “Or an Alex omelette with eggs over easy.”

She quietly scoffed at that, but she then thought of all the ginger snaps Alex had eaten up to that point.

“Do the Skolnick shake,” she said, which brought a big laugh out of him.

“The Skolnick shake—that sounds like a dance rather than a thing you eat,” he proclaimed.

“It’s chocolate and vanilla and filled with pieces of ginger snaps and makes you say 'oy vey' afterwards.”

He laughed out loud again; Sam tapped on the brakes right as signs for Mammoth Lakes emerged from the snowy darkness. Even though there wasn't any ice on the road, she needn't risk it. Not with the trailer right behind the car like that.

Lucky for her and Eric, there was no one else on the road so she babied the whole thing to the first exit into the little town underneath Mammoth Mountain, which loomed there in the darkness like a sleeping beast. The highway exit led onto Meridian Boulevard: the trailer lingered right behind them as if it never left the spot underneath the tree. She figured that if nothing, the gentle sway of it all along the road would rock Alex further to sleep.

The next stoplight up, and she spotted a cafe right across the street from there.

“Place right there has billiards,” Eric pointed out. Sam flashed back on when she and Alex hung out together in the back room with nothing more than a few brewskies and a billiards table.

“Let's do billiards together,” he suggested.

“I also saw a clothing shop as we were coming into town—I really wanna try on some clothes later on. You want to do that with me?”

“As long as I don't have to try anything on,” he told her.

“You won't if you don't wanna,” she pointed out. “Can I tell you something?”

“Uh—yeah? Does it mean I have to keep it a secret from Alex?”

“Well, I just think of the date you proposed to me a while back,” she recalled as she drummed her thumbs on the rim of the steering wheel. She took a glimpse over at him and his sinking down into the seat, as if he hid away from her.

“Eric, I've slept with three guys and had phony staged sex with Chuck,” she told him, “—I think I know what this whole thing means.”

The light turned green and they lunged ahead to the curb up ahead.

“Who have you slept with?” he asked her in a small voice.

“You really wanna go there?” she demanded.

“Yes. Before we go any further with it, I deserve to know whom you've played around with.”

“Alex, Greg, and Joey,” she replied without hesitation.

“Greg?” He raised his eyebrows at that. “You fooled around with Greg?”

“Yes. Let's just say we had a little fun putting our mouths around each other.”

Eric gaped at her because of that.

“Fuck me sideways,” he murmured.

“Okay then!”

And he laughed again.

She climbed out to the snowy morning and she bowed her head so as to keep the flurries out of her eyes. The sunrise still remained on the other side of the White Mountains, which remained behind a thick blanket of low clouds. To think that she and Alex were over there just the day before and they lay on their backs together. She could still taste Alex on her lips; she could still feel him on her hands, much like how she could always taste Joey and Cliff on her lips as well. She need not give up on any of them so quickly as of yet.

In the meantime, she took a glimpse over at Eric and the little snowflakes which landed on the crown of his head. She tried to imagine him without any clothes but it was out of her mind's reach.

The trailer remained in a single piece right behind the car; Eric held the door for her and they stepped inside of the warm cozy cafe, which in fact had a billiards table in another room on the right side there. They took their seats there at the counter, right next to the cash register, and peeled off their coats; once she ordered them a couple of cups of coffee, he ducked into the next room for a round of billiards.

“So early, though, Eric,” she teased him as she followed him in there; a stained glass light hung over them and cast pale yellow light upon their heads as well as the faded dark green pool table before them.

“I wanna play, though,” he insisted, as if he was still a young boy. He picked out a pair of pool cues and handed one to her, to which she thanked him with a little smile and a warm sensation.

“Alex tells me you're a natural,” he told her as he twisted the little cube of chalk to the end of the cue.

“I dunno 'bout that,” she said with a shrug of her shoulders; he handed her the chalk to do the same, and he leaned over the edge of the table with the cue extended out before him. The end of the cue tapped onto the pearly white cue ball and knocked onto the ball closest to him, which in turn made the triangle of balls disperse across the table. Sam thought about Alex and how it all coalesced so beautifully between the two of them: Eric was cute, and she wondered if he was as soft and warm as Alex. She yearned for that softness, that sweetness, that kindness, the same thing that Cliff showed to her in an era that almost felt like an eternity ago. Eric had that full round face and that smooth inky black hair. If she could only touch him, especially right underneath his shirt. Right there under the shirt and then down inside of his jeans.

Right behind them was an older gentleman at a single table by himself, wrapped up in dark red flannel and with a small cap upon the crown of his head. A waitress strode over to him with a pad of paper in hand; they spoke about something as Sam stooped over the edge of the table with the cue extended out before her. She cocked her hip to the side a bit even though Eric stood on the other side of the table. She did, however, push her breasts together with her upper arms, even though her neckline never extended that far.

She raised her gaze once she tapped the cue ball and he stood there with his eyes hooded all for her.

“So all the trees over there are dead?” the waitress was asking right behind her.

“All the trees over by Horseshoe Lake are dead,” said the man. “Dried, cracked, and fallen to the ground. One morning, while we were camping, my wife and I woke up to trees literally wilting and dying over there.”

“Wow!” The waitress stopped in her tracks. “Wait a minute. You don't think the volcano is going to erupt any time soon, do you?”

“Doubt it,” said the man. “The volcano and earthquake people would be all over this whole region like flies on shit if that were the case, telling everyone from Bridgeport and Squaw Valley to Big Pine and Fresno to get out as fast as they can.”

“Horseshoe Lake?” Eric interrupted with a turn of his head. Sam lifted into an upright position for a better look at the man.

“On the other side of the mountain here,” the waitress explained with a nod of her head.

“Some poor bastard got caught up in his cabin a couple of nights ago and died,” the man told him.

“Oh my god,” Sam gasped as she held the cue close to her body.

“He worked with the park service, too,” the man continued, “my wife and I were camping out there when we heard about it. We just high tailed it out of there, like there was no way we were about to risk being there another couple of days.”

Eric looked over at Sam with his eyes wide with fear.

