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foxofthedesert · 6 years

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2040 | An Arrow / DinahSiren Fic

Long before we found out that Mia is Olicity’s kid, I developed my own take on her identity. I may revisit this universe in the future. Hah! In the future...

If you prefer reading on AO3, click here.

Swirling in a lazy circle, Mia surveys her surroundings with a critical eye. The remains of what used to be the center of operations for Star City’s famous team of superheroes is little more than a ruined relic of a bygone era. An era in which masked vigilantes prowled the streets, striking fear into the hearts of criminals of all stripes. An era of idyllic bravery and unheralded service. An era of death and despair.

With a derisive sneer, she glares out at the decrepit complex from it’s circular central platform. Connor, her friend and companion, is nearby milling around the overturned weapons racks. The glee of nostalgia paints his features with a handsome, ambient smile. Mia does not share his enthusiasm for their current location. It was from here that Star City’s famed band of masked heroes labored to rescue the city they loved from the blight of an unchecked corruption that infested it from the slums of the Glades all the way up to the vaunted halls of influence both private and public. All for naught. Sacrifice after sacrifice was made to achieve only temporary victories.

Would they have tried so hard if they knew how pointless it was? Mia thinks, lightly brushing her fingers over a dusty keyboard in all likelihood last touched by Felicity Smoak. Would they have given up so much if they were told how it would all end? That their friends and loved ones would die and their children be orphaned because of the man they chose to follow?

Oliver Queen. Mia shudders at the thought of that name. Her hatred of the man has yet to abate since her intensive investigation into the circumstances that preceded her being condemned to an abysmal childhood.

Living on a time ship prior to returning home came with certain advantages, as did having the Captain of said ship as an aunt, among them access to comprehensive histories of multiple universes. Thanks to a series of ingenious upgrades to Gideon installed by none other than Cisco Ramon shortly before her birth, she was able to efficiently sift through the massive stores of data and make sense of the interwoven events that resulted in her abandonment. By the time she was done the causal point all other incidents in the web traced back to was, in her opinion, conclusive. Were it not for Oliver Queen surviving the sabotaging of the Queen’s Gambit and being unfairly guilted into righting his father’s innumerable wrongs, everything would be different.

It was that seminal event that set off a chain reaction of unavoidable tragedies. Less than two decades later, the city of her birth was ultimately reduced to an ashen wasteland and her homeworld was occupied by unimaginably evil forces bent on its destruction. As if that were not reason enough for her grudge, due to Oliver’s actions her family was made to suffer through one hell after another beginning with her grandparents’ divorce, to her grandfather’s alcoholism, to her aunt being murdered in cold blood, and finally to her mother’s totally preventable death. One man’s deluded crusade was responsible for all of that, including her own personal traumas, as well as for the millions of innocents who have been slaughtered and those left behind to mourn them due to the endless series of wars and coups and crime waves that were ushered in by the rise of popular vigilantism.

No one knew it then, but the Hood’s arrival in Starling City was the beginning of the end for Earth-1.

Unbidden, a growl of unfettered animosity rumbles through Mia’s chest. If only she could get her hands on Oliver Queen to unleash years worth of enmity upon the primary catalyst of her city’s downfall. If only she could expel every last ounce of her pent up anguish upon the unwitting author of her family’s destruction. If only justice had not been slain by the gleaming verdant tip of an arrow, she might have her day of reckoning upon the one she has judged guilty for her family’s misery and for the cruel subjugation of an entire world. If only...

Sadly one cannot exact vengeance upon the dead, she thinks, not for the first time wishing for someone, anyone, to prove that principle incorrect.

Her hands clench into tight balls as she leaps down the platform stairs then stalks purposefully in the direction of the table that once served as the de facto round table of Team Arrow. She circles around the table several times, studying the warped metal supports and broken glass so symbolic of those who once commiserated here, before coming to a stop behind a plush albeit otherwise ordinary office chair. This particular one was the throne of the Green Arrow from whence he unwittingly presided over the ruination of all he claimed to love.

“You have failed this city.” Such an ironic catch-phrase from a man who epitomized the charge he so smugly flung at his countless victims. Truth be told, Star City was better off in the hands of the criminal element that ruled unopposed prior to Oliver initiating his ill-fated crusade. Anything would be better than the constant human suffering to which Mia is exposed around every street corner in a city that once was vibrant with false hope.

When she was still in diapers, or so she has been told, people started to believe worst days were over and that the seemingly endless supply of mustache-twirling villains was finally set to be exhaust thanks to the tireless efforts of the SCPD working alongside the Green Arrow and his team. The problems in the Glades, so long unaddressed, were being taken seriously by the government while most other districts flourished in the midst of what historians would dub the Pacem Per Sagitta. Crime and homelessness plummeted as unemployment rates bottomed out. Tax revenues soared. City services expanded dramatically. By every conceivable metric, the city’s happiness index was at peak levels. People dared to hope that a fledgling future which seemed oh-so-bright might survive into adulthood for their children. Sadly that fleeting period of relative peace ended the day City Hall was introduced to an alien material that makes azidoazide azide seem tame in comparison while Lex Corp tower was simultaneously transformed into a misshapen pancake of concrete and steel.

Now the city is but a ghostly shell of its former glory, a metropolitan corpse inhabited by a host of miscreants, degenerates, fools and lost souls. No one possessing a shred of common sense or with available means to escape stuck around to watch as the last desperate line of defense fell before a rabid onslaught. Long before the final assault was launched three days before Christmas, the vast majority of businesses closed while prominent and wealthy citizens hastily vacated the districts for surrounding cities and states. Some thirteen months after the Green Arrow alongside his superhuman colleague the Flash inexplicably vanished without a trace, the city perimeter was at last catastrophically breached. Enemy forces poured in, easily overwhelming ill-equipped reserve units comprised mainly of volunteers and conscripts. Less than two days later, the city government surrendered. In short order, law and order collapsed, and with it municipal services, as the mercenary armies of a group calling themselves The Seventh Circle took control. Their ascension signified the initiation of a new age of terror that would outstrip all that came before.

Every district of Star City fell to the invaders save the Glades, which was miraculously spared the indiscriminate razing. Those that refused to submit to their ghastly new overlords were summarily executed, with the most prominent citizens treated to a macabre public spectacle belonging more to the Dark Ages than the Twenty-first Century. The mayor, half of the city council, and a good portion of the top SCPD brass were immediately disposed of alongside key members of the resistance movement that were captured in the fighting around City Hall. Lyla Michaels and John Diggle were the last notable leaders to fall prey to the Seventh Circle’s inhuman butchers some three years later. Felicity Smoak was spared solely for her usefulness to the Seventh Circle, though she never explained to Mia precisely why she capitulated when her friends paid the ultimate price for refusing to do the same. All she would do is shake her head, mutter under her breath about needing to stay alive to find ‘the key’ and then promptly move on to another unrelated subject.

That Mia would not even exist if events played out differently does not really matter when her life barely passes for anything worth inhabiting nine days out of ten. She is virtually alone in the world since Felicity’s death, her subsistence of late is a far cry from the spartan rations doled out aboard The Waverider, and what little she has scrounged up for herself has been mainly purchased by virtue of her fists. Her diet typically consists of dried fruits and vegetables with a few cubes of salted meat and stale bread, all washed down with tepid water, while her apartment is little more than a dingy hole in the wall just big enough to pass as an inhabitable domicile. And she is doing relatively well for herself compared to most. Her only real friend stays by her side solely out of obligation to an oath he swore to a digital recording left to him by his dead father, which he was to watch upon his eighteenth birthday. That was four months ago now. And while Connor is a good person, perhaps the reason his shadowing of her is such an abrasive irritant to Mia is that she is anything but. She is, or so Felicity glumly insists, her mother’s daughter.

Thoughts of the woman whose body nourished her for nine long months quickly turn Mia’s gut sour. Acid scours her stomach lining as the burning acrimony in her heart toward one Oliver Queen inflames all over again.

Mia was not even a year old when her mother died saving the Green Arrow from a collapsing building the fateful day The Seventh Circle announced their presence to the city they would soon enough conquer. The great hero of Star City was in such a rush to escape a grisly demise that he broke a cardinal rule when he left one of his own behind. After her mother freed him from the wreckage of an interior office using her meta powers, he had wrongly assumed she was on his heels as they fled from a rapidly encroaching doom. Only when he emerged into the warm summer night did he realize he had exited alone. By then it was too late for him to make amends for his fatal mistake and repay the selfless act that spared his life. The building came down seconds later, pulverizing all remaining within beneath fifty thousand tons of rubble. There was nothing left of her mother to bury.

“Good riddance to a selfish bastard who did nothing but sow death and destruction wherever he went,” Mia spits, hateful glee underscoring her words. Her animosity for the man is only rivaled by that for the still-living Black Canary – whom she blames in equal measure for her mother’s death.

A disturbing mental image pops into her head just then of what it must have been like for her mother to sacrifice her life for a man who did not deserve her loyalty or devotion. Reportedly, Oliver had been an asshole for much of her mother’s first few years on Earth-1, and even once she proved herself as a valuable asset and steadfast ally he refused to let her forget the many sins she had committed while in service to a revolving door of evil men who had offered her something she could not refuse: a convenient outlet for her pain. Hunter Zolomon. Adrian Chase. Ricardo Diaz. These infamous names were callously flung in her mother’s face every time she made the tiniest mistake. No member of Team Arrow was treated more unfairly or subjected to such harsh criticism by Oliver as Mia’s mother was. Had it not been for the surprising friendship offered by Felicity and the unexpected love of Mia’s other genetic contributor, her mother might have fallen short in in turning her life around to honor a father who believed in his wayward daughter when no one else would.

And yet in all this her mother never stopped loving the bastard who wore a face and bore a name she could never turn her back upon.

“I’ve never lied to you about your mother, Mia. She had a lot of faults. Really, really bad ones,” Felicity told Mia one night when they were working late. Somehow the conversation devolved from engineering schematics of an old chemical plant to the complicated relationship between her missing husband and a dear friend for whom the tech magnate never stopped grieving. “One of the worst was her ability to endure abuse from people she cared for. And Oliver...was a hard man who was molded by a past so dark that your Mom was maybe the only person who truly understood the pain he constantly lived with. They brought out the best in each other – and also the worst. So yes, Oliver was very hard on your Mom. But only because he cared.”

“Is that supposed to buy him some credit in my eyes or something? Maybe change my opinion about him by drawing parallels between him and my Mom?” Mia had grumbled obstinately, not liking the target of her rage being humanized.

“No. I know better than to expect you to stop hating him,” Felicity had softly replied, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “God knows you have a right to your feelings. But I have a right to mine, too, Mia. He was my husband and I still love him. So where he is concerned, we’re just gonna have to agree to disagree if we’re gonna keep working together. Deal?”

Felicity then extended her hand, all of that softness gone, and it was then Mia finally, irrevocably divorced her admiration Felicity Smoak from her loathing of Oliver Queen. The point that was trying to be made, however, fell short of making any lasting impact. For her mother to have fought so hard to overcome a shitty life, to have worked so hard for redemption, and to have finally achieved a measure of genuine happiness in this world only to have it crushed under the colossal weight of Lex Corps’ Star City offices was the ultimate ‘fuck you’ from the universe. That Oliver Queen could have prevented that tragedy by displaying a smidgen of the situational awareness he was so famous for made him the guilty party in an injustice that is a fiery hot coal burning incessantly inside Mia’s chest. For Felicity’s sake, she spoke of Oliver almost dispassionately, but the rage never departed from her heart. Nor will it when her mother is dead and can never be avenged. Oliver’s shocking disappearance less than a year later forever eliminated that possibility.

Brooding upon her mother’s final excruciating moments as that building came down around her, Mia feels the circuit of her self-control short out. In a pique of arcing fury, she vocalizes her fury as she viciously kicks the offensive chair whose occupant symbolizes everything she hates, sending it tumbling across the room toward the central platform. She pointedly ignores Connor’s brow furrowing with disapproval over the disrespectful outburst. Team Arrow are still his idols, having lost none of their shine as she has slowly spoon-fed him the unfiltered truth behind their demise.

The idealistic fool will never believe they were anything but picture perfect superheroes like he reads about in his stupid comics.

Fetching the flask out of her back pocket, anger spent for now, Mia brandishes it in the direction of the Green Arrow’s seat, now turned on its side several feet away. “May Oliver Queen burn in hell for the rest of eternity. Amen.” To punctuate her bitter comment, she unscrews the top then takes a hearty swig.

“Didn’t anybody teach you respect for the dead, little girl?”

Mia swirls in place toward the direction the voice emanated from. A voice she needs no visual confirmation to identify. It’s one she would recognize anywhere seeing as she’s heard it a million times on the documentary she painstakingly dug up from the old Star City Library’s archives. The voice of a woman she hates – and in a sense even more than Oliver Queen. For whereas Oliver was ultimately responsible for so much general death and pain and grief, this woman is her own personal villain.

Dinah Drake.

The name alone reignites Mia’s unruly temper. Fists tightening until her knuckles pop, she searches the perimeter of the ruins until her keen eyes spot something moving within the shadows next to one of Felicity Smoak’s custom built server arrays. A moment later a familiar form emerges from the inky darkness. On instinct, her knees unlock and her legs spread into a proper fighting platform.

“I have plenty of respect for the ones that deserve it,” she finally replies, caustic bitterness seeping into her tone as it always does around the Black Canary. “And I’m far from a little girl. Ask the two hundred thirty pound meathead I knocked out cold a couple hours ago. If he can even answer through a broken jaw, that is.”

Dinah chuckles tauntingly as she departs the comfortable seclusion of the shadows. Draped in leather, she cuts a striking figure, still in peak fighting shape and hauntingly beautiful even in her early fifties. The stark red line scored across her throat is a reminder to Mia of the harrowing events, described in excruciating detail by an incredibly drunken Felicity, that precipitated her parents falling in love. A gift from the Star City Slayer that robbed the Canary of her supernatural song.

Pity for Dinah wells up from somewhere deep inside, and Mia rushes to strangle it with a ruthlessness that has served her so well in the fighting cages. Losing her powers must have been devastating to Dinah, and yet it was no less than she deserved if only for the unforgivable betrayals she committed against her own flesh and blood several years later.

“I would, but I have a feeling they’d tell me what I already know,” says Dinah, slowly sauntering toward the two youths trespassing on what is to her hallowed ground, a lair where some of her best memories were made.

This is the place where she learned how to be more than a public servant, more than a citizen, more than a soldier, more than an irrationally angry woman hellbent on revenge. It was here she learned how to be a hero. Had she never met Oliver, never become the Black Canary, her life would be so much more meaningless. The path she was heading down would have ultimately led either to one of three infamous dungeons constructed solely to imprison metas or to a premature, and very likely horrific, death.

It was Oliver who pulled her out of the pit of rage and self-loathing she crawled into after Vinny’s death by reminding her what honor means, and just in time too as she had very nearly lost all concept of it in pursuit of vengeance. He then trained her, taught her to fight against foes of a skill tier she could not have dreamed of facing as a lowly vice detective, gave her a purpose greater than herself, made her believe in herself again, and in doing so not only save her life but her immortal spirit. Without him, she would be nothing, would be a nameless number in a dark hole or a pile of rotting bones six feet beneath the earth.

And yet here she is, still struggling to preserve the soul of the city Oliver so loved and dedicated himself to. For what purpose? So many have asked her that question. The answer is that she owes him that and so much more, because not only did he save her, but he also introduced her to her chosen family for whom she would gladly lay down her life and indirectly brought the love of her life into her orbit. On days when it is nearly impossible to even crawl out of bed for the despair that hangs over her like an oppressive pall, she can draw upon the best memories of the happiest days of her life with her friends and her spouse, which never would have happened had Oliver not taken such an enormous risk on her. That is why no one speaks ill of him without provoking her wrath. Especially not an acerbic, broody, sarcastic street urchin like this.

As always around the girl whose name she was told is Maya, her attention never strays far as she moves in closer. Offended as she is by the intrusion upon this sacred space and as upset as she is about the girl’s heartless disparagement toward a man she still admires above all others, there is something about her that intrigues Dinah. And frightens her. There is a violence in those brilliant green eyes that reminds Dinah of someone else, of another blonde who loved to argue and throw punches nearly as much as she loved to breathe.

Having observed the girl in the illegal fighting pits, Dinah stops a stone’s throw away, eyeing her potential opponent critically. Not many since Oliver disappeared have earned her respect for their wild tenacity and breathtaking skill in combat, but this girl is one of them. The efficient brutality she witnessed in the cages was beyond impressive, especially for someone so young.

“You’re a great fighter in the ring,” she then finishes her point, “but a moody, irritating brat on the outside.”

“The vaunted Black Canary,” Mia replies, lids narrowing as her blood begins to boil. “So quick to judge those you don’t know. If I were you I’d be more careful. Somebody might get wise and finally call you out on your hypocrisy.”

Dinah rolls her eyes and scoffs, suddenly glad that William and Zoe are elsewhere so they are not exposed to this...unfounded vitriol. “Oh, that’s rich. How, pray tell, am I the hypocrite when you are doing precisely what you just now condemned me for?” When no response is given, Dinah barks out a derisive laugh. “What’s the matter, little girl. Cat got your tongue? Or are you all bark and no bite when faced with a harsh truth from one of your betters.”

Considering what this woman has done, that statement is an absurd joke so far as Mia is concerned. “Ha! I know two-bit sleaze bags who are better and more honorable than you.”

Something pricks at the back of Dinah’s mind, the same place that tickles when she was closing in on cracking a case that had driven her crazy for weeks or longer. A mystery is unraveling right before her eyes, puzzle pieces are being hectically slotted together by her deduction-oriented gray matter, but as of yet she cannot make sense of what revelation her subconscious is trying to convey.

Dinah crosses her arms over her chest, feeling unsettled and defensive all of the sudden. “Now that’s a claim I’m going to have to insist you back up. Which sleazebags in particular are you referring to? I’ve encountered my fair share.”

“Nobody you’d know...” Mia trails off, not having expected to be called out and not liking having the tables turned on her by someone with whom she has an intensely personal beef.

“Really? Sounds to me like you’re talking out of your ass, little girl,” Dinah growls, clearly on the edge of losing her patience.

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“I will when you stop acting like one. Or you stop me. Either way is fine with me, Little Girl.”

Incensed by the bald provocation, Mia surges toward Dinah, intent on unloading a decade’s worth of anguish and blame. Fortunately for the Black Canary, Connor intercepts Mia before she can reach her target and holds her back as she angrily resists despite knowing her efforts to be futile. Connor is freakishly strong and knows all of her moves. There will be no getting out of his iron grip. Eventually she tires of trying to break free and reels away, steaming.

Muscles tense on the edge of snapping, panting for breath, eyes wild, she paces for a moment like a caged, starving tiger who is being taunted by a juicy slab of meat. That burning sensation in the back of her throat that has been present since she can remember whenever she is agitated flares up with a vengeance. The pressure building up inside her chest and throat is so terrific it takes every ounce of her willpower not to scream to the top of her lungs in a desperate bid for relief.

Instead of giving in to that impulse, she funnels her agitation into her go-to coping mechanism when violence is not appropriate. Whirling back around, she points at Dinah, unbridled rancor fueling her movements as much as her words.

“You know what? Fuck you. Just...fuck you! You’re nothing but a spineless coward. A failure. A traitor to your own kin! A worthless piece of shit only fit to be scraped off the soles of my boots. A heartless bitch who pretends to be so righteous and perfect and selfless when you are anything but. You’re a fraud, and a liar, and I hate you more than you’ll ever know!”

Brows arched as high as they will go, Dinah endures the tirade with barely concealed irritation. “All of these baseless accusations and not a single shred of proof as to their veracity. Sling pejoratives at me all you want, but all I’m hearing right now is the insufferable whining of a kid who thinks she knows how the world works but hasn’t a clue.”

“Oh, I know plenty,” Mia bites back, her control slipping again, and with it her will to withhold knowledge that will hurt Dinah more keenly than the sting of any weapon. “I know that I spent almost half of my life being abused and the other half chasing down ghosts all because of you. I know that I’m not the only one who wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire because it is your fault that everything I have loved has been taken away from me, beginning with my birth mother. If only Aunt Sara were here, she’d...”

“Mia...” The tall, hulking boy who looks vaguely familiar shoots a pleading glances for his tiny companion to power down the vitriol. Sadly, as Dinah figured it would, his plea goes unheeded.

Too far gone to heed his warning, Mia barrels along under a full head of steam. “No, Connor! This self-righteous bitch needs to know that she isn’t the paragon of virtue she believes she is. How could anyone delude themselves like she has and call themselves a hero? A real hero would love and take care of her only child instead of tossing her away like a piece of fucking garbage!” Accusing green eyes pin a reeling Dinah down. “I mean, isn’t that exactly what you did?” When Dinah reels back, blanching, eyes blown comically wide, Mia shoots her a vicious, victorious sneer. “C’mon now. No need to deny it. We both know what you did to your daughter.”

Shocked to the depths of her soul, Dinah grapples to understand what the hell is going on. “What? How do you…? Who told you that?”

The spluttering response is indicative of her bone-deep confusion. There are very few people living who are aware she had a child, none of whom – or so she thought – were privy to the fact her baby did not die, but was in fact taken away from her and then put up for adoption because she was guilty as charged: a failure of a mother.

When her fiancee died, Dinah essentially much lost her mind. In a repeat of the aftermath of Vince’s death – only exponentially worse – she alternated immersing herself head first into whatever cheap form of liquor she could get her hands on until she passed out with needlessly picking fights. Most of those physical altercations were with bad guys twice her size that she took on without backup, and that many of them wound up hospitalized after she was done with them was of no concern to her. All she cared about was numbing the pain however and whenever she could.

Such reckless, disturbing behavior was not conducive to caring for an eleven month old baby girl. Which is why Dinah didn’t put up a fight when Rene took her daughter away from her in the middle of one of her vilest binges. Nor did she rail at Felicity for helping Rene find her baby new parents they both insisted were more than capable of providing the stable, loving home she could not. Instead of sobering up like she should have to fight for her daughter, she just sat at home, more miserable than ever, and drowned herself in Jack Daniels and tears. At the time, she was too far gone to do much else.

It took five long years for Dinah to crawl out of the lonely, filthy hole of withering depression and borderline madness she dug for herself. Even though she felt unworthy to reclaim a spot in her daughter’s life, she tried to track her down only to find all traces of the couple who adopted her were erased from the system. Not even Felicity with the full might of her gigantic server farm at Smoak Tech could track down her baby girl. Heartbroken all over again and so ashamed she could hardly stand to look at herself in a mirror, Dinah focused all of her energies on carrying on Oliver’s mission to save Star City, hoping in time the fickle whims of fortune might swing in her direction one last time. Only it never has.

Though Dinah has spent more time and money than is reasonable in the pursuit, she never located her daughter. And the shame of what she did to lose the sole surviving fruit of a love she thought could not possibly exist is still as fresh as the day she woke up in rehab. Sober for the first time in half a decade, she finally realize the depth to which she had descended to have so criminally neglected the last piece of her lost love that her friends felt it necessary to intervene lest a truly appalling tragedy occur.

Alone, and destitute, she had to rebuild her life from the ground up. So that’s what she did. It was only much later that she reconnected with a grown up Zoe, who she took under her wing and trained as her replacement. In a lot of ways, Zoe was a balm upon the wound that was her missing daughter. Were it not for Zoe’s faith and trust and affection, Dinah isn’t sure where she would be right now. All of her friends cut her off as she neared the terminal point of her self-destructive spiral. Sometimes it feels like Zoe is the only person in the world who still gives a damn about her. Not that she deserves even that much considering what she did to her own flesh and blood.

Regardless of how Felicity and Rene’s opinions of her, she had believed her secret was safe with them. Hate her as they may, they both loved her baby girl, and neither of them have ever hinted at indulging temptation to expose her most damning trespass. But apparently she was wrong.

“Who told me that?” Mia asks, tone taunting. “The question you should be asking is about my birth name. Maya Blackstar, I am not. Now that you’ve heard my real first name now thanks to Connor here, what comes after Mia? Care to wager a guess?” Silence is her only answer. “Oh, c’mon. How can you not know who I am? Felicity recognized me within ten seconds of meeting me outside Smoak Tech.”

Dinah’s heart stutters then constricts until pain lances through her chest. A piercing chill races up the length of her body as she connects the dots laid out plainly before her. The age is all wrong. But everything else is screaming out an identity that should be by any natural explanation impossible. The hair color. The eye color. The cut of Mia’s jawline and nose and brow. The shape of her lips and eyes. The way she moves when she fights in the cages. Her elegant savagery. Her insatiable rage. All that is missing is the sonic scream that could never have manifested thanks to Cisco and Felicity’s meta suppression implant.

Suddenly all Dinah can see is an image she has, for the sake of her mental health, unsuccessfully attempted to forget. A tall, svelte woman arrayed in a sleek black leather uniform, curve-hugging top with dual knee-length coattails attached to the hemline over top tight booty shorts, suggestive fishnets, and fancy knee-high heeled boots. A black choker wrapped around an elegant throat. Side-swept blonde hair tumbling down over shapely shoulders. Black painted lips curled up into an insufferably smug smirk, golden septum ring glinting in the moonlight. Not for the first time even today, Laurel Lance stands straight and proud in her mind’s eye. Vibrant and alive. Menacing and so terribly beautiful that Dinah would cry if she were safe within the secluded confines of her apartment.

Juxtaposed with the youth before her, it’s so easy to see the resemblance now. All she has to do is mentally place Mia in Laurel’s wardrobe, arrange them shoulder-to-shoulder beside herself in front of a mirror, and the awful truth dawns like a solemn bell sounding an alarm over a town previously ignorant to the impending catastrophe lurking on the fringes.

It can’t be. Can it? There’s just no way it’s her. I mean, it’s impossible because she is way too old. My Mia would only be eleven right now – err, wait. Didn’t she say something about The Waverider and her Aunt Sara. Oh, fuck! But surely Sara would have told me if Mia was with her. And if not her, than Felicity surely would have when they met. Wouldn't they?

The answer to that last question is self-evident. Sara would not have contacted Dinah because she never forgave her for Laurel’s death – and rightly so when Dinah never forgave herself. It was supposed to be her backing Oliver up that night, not Laurel. But she’d been too tired having stayed up half the night with a feverish, grumpy baby and Laurel had so sweetly volunteered to cover with Team Arrow that she simply couldn’t say no. So she fell asleep on the couch with Mia laid across her chest while her wife of four years was being eradicated from existence by Lex Luthor, the great betrayer of the human race.

At the funeral, Sara would not meet Dinah’s eyes except to convey a seething condemnation that was as present in her gaze as it was in the clenching of her jaw and the balling of her fists. And when Sara learned about Rene and Felicity taking Mia away? Well, to say that confrontation got ugly would be like saying a monsoon brought a little rain. The only reason Sara didn’t kill Dinah that night was Ava discovering her long time partner’s deadly intentions and arriving in the nick of time to stop the carnage. When Sara was finally dragged off, Dinah was a writhing mess of blood and pain who could only listen, and sob miserably, as her sister-in-law passed sentence upon her like she was a target of the League.

“You’re lucky Ava knows me so well and that I love her too much to do something she would hate me for,” Sara had said, fists raw and bloodied, all coiled up venom and hatred. “But if I ever see your face again, even she won’t be able to stop me from finishing the job.”

For obvious reasons, they haven’t spoken since.

As for Felicity...Dinah was not the only one to lose a spouse during the horrific year retroactively dubbed as The Long Twilight. Oliver’s disappearance, and presumed death, followed by a stress-induced miscarriage forever quenched Felicity’s light. The bright, overly excitable, adorably nerdy chatterbox she was proud to call her friend quickly devolved into an intensely pessimistic, highly unstable genius who used her amazing brain to do awful things. Whereas Dinah coped through measured violence and the bottle, Felicity submersed herself into building an empire and using the immense resources she accrued to punish the world around her for the pain she could not escape. It was inevitable that their divergent paths meant they drifted apart and that their friendship, like nearly every one of Dinah’s relationships since The Long Twilight, withered on the poisoned vine and died.

The last she heard from Felicity was a bewildering message which cryptically stated: “Don’t believe the narrative that’s being fed to us. Some things are not what they seem. Up can be down and lost can be found. Just have to find the key.” Two days later the news rolled in that Felicity Smoak was found murdered in her office at Smoak Tech.

So yes, it is entirely possible that Felicity, perhaps even in cahoots with Sara, kept this colossal secret. And why shouldn’t she? It wasn’t like Dinah ever attempted to reach out and span the yawning chasm of distrust between them. She’d been too proud as of yet to grovel and equally reluctant to find out how the new, frightfully hostile Felicity might react to any peaceful overtures.

As reality sinks in as to what that cowardice might have cost her, she also begins to accept what she’s being told, and the shock she had felt moments before rapidly becomes an unbearable mix of emotions. Eyes stinging with salty tears, the name she heard less than a minute ago escapes her lips with little more than a shaky breath.

“Mia…?”

An almost euphoric grin spreads across Mia’s lips as she watches the Black Canary, that paragon of strength and nobility, unravel into a weak, vulnerable, uncertain woman whose entire world has just been upended. She hadn’t planned on spilling the beans so soon, having preferred to stretch out the torment over weeks or months; but now that the truth has come out she can’t deny how sweet it is to observe the horror and shame playing across her mother’s face. Her other mother, that is.

When Mia turned thirteen, her Aunt Sara sat her down to explain her unusual parentage. As the details were laid out, she at first wondered if a mistake was made. How could two women be her biological parents? Perhaps, she thought, she had been the result of artificial reproductive techniques like In Vitro or sperm donation. Come to find out there is technology belonging to an alien – one whom all of Team Arrow, including her parents, had befriended – from another Earth capable of enabling same sex couples to biologically reproduce. Her aunt called it a Genesis Chamber. Said that her parents were honored to be one of a few select human couples permitted to utilize the facility. Something called a Kelex reportedly determined their potential offspring to be highly beneficial to human evolution due to their unique meta DNA. That, and their saving the life of a very important woman named Alex Danvers indebted the vessel’s rightful owners to them.

Whatever the case behind her conception, Mia was just happy to know that there was a time she was actually wanted by her birth parents. Loved even if Felicity was any reliable narrator of the past. But then she found out about Laurel, her birth mother, dying to save Oliver’s life, and how her other mother Dinah essentially checked out on their helpless baby due to grief. She was also informed that a man named Rene took her away from Dinah one rainy night in September when he checked in on his friend only to find her in an alcohol induced coma while Mia was screaming her head off in her playpen having been neglected for who knows how many hours. Five years later Dinah got sober, but by then Mia was already absent from Earth-1, having been rescued from an abusive home by her beloved Aunt Sara.

Needless to say pretty much the only thing she feels for Dinah is disgust.

“That’s it,” Mia says, relishing Dinah’s pain, needing to witness more to assuage the years of hurt and anger that have accumulated toward her only living immediate blood relative. “Say it. Say my name. That useless old book was right about one thing: the truth will set you free.”

Dinah is so shell-shocked, so devastated, so dangerously hopeful that her entire body trembles. This is the moment she’s been waiting for. And dreading. After being separated from her baby girl for so long, to have her right here within arm’s reach is a dream come true. At the same time it is a nightmare from which she doesn’t think she’ll ever awaken. Because the young lady before her is so deeply resentful, having been traumatized and abused by her adoptive family and then raised on a time ship with a bunch of morally gray misfits instead of the warmth of loving home with her parents, all the while believing she was unwanted by her own mother.

This girl – this haunted, hateful, beautiful girl – is her daughter, the only tangible proof remaining that Laurel was real and their love was extraordinarily special. And she hates Dinah. It’s enough to rend in twain what remains of Dinah’s shredded heart.

“Oh, God.” Dinah chokes down a sob, eyes now watering past the ability of her lids and lashes to contain the tears of joy and grief. “Mia. Is it really you? Is it...”

“I said, say my name!”

Mia’s explosive demand startles Dinah to such a degree she physically flinches. “Your name…” she trails off, draws in a shaky breath before recovering a modicum of composure. Time to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Buck up. Put on a strong front. Be the mother you should have been all those years ago. Shoulders straightening, she bravely and resolutely meets Mia’s eyes. “Your name is Mia Deardon Lance.”

So named Mia for Dinah’s beloved Nana and Deardon because Laurel had made an oath to her Oliver their firstborn daughter would somehow honor the distinguished but fiercely loving woman who was much Laurel’s mother as his. There hadn’t been a single argument about their respective choices, a rarity in their...occasionally contentious relationship. Dinah has never felt and never saw Laurel more proud than when she announced their newborn daughter’s name to their loved ones who had just spent eleven hours in a waiting room and yet were so effusively happy that they could scarcely contain themselves. Mia is their greatest accomplishment, and however much Dinah failed her that remains an indisputable fact.

“And there we have it. The awful, terrible truth. Isn’t it just wonderful?” Mia says, feeling the weight of a lifetime belonging to no one rescind from her shoulders. She has a mother now. If only that mother was Laurel instead. Stepping forward into Dinah’s personal space, she smirks as she goes in for the kill. “Hi, Mom. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but that would be a lie.”

#arrow fanfic #dinahsiren #dinah drake #laurel lance #black siren #black canary #dinah x laurel

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headquartersforlievmuses · 7 years

Text

► Dinah Lance

Dinah Laurel Lance was born into a family of crime fighters. Her father Larry Lance, was a police officer, while her mother (also named Dinah) was the original Black Canary.

The younger Dinah chose to become a crime-fighter at the age of nineteen, despite her mother's wishes to the contrary. Following a rigorous training program under the watchful eye of a former colleague and life-long friend of the original Black Canary, Ted Grant, also known as Wildcat, Dinah took up her mother's identity and adopted her costume as her own.

According to her origins during the Silver Age, Dinah's ‘Canary Cry' was the result of her being cursed by the Wizard during her childhood. This explanation has been retconned for the current continuity, however. These sonic powers are now the byproduct of her possession of the metagene, making her a metahuman since birth. Dinah's metahumanity distinguishes her from her predecessor; in fact, no other member of her family is known to have possessed the metagene at all.

Not long after her debut as Black Canary, Dinah Lance became a founding member of the Justice League of America. It was Dinah who suggested the newly-formed name of the League, in deference to her mother's having been a member of the Justice Society of America. It was through her new association with the Justice League that she first met the love of her life—Oliver "Ollie" Queen, also known as the Green Arrow. Black Canary's membership in the JLA lasted for many years. Her friendship with Oliver Queen developed during this time as their feelings for one another became romantic. When Oliver chose to quit the League in order to continue his efforts in Star City on his own, Dinah decided to join him there soon after.

Whilst Green Arrow and Green Lantern went on a road trip to rediscover America, Dinah too was motorcycling near Mount Rainier, Washington when she was attacked and run down by a motorcycle gang. Left unconscious in the road, she was rescued by a man named Joshua. The stranger was really a white supremacist cult leader who hypnotised her to his cause. Only when put in the position of executing her lover Ollie, was the hypnotic hold broken. Ashamed of being involved in such a despicable group—albeit against her will—Dinah worked with the Native Americans on the reservation that Joshua had intended to murder.