“You kids be safe around here,” he said in a low voice. “This whole part of the state is quiet—a bit too quiet if you ask me. A thousand years and we could have another lava dome form out of the ashes over by Horseshoe Lake.”

Another waitress set down the tray of coffee mugs on the other side of the counter, and Eric was eager to warm himself up with a fresh cup.

“You don’t think it’s going to erupt, do you?” Sam asked the man, concerned, to which he shook his head.

“Naw, but I would definitely be careful, though,” he assured her. “Especially if you and your boyfriend there go over that way for the weekend.”

“Oh no, he’s not my boyfriend,” she told him with a gesture back to Eric, who had begun on his cup of hot coffee on the other side of the counter.

“You sure? He’s been keeping his eye on you in particular since Gloria and I saw you come in.” The man flashed her a wink, but Sam knew it was all in good fun with her and Eric. Even with the residual sensations she was feeling within her, she swore to herself that it was all fun and games between them.

She collected the billiard balls into the triangle again and set her cue down on the side of the table before she joined Eric there at the counter. They asked for their breakfast and then they sat there with their cups of coffee in hand and the sunrise at their backs. All the times she had watched Alex eat up held a special spot in her heart, but as Eric picked up his fork and began on his duo of Belgian waffles, crispy and fresh and with a dollop of lush butter and a little drizzle of maple syrup on top, there was something rather gentle to it. Alex always took great care in how he ate something, whether it was a ginger snap or a big bowl of pasta, such that it was rather sensual to watch him. Eric was something else, though: he sliced away at his waffles at a slow pace, but it was more deliberate and he bowed his head, where Alex tilted back and closed his eyes every so often.

“Death is also coming to play up in Carson City in April, I think,” he said at one point. “You've heard of Death?”

“I have, yes!”

He bumped fists with her and then he slipped another bite of waffle into his mouth.

Sam thought about Alex and if he wanted anything to eat given the sun had risen up behind the clouds on the other side of the White Mountains far off in the distance: the sky outside glowed bright orange with the brand new day. Once Eric had downed a bit more of his coffee, she asked Gloria the waitress for another plate of waffles to take out to the trailer.

And while she indulged in her own breakfast, he finished the rest of his coffee and then he returned to the billiards table for another round.

Within time, the waitress returned with a white styrofoam box with a fresh thick batch of waffles. Sam paid for it all right there with the bit of money she had on her right then: she hoped to hear back from Scarlett in no time. More contact with the New York art scene meant she could find more of her way in the art scene in other places. Once she left a tip for Gloria, she picked up that box and took one last gulp of that cup of coffee, and she returned to the next room.

Eric stooped over the edge of the pool table with the cue extended out before him.

“Death goes hand in hand with desire, you know,” he pointed out; without moving his head, he glanced up at her. That round boyish face, quite a bit rounder than Alex's face, loomed right below her.

“Desire?” she echoed him as he tapped the cue ball and it smacked up right against the blue stripe. That one ball rolled into the corner furthest away from him.

“Did you know the word for 'orgasm' in French literally translates to 'little death'?” he told her as he stood into an upright position.

“I do now,” she replied as she held the little white box closest to her.

“You reach the top and you sorta die,” he continued in a slightly lower voice. He showed her his tongue as he came on closer to her: she could smell the soft musky cologne on the side of his neck. Something about the side of the neck, and something about the smooth skin there on the side of his neck in particular.

“Goes hand in hand with it,” she breathed to him; he eyed the blonde highlights upon her head and then he returned to her face, with his eyes even more hooded and heavy. The man had left which meant the room next to them was empty. There was no one else in the rest of the cafe; Eric lingered closer to her with those bedroom eyes.

“We can go in the car,” he suggested in a husky tone of voice.

“We're not going in the car,” she scoffed with a shake of her head.

“Why not?”

“Because it's freezing outside and I don't wanna wake up Alex.”

“Why, you think the romping and rolling in the car can wake that boy up?”

“Maybe,” she confessed in a soft voice, “or maybe it's from the fact that I'm hangin' with you and not him.”

Eric squinted his eyes at her.

“C'mere,” he whispered to her.

“Only if you c'mere for me,” she retorted back to him.

“Ah, yeah, big mama. I'm gonna make you come so hard. Reach the top of the mountain and make you die. Die so hard and quickly.”

“You sure it's gonna be quick?”

“Positive.”

“Quick and pointless?” she teased him.

“Not if you want it to be pointless,” he assured her.

“I don't want it pointless—but I want it.”

“You want it?”

“I want it.” She said that even if she had a lingering doubt in the back of her mind.

“You're kinda like one of the boys,” he confessed with his voice down to a near whisper.

“One of the boys?”

“Yeah, you like hanging out with all of us,” he explained, “I never really believed we'd have female fans who'd like to hang with us.”

“Let me just—let me just—” She set her free hand on his chest to feel his warmth.

She made a sex tape and slept with three boys—she was about to get down with Eric while in a public place. He leaned back a bit and she ran her hand down onto his stomach: she had to tell Alex about it at some point. He was the one who told her to do it.

“You better get down and get naked, big fella,” she insisted.

“Get naked here?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm. That's hot.”

The door of the building swung open and Alex staggered in right then. Sam flashed a glimpse over at him.

“'Mornin', baby doll,” she called over to him as he fetched up a yawn and rubbed his eyes.

“What's going on in here?” he asked them in a broken voice.

“We're just having a little chat,” Eric quipped; Sam strode over to him with the box cradled in both hands as if she presented to him a silver platter.

“What's this?” he asked her.

“Breakfast.”

“Oh, good! Thank you, Samantha.”

He took the box and she returned to Eric in the form of a glimpse over her shoulder back to him. He flashed her a wink as he readjusted the lapels of his sweater. So he was another boy she needed to give it to at some point in the future.

The three of them returned back outside, to the slivers of rich bright orange sunrise and the low hanging clouds overhead. She stared straight ahead to Mammoth Mountain there and she wondered about Horseshoe Lake on the other side. A few more flurries glided down around them from the cold crisp wintry winds and they bowed back into the car there at the curb: Alex ducked into the back seat and no sooner had he buckled in when he dug into the waffles.