Dinah rekindled her romance with Ollie and joined the two on other exploits, including attending the trial and sentence of their Guardian companion thwarting Sinestro and his sister,, stopping an evil man exploiting a metahuman child, and helping Speedy through his withdrawal from drug addiction.

After Green Arrow accidentally killed a man, he abandoned his heroic persona, along with his civilian life in Star City. Hal sought Dinah's help to locate their missing friend. Her investigation inadvertently led her to a secret hate gathering, organised by none other than Joshua's sister. She was discovered and outnumbered by the angry mob who threw her off the roof of the building, but was fortunately saved by Green Lantern. Continuing Black Canary's spate of bad luck, a drugged driver crashed into a phone booth when she was making a call. Badly injured and losing a lot of blood, Hal knew Ollie was one of the few people with her rare blood type that could save her. Hal had heard of the discovery of the Arrowplane wreckage, and from there, soon tracked him down in an isolated monastery. Despite his own shame and his contempt for society, it only took the mention Dinah's predicament to get Ollie to return home, where the transfusion was successful.

Following the events of Legends, she becomes a founding member of the new Justice League International established by Maxwell Lord. Under Batman's leadership, they gained approval from the United Nations.

Oliver and Dinah set up a flower shop in Seattle—"Sherwood Florist"—as well as continuing to fight crime. Oliver was having something of a midlife crisis, however, just as he was about to turn 43. He wanted to marry Dinah and have a real family with real children of his own—he loved Roy, his ward, and Roy's daughter Lian, but wanted his own biological children. Dinah turned down the idea, citing that their lives were too dangerous. During this time, Dinah was kidnapped by a drug dealer she was investigating. She was brutally tortured, causing her to lose her 'Canary Cry' and rendering her incapable of having a child. Ollie killed the man who tortured her, and that act lead to a turning point in the life of the Emerald Archer.

When Dinah came out of the hospital, she was still emotionally traumatized by the incident. Oliver was with her as she entered counseling. She was initially hesitant to fight crime during the first few weeks after leaving the hospital but it was when she stepped up to stop some muggers on a bus (taking a few hits in the process) she felt back to her old self, knowing that her biggest fear was that she would not be able to fight back anymore, and that fear was gone. She and Ollie were closer than ever.

Dinah was contacted by Oracle (Barbara Gordon) to work in Gotham City, which she accepted, and the pair formed a partnership as the Birds of Prey. Dinah took this role with great satisfaction. And with that came the feeling that she needed a few changes required in this fresh new chapter of her life, deciding to abandon her traditional blond wig and bleach her hair blond whilst growing it longer instead. During her time operating with Oracle, Dinah operated using an electronic form of her Canary Cry: a weapon that would do the 'crying' on Canary's behalf, called Canary Cry Bombs. After a battle with Ra's al Ghul, she took a dip in the Lazarus Pit at Oracle's urging. Doing so healed her injuries and restored her Canary Cry as well as her ability to have a child. As time went on, the Birds expanded their number with Dinah as the backbone of the team, operating alongside notable female agents such as the Huntress, Gypsy, and Lady Blackhawk. Following that, Oracle shows Canary the retail space that later houses a reopened Sherwood Florist.

Shortly thereafter, Ollie and Speedy helped Black Canary when Merlyn abducted Sin. To save her life, Ollie was forced to fake the young girl's death, keeping the knowledge of the plan between himself and Mia, even at the risk of losing Dinah forever. After Sin was placed into safekeeping, Ollie told Dinah what he had done. Recognizing that he was willing to sacrifice his own happiness to save a life, Dinah finally agreed to marry him.

After a great deal of compromise and strife, Dinah and Ollie agreed to get married inside the Secret Sanctuary, the original cave headquarters of the Justice League of America. Wedding guests included nearly everyone within the superhero community who were asked to attend the ceremony in-costume. The wedding was interrupted by a phalanx of supervillains, who attempted to take out as many heroes as possible in one fell swoop. Nearly all of the villains were apprehended except for Deathstroke, who managed to escape. Despite the interruption, the ceremony concluded and Dinah Lance and Oliver Queen were married.

Following Dinah's marriage to Ollie, the duo fought crime alongside one another, facing new challenges such as the villains Cupid, a mentally ill vigilante stalker with an obsession for the Green Arrow; and Discord, a man deafened by Canary's scream during the first fight with Dregz.

Shortly after, Darkseid attacked Earth and took control of it. Dinah planned an attack on Darkseid from the Justice League Watchtower but her plan was thwarted by a mind-controlled Green Arrow and she was forced to fight the one she loved.

After Darkseid was defeated, Dinah was summoned to Gotham City along with other heroes to join the Network, a group dedicated to maintain order after Batman's death. There, she teamed up with Huntress to aid Nightwing against I-Am-Batman.

Canary had soon resigned from her position as chairwoman of the Justice League, and later Hal Jordan and Ollie start their own Justice League. Discovering this, Dinah confronts Ollie in anger when he returns to the Watchtower to warn her and the other former League members of an impending attack on the world's superheroes, after which Prometheus arrives out of nowhere and attacks the team, severing Red Arrow's arm and defeating Dinah by maneuvering her into the path of an energy bolt fired by Starman (Mikaal Tomas). The now defeated Prometheus then destroys Star City via a teleportation device. While searching for survivors, Dinah and Oliver find the body of a dead, bloodied Lian, the daughter of Roy Harper. Dinah is then seen at Roy Harper's bedside at the hospital with Donna Troy, preparing to deliver the tragic news of his daughter's death when he awakens from his coma.

In the events of the Blackest Night, Dinah fights off an army of Black Lantern Corps under the supervillain Nekron. Nekron reveals he has the power to control all the heroes who have died and been resurrected, one of which, is the Green Arrow. With the aid of Mia Dearden and Connor Hawke, Dinah fights her husband (who has been transformed into a Black Lantern) while he tells her that he has been secretly in love with Shado since she raped him and that she is a fool for thinking he has changed, all out of his control. In the short time he is able to regain self-control, Ollie deliberately misses a shot he had aimed at Dinah, instead severing a hose containing liquid nitrogen. Connor, under Dinah's instructions, reluctantly uses the hose on Ollie, freezing him solid. The three then join the other heroes in battle.

After Ollie returns to normal, it is discovered that he had secretly murdered Prometheus and had left his body to rot in the villain's own headquarters. After Flash and Hal Jordan confront Ollie with this revelation, Ollie goes on the run. Dinah joins Hal and Barry in searching the ruins of Star City for him, and eventually finds the archer scouring the city for one of the men who had worked for Prometheus. He easily defeats all three of them, leaving Dinah trapped in a specialized fluid designed to restrain her. Following this chain of events is Dinah's realization that all Ollie wants is to be left alone and so she tells him during her visitation at his jail cell after he turns himself in. With that said, she decides their marriage is over, leaving her wedding ring with him.

During the events of the Brightest Day, Dinah returns to Gotham City, where she along with Huntress, Lady Blackhawk, Hawk and Dove are assembled to reform the Birds of Prey.

Powers

Canary Cry: Dinah possesses a metagene that gives her a potent sonic attack, able to damage and stun foes or objects, to the point of shattering metal. She possesses a incredible degree of control over her vocal cords. This enables her to mimic sounds and generate any sound she desires, even developing several abilities. The Canary Cry has been able to reach 300 decibels, which is enough to make a person's ears start bleeding even if they're not the attack target.

Acrobatics

Driving

Investigation

Martial Arts: She is one of the most skilled martial artists on the planet. She has also been trained by Wildcat, who is formerly the Heavyweight Champion of the World, in the art of boxing, Muay Thai, capoeira, krav maga, and hapkido. She has also been trained in Dragon Style Kung Fu and pressure point fighting by Richard Dragon. Thanks to Wonder Woman, Dinah has been trained in Amazon martial arts, but is strictly a novice in that kind of fighting style. Other styles she's shown skill in include savate, judo, aikido, jujitsu, wing chun, and tae kwon do.

Aikido

Boxing

Capoeira

Dragon Style Kung Fu

Hapkido

Judo

Jujitsu

Krav Maga

Muay Thai

Savate

Tae Kwon Do

Wing Chun

Tactical Analysis: Dinah is also considered a strong leader and strategic thinker, which has led to her being made Chairwoman of the JLA.

Weaponry

Music: Dinah practised the harmonica as it was a perfect way to strengthen her breathing and vocal chords.

Multilingualism: Dinah can speak Japanese.

Verses

tba

#Arrow #Arrow [Dinah Lance]#Female Character #non mutuals #face claim: Katie Cassidy

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trinity-blood-translations · 7 years

Text

ROM 6 - Chapter 1 Part II (english translation)

Translator: Roven, Editing: Lamy Link for Part I

Trinity Blood (by Sunao Yoshida) ROM 6 Chapter 1 Part II

—The situation is intolerable.

Of the forty men and women who had gathered that afternoon at the Diogenes club, it was a mature but strong man who spoke first.

His name was Charles Somerset. Among the famous Twenty-six Dukes of the Albion's aristocracy, he occupied the fifth place as heir of the Duchy of Beaufort, which possessed extensive territories in the Northwest of England. The former Deputy Chief of Staff of the Army tapped his finger on the table and casted a sharp glance toward the attendees.

—As if it were not enough trouble that Rome had discovered the existence of the ghetto, it turns out that we have not annihilated the monsters? But what the hell has the expedition of extermination done!?

—According to the reports that have come to us, the blocking system made the ghetto completely inaccessible from the outside. —answered Albert Hobb Duke of Newcastle without changing his poker face.

The ducal house of Newcastle, which had possessions in the Northeast of Scotland, occupied only nineteenth place in the list of dukes, but Hobb was a Supreme Court judge, in addition, he was a member of the House of Lords and Lord Chancellor, so that in the Palace he was just below the royal family and the archbishop of Canterbury. Pointing towards the three-dimensional map of Londinium which has been projected by laser on the table, he added:

—To reach the ghetto we must necessarily go through this point. Right now we don’t know how to open the wall of isolation. In fact, we don't know how thick it is or what material it is made of ... We are not even in the situation to dream of exterminating them.

—And if we blow it? —asked Lord Tennyson, a famous poet, member of the Royal Council, turning to the Deputy Minister of Interior Boswell.

Pouring a spoonful of jam of roses into his cambric tea with honey and milk, he said in an affected voice:

—If we're going to flood the tunnels anyway, we can directly use the most violent methods, don't you think, Mr. Deputy Minister?

—The corps of engineers has tried.

Boswell shrugged, stroking his beard well. His intelligence and good judgment had made him win the queen's confidence, but unfortunately his lineage didn't place him among the Twenty-six Dukes. He was probably intimidated by the representatives of those twenty-six families, only four hundred people, who owned twenty-five percent of the land and seventy percent of the wealth of the kingdom. With a hesitant tone, he explained:

—It is not yet clear what material it is made of, but we have discovered that the wall can withstand a detonation of fifty kilos of TNT without suffering a scratch. And it's not just explosives. Neither the chemicals nor electricity have had any effect. We have been trying to investigate what happened on the other side of the wall with sound waves, but that didn't work either... The ghetto is literally isolated from the world.

—Well, well. This is getting more complicated.

Upon hearing the explanations of Boswell, Jonathan Montagu Douglas Scott folded his arms. That old Scottish man with the endless name was the holder of the charge of The Royal Seal Guardian and as the Duke of Buccleuch he occupied the twelfth spot. He was the oldest of all the aristocrats present in the room. Rubbing the long beard, he let out a tired sigh.

—The plan was to exterminate all the monsters before the night fell and thus to mislead the Pope and the media... What has been of that? We have managed to rescue the Pope and the Lady Saint by the hairs, but now the vampires have locked themselves in the ghetto. There is no doubt that The Vatican has realized that we were aware of the presence of the monsters. Even ordinary citizens had begun to show signs of uneasiness, now that they know they have been living all these years with those beasts underfoot.

The old man spoke with his eyes fixed on a figure that had been silent all the time with the arms folded. The look of the aristocrat traversed like a needle to the orange-haired cavalry officer.

—All this is because of the failure of last night's operations...Oh, by the way, were not you the one who designed the plan of attack, Viscountess of Carsley Colonel Spencer? What do you think about this?

—Excuse me, grandfather, talking about this now leads to nothing.

Who answered in that way to the venerable old man who had guided the policies of the kingdom for half a century was not the young officer. For defending Bloody Mary, the beaded woman had raised her voice. Extending her arms as if to cover her friend the Duchess of Erin Jane Judith Jocelyn threw the Duke of Buccleuch a look full of sarcasm.

—I don’t know if you remember that it was exactly all of us here who gave the approval to the plan of attack presented by the colonel. Isn't it a bit dishonest to throw all the blame on her now?

—But it was she who carried it out. Don't you think that if she had been a little more skilful on the ground would the results have been different? — intervened Harvey Campbell of the ducal house of Argyll, thirteenth of the list.

That great Welsh landowner, who also controlled several newspapers and radio stations, had once made a proposal for a marriage to the Duchess of Erin, but she had rejected him. It was not uncommon to think that the poisonous tone of his voice had something to do with resentment that kept him for it.

—For the moment, we are controlling the information that comes to the light, but it is already known that the public have very keen ear. It even seems that there are people who are already packing everything they have to flee of Londinium... It wouldn't be strange that we'll get scenes of panic. With what face are we going to go and tell this to Her Majesty?

—I beg your pardon for having caused these problems. This was all my fault. — answered a deep voice to the ironic attack of Duke of Argyll.

The young officer had risen to her feet. After nodding briefly to the duchess of Erin to reassure her, she faced the looks that crossed her.

—I accept my responsibility for not being able to exterminate the monsters as promised. However, I want to remember that I already had repeatedly requested permission to eliminate the ghetto. We should have dealt with the problem before it came to this... But was it not this same council that rejected my requests? The ghetto was the hen of golden eggs. Eighty percent of the technology and the goods it produced ended up becoming patents of your companies. That's why you protected the monsters from my proposals. The current situation is the result. Have you thought of who has responsibility for all that?

—Measure your words, Colonel. Anyone would say that you want to avoid your guilt by throwing it at us —said the duke Of Buccleuch again, with the classic malicious smile of the aristocrats of Albion. —I will not deny that our companies used technology invented in the ghetto. But do not forget that everything was part of a plan approved by Her Majesty for the development of the kingdom.

—The Duke of Buccleuch is quite right. In addition, we had always thought that if there are only one or two hundred vampires, we would be able to get rid of them easily in any moment —said, picking up the thread, the Duke of Argyll, still with more poison, looking aggressively at the officer. —Who could have thought that the army would perform so poorly? Colonel, wouldn't have been better to attack with all of our power last night, counting on that there would be some casualties? If you had ordered to open the gates before, we could have drowned the monsters and now we wouldn't see each other in these difficulties... Am I wrong?

Mary replied expressionless to the questions of the aristocrat, although under the control of her voice, it was possible to guess the hidden presence of a storm of wrath.

—It was not an attack power problem. Pursuing the operations after the insulation system was activated would have been extremely dangerous. I do not think my decision to order the withdrawal was wrong.

—I think you're too soft, Colonel...

Exhaling the smoke of the cigar, the Duke of Argyll replied in a tone that showed only one-tenth of the seriousness he would have by talking about the illness of a pet. Taking out a new cigar from a silver box, he added nonchalantly:

—To end a big problem you have to accept a small problem... I doubt that we can congratulate you on having endangered the security of the kingdom in exchange for saving the lives of a few dozen soldiers. Such calculations are the key of politics.

—Politics? — repeated Mary in a monotone voice without changing her expression. —Are you referring to the deaths of my men two years ago?

—Two years ago... Ah! Percy's rebellion. Indeed, they were necessary victims.

The aristocrat put a finger on his forehead as if to awaken the memories from the past. While lighting the next cigar, which probably cost more than what a current worker earned in a month, he explained:

—When we summoned the rebel army leader to Londinium with the pretext of opening negotiations, it was the key to catch him unaware. If we wouldn't have sent you and your men to accompany him unarmed, the rebel and his minions would never have agreed to come to the capital... What a pity that because of that they put that motto of Bloody Mary.

—A pity? —murmured the colonel at the same time as a cold light ignited her glance.

The woman dropped her muscular hand to the waist, where the saber was hanging. For a moment she seemed ready to draw the weapon, but then she ran her fingers into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and brought it to the face.

—The dead men were <<necessary victims>> and for you my motto looks like <<a pity>>... I don’t have words, Duke of Argyll. As a member of the kingdom's army, I can’t contain the tears of emotion...

—A ..., although part of the plan last night didn’t go well, at least the rescue of the Pope and the Lady Saint was a success. I think that the colonel did a great job. —said Boswell in order to distend between the official and the aristocrats who crossed him with a glance.

Without a doubt, trying to relax the atmosphere, the man of the queen awkwardly changed the subject:

—Anyway, there will be time to discuss who has the responsibility for what. Now there are more urgent problems ... The case of Sister Esther, for example. How should we present it to the media? Is this the time to make public that she is the daughter of the deceased prince?

—Obviously, we must wait a little longer. —replied the duke of Newcastle taking a thick wad of documents which were on the table.

The papers contained all the information related to the person they were talking about. Since last night, the Ministry of the Royal House, the Stary House, the Information Department and the rest of the twenty-eight organisms had been working tirelessly to submit those reports. Starting with the results of the DNA analysis from the previous night contained all kinds of data about the new candidate to the throne, who seemed to be at the same time the most legitimate.

—After taking a look at this, it seems to me that we need some time to draft an appropriate official report. The paparazzo is in custody and the Vatican has agreed to say nothing. I don't see the need to hurry things up. Why not wait to the final report of the Ministry of the Royal House?

—In addition it is still necessary to know what intentions has Esther Blanchett herself..., I mean, Princess Esther. —said Sir Bruce Churchill.

The young heir of the ducal house of Marlborough, who had just graduated from college, looked around for approval of those present.

—It is not impossible to think that she might decide to give up her succession to the Crown, considering that she has been living completely away from the affairs of the court... Although the report may be completed before, wouldn't be better to wait to know her intentions first and then decide if it is convenient to make public her status as a princess? If we are not careful, that can bring much greater problems.

—The Duke of Marlborough is right. A figure that will combine holiness with the royal blood would be too powerful for the popular imagination.

—If she renounces the succession there will not be only general panic ...

In the worst case, we may encounter a rebellion. The fact that she had to come to appear right now ...

—On the contrary, it may be the coup de fortune that we need right in the midst of these misfortunes. Her presence can make the people and the Vatican forget the rest of the problems ...

Twenty-five of the dukes began to argue among themselves, exchanging views on the benefits and hazards that were waiting for Albion and their own houses, looking together for the way they should go. Only one person, the first among those aristocrats, turned towards the friend who was sitting next to her with a disinterest face.

—Speaking of the subject, what are we going to do with that brat, Mary? —asked the Duchess of Erin without attempting to hide a huge yawn. — I have heard that last night they took her out of the ghetto to the hospital...Do you know where is she and what is she doing now?

—She's at Windsor Palace right now, keeping her away from the media.

The palace to which the officer referred was about thirty kilometers west of Londinium. The colonel did not changed the expression, but from her gaze had disappeared the cold glow that it had when she faced with the aristocrats. Mary responded to the question of her friend with the usual distant tone:

—The medical reports do not mention any signs of violence or vampire bites. I have heard that she locked herself in the chapel and is not leaving the place... That wouldn't be a problem, of course, if it were not because she refuses to eat or drink anything.

—Well, well. To be the granddaughter of Queen Brigitte is a very delicate thing... But, in the chapel? Ah!, for the priest... —said Jane, putting the finger on her lips as if thinking something then she nodded at once:

— How unfortunate. Did he die, right? But… so what? Did they have an intimate relationship? If she is so sad that she doesn't want to eat, it can only be because of that, right?

—I don’t know. But it’s certain they were very close to each other.

— What a pity...but it’s surprising. I thought that Esther is more persistent. Whining like this and yourself away just because one lover has died - I'm a little bit disappointed.

—You'd better not apply your standards, Calamity Jane. She seems much more normal. Not everyone is as hard as you.

—Well, talking about tough people, is there anyone tougher than Bloody Mary? And the queen, if she weren't so fierce she couldn't do all those shenanigans in which she's always stuck... Now that I think of it, that brat is not suited to sit on the throne.

Without changing her pose, Jane rolled her eyes mischievously. Walking the gaze towards the nobles around her, she added:

—The aristocracy, the media, the Vatican, the Germanic kingdom..., those are really nests of monsters. Compared to them, the ghetto is a child's play. That girl will be eaten alive if they put her on the throne. It seems too difficult for her.

—You may be right —nodded the colonel, watching the aristocrats as if they were very far from there.

The discussion on the table had passed from Esther's case to the suspicions concerning the Germanic Kingdom. After being rescued, the Pope had declared to have been the victim of an assassination attempt next to the river. The terrorist was still missing, but the investigation had determined that the weapon used was the same equipped by the special forces of the Germanic Army.

Boswell was arguing with the dukes about if that was enough reason to ask responsibilities to the German ambassador. The Duke of Newcastle denied with his head at the cries of the dukes of Argyll and Beaufort, two known hawks, driven by the Duke of Norfolk, traditional foe of Newcastle.

—And the palace..., that is indeed a pandemonium —commented Mary, taking out a cigarette, while watching the lively discussions of the men around her. — It is no place for a modest person. Esther herself must know... Jane, the only one capable of occupying that throne is you.

—I don’t know. I think it suits me more to be an evil witch that manipulates an innocent queen to her liking. I get chills just thinking in having to live a decent life facing the people.

The expression of the duchess showed the sincere disgust of someone <<Of free spirit>>, as she was popularly known.

Ever since the suspicion that the Germanic Kingdom had tried to assassinate the Pope had appeared the most suitable candidate for the throne seemed to be her, but the problem was that neither the aristocrats nor the Vatican had her in very high esteem. In her domains of Erin she demonstrated that she had good leadership skills, but for many inhabitants of Albion was << the queen of the neighboring country >>. It was not difficult to ascend the throne, but once there many problems could be anticipated. She knew it very well, as the look she gave her friend.

—Mary, the perfect person for the throne is you. Who cares that you are an illegitimate daughter? No one has worked more than you for the good of the country. While this band of geezer man was here scratching their belly, you were the only one on the battlefield, dirtying your hands. That someone as sacrificially as you had been put the motto of Bloody Mary... no matter if a Saint or a real princess…. I'll give all my support to you before anyone else. It must be you to become queen.

—Thank you, Jane...

The officer calmly returned the look to her friend who was serious like just a very few times. Mary had a glimmer of sorrow in her eyes. Or was just an effect of the table shine?

—But you know very well that I have my hands stained with blood. The blood of my enemies and that of my own men. Do you believe that they will let the crown get stained by these hands? I will never be able to sit in the Throne of the Roses...

—Excuse me! —A male voice accompanied by door knock interrupted the conversation of the two friends. Before a sea of accusing looks, a club bellboy hurried into the room. While giving a paper to Boswell, he whispered something in his ear that made the deputy minister's face immediately tense.

—A Palace statement has just arrived...

After telling the bellboy to leave the room, Boswell began to read the paper in an inexpressive voice:

—<<Today at eighteen-fifty, the state of his Majesty has suddenly worsened. Meeting in palace immediately.>>

—Well, at last it seems like what we've all been waiting for is here — Jane said to her friend, standing in the middle of the uproar that broke out in the room. — Let's go to the Palace, then. Maybe this will be the last time you see your grandmother alive, Mary. You better prepare for the worst.

—I know. I'll come soon... You can go directly, Jane. I will pass by Windsor to pick up Esther. It would be a shame if she did not know her grandmother before she abandons us.

—Of course, it would be best that she accompany you... Since you are sisters, it is natural that you go together.

—Sisters? We?

A certain color of surprise appeared on Mary's face, as if she had just realized. Before she could say anything else, the Duchess of Erin had already turned, like the rest of the aristocrats, and left the room, dodging the groups of friends who whispered to each other...

The colonel remained alone in the room, with no other company than the smoke...

—Sisters... It's true. I didn’t think of that...

Mary smiled as she extinguished the cigarette in an ashtray as if surprised by her own confusion. She realized that almost more than it looked like a scrutiny, it seemed more like stupidity. But that was the truth. Esther Blanchett was her half-sister. Her social position, the environment in which they had been raised, their possessions...

Apparently they could not be more distinct, but still ...

—Will you allow me a moment, Colonel?[1]

A deep voice interrupted the colonel’s thoughts.

Where had he come from? In the dimness of the room, nobody else was to see. The club's employees had also disappeared. Nevertheless, Mary didn’t seem surprised and responded as if she had her subordinate in front of her:

—Ah, Sergeant Ironside... Is lance corporal Cunningham with you? I have heard he has been wounded him in the underground.

—Well, a scratch on the hand, but it's nothing, —said a hoarse voice, distinct from the first, in a tone of pain. —It has been negligence by me... But the operation has gone on without problems.

—Good, that's the most important thing... I just wanted to ask you something. Sergeant Jack Ironside lance corporal Todd Cunningham.... Do you know what I mean? The case of Sister Esther...

Looking at the crushed cigarette in the ashtray, in Mary’s eyes appeared a sharp light. With no other company than the shadows, she said with an abrupt voice:

—Did I tell you to put your hand on her? My orders were: <<Simulate an assassination attempt of the Pope and the Lady Saint at the hands of Germanicus>>. I do not remember saying anything about actually murdering her.

—Yes, you are right. We received no other order —answered the voice with certainty, without losing his polite tone. —It was self-initiative that we thought to eliminate Princess Esther in the ghetto. We thought it would be the perfect opportunity to get rid of her and pretend it had been an accident.

—Idiots! — The scream vibrated in the room like an ice whip while Bloody Mary hit the table violently. —Who gave you permission to ignore my orders!? Is that you don’t you understand!? For this I could send you to the court-martial! I can prosecute you for high betrayal!

— Court-martial? If Her Excellency orders it, we will accept any punishment.

The first voice had been silent, as if frightened, but it was the hoarse voice that took over, with a brusque tone, though sad at the same time.

—But let me remind you that we are already dead. I don’t know if a court-martial will prosecute some dead...

—Hmmm ...!

On hearing the word dead, the colonel’s anger softened a bit. Still frowning she tried to control her voice.

—Well, I'll think about how to deal with that later. But why? Why did you think about eliminating Esther Blanchett?

— Obviously, to protect your right to the throne.

— My right ...? What do you mean?

— Nothing more and nothing less than that. Esther Blanchett is the daughter of Princess Victoria and, as such, is the legal heir to the throne. But that doesn’t means that we have to let that brat out of God knows where ahead of you. That is what led us to act on our own.

— I appreciate your concern. But have you thought that I still have two powerful enemies left? — Mary went on, not yet showing a hint of emotion at the fidelity of her men. —The Germanic King and the Duchess of Erin... As long as they are alive, I can use Esther against them. However, once she is dead she is no more than a corpse that serves no purpose.

—Now I understand your plan, Your Excellency… Forgive our lack of insight, —answered, the voice of the invisible man, filled with admiration. — Understood. We will not get our hands on her from now. But let me just say one thing, Colonel. If Esther comes to the throne ahead of you, we will take the initiative independently. For us, that throne can’t be occupied by anyone but you.

—Jack is right, Colonel! It’s not only us to think that way! All who have fought under your command support us!

The voices of the men resounded full of decision, respectful but without hesitation.

—That aristocratic shit does nothing but fatten by our work! They wander around the city wobbling like pigs! While they spend their free time without care, we have gotten our hands dirtied with dust and blood on the battlefield. Only you can occupy the throne of this country!

—You have sacrificed your dignity and your honor for the country! We will not allow anyone else to wear the crown! The two of us and the rest of the Legion will fight against whoever it’s necessary! Even your sister!

— You bastard …

Mary listened to the passionate words of her subordinates with expression of pain. After staring for some time in the shade which the chandeliers casted, she let out a sigh.

—I’m sorry... —she murmured with pale lips and a lost glance. —I’m really sorry. I do not deserve those words. Exactly me who I’m the one to blame for your death. I thank you sincerely.

—But what do you say, Colonel?! The culprits for the fate of the 44th regiment during the Percy rebellion were the aristocrats who swaggered here a while ago! The colonel was a Victim of his intrigues, like all of us!

—But if I hadn’t trusted them... If I hadn’t agreed to their plan to summon Percy to Londinium for the negotiations... It was all because of my inexperience.

—The past is past, Colonel. It doesn’t make sense that you torment yourself for it now... Let us dedicate our energies to think about the future —the voice replied in a warm tone, making Mary return to the present. —What will be our next move? They will probably announce the right to the throne of sister Esther..., well, of princess Esther... this one night. In that case, it seems certain that she will receive the crown. Wouldn’t that be a problem for our project? Our agents have already started to move in the provinces. If we don’t get your Excellency to ascend the throne soon then all of our plans will be affected.

—It’s clear that Esther is the legitimate heir…

Hearing the word crown a flash lightened in the eyes of the colonel and the shadow of pain disappeared from her face. Getting firm like a soldier who had sighted the enemy, she added harshly:

—But that doesn’t mean she's going to sit on the throne. The one who will decide it won’t be neither the lords nor the aristocrats but her own sister... Lady Esther herself. On her interests depends the development of the process.

No one doubted that in the race to the throne, Esther had all the advantage. To begin with, she was the Saint of István. If in her heroic image of a vampire slaughter was added the fact that she was the princess who was supposed to be dead a long time ago, it was certain that the people would support her with passion. And then, the aristocrats would hasten to support her candidacy with the intention of manipulating her to their liking.

But what if she didn’t want the crown? The right of succession was literally a right and not an obligation. No one could force a person to ascend the throne against her will. Would that girl really want to become queen? <<If she didn’t want the crown...>> Then, the race for the throne starts from scratch. Putting another cigarette on her lips Mary silently calculated the possibilities of her rivals.

Jane didn’t have the support of the aristocracy of the kingdom and she herself didn’t seem very interested in the throne. On the other hand Ludwig of Germanicus was in the worst possible situation thanks to the rumors about a murder attempt on the Pope which was prepared by Mary. She started to ignore the fact that she is just an illegitimate child, especially after having obtained such a powerful weapon of blackmail against the Vatican.

The night before, Mary had seen with her own eyes how the Pope protected a vampire. In addition, the director of the Inquisition had turned its weapons against Albion's army and had caused the operation to fail. What would be the Vatican if that came to light? Petros was still unconscious in the hospital, but they had a recording of everything he had done, and Sister Paula had already been informed. The offices of Cardinal Medici in Rome were assuredly upset as ever. By no later than the same night they would send her a telegram.

Nevertheless, Mary's position didn’t stop having weak points. The actions of her mother - the viscountess of Carsley eighteen years ago - was her Achilles' heel. The colonel had to act with much care during those months to hide the truth what was known about the White case. She destroyed the secret documents kept in the archives of the palace and had to monitor the surviving eyewitnesses closely. Mary had infuriated like never before when her men had begun to murder the witnesses, but in the end they had been able to simulate that it was a series of crimes perpetrated by a psychopath. Things were going perfectly…, until the appearance of Esther had put everything upside down. Boswell and his friend Wordsworth seemed more and more interested in reopening the investigation of the case. If they smelled what they had been doing with the evidence and witnesses, she wouldn’t only lose her possibilities of accessing the throne, but would be in serious trouble.

Before something like that might happen, she had to seize the crown and close the case definitely. <<Everything depends on her intentions...>>

Wherever she looked the key was always the attitude of Esther. If she managed to make Esther renounce the crown publicly the way to the throne would be free of obstacles for the colonel. Once she was a queen she could implement her other plans. The dreams she had kept in her heart for more than ten years and would change the Kingdom of Albion...

—By the way, Ironside, Cunningham, what have you come for?— the colonel asked, suddenly, to a void. —I had asked you to wait until a new order. What are you doing here?

—The truth is that a problem has arisen and we thought that it would be better if you knew right away... This morning, Dr. Wordsworth has sent a request to the Office of Military Affairs. He has requested the archives of the bionic soldiers who have received type K bodily improvements in the last fifty years..., that is, our archives.

—What!? —Mary was about to light her cigarette, but she stopped and asked with serious eyes:

—Is it certain, Sergeant?

—Several sources have confirmed it. As things stand, that the doctor discovers our identity is only a matter of time ... In the worst scenario, the thread could stretch to you, Colonel.

—Oh, Dr. Wordsworth… —Mary sighed a little paler. The colonel was thinking for a moment and finally lit a new cigarette and puffed out a cloud of smoke, saying:

—Maybe a brain like yours could have served me well. What a pity. The only option we have is to eliminate the problem.

—Understood. Let us take care of it. Our comrades in the air force are already on the march. In an hour we will inform you of the result.

—Very well, I count on you. I have to go somewhere.

—Where, Colonel?

—Windsor. Before going to the palace, I'll pick up Esther… my sister.

The colonel seemed to hesitate before uttering the last word of the sentence. After putting out the cigarette in the ashtray, she moved with regular steps.

—I'll take the opportunity to ask her about her intentions concerning the throne. If she doesn’t wish to use her right of succession, the dukes have decided not to make public her true identity. Before talking to them, I want to help her to decide. Depending on how things are going there may be changes in our plans. Be prepared to receive instructions at any time.

—Okay... I just want to know one thing, Your Excellence.

—What is it, Sergeant?

—If your sister decides to accept the crown... Then...?

—Considering how she is, I don’t think we have to worry —Mary said, with her hand on the knob.

The colonel hesitated for a moment before going on. It was something strange for her who always seemed ready to respond to anything instantly. Finally she said:

—If such a thing would happen, I will have to make a decision according to the circumstances. In any case, I'm sure I'll need you.

Mary did not specify what that <<decision>> and those <<circumstances>> meant. After verifying that her interlocutors had disappeared, she opened the doors wide.

—My sister... —Bloody Mary repeated as she put on her coat which was brought by one of the club's servant.

She still couldn’t quite believe it, but that young redhead was her sister. For her who had always remained in the shadows who had lost her mother when she was so young and had hardly seen her grandmother was perhaps her closest relative even if they shared only the father.

Thinking like that, she could only hope that the circumstances didn’t force to take any action against her younger sister. The colonel looked up at the spider on the ceiling, as if she wanted to go to heaven. Of course she wasn’t very confident that anyone would hear the prayers of a person so little favored by fate.

(End of Part II)

[1] The speaking of Jack and Todd is marked in the Japanese original not as direct speech but something similar. It should be connected to the fact that they are dead or not present in person.

#trinity blood #Sunao Yoshida #Thores Shibamoto #kiyo kyujyo #kiyo qjo #light novel #manga #anime #fandom #bloody mary #Mary Spencer #jane judith jocelyn #jack the ripper #jack ironside #todd cunningham #dead #londinium #Esther Blanchett

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The Coronavirus can be stopped but only with harsh steps the experts say.