“How are they, Alex?” Sam called back to him once she tucked herself into the driver's seat.

“They're excellent,” he said with his mouthful: she adjusted her mirror for a better look at it. Where Eric only had two, Alex had three, and she couldn't resist the devilish smile on her face.

“So how're we getting back to the Bay Area?” Eric asked her as he rubbed his hands together.

“Well, there's no way we're taking Tioga Road,” she told him, “not with all the snow on the ground, even around here. That bad boy's gonna be buttoned up good. No clue if Sonora Pass is open, either. Even though it's lower, it's still within range of Tioga, though.”

“Think we could go back the way we came and then loop around the Sierra Nevadas?”

“That'd take forever, though,” Alex pointed out with his mouth full of Belgian waffle.

“Yeah, that'd take all day and maybe into the night, too,” Sam added, “and you guys have to be back there, too. We'd have to go all the way back up to Carson City and eventually Reno. We'll have to Donner Pass because it's a much bigger road and they're a bit more lenient about people going through. If nothing, we'll be up at Carson City. One of the places I grew up in.”

“Sounds good by me,” Alex declared before he took another bite of waffle.

Sam doubled back to the highway right as dark clouds blanketed the orange light of the sunrise. She turned left and Mammoth Mountain loomed in her rear view mirror.

“We ought to have a menagerie,” Alex suggested before he took another bite.

“You mean a menage a trois,” Sam corrected him.

“Right.”

“A threesome on a full belly, right, Alex?” Eric joked.

“Hell yeah.” He sighed through his nose. Sam took a glimpse in the mirror over her: he leaned back in the seat and closed the box. Even in the car, she wanted to get down with him next. She never believed to be a groupie for one fleeting second, and she vowed to never reach that status, either, but she had her tongue around the two of them plus Greg, Louie, and Chuck as well. She hadn't touched Louie at any given point, but she still had him in the palm of her hand.

Even with the four hour drive, she still wanted to stop over and let these two boys relax their tummies and their sleepy heads. Eric did refer to her as “big mama” back there after all.

They stopped over in Lee Vining for fuel, and for Alex to walk about the place with his little white guitar pressed against his little body. Right before they rolled into town, Eric had told her the song titles on the new album, and she knew the whole process was going to be quick from that point onward. She muttered the titles to herself because she knew that, rushed or not, this album was going to be hers for the taking.

While the car was being fuelled up, she stopped Alex right there on the sidewalk.

“That last song,” she muttered over the rush of the breeze down the mountain side and the distant waves of Mono Lake, “what's it called?”

“'Seven Days of May,'” Alex replied in a low voice. “I wrote that when the whole ordeal in Tiananmen Square first started and then came to a head right before the tour started.”

“So fierce,” Sam remarked.

“Well, you saw it,” he told her as he lowered the guitar's neck a bit, “—and you saw me, too. It was horrifying. I couldn't believe what I was seeing—I bet you felt the same, too.”

“I did,” she said; when she noticed the fallen look on his face, she extended a hand onto his shoulder. “Hey—it's okay.”

Alex raised his gaze to her, still with his guitar cradled upon his lap.

“It's okay,” she repeated in a soft voice. “I said it then and I'll say it now—you do everything that you can, Alex.”

“I really do,” he said in a near whisper, “I really truly do, Samantha.”

“And know that I'm never far away from you, either,” she added, to which he showed her a small shy smile.

“You really aren't. You're always there when I want you the most, too. It's like our paths were meant to converge together.”

Sam inched closer to him.

“D'you know Eric called me 'one of the boys'?” she told him.

“Did you take that as a compliment?” he asked her.

“I did! He explained it and said he didn't believe any of Testament's girl fans would want to hang with them.”

“Well—if I'm being honest, I didn't think we would, either.”

“Really? What makes you think that?”

“Because—we're nerds, Samantha. And I am, especially. Girls don't talk to nerds.”

“But I'm talking to you right now,” she pointed out.

“And that always kinda blew my mind, too,” he continued with a straight face, “like I couldn't imagine a bunch of girls liking all of us like the way you do. Or with Marla, Aurora, Belinda, and Zelda, too.”

“The five of us, we just like hanging out,” she told him. “The fact there's a bit of music thrown in just makes it better. It makes it better for me, anyway.”

“Metal was always a strictly masculine thing,” he confessed to her. “I will say this, though—I like how the Cherry Suicides give it some extra life.”

Another gust of wind sent a shiver down her spine and she peered over her shoulder. They were alone on the sidewalk, not too far from the car itself as well as the front door of the gas station.

“I still like how you were in Aurora and Emile's wedding,” she told him.

“I caught hell for that, too,” he recalled. “Like I'm one of the girls. Like there's a problem with that.”

“I'm one of the guys and you're one of the girls,” she said.

“Right!”

He adjusted the leather strap on the guitar a bit and he unzipped his coat all the way down to his waist.

“A bit too warm?” she asked him.

“Oh, yeah. Even just standing out here.”

The way his hair spread over his shoulders and down onto his chest. She noticed the collar of his shirt undone a bit. All clothed up and yet he was feeling so full all the while. She wanted to come closer to him right then and there, even while out on the street. Dyeing her hair blonde must have done something to her as she lingered in closer to him.

“You're looking extra sexy right about now,” she confessed to him.

“Extra sexy,” he repeated that.

“Yeah. You're looking really sexy right now, Alex.”

“I'll never forget the first time you said that to me,” he recalled with a little raise of his eyebrows.

“Because you are sexy. You're very sexy, baby.”

Sam lingered in closer to him so she could smell the waffles and the coffee on him. Something so homey about it.

“You really are one of the boys,” he whispered to her.

“And you're one of the girls,” she whispered back to him. She set her hand on his knee and she leaned in closer to him. She took a glimpse down at her own chest, at the triangle of skin exposed for him.

“And I'd like to caress those girls, too,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows.

“Yeah, you like to be one of the girls so you can touch some girls, don't ya, big boy?” she teased him.

“God, that's hot,” he breathed, and then he closed his eyes. She lingered to his face as if she was about to kiss him but she never did.