Terrifying though the coronavirus may be, it can be turned back. China, South Korea, Singapore and Taiwan have demonstrated that, with furious efforts, the contagion can be brought to heel. Whether they can keep it suppressed remains to be seen. But for the United States to repeat their successes will take extraordinary levels of coordination and money from the country’s leaders, and extraordinary levels of trust and cooperation from citizens. It will also require international partnerships in an interconnected world. There is a chance to stop the coronavirus. This contagion has a weakness. Although there are incidents of rampant spread, as happened on the cruise ship Diamond Princess, the coronavirus more often infects clusters of family members, friends and work colleagues, said Dr. David L. Heymann, who chairs an expert panel advising the World Health Organization on emergencies. No one is certain why the virus travels in this way, but experts see an opening nonetheless. “You can contain clusters,” Dr. Heymann said. “You need to identify and stop discrete outbreaks, and then do rigorous contact tracing.” But doing so takes intelligent, rapidly adaptive work by health officials, and near-total cooperation from the populace. Containment becomes realistic only when Americans realize that working together is the only way to protect themselves and their loved ones. In interviews with a dozen of the world’s leading experts on fighting epidemics, there was wide agreement on the steps that must be taken immediately. Those experts included international public health officials who have fought AIDS, malaria, tuberculosis, flu and Ebola; scientists and epidemiologists; and former health officials who led major American global health programs in both Republican and Democratic administrations. Americans must be persuaded to stay home, they said, and a system put in place to isolate the infected and care for them outside the home. Travel restrictions should be extended, they said; productions of masks and ventilators must be accelerated, and testing problems must be resolved. But tactics like forced isolation, school closings and pervasive GPS tracking of patients brought more divided reactions.

Editors’ Picks

You Can Take Care of Yourself in Coronavirus Quarantine or Isolation, Starting Right NowThe Accusations Were Lies. But Could We Prove It?Is It OK to Take a Walk? It was not at all clear that a nation so fundamentally committed to individual liberty and distrustful of government could learn to adapt to many of these measures, especially those that smack of state compulsion. “The American way is to look for better outcomes through a voluntary system,” said Dr. Luciana Borio, who was director of medical and biodefense preparedness for the National Security Council before it was disbanded in 2018. “I think you can appeal to people to do the right thing.” In the week since the interviews began, remarkable changes have come over American life. State governments are telling residents they must stay home. Nonessential businesses are being shuttered. The streets are quieter than they have been in generations, and even friends keep a wary distance. What seemed unthinkable just a week ago is rapidly becoming the new normal. What follows are the recommendations offered by the experts interviewed by The Times.

Scientists must be heard

The White House holds frequent media briefings to describe the administration’s progress against the pandemic, often led by President Trump or Vice President Mike Pence, flanked by a rotating cast of officials. Many experts, some of whom are international civil servants, declined to speak on the record for fear of offending the president. But they were united in the opinion that politicians must step aside and let scientists both lead the effort to contain the virus and explain to Americans what must be done. Just as generals take the lead in giving daily briefings in wartime — as Gen. Norman Schwarzkopf did during the Persian Gulf war — medical experts should be at the microphone now to explain complex ideas like epidemic curves, social distancing and off-label use of drugs. The microphone should not even be at the White House, scientists said, so that briefings of historic importance do not dissolve into angry, politically charged exchanges with the press corps, as happened again on Friday. Instead, leaders must describe the looming crisis and the possible solutions in ways that will win the trust of Americans. Above all, the experts said, briefings should focus on saving lives and making sure that average wage earners survive the coming hard times — not on the stock market, the tourism industry or the president’s health. There is no time left to point fingers and assign blame. “At this point in the emergency, there’s little merit in spending time on what we should have done or who’s at fault,” said Adm. Tim Ziemer, who was the coordinator of the President’s Malaria Initiative from 2006 until early 2017 and led the pandemic response unit on the National Security Council before its disbanding. “We need to focus on the enemy, and that’s the virus.”

Stop transmission between cities

The next priority, experts said, is extreme social distancing. If it were possible to wave a magic wand and make all Americans freeze in place for 14 days while sitting six feet apart, epidemiologists say, the whole epidemic would sputter to a halt. The virus would die out on every contaminated surface and, because almost everyone shows symptoms within two weeks, it would be evident who was infected. If we had enough tests for every American, even the completely asymptomatic cases could be found and isolated. The crisis would be over. Obviously, there is no magic wand, and no 300 million tests. But the goal of lockdowns and social distancing is to approximate such a total freeze. To attempt that, experts said, travel and human interaction must be reduced to a minimum. Italy moved incrementally: Officials slowly and reluctantly closed restaurants, churches and museums, and banned weddings and funerals. Nonetheless, the country’s death count continues to rise. The United States is slowly following suit. International flights are all but banned, but not domestic ones. California has ordered all residents to stay at home; New York was to shutter all nonessential businesses on Sunday evening. But other states have fewer restrictions, and in Florida, for days spring break revelers ignored government requests to clear the beaches. On Friday, Dr. Anthony S. Fauci, chief medical adviser to the White House Coronavirus Task Force, said he advocated restrictive measures all across the country.As State Pleas Mount, Trump Outlines Some Federal Action; Senate Democrats Block Stimulus PackageMarch 22, 2020 In contrast to the halting steps taken here, China shut down Wuhan — the epicenter of the nation’s outbreak — and restricted movement in much of the country on Jan. 23, when the country had a mere 500 cases and 17 deaths. Its rapid action had an important effect: With the virus mostly isolated in one province, the rest of China was able to save Wuhan. Even as many cities fought their own smaller outbreaks, they sent 40,000 medical workers into Wuhan, roughly doubling its medical force.

Latest Updates: Coronavirus Outbreak

As lockdowns spread, debate about costs grows.As the epidemic in New York explodes, other states worry about domestic contagion.Spanish soldiers find residents of nursing homes ‘absolutely abandoned.’ See more updatesMore live coverage: MarketsU.S.New York In a vast, largely closed society, it can be difficult to know what is happening on the ground, and there is no guarantee that the virus won’t roar back as the Chinese economy restarts. But the lesson is that relatively unaffected regions of the United States will be needed to help rescue overwhelmed cities like New York and Seattle. Keeping these areas at least somewhat free of the coronavirus means enacting strict measures, and quickly.

Stop transmission within cities

Within cities, there are dangerous hot spots: One restaurant, one gym, one hospital, even one taxi may be more contaminated than many identical others nearby because someone had a coughing fit inside. Each day’s delay in stopping human contact, experts said, creates more hot spots, none of which can be identified until about a week later, when the people infected there start falling ill. To stop the explosion, municipal activity must be curtailed. Still, some Americans must stay on the job: doctors, nurses, ambulance drivers; police officers and firefighters; the technicians who maintain the electrical grid and gas and phone lines. The delivery of food and medicine must continue, so that people pinned in their homes suffer nothing worse than boredom. Those essential workers may eventually need permits, and a process for issuing them, if the police are needed to enforce stay-at-home orders, as they have been in China and Italy. People in lockdown adapt. In Wuhan, apartment complexes submit group orders for food, medicine, diapers and other essentials. Shipments are assembled at grocery warehouses or government pantries and dropped off. In Italy, trapped neighbors serenade one another. It’s an intimidating picture. But the weaker the freeze, the more people die in overburdened hospitals — and the longer it ultimately takes for the economy to restart. South Korea avoided locking down any city, but only by moving early and with extraordinary speed. In January, the country had four companies making tests, and as of March 9 had tested 210,000 citizens — the equivalent of testing 2.3 million Americans. As of the same date, fewer than 9,000 Americans had been tested. Everyone who is infected in South Korea goes into isolation in government shelters, and phones and credit card data are used to trace their prior movements and find their contacts. Where they walked before they fell ill is broadcast to the cellphones of everyone who was nearby. Anyone even potentially exposed is quarantined at home; a GPS app tells the police if that person goes outside. The fine for doing so is $8,000. British researchers are trying to develop a similar tracking app, albeit one more palatable to citizens in Western democracies.

Fix the testing mess

Testing must be done in a coordinated and safe way, experts said. The seriously ill must go first, and the testers must be protected. In China, those seeking a test must describe their symptoms on a telemedicine website. If a nurse decides a test is warranted, they are directed to one of dozens of “fever clinics” set up far from all other patients. Personnel in head-to-toe gear check their fevers and question them. Then, ideally, patients are given a rapid flu test and a white blood cell count is taken to rule out influenza and bacterial pneumonia. Then their lungs are visualized in a CT scanner to look for “ground-glass opacities” that indicate pneumonia and rule out cancer and tuberculosis. Only then are they given a diagnostic test for the coronavirus — and they are told to wait at the testing center. The results take a minimum of four hours; in the past, if results took overnight, patients were moved to a hotel to wait — sometimes for two to three days, if doctors believed retesting was warranted. It can take several days after an exposure for a test to turn positive. In the United States, people seeking tests are calling their doctors, who may not have them, or sometimes waiting in traffic jams leading to store parking lots. On Friday, New York City limited testing only to those patients requiring hospitalization, saying the system was being overwhelmed.

Isolate the infected

As soon as possible, experts said, the United States must develop an alternative to the practice of isolating infected people at home, as it endangers families. In China, 75 to 80 percent of all transmission occurred in family clusters. That pattern has already repeated itself here. Seven members of a large family in New Jersey were infected; four have already died. After a lawyer in New Rochelle, N.Y., fell ill, his wife, son and daughter all tested positive. Instead of a policy that advises the infected to remain at home, as the Centers for Disease and Prevention now does, experts said cities should establish facilities where the mildly and moderately ill can recuperate under the care and observation of nurses. Wuhan created many such centers, called “temporary hospitals,” each a cross between a dormitory and a first-aid clinic. They had cots and oxygen tanks, but not the advanced machines used in intensive care units. American cities now have many spaces that could serve as isolation wards. Already New York is considering turning the Jacob K. Javits Convention Center into a temporary hospital, along with the Westchester Convention Center and two university campuses. Gov. Ron DeSantis of Florida said on Saturday that state officials were also considering opening isolation wards. In China, said Dr. Bruce Aylward, leader of the World Health Organization’s observer team there, people originally resisted leaving home or seeing their children go into isolation centers with no visiting rights — just as Americans no doubt would. In China, they came to accept it. “They realized they were keeping their families safe,” he said. “Also, isolation is really lonely. It’s psychologically difficult. Here, they were all together with other people in the same boat. They supported each other.”

Find the fevers

Because China, Taiwan and Vietnam were hit by SARS in 2003, and South Korea has grappled with MERS, fever checks during disease outbreaks became routine. In most cities in affected Asian countries, it is commonplace before entering any bus, train or subway station, office building, theater or even a restaurant to get a temperature check. Washing your hands in chlorinated water is often also required. “They give you a sticker afterward,” said Dr. Heymann, who recently spent a week teaching in Singapore. “I built up quite a collection.” In China, having a fever means a mandatory trip to a fever clinic to check for coronavirus. In the Wuhan area, different cities took different approaches. Cellphone videos from China show police officers knocking on doors and taking temperatures. In some, people who resist are dragged away by force. The city of Ningbo offered bounties of $1,400 to anyone who turned in a coronavirus sufferer. The city of Qianjiang, by contrast, offered the same amount of money to any resident who came in voluntarily and tested positive. Some measures made Western experts queasy. It is difficult to imagine Americans permitting a family member with a fever to be dragged to an isolation ward where visitors are not permitted. “A lot of people’s rights were violated,” Dr. Borio said. Voluntary approaches, like explaining to patients that they will be keeping family and friends safe, are more likely to work in the West, she added.

Trace the contacts

Finding and testing all the contacts of every positive case is essential, experts said. At the peak of its epidemic, Wuhan had 18,000 people tracking down individuals who had come in contact with the infected. At the moment, the health departments of some American counties lack the manpower to trace even syphilis or tuberculosis, let alone scores of casual contacts of someone infected with the coronavirus. Dr. Borio suggested that young Americans could use their social networks to “do their own contact tracing.” Social media also is used in Asia, but in different ways. China’s strategy is quite intrusive: To use the subway in some cities, citizens must download an app that rates how great a health risk they are. South Korean apps tell users exactly where infected people have traveled. When he lectured at a Singapore university, Dr. Heymann said, dozens of students were in the room. But just before he began class, they were photographed to record where everyone sat. “That way, if someone turns up infected later, you can find out who sat near them,” Dr. Heymann said. “That’s really clever.” Contacts generally must remain home for 14 days and report their temperatures twice a day.

Make masks ubiquitous

American experts have divided opinions about masks, but those who have worked in Asia see their value. There is very little data showing that flat surgical masks protect healthy individuals from disease. Nonetheless, Asian countries generally encourage people wear them. In some cities in China where masks are compulsory, the police even used drones to chase individuals down streets, ordering them to go home and mask up. The Asian approach is less about data than it is about crowd psychology, experts explained. All experts agree that the sick must wear masks to keep in their coughs. But if a mask indicates that the wearer is sick, many people will be reluctant to wear one. If everyone is required to wear masks, the sick automatically have one on and there is no stigma attached. Also, experts emphasized, Americans should be taught to take seriously admonitions to stop shaking hands and hugging. The “W.H.O. elbow bump” may look funny, but it’s a legitimate technique for preventing infection. “In Asia, where they went through SARS, people understand the danger,” Dr. Heymann said. “It’s instilled in the population that you’ve got to do the right thing.”

Preserve vital services

Federal intervention is necessary for some vital aspects of life during a pandemic. Only the federal government can enforce interstate commerce laws to ensure that food, water, electricity, gas, phone lines and other basic needs keep flowing across state lines to cities and suburbs. Mr. Trump has said he could compel companies to prioritize making ventilators, masks and other needed goods. Some have volunteered; the Hanes underwear company, for example, will use its cotton to make masks for hospital workers. He also has the military; the Navy is committing two hospital ships to the fight. And Mr. Trump can call up the National Guard. As of Saturday evening, more than 6,500 National Guard members already are assisting in the coronavirus response in 38 states, Puerto Rico and the District of Columbia. High-level decisions like these must be made quickly, experts said. “Many Western political leaders are behaving as though they are on a tightrope,” said Dr. David Nabarro, a W.H.O. special envoy on Covid-19 and a veteran of fights against SARS, Ebola and cholera. “But there is no choice. We must do all in our power to fight this,” he added. “I sense that most people — and certainly those in business — get it. They would prefer to take the bitter medicine at once and contain outbreaks as they start rather than gamble with uncertainty.”

Produce ventilators and oxygen

The roughly 175,000 ventilators in all American hospitals and the national stockpile are expected to be far fewer than are needed to handle a surge of patients desperate for breath. The machines pump air and oxygen into the lungs, but they normally cost $25,000 or more each, and neither individual hospitals nor the federal emergency stockpile has ever had enough on hand to handle the number of pneumonia patients that this pandemic is expected to produce. New York, for example, has found about 6,000 ventilators for purchase around the world, Governor Cuomo said. He estimated the state would need about 30,000. The manufacturers, including a dozen in the United States, say there is no easy way to ramp up production quickly. But it is possible other manufacturers, including aerospace and automobile companies, could be enlisted to do so. Ventilators are basically air pumps with motors controlled by circuits that make them act like lungs: the pump pushes air into the patient, then stops so the weight of the chest can push the air back out. Automobiles and airplanes contain many small pumps, like those for oil, water and air-conditioning fluid, that might be modified to act as basic, stripped-down ventilators. On Sunday, Mr. Trump tweeted that Ford and General Motors had been “given the go-ahead” to produce ventilators. Providers, meanwhile, are scrambling for alternatives. Canadian nurses are disseminating a 2006 paper describing how one ventilator can be modified to treat four patients simultaneously. Inventors have proposed combining C-PAP machines, which many apnea sufferers own, and oxygen tanks to improvise a ventilator. The United States must also work to increase its supply of piped and tanked oxygen, Dr. Aylward said. One of the lessons of China, he noted, was that many Covid-19 patients who would normally have been intubated and on ventilators managed to survive with oxygen alone.

Retrofit hospitals

Hospitals in the United States have taken some measures to handle surges of patients, such as stopping elective surgery and setting up isolation rooms. To protect bedridden long-term patients, nursing homes and hospitals also should immediately stop admitting visitors and do constant health checks on their staffs, said Dr. James LeDuc, director of the Galveston National Laboratory at the University of Texas Medical Branch. The national stockpile does contain some prepackaged military field hospitals, but they are not expected to be nearly enough for a big surge. In Wuhan, the Chinese government famously built two new hospitals in two weeks. All other hospitals were divided: 48 were designated to handle 10,000 serious or critical coronavirus patients, while others were restricted to handling emergencies like heart attacks and births. Wherever that was impractical, hospitals were divided into “clean” and “dirty” zones, and the medical teams did not cross over. Walls to isolate whole wards were built, and — as in Ebola wards — doctors went in one end of the room wearing protective gear and left by the other end, where they de-gowned under the eyes of a nurse to prevent infection.

Decide when to close schools

As of Saturday, schools in 45 states were closed entirely, but that is a decision that divided experts. “Closing all schools may not make sense unless there is documented widespread community transmission, which we’re not seeing in most of the country,” said Dr. Thomas R. Frieden, a former C.D.C. director under President Barack Obama. It is unclear how much children spread coronavirus. They very seldom get sick enough to be hospitalized, which is not true of flu. Current testing cannot tell whether most do not even become infected. In China, Dr. Aylward said, he asked all of the doctors he spoke to whether they had seen any family clusters in which a child was the first to be infected. No one had, he said, which astonished him. That leaves a quandary. Closing schools is a normal part of social distancing; after all, schools are the workplaces for many adults, too. And when the disease is clearly spreading within an individual school, it must close. But closing whole school districts can seriously disrupt a city’s ability to fight an outbreak. With their children stuck at home, nurses, doctors, police officers and other emergency medical workers cannot come to work. Also, many children in low-income families depend on the meals they eat at schools. Cities that close all schools are creating special “hub schools” for the children of essential workers. In Ohio, the governor has told school bus drivers to deliver hot meals to children who normally got them at school.