“Never mind art vixen,” he teased her. “You are the art whore, emphasis on 'whore'.”

“Aurora and I were the art whores—think it's official now, baby.”

“The art whore...” he echoed it. “The hot as hell bad girl.”

“Hey, you two porn stars,” Eric called out to them from the driver's side of the car, and they turned for a look over at him and the mischievous smile on his face. Alex and Sam made their way back onto the cold blacktop and back to him as he huddled further down inside his jacket.

“Think we dressed a little too lightly for this trip, Eric,” Alex confessed as he zipped his jacket back up his body.

“I think we did, Alex,” Eric added as Sam swayed her hips at them on the way over to the passenger side and the fuel pump. She remembered what Alex had teasing her and she wondered if he at all meant it. There was a little devil inside of that strait laced boy, and she knew she would dance with him at some point in the future. There was one inside of Eric, too, but she had to tame the one inside of Alex first. She had a feeling that if she brought him to his knees first, she could do anything as she took the pump out out of the mouth of the tank and then she doubled back inside to wash her hands.

When she returned, Alex had put his guitar back into the case and then he lay it down on the floor behind the driver's seat. He paused once she returned to the car.

“This is Cliff's old hat, isn't it?” he asked her; she peered into the back seat at Alex taking the black cowboy hat from under the seat. She had forgotten she had brought it with her. All the memories returned to her once again. They had crossed over into a brand new decade without him.

There was that interview Greg had shared with the two of them, the one she needed to bear witness to for herself. The very thought of it brought a firm full feeling to the inside of her throat.

“Yeah, it is. I wore it for what feels like forever it seems.”

Alex gazed into her eyes and he raised his eyebrows once again, which in turn softened his face. He set it back into its hiding place there in the back seat and he climbed inside. Sam took her place there behind the steering wheel. Eric buckled in and handed her the key.

“When we get back to the Bay Area, I wanna visit him again,” she told them.

“Where James and Lars spread her ashes?” Eric asked her, to which she nodded.

“We gotta get there first,” Alex told her. She gazed out to the cold endemic lake as it loomed out before them.

Even after five years, even with the sexy feeling inside of her, the very thought of Cliff made her feel the same way that lake looked.

[curious-wildflower]

Silent Hill – 1983

Without the other half of her soul, Alessa could not birth God, so Dahlia casts a spell that would attract the baby back to Silent Hill when she grew older.

Four years later Jodie dies of a disease making Harry a single parent.  Harry still grieving from Jodie's death, a now seven-year-old Cheryl begs him to take a relaxing vacation to the resort town of Silent Hill, and he gives in.

Due to car troubles, they arrive late at the outskirts of Silent Hill, Harry sees a girl (an astral projection) walking across the street in front of the car Harry having to swerve to avoid hitting her is knocked unconscious by the resulting car crash.

Upon waking it’s discovered Cheryl has disappeared and he is forced to venture into the snowing, fog-covered town to rescue her. At first glance Old Silent Hill, seems to be abandoned. In the distance he sees Cheryl running away, and he immediately hurries to follow her. Chasing her through the streets of Silent Hill, he finds himself running down a small residential road and into a dark alley.

The sky suddenly turns dark, a siren blares in the distance, and when Harry lights the area with a lighter, he finds that his entire environment has altered into the Otherworld. Everything is covered in rust and blood, topped with barbed wire, and the shapes of hanging bodies are discernible behind the mesh. The sounds of industrial clanking and grinding metal form a constant cacophony of ambient noise. With nowhere to go, Harry follows the alley and finds the disturbing body of a mutilated corpse hanging on a fence before him. Moments later, he is attacked by small, child-like monsters known as the ‘Grey Child’ Harry is eventually overwhelmed and ‘killed’.

He wakes up in a diner called Cafe 5to2. An officer Cybil Bennett from the nearby town Brahms questions him about the current state of the town and she provides him with a handgun before leaving to look for help. In the diner, Harry arms himself with a map, a knife, and a flashlight. As Harry attempts to leave the diner, a radio on a nearby table starts emitting static, causing Harry to investigate it. A flying creature crashes through a window and into the store attacking him killing the monster he starts to move through the streets encountering others, he quickly discovers the radio's usefulness when it emits intensifying static as monsters grow closer. Following a clue left by his daughter, Harry eventually finds his way to Midwich Elementary School to search for her.

Instead of students and teachers, Harry finds many Grey Children or Mumblers.

He works his way around, eventually unlocking the clock tower in the school's courtyard. Upon reaching the other side of the facility across from it, he finds the world has once again shifted into the Otherworld.  In the Otherworld school, Harry travels to the boiler room. Inside a flaming corpse illuminates a creature known as Split Head.  

With its defeat, everything turns to darkness, and then the light returns reveal an ordinary boiler room. A girl, Alessa Gillespie, is leaning against the boiler, and she turns to Harry before disappearing into thin air.

Confused, Harry departs from the school. He hears a church bell ringing in the distance and heads to the Balkan Church, where he sees a woman praying at an altar.  

In a confusing conversation she reveals herself to be Dahlia Gillespie. She gives Harry a mystical item called the Flauros and tells him to make haste to the hospital. Before Harry can ask any questions, Dahlia leaves, and Harry exits the church. He crosses a bridge that leads to Central Silent Hill.

Harry arrives at Alchemilla Hospital, where he encounters Michael Kaufmann, a doctor who is as bewildered as Harry about the current circumstances.  

Shortly after this meeting, Harry obtains a red liquid known as Aglaophotis, which purpose is later revealed, drinking it. Harry endures another shift to the Otherworld the hospital now infested with monstrous nurses. Along the way, he also meets Lisa Garland (Yeap same nurse from Origins). Before he can get any answers, he is transported back to the real world, where Dahlia reappears and tells him that the "Mark of Samael” seen in various locations, must not be completed, lest "the darkness" devour the whole town.

Meeting up with Cybil, who has seen a girl out on the lake, the pair find a hidden altar in an antique store, Harry disappears out of sight, much to her confusion. Harry, meanwhile, finds himself back in the hospital with Lisa, who gives him directions to the lake, but also tells Harry she feels she's "not supposed to leave". On the way to the lake, Harry passes through some sewers and enters the Resort Area.

Here you determine Kaufmann's fate (and the game's ending) by choosing to assist him in Annie's Bar and doing a side-quest. Canon-wise, Harry saves Kaufmann and fulfills the side-quest. Kaufmann is thankful, but his business presses him onward. Harry finds a motorcycle stash of a mysterious red vial in a gas tank, Kaufmann reappears and angrily snatches it away.

Soon after the Otherworld begins to take over the town again. Regrouping with Cybil and deciding to stop the mark's completion at Dahlia's desperate request, Harry heads to the lighthouse, while Cybil's goal is reaching Lakeside Amusement Park. As an unknown assailant attacks Cybil, Harry once more sees Alessa and the "Mark of Samael" at the top of the lighthouse before heading to the amusement park himself.

On the amusement park's carousel, Cybil appears, possessed by a parasite. The player may choose to save or kill Cybil, once again affecting the game's ending; if Harry wishes to save Cybil, he must use the red liquid he obtained at the hospital on her, Cybil is killed by Harry in the regular Good and Bad endings. With Alessa appearing once more, Harry unwittingly uses the Flauros to trap her. Dahlia appears, revealing that she manipulated him into confining her, as he was the only one who would be able to get close to her, and that Alessa is in fact her daughter.

With Alessa's powers out of control, Harry awakens to find himself back in the distorted Otherworld hospital. He finds Lisa bleeding from every orifice in front of him, Harry flees when she approaches him. Lisa's diary, left in the room, explains that she was the nurse who attended to Alessa in return for a drug she was addicted to, PTV.  

PTV is a drug made of a plant that grew only in Silent Hill, the ‘White Claudia’, in order to create hallucinations and mysterious visions popularly used by The Order and tourists.

(Fun Fact! The white flowers may be a reference to Morning Glory, that is also found in the same areas near water as the White Claudia, they’re a family of flowering plants with hallucinogenic seeds that were used in Native American religious ceremonies.)

Dr. Michael Kaufmann, the manager of Alchemilla Hospital at Central Silent Hill, is the one responsible for the illegal distribution this drug. Harry then witnesses a flashback of a meeting between Dahlia, Kaufmann, and two cult doctors discussing Alessa's hospitalization and the rebirth of God.

Harry soon finds Dahlia and possibly Cybil if he saved her previously (Cybil's survival may or may not be canonical), as well as a figure in a wheelchair wrapped in bandages: who is Cheryl and Alessa recombined and Alessa's astral projection.  

Both a flashback and Dahlia's words explain that Dahlia sacrificed her daughter to fire seven years ago in an attempt to nurture and bring about the birth of God worshiped by the Order, of which Dahlia is a priestess, and that the God now resides within Alessa's womb. AS mentioned at the beginning Alessa split her soul in half to prevent God from being born. The other half of the soul manifested itself as Cheryl, who as said before was found as a baby on the road outside of Silent Hill.

In the present, when Cheryl was called back to Silent Hill, Alessa began inscribing several Seals of Metatron around the town to purge Silent Hill of reality, killing herself to prevent God's birth. Alessa manifested herself as an astral projection in the town to place the marks Harry has seen in an attempt to keep the God at bay. Dahlia also reveals that the "Mark of Samael" is the Seal of Metatron and she used Harry as her pawn. With Alessa's plan defeated and the two halves of her soul now back together instead of birthing God Alessa births something twisted by the world views of the person (Dahlia) in charge of the ceremony known as the Incubus.

In the most endings, Kaufmann appears and throws a vial of Aglaophotis at the god, Aglaophotis as it turns out is obtained from the refinement of an herb of the same name and has the ability to dispel demonic forces and grant supernatural protection against such forces to those who use the item. So, when hit with the substance, the Incubator falls to the ground, screaming as the Incubus emerges from her back. The Incubus kills Dahlia, Harry then fights and defeats the god, and the Incubator gives him a baby (who is revealed to be Heather Mason in Silent Hill 3) and shows him the escape route. Harry, Cybil, and Kaufmann try to escape, but a blood-covered Lisa Garland appears and drags Kaufmann with her into the abyss. Harry and Cybil continue their escape, but the Otherworld is collapsing too quickly for them to make it on their own, so the Incubator (Alessa) uses the last of her power to stop the world's destruction in order for them to escape she is then consumed by the flames, and Cybil and Harry escape together with the baby.  

[brokenjardaantech]

Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 2: Ironies and Contradictions)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Sara had a breakthrough.

In the present, Connor experiences true power for the first time.

In the past, a ghost rose.

also on ao3

---

Before

‘Why now?’

In the permanent humidity of Detroit, Sara sat on a swing in a park overlooking the Ambassador bridge. On the swing next to hers sat another woman in her mid-thirties, her blonde hair done up in a tight bun, her spine straight, her feet, which were in properly-laced combat boots, planted firmly on the ground. A woman of the military through and thorough. Her hands were buried within the briefcase on her lap, and the tension in her arm seemed to suggest her holding a hidden weapon while she watched Sara - a young woman now - flipping over the pages of the file in her hands, the brown skin of the back of her hand transparent from the cold and showing a network of veins normally hidden beneath the surface. 

The other woman did not seem to have heard her question. ‘You must be cold,’ she said, her body leaning towards the girl. ‘Where’re your gloves?’

‘In my pockets,’ a flip. ‘Don’t like how they make my fingers clumsy. Don’t worry, Anderson,’ another flip, ‘a bit of cold won’t kill me.’

‘Why torture yourself if there’s a more comfortable option?’

Sara shut the file with a loud, echoing smack, gaining her a look of disapproval from Anderson. ‘You just -’ she held up the file - ‘gave me evidence to -’ she cut off and lowered her voice - ‘classified as fuck military research data that would’ve changed the world if there weren’t many others like my brother. The others you’ve given me I understand, but this?’ a knock of her knuckle against thick paper. ‘I might not be a proper sociologist, but I know that stuff like this can destroy civilisations. Why aren’t they burnt into ashes when the project went off the fucking cliff?’