Recruit volunteers

China’s effort succeeded, experts said, in part because of hundreds of thousands of volunteers. The government declared a “people’s war” and rolled out a “Fight On, Wuhan! Fight On, China!” campaign. It made inspirational films that combined airline ads with 1940s-style wartime propaganda. The ads were somewhat corny, but they rallied the public. Many people idled by the lockdowns stepped up to act as fever checkers, contact tracers, hospital construction workers, food deliverers, even babysitters for the children of first responders, or as crematory workers. With training, volunteers were able to do some ground-level but crucial medical tasks, such as basic nursing, lab technician work or making sure that hospital rooms were correctly decontaminated. Americans often step forward to help neighbors affected by hurricanes and floods; many will no doubt do so in this outbreak, but they will need training in how not to fall ill and add to the problem. “In my experience, success is dependent on how much the public is informed and participates,” Admiral Ziemer said. “This truly is an ‘all hands on deck’ situation.”

Prioritize the treatments

Clinicians in China, Italy and France have thrown virtually everything they had in hospital pharmacies into the fight, and at least two possibilities have emerged that might save patients: the anti-malaria drugs chloroquine and hydroxychloroquine, and the antiviral remdesivir, which has no licensed use. There is not proof yet that any of these are effective against the virus. China registered more than 200 clinical trials, including several involving those treatments, but investigators ran out of patients in critical condition to enroll. Italy and France have trials underway, and hospitals in New York are writing trial protocols now. One worry for trial leaders is that chloroquine has been given so much publicity that patients may refuse to be “randomized” and accept a 50 percent chance of being given a placebo. If any drug works on critical cases, it might be possible to use small doses as a prophylactic to prevent infection. An alternative is to harvest protective antibodies from the blood of people who have survived the illness, said Dr. Peter J. Hotez, dean of the National School of Tropical Medicine at Baylor College of Medicine in Houston. The purified blood serum — called immunoglobulin — could possibly be used in small amounts to protect emergency medical workers, too. “Unfortunately, the first wave won’t benefit from this,” Dr. Hotez said. “We need to wait until we have enough survivors.”

Find a vaccine

The ultimate hope is to have a vaccine that will protect everyone, and many companies and governments have already rushed the design of candidate vaccines. But as Dr. Fauci has explained multiple times, testing those candidate vaccines for safety and effectiveness takes time. The process will take at least a year, even if nothing goes wrong. The roadblock, vaccine experts explained, is not bureaucratic. It is that the human immune system takes weeks to produce antibodies, and some dangerous side effects can take weeks to appear. After extensive animal testing, vaccines are normally given to about 50 healthy human volunteers to see if they cause any unexpected side effects and to measure what dose produces enough antibodies to be considered protective. If that goes well, the trial enrolls hundreds or thousands of volunteers in an area where the virus is circulating. Half get the vaccine, the rest do not — and the investigators wait. If the vaccinated half do not get the disease, the green light for production is finally given. In the past, some experimental vaccines have produced serious side effects, like Guillain-Barre syndrome, which can paralyze and kill. A greater danger, experts said, is that some experimental vaccines, paradoxically, cause “immune enhancement,” meaning they make it more likely, not less, that recipients will get a disease. That would be a disaster. One candidate coronavirus vaccine Dr. Hotez invented 10 years ago in the wake of SARS, he said, had to be abandoned when it appeared to make mice more likely to die from pneumonia when they were experimentally infected with the virus. In theory, the testing process could be sped up with “challenge trials,” in which healthy volunteers get the vaccine and then are deliberately infected. But that is ethically fraught when there is no cure for Covid-19. Even some healthy young people have died from this virus.

Reach out to other nations

Wealthy nations need to remember that, as much as they are struggling with the virus, poorer countries will have a far harder time and need help. Also, the Asian nations that have contained the virus could offer expertise — and desperately needed equipment. Jack Ma, the billionaire founder of Alibaba, recently offered large shipments of masks and testing kits to the United States. Wealthy nations ignored the daily warnings from Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus, the W.H.O.’s director general, that far more aggressive efforts at isolation and contact tracing were urgently needed to stop the virus. “Middle income and poorer nations are following the advice of international organizations while the most advanced nations find it so hard to implement it,” Dr. Nabarro said. “That must change.” In declaring the coronavirus a pandemic, Dr. Tedros called for countries to learn from one another’s successes, act with unity and help protect one another against a threat to people of every nationality. “Let’s all look out for each other,” he said. click here to read more on crohnsdigest click here to buy the Best supplements for the immune system: Natural remedies to boost your immune system click here to read top tips to keeping fit and healty Read the full article

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revolutionary-pirate · 7 years

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A’ight here’s the rundown on Richard Varick: Richard Varick was born in Hackensack, New Jersey on March 25, 1753. He studied Law under John Morin Scott, a successful New York Lawyer and founding member of the Sons of Liberty, in 1771 and studied for three years. He was then admitted to the Bar in October of 1774 and accepted a partnership with Scott that they had until the outbreak of the war eight months later. Varick joined the elite New York Militia Battalion and then, on June 28, 1775, was commissioned as a Captain in the 1st New York Regiment and served in that capacity for just three days before being nabbed by Philip Schuyler as his secretary thanks to Scott’s influence. Philip Schuyler then turned North and started for Fort Ticonderoga in order to launch the failed campaign into Canada. On the way north, Varick would meet Benedict Arnold for the first time and become fast friends and allies with him as well as Philip Schuyler. When Schuyler fell ill with a severe case of gout and rheumatism, he went back to Albany to recover, bringing Varick along with him. In Albany, Varick worked three jobs: secretary to Schuyler, unofficial quartermaster for the Forts of the Northern Army, and Deputy Munster Master General of the Northern Army. He was awarded the rank of Lieutenant Colonel by Schuyler for his hard work when he was promoted to the later. When Arnold was trying to build a fleet to stop the British Advance south, Varick picked up a fourth task: finding ship builders and materials. Varick worked tirelessly at the task, frantically sending out letter after pleading letter to businessmen all throughout New York and it’s neighboring states to provide Arnold with the supplies and men necessary for building the fleet and, somehow, it got done. Arnold set out to fight the British at Vancouver Island on October 11, 1776. A month later, on November 18th, he was at Fort Ticonderoga when a man named Anthony Walton White tried to assassinate him. A detailed account of that event can be found in this post I made. When the British successfully took Fort Ticonderoga in 1777, Schuyler was blamed and then replaced by General Gates in August. Varick was incredibly bitter about this. He hated Gates and anyone who was friends with him and all throughout the Saratoga campaign he praised Arnold and criticized Gates in every action. Varick also served as acting Muster Master General when the man who actually held the position, Joseph Ward, was captured in November 1778 during an unexpected raid by the British. Varick was called to Headquarters by Washington specifically to serve as head of the muster department in Ward’s place for several months and was about to be given the position officially on April 6th, 1779 when Ward was exchanged and Varick relinquished the position back to him, returning to Albany. Varick continued to serve as Deputy Muster Master General until the muster department was terminated by Congress on January 12, 1780. He decided that he would return to his hometown to resume his law career and wrote to Schuyler detailing his plans but, when he arrived, he found that his hometown had been recently attacked and raided by the British, leaving many of its homes in ruins. He joined the Bergen County militia instead of resuming his studies and served on patrol every other night. He was very frustrated with serving in an amateur militia after everything he’d done and the only reason why he didn’t leave was that he was concerned about what the neighbors might think if he did. In August 1780, a letter from Arnold would rescue him from his frustrations. Benedict Arnold wrote to Varick asking him to be his aide-de-camp and military secretary as soon as he’d been given command. Schuyler had told Arnold that Varick would probably be willing to accept the position and Arnold, aware that Varick had wanted to resume his Law studies before returning to the practice, also wrote that the position would only occupy a small amount of his time and allow him to continue his studies if that’s what he wanted. Varick accepted the position on August 7th, 1780 and would arrive at West Point just a week later. While working for Arnold, Varick and his fellow aide, David Franks, picked up on Arnold’s suspicious activities, but Varick admired Arnold and simply believed that he was only doing some illegal trading with some merchants in New York City. Varick was sick in bed with a fever when Arnold’s treason came to light. Franks had appeared by Varick’s window to whisper to Varick from outside that news had arrived of a spy that had been captured and that, upon hearing the news, Arnold started behaving strangely. Varick was upset at what Franks was implying and insisted that Arnold was “a gentleman and friend of high reputation and that it was uncharitable and unwarranted even to suppose it.” Varick was completely stricken when Arnold was revealed to have been a traitor. Varick and Franks were both put on trial for involvement in the Arnold affair and eventually cleared of any crimes, but the suspicions did not go away. Varick asked Washington for help and that Washington publish the court-martial’s findings and a certification of his character, but Washington refused because he did not have the money nor the authority to do such a thing. Instead, Washington invited Varick to join his military family and gave him the responsibility of arranging, copying, and organizing every single correspondence and record from headquarters including many confidential documents. Varick was officially appointed on May 25, 1781, and would continue to toil away at his project until it’s completion near the end of the war, after which he resigned because his task had been completed. His project became known as the Varick Transcripts and consisted of 44 large volumes, each 300+ pages long, and consisting of nearly every single official letter or order issued by Washington during the war along with many of Washington’s personal letters. It’s thanks to this project that we have much of what we have today in relation to Washington’s War career. As I said in this post, there are 6,193 letters on Founders attributed to the Varick Transcripts. So much would have been lost if it weren’t for him and the small staff he’d employed to help him complete his mission in just over two years. Following the war, thanks to Washington’s show of faith, all suspicions of him were cleared and he led an extremely successful career. He soon became the recorder of the City of New York, which made him the second in command of the city's government, as well becoming the Chief legal counsel of New York City. He married Maria Roosevelt in 1786 (he was 30 and she was 20 at the time) and they had no children. Additionally, Varick helped codify the city’s statutes in 1786, was speaker of the Assembly 1787-1788 and was Attorney General 1788-1789. He did all of these things while continuing to serve as recorder. In 1789, Varick was appointed Mayor of New York City by George Clinton and served in that capacity until 1801 when the government was swept by the Democratic-Republicans. He went on to be involved in various business projects including the development of Jersey City, New Jersey and being one of the appraisers of the Erie Canal in 1817. He was also a trustee of Princeton/Columbia University for 29 years, generously donating both his time and money to the college. He had a leadership position in the American Bible Society and the American Sunday School Union. He was present when what remained of the Continental Army Officers Corps assembled in 1825 for Lafayette’s tour of America. He was a member of the Society of the Cincinnati, was active in the society’s charity work, and was president of the New York state’s chapter of it from 1806 until his death in 1831. Knowing that his death was imminent, he made an emotional trip out to Mount Vernon in May of 1831 before returning to his summer home in Jersey City where he would die a couple months later on July 30th, 1781 at the age of 79. His funeral was a huge affair, his body transported from Jersey City to New York City where it was met by a large military escort. His funeral was attended by a vast amount of people and numerous members of the Society of the Cincinnati wore badges of mourning. John Trumbull, one of the last surviving aides-de-camp to Washington, was one of his pallbearers. He was buried in his hometown of Hackensack, New Jersey. [Lefkowitz’s Indispensable Men was my main source for all of this but I also pulled some information from x and x]

#Richard Varick #aides-de-camp #Benedict Arnold #Philip Schuyler #Horatio Gates #Is it obvious that he was a workaholic yet?

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berfometalpha · 4 years

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Legacy of Eternity: Chapter 4 - Beyond the Sea and Stars Part 3.1: The Rescue... Awaken SoulZero

With the Strike Fleet going on the offensive to save their friends as chaos begins to rise in Vega prime. With Kent Redridge and his Sergeant Clayton Carmive able to recover the stolen armor and weapons of his comrades. Now time was not on their side as Vega was drawing closer to war that will consume them all.

At the north eastern district of Vega prime’s capital where the command center was held Rex, Marky and Genji were making final preparations for their plan to sneak into the base.

The three hid at the back of an alley way across the command center where no cameras can see them.

“Okay, Lets go over the plan one more time... Marky will be our spotter since his scope can see through walls... Genji and I will go through the main door disguised as soldiers and get to the central computer room to get the intel we need...” Rex explained while getting into cover.

“Right but how are we going to get disguises?” Genji asked.

“Easy, after a long days work many soldiers will be heavily hammered and hang out or passed out inside a bar or on the street on their way back to their barracks... So... We nab 2 soldiers steal their uniform and that should do with the least of our problems...” Rex said.

“This is risky but I dont really know if this will work?” Marky said with concern.

While the three talked deep inside the command center’s restroom a loud laser cutting sound was heard on the floor. It opened the floor revealing a black suited beauty came out as she sealed the floor back. Their was a female soldier that entered the rest room and was quickly knocked out.

She stole her clothes and tied her inside the utility closet with a smirk she planted a proton bomb inside the restroom with a timed detonator to disable the base just in case she needs it.

Lily moved with great efficiency as if she was not a spy at all in the eyes of the soldiers. She slipped into their mess hall and poisoned their stew with a powerful drug that causes body pain and rashes to appear in every part of their bodies.

“Okay the food is down now for the guards... But where’s Rex and the other idiots... they should have started infiltrating the base right now?” Lily thought.

Lily moved slowly but surely into the enemy base at the same time making her presence unnoticed and taking out the camera’s using her arm band’s jamming ability.

As soon as she reached the Commander’s room she planted a small microphone device on the door knob and moved away to one of the utility nearby closets.

Commander: Has she talked yet Warden?” Warden: No commander she is a tough bitch to crack. Commander: I wouldn’t expect no less from the Former commander of the Shadow Corp. Warden: Then What do we do now sir? Commander: Keep going until she breaks... WE haven’t begun extracting Micheal’s neural-evo Implants yet... Once we are done then we can dispose of both of them. Warden: Yes sir!”

The Warden saluted as he left the commanders office Lily thought for a moment for Micheal who was their primary target in the first place.

“Alrighty... Commander of Vega... Prepare to be... Tortured...”Lily thought.

As she exited the closet their were over 5 soldiers who were waiting for her as the commander of the base himself was waiting.

“Do you really think we are idiots to get infiltrated twice Black Lotus?” The commander boasted.

“Oh how sweet you came up with a code name for me... I was going to flirt with you for a bit before I get what I need...” Lily stated as she slowly raised her hands.

“You really are a bitch if you think we are letting you walk in and get anywhere near our computers!” The commander said as he pulled his pistol out and aimed it at her head.

“Yeah since the first time we blew up your base and destroyed half of your fleet... But you just made my job easier!” Lily said.

“And what is that suppose to mean?” The Commander asked.

“to think I was going to have to drag you out... But you came to me instead... Ill tell you what... I wont kill your soldiers if you come with me quietly?” Lily said.

“You have no power here you whore!” The commander said as he slowly pulled the trigger.

“I thought as much... Oh well...”Lily replied as she snapped her fingers.

The proton bomb that she planted earlier exploded sending a massive electromagnetic pulse throughout the base knocking out their security and most of their energy based weapons.

Lily pulled out her high frequency knives and started striking the soldiers one by one in their key nerve points stopping them in them from moving.

The soldiers tried to kill her but Lily was too fast for them and one by one they fell the commander ran for his life as soon as Lily was done dealing with the soldiers.

She sighed and pulled out her pistol grappling hook as it pierced his left leg and pulled the rope forcing him to the ground. She ran to him and knocked him out before he could call for help as she sat on his back wiping the sweat off her fore head.

“““Sigh”“ Well that was seemingly easy... I should ask Kent to give me lymphatic massage and a facial... or maybe a full body massage... Maybe ill ask him later now onto my next objective... But first... Wow he is heavy you need to lose some weight here pal!” Lily said dragging the commander into his office.

Though heavy Lily was able to drag the commander back into his office with his head jammed between the automatic doors preventing the doors from closing. She Grabbed the collar and threw him into the room closing the doors behind her.

She then got down and hacked the commander’s computer breaking through the security system was easy for her since they still used the same protocols and didn’t make any updates to it since her last Visit.

Lily grabbed the commander by the collar and slammed his face on the retinal scanner and his hand over the monitor allowing her access into his personal computer.

“Okay... Lets see what we got here... A monthly subscription to... Bunny girl suits... Okay not that... Subscription to... Punish me hard daddy.uninet... Weird he likes those S&M things like Clay... I think they would make good friends but not right now... Okay here we go... Willow where are you?” Lily thought as she kept digging into the computer.

After many minutes Lily managed to find where Willow and her Brother was located as it says on the computer. Willow was held the maximum security complex called the Pit located at the Far east in the old bone canyon

While Micheal was being held in the science facility to the north at least 6,710 Km away from the maximum security complex. She also saw several dozens of files called Project Titan and played one of the audio recordings available.

Data entry number 01: - Project Titan, a top secret super soldier program that will help Vega’s military fight insurrectionists and all who oppose President Kormicheal’s rule. We have begun abducting children at the age of 5 below for the program and had begun their screening process this includes one of the Andersmith family members who come from a long line of soldiers. He will be monitored and be placed under strict surveillance until implantation procedures commence.

“So these bastards already gunned for Micheal since he was a baby... These sick bastards... I’ll go over these data files with Kent later on... for now I need to get out of here along with this idiot!” Lily thought as she hooked up her flash drive.

After the download was complete Lily tied up the commander and dragged him out of the office again the doors suddenly opened to see Rex and Genji already inside.

“REX?” Lily asked.

“Lily is that you and why are you wearing a black mesh skin suit?” Rex asked.

“I’ll explain later... Grab that fat ass and book it to the exit I made in the girls restroom... I got everything we need in my uni-tool and Flash drive!” Lily shouted.

“Rex, hurry up I can’t hold off the hoard of angry soldiers here... WHY YOU LITTLE!” Genji shouted as he man-slapped a soldier to the ground.

Rex Grabbed the Commander of the base as the three ran for it to the Exit as Lily pulled out her energy knife and carved the man-hole she made earlier and opened it again.

The three managed to escape but Lily stayed last as she planted another bomb in the restroom to cover their tracks.

The three were in the sewers of Vega and exited through the back alleyway where Marky was waiting.

“Okay I won’t ask why Lily is here and why you all smell like sewage?” Marky said.

“Good man... Our ride should be here at any minute now?” Lily said as she pulled out her watch.

Soon after saying it a red unmarked van drove up in the alleyway as the back doors opened to see Clay and Kent in the drivers seat.

“Get on quick!”Clayton shouted.

“Is everyone in?” Kent asked.

“DRIVE BOSS MAN DRIVE LIKE THE WIND!” Clayton shouted.

“Okay Everyone hang on!” Kent stated as he put it on gear 4 and pressed his feet on the gas.

While driving through Vega’s streets the young knight was actually a designated driver and obeyed the rules of the road. And even using turn signals and everything which upset the sergeant.

“Boss we are not doing a show case for the bloody car we need to get out of here fast!” Clayton shouted.

“Clay you have your means of driving and I have man and No one likes a back seat driver!” Kent shouted.

“Kent I have the intel with a little extra baggage... Prepare the interrogation room when we get back? I need a shower first and Clayton my dear friend... Do not be alarmed but what I found is very alarming!” Lily said.

“Now I am seriously alarmed thanks Lily!” Clayton replied.

“Oops... Sorry... Kent can we get back to the Night Hawk as soon as possible please?” Lily asked.

“What did you find anyway?” Marky asked.

“I got a bad feeling about this Commander!” Rex added.

“Me too my friend... Me too.” Kent replied.

After many hours the team managed to reach the Night Hawk without any problems though the riots of the lower city are begging to spread and shows no sign of stopping.

After a shower and a hot meal to eat Lily decoded the rest of the data she managed to get and it was just as she feared. In the War room of the Night Hawk Lily began to explain what she had found.

“Kent, Rex, and everyone else in this war room... I managed to decipher the files we extracted from the commanders computer and it held some pretty juicy information... First of all Willow and Micheal are being held in 2 seperate facilities one being called the pit which is located about 500 miles from here we will be passing through what they call the bone canyon this area is riddled with Anti-air ordinance if we pass through there in the Night Hawk we might get blown out of the sky... Though I have confidence in the ships cloaking but we can’t be too careful... “ Lily explained.

“So what about the little dude?” Clayton asked.

“Yeah... He is in an unknown science facility at least 7000 miles north from the prison... The only problem is... This facility has a security force of over 15,000 soldiers equipped with phase disruption weapons.... And they have sensors that can detect stealth ships... Which brings me to another concern... They are using Vai’len slaves to manufacture their weapons and are experimenting on slaves and Priestesses they managed to... Procure... During their last visit... I managed to get the total number of prisoners and slaves.” Lily stated.

“How many are we counting?” Kent asked.

“About 518,241 slaves and around 583 priestesses and double the number of mages... I have a list here if you...”Lily said when loud explosions suddenly roared out.

“What the hell?” Clayton asked.

“Sir bad news a massive hoard of Leviathans had just came out of warp space their are thousands of them and millions of flying monsters heading to vega as we speak sir!” One of the marines reported.

“This has Kyvash written all over it...”Kent thought.

“Kent we have an incoming transmission from one of the Megalodon Alpha’s... Should I patch it through?” Winter asked.

“Yes please.” Kent replied.

The Monitor in the war room revealed a humanoid like High Glaive with a tyrannodon like features such as fangs, heavily armored scales and an extended tail, Claws as sharp as swords, blood shot eyes and breath hotter than magma.

“Hello Lord Anthony... I am Tyrannox Alpha leader of the 7 War masters of the Great Mother Kyvash the goddess of Retribution... I and 3 of my brothers and sister had been asked to provide Aide to you while rescuing our kin. Let us know what you need and we will bare down our fangs on those who stand in your way.” Tyrannox saluted.

“Very well, my team and I are going to rescue Willow from the pit... Lily please send to Tyrannox the coordinates to the science lab where Micheal and many of the Vai’len are being held... WE will join you as soon as we get Willow.” Kent ordered.

“By your command... For New HOPE WE RIDE ONTO TOMORROW!” Tyrannox saluted as the transmission ended.

“Well we just got our distraction... So boss I think we are done with the stealth right?” Clayton asked.

“““Sigh”“ Yeah looks like it... Okay, lets get going... Lady Winter please jettison the external disguise and get us to the pit as soon as possible Lily please provide the coordinates to said location.” Kent said with disappointment.

Lily provided the coordinates to the pit as the High Glaives began their invasion on Vega had begun. The Night Hawk detached its external disguise and made it’s way east of the city harbor.

As the Night Hawk flew off from the Harbor like the other ships trying to escape the battle. Hundreds if not thousands of entry pods came hurdling down from the skies like rain it poured and it poured like a hurricane.

The Strike team saw first hand the fury of the High glaives as each pod crashed into the city streets many warriors charged through the police and military blockades and tore anyone stupid enough to get in their way.

“These ain’t mindless rabble boss they are extremely coordinated even those mech aren’t proving too much of a threat to those weird looking dog things!” Clayton stated.

“Those are Fang wraiths... And to be honest Im afraid of the High Glaives to be honest with you... they have the fire power, numbers and resources to maintain a long war... But their queen assured me that they will never aim their fangs or blades towards the Dragon-wolf and to Ren’veil but this sight of how they fight still scares me to the bone...” Kent said with fear in his heart.

Kent and Clayton were getting ready for the fight ahead of them when a very young Adept came into the barracks. He was nervous around the team as he couldn’t make a simple greet or gesture.

“My Lord, Um... If I... Ugh never mind pardon my intrusion!” The sword Adept said as he hurriedly left the barracks.

“What was that for?” Clayton asked.

“No Clue... By the way... has anyone see my rifle brush?” Marky asked.

“What does it look like?” Kent asked.

“Its has a long brass body with red and blue brush on it I know I left it on my locker earlier...” Marky added.

“Oh you mean... Oh.... Oh... I saw it in medical... “Clayton said as his voice became a bit off.

“Wait why would Lily need my Rifle brush?” Marky asked.

The young knight sighed as he got back to his room and worked on his log entries as he became increasingly worried for his friends. All he could do was pray to Faith that they will be okay no matter what may come and hope that its not too late to save their friends.

About 40 minutes after the first and second wave of High Glaive warriors and beasts made land fall. The entire planet’s government and citizens were thrown into utter chaos not even Bone canyon was spared as the Night Hawk passed over head of what was left of the Anti-air defenses.

Many Soldiers were torn to shreds by the Fang wraiths, supported by the Prowl hunters and many other creatures from the High Glaives army showed no mercy to those who pose a threat to their Mother’s wish.

The Night Hawk landed at the edge of the Bone yard where the Fang Wraiths and Torasque’s had recently rampaged. The area was heavily guarded by Vega’‘s best as bodies upon bodies of the High Glaives had been put down making a frontal assault impossible not even the torasques were forced to fall back.

The team were over a large cliff and spotted from a far and things seemed a bit dire.

“Okay It seems our work is cut out for us...” Lily said.

“I can tell heavily armed guards, rotary grenade cannons on every wall, laser turrets, anti-infantry and tank land mines... tanks, air drones, even an artillery facility... are you sure that Willow is here Lily?”Marky asked.

“Yes I am very sure I checked the data files and all the communications coming to and from the Vega base commander is right here.”Lily said.

“Okay I get that Lily if we do a direct assault the scorgon tank will not last against that much defenses and Anti-tank capabilities.. Is this really a prison it feels more like a fortress to be honest?” Marky added stated.

“Then what the fuck do we do huh? WIllow is fucking trapped in their and god knows what they are doing to her right now?” Clayton cussed.

“Calm down Clayton we will get her out of their we just need a big distraction.” Rex said.

“Then It’s time to bring out the big guns... Rex lead the rescue team...” Kent ordered.

“What about you?” Rex asked.

“I guess you can Rex... It’s time to suit up!” Kent said with a smile.

Kent only looked back with a smirk on his face as he walked to the Night Hawk’s armory their laid a massive black door the Hidden foundry.

The young knight walked into the Hidden Foundry their seven massive armor lockers each with varying names written as follows. The SoulZero, Night Raider, Chamillione, Pyrozerker, Freyja Zero, Flash Gale, and God-Zero.

Though Varying in size each suit locker was sealed as if nothing and no one should ever be allowed to access them.

He thoroughly looked at each one of the lockers he saw the locker for Soulzero slowly opened revealing a 7 foot and 3 inch armor clad in Blue, White, black and Red with a hint of green.

By comparison it is bigger than any standard Knight Elite armor it was not bulky yet not slim in form.

The Helmet had a forehead guard with 4 horns protruding backwards, with a green visor white face mask with white fang’s on the side of the sides of the face as each side of the helmet was equipped with a green sensory lenses for full 360 degree coverage.

The chest was similar to a fully built man but in between the chest below the breast plates and above the abdominal plating was a green power core that produces an unknown energy source powering the entire suit. It also had blue shoulder blades with a white armor set for both arms each arm was colored and designed differently from each other except for the hands.

The left arm was clad in black and the power core on the left was similar to the Howling arm the young knight possess except for the elbows that hand a pair of extendable transformation High frequency blades.

Along with the claws on each finger and the reinforced knuckles allowing the plasma core of the palm and elbow to recharge and use the plasma wave as much as he needs to during the battle. The right arm was white with a green power core with white overlapping scale type armor acting as a shield with the same blades for the elbows and claws.

Both legs had a set of hydraulic pistons increasing the jumping and running strength of the wearer. The Knee guards had pile bunker spikes with a revolver cylinder feeder for the spike. Both sides side skirt armor can produce a number of High frequency blades for close combat called Schneider killers.

Each side of the lower leg armor had a hidden holster system that can deploy two sets of energy blades at any given time and the feet had two steel tipped claws that can latch onto any object and surface and deploy a micro energy blade from the claws for increased close quarter combat.

The suit itself possessed a Class 7 Adamantine plating infused with Zenomite and Crystorium plating allowing it to regenerate any damage taken, absorb energy and disperse it if needed and remain light and durable enough to sustain a 72 hour long salvo barrage from a dozen planet cracking rail guns.

“My son this thing is a monster... Who ever built this is a god...”The black queen said as she scanned the armor.

“How so?” Kent asked.

“If I were to say this... It is you but in a suit form... The Muscle fiber on this suit is 500 million microfiber per micro muscle strand. a self regeneration protocol, 500 micro quantum processors... Kent I recommend you do not use this suit!” The black queen said when the young knight touched it.

The suit suddenly burst open revealing 33 razor sharp interface needles lined up like a spinal cord. The Black queen tried her best to stop the young knight as the suit itself will kill him if he should wear it as she does not have enough viable data to go by.

“Mother I know you don’’t want to do this but if we waste more time then Willow and many other Vai’len held inside that place might die... I won’t risk that happening... If this suit will give me a chance to save them then I’m willing to take the risk!” Kent said as he looked for a way to activate the suit.

As soon as he touched the interface needles the suit suddenly came to life as the interface needles interlocked with Kent’s spinal cord and secondary spine drilling themselves into his back.

The pain was unbearable as he started to cry out blood trying to withstand the intense heat he felt on his back and the drilling of the needles intensified his pain.

After a brief moment the pain suddenly stopped as he heard a voice in his head saying Genetic code verification complete Identity confirmed Kent Redridge 777th descendant of creator initiating genetic repair protocols, injecting bio-uni chem.

He felt a warm slime like fluid flow into his back he could feel the pain going away the black queen was deeply surprised to see the status of the young knight’s lower back was being repaired down to the cellular level.

“Self repairs complete... Awaiting directive?” The AI asked.

“OUCH!!! My back felt a lot more than a tingle their... But Pleasantries and complaints later for now time for action... AI what is your name?” Kent asked.

“I am the Artificial, Linear, Interrogative, Calibrator, Entity... Or code Alice for human terms.” Code Alice said.

“Okay Alice, can I use this suit?” Kent asked.

“Yes, The suit has calibrated to your specifications and combat experience alone... All you need to do is step inside and we will follow your will.” Alice said.

Kent nodded as he boarded the suit as it locked in the young knight and the suit were one as the helmet close the eyes flashed a bright green light. As he walked forward the SoulZero was weightless it was as if the suit was his own flesh and blood.

The young knight flexed his hands and shadow boxed for a brief moment and performed a spin kick to see if the suit was capable of keeping up and it did and more. The suit also improved his eyesight, increased thought processing, strength, agility, reaction time to the point that his previous limit was broken more times than his time in Hell’s gate could provide him.

“I could get used to this...” Kent said.

“Master, Reporting data on Citadel pit... Threat level 7.1, Operation Rescue Lieutenant Willow: Plausible, Location confirmed: Lieutenant Willow is located at level 210 Maximum security facility, Providing tactical data now.” Alice reported.

“Thank you please send it to Captain Rex and Clayton... They will be rescuing my friend while we have the pleasure of battling the soldiers... What do you say?” Kent asked.

“Directive confirmed, Sending data to Captain Razor Sigfield Crosswolf and Sergeant Clayton Carmive... Data Transfer complete, Equipment option variable 1... Initiating Weapon Fabrication.”Alice reported.

The foundry began to move as it made a pair of small carbine rifles with a shield interlinked alongside the rifles. Below said rifles have interchangeable equipment from another burst rifle attachment, grenade launcher, switch blades and a grappling hook.

“Weapon fabrication complete... Weapon designation Switch Blaster shields.”Alice reported.

Kent nodded as he walked out the night hawk with his new set of equipment the young knight took a deep breath and stood still as the boosters of the suit slowly ignited.

Rex and the others saw a suit of armor flew across the sky with a blue trail tailing it.

“That must be the boss?” Clayton asked.

“Indeed he said here that he will distract the enemy and open the main gates but how is the question.” Rex stated.

Soon after gunfire and explosions ignited at the main gate of the Pit they all saw laser fire flew in all direction. Marky watched from his scope as the suit that their commander wore withstood over 6 miniguns firing at him and over a dozen m32 rotary grenade launchers and 3 tank rounds head on without even flinching.

The young knight turned and aimed both his rifles at the main gate and fired two high explosive plasma grenade rounds to the reinforced gate creating a massive gap in the prison’s defenses.

He slowly moved to another section of the base to draw the guards away from the gate creating a massive opening for the team to exploit.

“Okay that’s the signal!” Rex shouted.

“Right EVERYONE BOOK IT TO THE VAN!” Clayton shouted.

“Wait you actually Kept that van?” Marky asked.

“Hey it’s compact and environmentally friendly and I made some improvements to it... So shut up and get on we are moving!” Clayton swore as he grabbed Marky by the collar and belt and threw him into the van.

“Well... I won’t complain that is a fast way to get on a van.” Lily said as she go on the front seat.

As they got on the Van Clayton pressed his foot on the gas and floored it through the gate. While the guards are distracted Clayton and the others were able to pass through the breach the young knight made unnoticed.

Clayton parked the van near the south gate’s prison block building number 3 and made their way into the central elevator leading to the lower levels.

With so few guards to fight it seemed like the young knight was the biggest threat to them than the prisoners escaping.

“Guys we have a small issue.” Lily said.

“You really like to say small issue huh Lily is that an incest thing?” Clayton asked.

“What no I’ll talk with you later you butt! The issue I was going to say is this elevator is operated in one location only to prevent prisoners from escaping... So someone needs to stay here to operate the elevators when we escape.” Lily explained.

“Why not hacking it?” Re xasked.

“Tried it but it wont respond this is a manual type of elevator controls its analog.” Lily explained.

“Okay then, Big bro, Boss cap, Sniper man and Lily... I’ll volunteer and operate the crane controls.” Genji stated.

“You sure lil bro?” Clayton asked.

Genji nodded as he entered the elevator control room as they boarded the elevator down to the lower levels. Marky switched from his rifle to a pistol and a knife since his sniper rifle will be rendered useless in the narrow corners and tight corridors.

As they went down everyone changed their optics on their helmet to night vision as light seemed to be a bigger problem at levels 51 and below.

“So Lily where do we go next?” Rex asked.

“Good question...” Lily replied as she opened the holo-map.

The pit is more like a maze for vega’s hardened psychopaths and killers it is divided into 5 sections and we just passed the mild convicts and from level 101 we will need to go left from the main elevator hall. Then head straight and make a right where another elevator will take us to the lower levels once we pass through another checkpoint we should be able to find the maximum security section where Willow is being kept.

“Well shit I hate dark places!” Clayton stated.

“We don’t exactly have the luxury of making choices at the moment Clay so deal with it!” Marky stated.

“Okay get off my fucking case Marky!” Clayton swore as he equiped his flashlight.

“Okay you two cut the chatter with the general counting on us to find Willow we can’t waste any more time!” Rex ordered.

“Yes Captain!” The two saluted at the same time.

As the elevator stopped at Level 51 the strike team made their way into darkness as they saw the living conditions of each cell was inhumane with only serving minimum amount of food to survive and the space was only enough to stretch one’s arms and legs and the bathroom was only one small hole.