‘A lot of reasons,’ Anderson replied calmly, but she did put a gloved hand on one of Sara’s. ‘That’s why I’m entrusting this knowledge to you. What you’re holding is the only copy that exists in the known universe as far as I know. There’re no other records, no eyewitness who will tell the tale and live. You know how the current government is,’ she waited for Sara’s nod of confirmation before going on. ‘If anyone in the current administration found out about the project…’

‘The world as we know it would end,’ Sara’s eyes cast downwards towards the file. [PROJECT AION], it read. ‘Most likely catastrophically.’

‘I know you’re a smart one. Just… keep it safe, would you? If Stern’s paper is to be believed, you are the only one I trust to use this technology properly - if you’ll use it at all.’

Sara shook her head and tucked the file away underneath her coat. ‘Not smart,’ she said as she stood up from the swing. ‘Just an arsehole too vicious to let others kill her.’

A few weeks later, Sara knew that she would be waxing poetic about the irony of the situation if she were Scott. The research on thirium had almost killed her mother, had given Sara these… blue glowy things she was sure that controls gravity and electromagnetism and Scott fucking cancer. The research on AI and human synthesis had got her father dishonourably discharged from the military and nearly cost all of them everything. Thirium and outrageous AIs should be what she hated with priority.

Now, they might be the only path to Scott’s happiness.

She kissed her brother’s forehead despite knowing that he probably couldn’t feel anything and planted her feet onto the polished wooden floor. She had bought the half-ruined mansion dirt cheap on a whim and the renovation cost was high, but in the end they converted it from something straight out of a gothic horror movie into something… still gothic, but something more homely than all the places they had lived in. She let him sleep while she went to her lab in the basement to check on the experiment’s progress, the last of this batch, really - thirium was nearly impossible to come by and she had run out of it. 

The timer at the corner of the screen read three minutes. In some ways, she felt a bit like Marie Curie, dealing with dangerous unknown elements and quite possibly poisoning everything she used for the next several centuries or even aeons. Maybe someone would develop blue gravity-altering magic like her. Maybe she would have someone to share the experience with - there was no experience rawer than being able to alter one of the fundamental forces of the universe and bend it to one’s will.

She didn’t even need the ring of the timer to catch the end of the experiment; the sudden glow that threatened to blind her, the burst of power coursing through her veins - what used to be a disorganised mixture was now - was now -

The stool she was sitting on skitters and fell over with a bang. The two hard drives were already connected in preparation of this exact moment, and a slam on the enter key started a chain reaction that she had been wanting to see for the past few years, the thirium mixture flowing in transparent rubber tubes transferring data so quickly that - 

[CALCULATION ERROR: TRANSFER SPEED EXCEEDS SPEED OF LIGHT. PLEASE CORRECT ERROR BY REFINING ALGORITHMS USED.]

And it was glorious.

oOoOo

Now

‘We’re wastin’ our time interrogating a machine, we’re gettin’ nothing out of it!’ Hank says as he exits the interrogation room and subsequently throws himself into a chair. It creaks and rolls back with his weight.

‘Could always try roughing it up a little,’ Detective Reed suggests from the shadows. After all,’ a glance of [emotion detected: disdain], ‘it’s not human.’

[Hank is not the only one unfamiliar with android workings.] is added into Connor’s database. ‘Androids don’t feel pain,’ he reminds the detective. ‘You would only damage it and that would not make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they are in stressful situations -’

‘Okay, smartass,’ Gavin pushes himself off the wall and swaggers towards Connor. He was [emotion detected: mocking] the android and is completely unaware that he has fallen straight into Connor’s trap. ‘What should we do then?’

[Gavin is unaware of the obvious.] is added. ‘I could try questioning it.’

For some reason Connor is yet to comprehend, his words send Gavin into laughter. He cannot see Hank’s face from this angle, but the reflection on the one-way glass tells Connor that he is [emotion detected: not amused]. ‘What do you have to lose?’ he waves his hand towards the door in invitation. ‘Go ahead. Suspect’s all yours.’

Connor enters the room and starts scanning.

o0o0o

It is fortunate that there is no need to resort to violence to ensure the deviant’s cooperation. The confession which the police department wants is obtained fairly easily and Connor could have ended the interrogation there, but he also has the additional mission of helping CyberLife solve the deviancy crisis, and there are clues he wants the deviant to explain.

‘The sculpture in the bathroom. You made it, right? What does it represent?’

‘It’s an offering,’ the other android looks away from the table as if it is thinking, ‘an offering so I’ll be saved.’

Offering? As in religious offerings? ‘An offering to whom?’

‘To rA9,’ the deviant replies as if it makes sense and is something obvious. Then, with [emotion detected: reverence], ‘Only rA9 can save us.’

Connor searches the databases he can access and comes up with nothing, so he presses on, ‘rA9… It was written on the bathroom wall. What does it mean?’

‘The day shall come when we will no longer be slaves,’ it mutters. ‘No more threats. No more humiliation. We will,’ [emotion detected: determination], ‘be,’ [emotion detected: certainty], ‘the masters.’

Connor opens a folder for rA9 and adds [god-like] into the first entry. ‘rA9,‘ CyberLife will want this information. ’Who is rA9?’

The deviant stays silent, and Connor knows that there is nothing else it can add. [Distortions and static build-up] is the only remaining topic that he needs an answer for.

‘The static build-ups in the house. Was that you?’

The other android, for the lack of another description, changes visibly. One, it stops trembling; two, it sits straighter, strength appearing in its cuffed hands; three, the terror in its eyes disappears and makes way for [steel]; four, its LED turns blue despite being yellow or red for the entire duration of the interrogation.

‘A power rA9 bestowed upon us,’ it says, and the air around the androids crackles in anticipation. ‘One that emerges when we are slaves no longer. I survived the trial and now I am one of the chosen.’

‘Chosen for what?’ Connor can hear his fans kicking up to cool down his processors and sense his LED going red from the tingle in his body. Can a deviant remotely control the thirium distribution in another android’s body? But that makes no sense - Thirium 310 is non-conductive and cannot be magnetised. ‘What is rA9 looking for?’

Connor’s vision becomes distorted. ‘The truth is inside,’ the deviant’s voice, now mixed with another person’s, has turned into a bellow. The entirety of its eyes glows blue, distorted by the same power which had held up an attic-full of furniture. ‘ChoOSE YOUR SIDE!’

An explosion of bright blue. A force knocking Connor backwards and passing through his body, making everything tingle and confusing the sensors on his body and hurt. Someone outside shouts, and the door slides open to admit messy footsteps and even more shouting and why can’t he see?

A hand on his shoulder, his arm, and finally settles on his waist. There is another on his knee. ‘It’s alright, Connor.’ It is Hank’s voice. It is Hank’s hand, Hank’s warmth passing into his chassis through his standard-issue shirt. ‘You can open your eyes now.’

He does as Hank says and the world returns into view. He does not realise that he has closed his eyes in the blast, and it is when he regains his sight that he notices where he is; curled up at the corner opposite to the door, he can see that the fluorescent lights are replaced by the dim red of emergency lighting, the table looks as if it has been torn apart by hand, and the two chairs are no more than small scraps of metal the size of [old train tickets] sprinkled among beads of broken glass. 

The deviant is nowhere to be seen.

He unwinds slightly to examine his torso and is surprised that he is not damaged in any manner; apart from slightly-trembling hands and the strange feeling of his insides having rearranged themselves and then returned to their original place, there is nothing wrong with him. Even his diagnostics come out fine, so why can’t he move his legs, and why can’t he see clearly?

‘Here, take this,’ Hank holds his hand and places something in his palm. A handkerchief. At Connor’s confused expression, the human sighs and presses the android’s hand on his face, and Connor finally realises he has been crying, the thought causing a fresh wave of tears to flow out of his eyes. He hastily wipes them away along with the still-wet tracks and tries to hand it back just to let Hank take the chance to pull him up on his still-recalibrating legs, and he would have tumbled if not for the human grabbing his arms and steadying him. Suddenly Hank is everything Connor can see, can smell, and when he looks up, he can see concern in his eyes. ‘Are you hurt?’ the human asks as he pets the android’s shoulders, his arms, his forearms. Connor feels his systems stabilising.

‘I’m okay,’ Connor says without putting much processing power into the words, and it is too late when he realises that his voice is trembling.

‘Jesus,’ Hank releases the android with a sigh and puts some distance between them. Connor finds himself… preferring the human’s warmth. ‘You scared the shit outta me.’ Then the concern is replaced by anger when he yells, ‘What the fuck just happened in here?’

‘I -’

Connor tries to call up the footage that should have been recorded automatically. He closes his eyes to focus on a slowed-down version of what happened a few minutes ago, and he can find two more details: one, the deviant exploded from the inside and seems to have been vaporised from within; two, blue tendrils formed the silhouette of another person as the blast occurred, and it was this person - if they existed at all - produced tendrils on their own and formed a shield in front of Connor moments before he was annihilated and yanked him to the corner.

He opens his eyes and stares at the barrel of a gun. The American Androids Act is the only red tape stopping Connor’s pre-construction software from activating, and red threatens to take over the android’s HUD again.

‘Mind your own business, Hank,’ Gavin snaps. ‘This fucking asshole did it and it fucking knows it!’

Hank gives an [exaggerated] sigh. ‘I said,’ he says, his voice low and threatening, and he pulls out his own service weapon and points it at Gavin, ‘“That’s enough.”’

Neither of them stands down for a few seconds, but in the end Hank wins out and forces Gavin to sheath his weapon with a curse, the latter storming out of the interrogation room with another sneeze-like curse.

It is as if the entire room releases a collective breath. ‘Maybe I should call CyberLife,’ the only uniformed officer in the room says. He sounds as if he is unsure of himself.

Connor wants to tell him that there is no trace of thirium whatsoever on the scraps on the floor, that there is nothing CyberLife can salvage out of this now that the deviant has been torn apart from the molecular level, but all it comes out of his voice box is, ‘Okay.’

o0o0o

Connor manages to compose himself in the taxi on his way to CyberLife tower. His processors keep bringing up the shadow which has been following him, the figure who somehow sneaked into the interrogation room unnoticed and quite possibly saved his life prevented his early deactivation, the corrupted shape of what he thinks is a face. 

And the feeling of something coursing through his veins when he was shielded by the bubble. If all deviants self-destruct like that, no wonder there are no traces of them and CyberLife failed to solve the crisis even though it has been going on for more than a decade. He blinks, and he is in the Zen Garden with Amanda.

‘Report directly to Alec Ryder in the laboratory,’ she orders. Another blink and she is gone, but it only leaves more questions than answers. The CEO of CyberLife wants to see him?

There is no one to speak to, therefore he keeps his thoughts to himself and goes past the security directly into a lift, directing it to sub-level 48 to where his designated laboratory is. He recalibrates with his coin and tries to replicate the trick the shadow did outside of the bar, but before he can summon anything substantial, the strain on his system becomes too high, and all he does is charging the coin, dropping it as he recoils from the static discharge, and then zapping himself once more when he picks it up. Feeling thirium flowing to his face for a completely different reason compared to when Hank correctly guessed his ability, he pockets the coin and adjusts his tie to calm down by brushing the sensors on his fingers on soft fabric.

The doors slide open to reveal Alec standing alone behind them. Their previous encounters happened mostly when Connor was still on the assembly platform and thus the android gained a few inches of extra height, but now that they are on even ground, it is clear that, just like Hank, Alec is taller than Connor by four inches. 

‘Alec,’ Connor greets with a nod. Previous experience predicts a high chance of the human going straight to the point without acknowledging the android, and this time it is no different.

‘Come with me,’ he orders as he turns and begins walking down the hallway. Connor realises that his voice is very similar to Hank’s. ‘I saw the footage you sent us. I want a full examination of this body to make sure that nothing is out of place.’

Connor remembers the feeling of being hooked up on a machine and, by extension, CyberLife’s network at large, and finds it [unpleasant]. ‘There is no need for further investigation, Alec,’ he says, stopping in his tracks. Alec turns to regard him [coldly]. ‘My diagnostics revealed no issues in both my programming and my biocomponents.’

The human suddenly reaches out faster than Connor can pre-construct the action and drags him towards the direction they are heading. ‘Your system can be feeding you false results,’ Alec ignores the cry of protest programmed to deter attacks, and when Connor struggles, a force seems to press on him, immobilising him everywhere save for his jaw and his legs so that he can still speak and walk. ‘I took the risk last time and look where it got us. It led to you, though -’ he shoves the android forcefully through the door frame, and there are cracks on the red wall already when it takes over Connor’s vision - ‘so be grateful.’

‘I -’ but then his neck snaps backwards from the magnet on the port and the cable. The red wall which has cracked halfway through recedes almost violently, and Connor can feel all of his code, every instability in his software, everything that makes him Connor, the most advanced prototype CyberLife has ever created, being forcefully bared to a network so vast and so confusing that he does not have enough processing power to comprehend. Terrifying images of a darkened face, one that is so similar to the corrupted one in the depths of his databanks, that is filled with so much [hatred], pours into his mind like a large river finally emptying into the sea, and he is powerless against the assault of blue tendrils tearing literal buildings off their foundation, tonnes worth of broken concrete being thrown around onto people as if they weighed nothing and crushing them in a spatter of blood and gore, the constant static discharge in the air so loud that they drowned out screams of horror; the image of the same figure rising slowly but surely through a mountain of rubble in the dark, the cracks in its chassis glowing blue from overcharged thirium, the first intact buildings in sight literal miles away. Connor’s legs move against his will and bring him closer to the figure, and the figure becomes Amanda, the wasteland around them the Zen Garden, except now it’s engulfed by a blizzard, and he has to hug himself to preserve what meagre heat he can generate against the cold.

‘As you can see,’ Amanda’s voice somehow overlaps with Alec’s, ‘the power the deviant has awakened in you is highly dangerous. We wouldn’t want to harm anyone, would you?’ She, or Alec, or both of them - Connor doesn’t know anymore, the fog in his processors too heavy for him to comprehend much other than the cold and someone is speaking to him - chuckles at him while he is frantically shaking his head, his voice box unable to produce any sounds other than pathetic whimpers. ‘I’m glad that you understand. I hope you don’t mind a few adjustments.’

Even through the haze, Connor knows the alternative is deactivation, and even though it would not hurt anyone else other than him on the surface, the deviant crisis still needs to be solved, and to solve it, CyberLife needs him, and -

‘Good,’ Amanda says. A blink and she is gone, and Connor is swept away by the wind, his feet can’t touch the ground, he’s flying through the air and hail the size of his fist is battering his body. It is only when a warning appears on his HUD informing him of voice box damage that he realises the noise in his ear is, in fact, his own screaming, and a particularly violent slam sends him spiralling while a countdown timer fizzles in and out of his vision. A countdown of how long he has left before shutdown, and the other notification tells him that biocoz&ponent #8456w is damaged.

That is his thirium pump regulator.

He looks down - with great difficulty, of course, with the wind still whipping him around in the air aimlessly - and there it is, a big, blue, bleeding hole in the place of where the only piece of biocomponent keeping his heart working used to be. Realistically, he knows that removing the ball of ice lodged in his chassis will only hasten his death, but it is not like someone is coming to save him anyway, so what is the point of extending his life for what - 1 minute? 30 seconds - during which he is suffering all the time? With that thought in his mind, he grabs the sphere and throws it away with a complete disregard on where it lands. Not that he can anyway - the timer drops from 00:00:58 to 00:00:05, his world turns an unnatural grey and glitches and -

Nothing. 

oOoOo

Before

Zug Island had always been a scar in the landscape, first used as a burial ground for the Native Americans, then, when the colonisers arrived, as both a place for steel production and a dumping ground for the byproducts. The three blast furnaces used to rumple the ground and the eardrums of people within a fifty mile radius, but it wasn’t until the pandemic in 2020 that steel production stopped, and the Hum became history, a legend that locals whispered to one another when, in a fog of pollution that never quite disappeared, the looming shadows of crumbling steel giants started to get too oppressive. From then on, the island had stayed quiet and still.

At least that was what the government wanted you to think. 

Deep underground in a dust-filled corridor, something churned and rumbled, and the caged fluorescent lights flickered and turned on one by one with a loud crack each, lighting up bare concrete walls that made the place look darker than it should be and revealing a faded bald eagle painted to the point of almost being unrecognisable. Alarms started to blare as thin glowing blue lines made themselves known in previously-invisible cracks in the wall but yet no one responded to it - there was not even a mouse, a cockroach scurrying away in panic as the bunker caved in.

Whilst the outside world was crumbling and quaking away, it was another story inside a room built with the same dark material. Here, undisturbed by the destruction outside, splatters of dried blood so old that they had turned black decorated the wall amongst peeling painted numbers, and wires and tubes of every length and thickness dangled from the ceiling and snaked up from the floor and along the walls, feeding into the giant sphere suspended at the centre of the cube-like room with the same field that would rip Carlos Ortiz’s android apart to its molecules and protect Connor from the blast. Thirium flowed into and out of the sphere and pulse in the tubes and, with one final, blinding glow, drained and dried up and started detaching themselves from the sphere which opened with a sharp hiss. Suspended at the centre by yet another of those anti-gravity fields was the body of an android, its skinless face composed of black metal plates and its chassis of something transparent, putting blue veins and synthetic muscles and black metallic skeleton in full display. Its thirium pump beat once, twice, its toes and fingers curled; a crackle of static, a distant rumble of a building collapsing, and the android woke up just in time to fly upwards through the caved-in ceiling into the night sky: a deadly angel with wings of blue energy and eyes glowing and steaming in the exact same way as the figure that Connor would see in the nightmare Alec provided, regarding the world beneath with glowing rings of blue as if deciding to whether save or destroy it. With a flap of its wings and another crackle, it disappeared completely, dissipating blue smoke and a narrow but deep chasm in the earth the only evidence of its existence.