The criminals held in each cell was begging to get out and some even committed suicide to escape their situation. he soldiers who acted as the prison guards left them to rot or worse.

The deeper they went the worse the conditions were and the darker the pit go even though their is sufficient lighting. After many hours of traversing traps, security turrets and elevators they were able to reach level 210 the deepest part of the pit.

It was a long corridor with less than a dozen rooms only used for interrogation and torturing people. The guards here seemed to be non-existent making their job a lot easier.

“Alright, everyone fan out pick a door we are running low on time!” Rex ordered.

Lily started hacking the door controls while Clayton kicked the reinforce titanium steel door. Two of the doors only showed lockers and miscellaneous torture devices and others.

After many hours of hacking and breaking down the doors the last door at the end of the corridor was the only place they had never checked. Clayton tried to bash the doors open but the last door seemed too strong for him.

“Okay I think we are on to something... I’ll need time to unlock the doors!” Lily stated.

While Lily started working on the doors when the facility started to light up and the doors suddenly opened. Genji got on the radio as the elevators were destroyed on his end 300 soldiers are heading their way to kill Willow.

“Okay, Clayton take the left side, Marky on the right Lily how much time do you need?” Rex asked.

“15 minutes... I’m already at the 3rd binary lock who ever made this is a really butt hole!” Lily reported.

“Lily we got your back get that door open!” Clayton said as he mounted his chain gun.

The three grabbed the lockers they saw earlier and jammed it to the elevator doors and made some cover between them and the soldiers.

After setting the barricade in the nick of time soldiers poured through the elevator shaft and started to fire at the three. Rex and Clayton returned fire without the use of explosives as it could cause the ceiling to collapse on top of them.

Marky used his sniper rifle’s tactical infra-xray scope and sniped the soldiers that were trying to sneak past the gunfire using cloak. Rex pulled out a flash flare grenade and threw it at the soldiers much like a Molotov cocktail.

The fire melted the floor creating a massive gap between the soldiers and them as Lily was working on the door with Bullets flying past her head. A bullet somehow ricochet off the wall and destroyed the only terminal to the sealed room.

“DAMN IT!” Lily shouted as the terminal exploded.

“What happened?” Rex asked.

“A bullet destroyed the door controls... I can manually open the door terminal but it will take me hours to complete!” lily stated.

“Okay that’s it!” Clayton shouted.

He drooped his chain gun and pulled out a small grenade launcher from his side belt and fire a Hell razer round into the door. Lily immediately jumped away from the doors as the Hell Razer round hit the doors. After a brief second the doors began to melt as it left a trail of hot titanium.

The Hell Razer round is a combination of Liquid plasma mixed in with ryghdonium powder and mixed with liquid Jormite when combined it can generate heat up to 9,129 °C though experimental and strictly not advised to be used for conventional breach weapons no sane Promethian heavy gunner will ever use a Hell Razor round unless it is absolutely needed.

“Well that makes things a little better...” Marky said.

“How is this any better we can’t get through until the molten titanium cools off!” Lily added.

“Don’t worry I got this!” Clayton said as he loaded another grenade round and fired it at the river of molten titanium.

As he fired a winter fell round into the molten titanium it suddenly froze the magma like trail of titanium in a matter of seconds.

“Nice job Clay!” Rex praised.

“Yeah, one thing I learned in the home... Never leave home without a hell razer round and a winter fell round at the same time.” Clayton stated.

“Well good said... Clayton we can hold here you and Lily go!” Rex ordered.

“Thanks boss Cap.” Clayton saluted.

The two entered the last torture chamber to find Willow or what is left of her Clayton fell to his knees to the sight of the Archer maiden being strung up the wall like a trophy. Her arms and legs dismembered in the most brutal fashion organs being placed into jars with one of her eyes being placed in a weighing scale.

“She is still alive... But barely...” Lily said as she scanned the dismembered body of her friend.

“I’ll ready the Iso-med-bed!” Clayton said as he gathered his courage.

As he took out the stretcher Lily tapped him on the shoulder assuring him that everything will be okay and she vowed to work round the clock to save their friend.

“Right... Thank you Lily...” Clay said as he got the stretcher ready.

Lily worked on stabilizing Willow when they heard a step in the far corner of the room her spine tingled as they heard the sound of a blade grinding in the distance.

The two looked at the dark corner of the room to see a massive hulking soldier wielding an over sized knife like saw with blood shot eyes. The soldier proclaimed his handiwork on Willow was the best he could ever do as it was art in his eyes. He then aimed his blade at the medic as he slowly walked towards her Clayton grabbed his chain gun and without a moment’s notice started firing at the soldier.

Each round either bounced off his body barely scratching him as he tried to distract him away from Lily. He then pulled out the micro grenade launcher and fired a crack shot round towards the soldier causing to stagger as the explosion melted some of his skin.

“Oh shit!” Clayton said.

He braced himself as the soldier rushed him damaging the rotary motor of his gun and with powerful downward swing he managed to slice off the barrel clamp. The promethain stepped back for a moment and threw what remained of his chain gun at the soldier causing him to stagger.

Clayton tackled him and delivered a three punch combination followed with a powerful uppercut. He then grabbed the soldiers sword hand and crushed his left arm forcing him to release his butcher blade.

The Soldier kicked him in the chest and rushed him with his knife in hand to stab him right in the chest. At the last possible second Clayton dodge to the right and kicked him at the side of his chest breaking over 4 ribs at once.

The soldier was desperate to win as he threw his Knife at the medic even before he could threw it. Clayton jumped in and caught the blade and threw it back towards the soldier hitting him right in the left thigh slicing off the femur.

Clayton stepped in as he stated to the soldier about making people suffer because they only wanted to protect their family. The soldier just laughed at him stating that they were not even human and are just living organs for them to extract for the glory of their own species.

The Promethian had heard enough as he grabbed his face and bashed the soldier’s head into the reinforced titanium column. The soldier was not done as he grabbed Clayton’s arm in a desperate attempt to break free but the Promethian stomped the soldier’s back breaking his spine in half.

Clayton then threw him to the wall and grabbed the butcher’s knife and threw it at the soldier’s chest killing him in an instant.

“Well that wasn’t fucking easy... But good riddance to bad rubbish!” Clayton said as he clapped his hands.

He walked back to what remained of his partner and grabbed her weapon heart as the body was already battered and broken.

“Thank you Trenchy for helping me out since our first day with the Boss man I’ll fix you right up when we get back home.”Clayton said as he placed the Weapon heart in his back pack.

He walked back to the Iso-stretcher and prepared Willow for transport when explosions were heard just outside of the room. Clayton rushed out to see the battle was getting one sided as more and more soldiers poured through the Elevator hall.

The Promethian took cover beside Rex and grabbed a nearby assault rifle and opened fire at the incoming wave of enemies.

“What happened to your chain gun?” Rex asked.

“I dealt with an ass in the torture room... Trenchy got hit hard boss Cap!”Clayton reported.

“Damn it we could have used some support right now!” Rex said.

“Captain we have more incoming!” Marky reported.

“We make our stand here until the general can get to us!” Rex ordered.

“Yes sir!’ The two saluted.

As the battle in the torture level raged on meanwhile at the surface of the pit the young knight was hard pressed as more and more soldiers were pouring in from outside the base.

The young knight took cover at some fallen debries as he alone defended the main entrance to the lower levels.

“It would seem that the Vega- soldiers really don’t want us to get Willow out of here don’t they?” Kent said as he reloaded his carbines.

“Master Reporting in, over 500 more soldiers are heading this way as we speak with anti-material sub machine rifles!” Code Alice reported.

“How about reinforcements from the High Glaives?”Kent asked.

“They are 12 minutes out!” Alice reported.

Kent held his ground and fired openly at the soldiers as his armor did provide a large amount of protection his ammunition was running low. Though his carbine energy rounds could destroy tanks but it trains over 12% of the energy clip.

He used the rapid fire mode of his carbines though it conserved his ammunition usage it also ran the risk of over heating the barrels and malfunction was too fight of a risk. As the battle was turning in the Favor of Vega the High Glaives were too far out and had been busy dealing with the Mega fleet.

A loud high pitched scream could be heard in the distance the Night Hawk fired its Rail gun and its lower turrets opened fired clearing a path for the scorgon to deploy on the ground.

“Wait, Lady Winter I thought I asked you to wait at the rendezvous point?” Kent asked.

“You did but you guys were having a lot of trouble so we came to help!” Winter replied.

The scorgon tank immediately took out the heavy batteries that were aimed at the Night Hawk as it landed.

Kent could not fight against Winter’s decision making as she is the crown princess of the Frost Wolves which outranks him in every right and she is also the oldest member of the Strike team making her experience and wisdom invaluable.

“Okay Lady winter you can help... But if the situation gets dicey then get out of here!” Kent ordered.

“I won’t leave you guys... Regardless if that is a request or an order!” Winter replied.

Over 2 dozen marines and 3 knights set up defenses around the main entrance the young knight brought with him 4 marines into the main elevator shaft to see Genji was already finished cleaning up the guards that passed through earlier.

Genji reported about large number of guards pouring into the interrogation level and Without the elevator controls on his side it was going to be difficult to get a direct line from the lower level back to the surface.

“Alright, do what you can from here Genji... The rest of you with me!” Kent ordered.

“You got it boss man!” Genji saluted.

With a smile on his face the young knight walked to the edge where the elevator was and pried open the doors with his bare hands.

“So this is going to be one big fall... Damn it... I hate heights and holes... Forget this!” Kent said out loud.

He took a deep breath and took a leap of faith into the dark pit below the three marines followed him in with their jump packs in tow.

Alice reported in as the High Glaive fleet was able to break through the second line of defense and will send reinforcements soon the Vega high fleet had recalled their forces from their reserves to defend the capital.

It would only be a matter of time before the High Glaives would be overwhelmed but knowing the High Glaives they will not easily back down. As they fell into darkness the Marines turned on the built in flash lights in their helmet to help them see and the motion sensors in their helmets helped them track where they are now.

“General we just passed through Level 41 and motion sensors are picking up a lot of activity in each floor!” Tim reported.

“Then we need to hurry Line up behind I have an idea!” Kent ordered.

SoulZero Deployed over 6 blade panels called Zone familiars automated defense drones that serve as the SoulZero’s extra arms and guns. Though independent in thought and motion they are capable of providing support to the main suit when needed.

The familiars lined alongside the marines and acted as their primary boosters as the angel ignited it’s jet boosters the 4 of them made their way down with all speed. At the same time Rex and the others were slowly being overwhelmed by the number of soldiers as it seemed like they were not running low on bodies to throw at them.

“Shit I’m out!” Clayton shouted.

“Here my last mag make it count!” Marky shouted as he threw a plasma clip.

“Thanks... But if this is it I just want to say... I have not always not hated you!” Clayton stated.

Just before they got overwhelmed a massive explosion was heard in the elevator hall as a volley of energy clips that tore through the rows of soldiers.

“What the hell just happened?” Clayton asked.

“Didn’t I tell you Clayton to cut down on the cursing?” Kent asked.

“Boss man? Thank the maker am I glad to see your tall skinny ass!” Clayton said as he jumped out the cover.

“I am seemingly skinny Clay I just want to point it out! and I am glad you guys are in one piece but what about Willow where is she?” Kent asked.

Clayton took the liberty of explaining what happened as Lily had a difficult time to move her as most of her organs are removed and most if not all of her blood was drained out.

The team didn’t have much time left as the soldiers were massing for another counter attack as they worked together and moved the dismembered parts of Willow into the Iso-med-bed.

It took a while for the entire team to get back to the surface after taking the stair hidden stairwell after the elevator shaft broke down at level 51.

“Finally...”“Wheezing”“” Clayton said as he was short out of breath.

“If we only didn’t run out of fuel half way through!” The marine reported.

“Right... At least we are through Now everyone get back to the Night Hawk we are leaving!” Kent ordered.

As the team boarded the Night Hawk just before they left the Planet they received word from their High Glaive allies regarding the science facility. It was able to escape into deep space with a large number of transport ships into the unknown region of deep space.

Despite their best efforts to save both of them Willow was the only one they could save. Everyone was upset as the Leaders of Vega abandoned their own kin as the planet was slowly falling into discord and most of their naval fleet was either destroyed, torn apart even after surrendering and fled the system.

They regrouped aboard the Storm Raider to gather their thoughts and see about their next plan of action as to what to do with Vega and her people. Willow was brought into the Medical bay of the Storm Raider if their was any hope of giving her a second life the Medical Facility of the Storm Raider was the best shot to give her said chance.

Clayton was slowly losing hope for Willow as she was taken away by the Knight Healers deep into the many hospitals of the Massive Arc-like ship. The young knight tapped his shoulder and told him to go with them the best thing to do was pray to the Faith for a miracle this day.

#SoulZeroAwakens

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demonslayedher · 4 years

Text

An Attempted Timeline: Kochou Shinobu

Very open to feedback, because canon is as spread out as Muzan after his first date with Sun Breathing. Instead of tracking the year or distance from current timeline, we shall track this by Shinobu’s age (roughly, in most spots). Despite being centered around Shinobu’s life events, I’m also diving into Aoi’s life, the other Pillars’ timelines of life events too, and doing some conjecture about Shinobu’s deceased Tsuguko. Should be obvious, but spoilers ahead.

Childhood: Raised by kind parents who possessed medical knowledge. Sometime around elementary school age (at the oldest, I’d put her at 11, but probably younger), parents are killed by a demon, house is demolished, and she and Kanae are rescued by Himejima (who was maybe around 20 or younger at the time), who hands them off to the Kakushi. After the funeral for their parents, she and Kanae seek out Himejima for training, and after a little time with them he sends them to separate cultivators (according to the light novel chapter “One Winged Butterfly.”) Training under cultivators usually takes about a year. She and Kanae perhaps passed the Final Selection when Shinobu was around 12-ish, give or take. (For setting and comparison’s sake, Kagaya and Amane have long since already been married and Kiriya is already born.) Whether Kanae becomes a Pillar first or they establish the hospital at the Butterfly Mansion first is unclear, but these events happen relatively quickly. I suspect they might have had access to a lot of savings from their parents. Furthermore, this makes Kanae one of the many Pillars in the recent generation who blows that “it usually takes five years to become a Pillar” Taisho Secret away. (As an aside, maybe the reason the Corp as a whole seems to be full of weaklings is because the current Pillars have sucked up all the amazingness, but I digress.)

The Butterfly Mansion’s hospital was established long before Sanemi became a Pillar (according to the light novel chapter “Signpost of the Wind”). Sometime after Kanae becomes a Pillar, Sanemi becomes a Pillar. Giyuu was a Pillar before Sanemi was; the three of them were the same age. My guess is that Shinobu was around 13 when Kanae became a Pillar, putting Kanae and Sanemi around ages 15ish~17 when they would have had chances to interact. For comparison, Giyuu and Sabito were 13 at the time of the Final Selection, so Giyuu would had already been in the Corp longer than Kanae and Shinobu.

The following events either happened very quickly or unfolded over the course of a couple years:

Aoi (likely the the same age as Kanao) comes into their care (she preceded Kanao since she was there for Kanao’s naming, according to Taisho Secrets and second fanbook)*

Kanao (two years younger than Shinobu but much smaller, and given how petite Shinobu is, I can only assume this is because of how malnourished Kanao was) is adopted as their little sister on some May 19 (the anime seems to put the event in winter, but I assume it was already in production before the first fanbook was published with that detail)

Kanao has ample opportunity to observe Kanae’s Flower Breathing and learn by watching

Kiyo, Sumi, and Naho come into the fold (separately or all at once, though not as relatives)

Kanae is killed by Douma (Shinobu is age 14, one of the only pieces of this timeline we can be certain of). As she wished in her dying moments for Shinobu to live a normal life, she may or may not have had Shinobu as her Tsuguko, or had any Tsuguko at all.

Shinobu, age 14, becomes the head of the Butterfly Mansion household, where she already has five adoptive/pseudo younger sisters. At this point she takes on a cheerful personality, as well as probably set her heart on becoming a Pillar as soon as possible and becoming strong enough to defeat the demon that killed Kanae.

*Aoi’s circumstances are important (and curious) because the second fanbook tells us both that she practiced Water Breathing and that she passed the same Final Selection as Muichiro. Since Muichiro became a Pillar two months after taking up the sword, that means he went almost straight from sword to Final Selection to Pillar. We don’t know how much recovery time he needed after losing Yuichiro at age 11, because he wasn’t among the Pillars in the Rengoku Gaiden, so he perhaps only started practicing the sword closer to late 12 or age 13 (putting Aoi around 14, 15-ish when she passed the Final Selection, and presumably quit the sword right after that). It’s interesting to note what a different relationship Aoi has with Shinobu than Kanao does, especially since Aoi was there first but Kanao was adopted as a sister in a more all-encompassing sense. I suspect (and am putting this in italics for conjecture): Due to whatever circumstances with her Water Breath cultivator (possibly difficulty in housing a lone girl among a bunch of male students), Aoi needed to live elsewhere during her training. The Butterfly Mansion was a good spot, so Kanae and Shinobu agreed, like sponsoring a junior, and in exchange Aoi helped out around the house and hospital. Aoi kept her own last name, as she had her own family to avenge. When Kanao came in, it was purely out of wanting to help an orphan who wound up staying with them instead of being adopted out, which is why she was given a family identity and an opportunity to take the Kochou name if she wanted to (or even Aoi’s family name). They were probably treated differently because of the nature of how they came in and an assumption that Aoi would leave as soon as she entered the Corp. As Kiyo, Naho, and Sumi came in, it was a weird middle ground of whether they were just looked after until something better for them came along or if they were adopted as sisters as fully as Kanao was. Ultimately, they still retained a lot of their identities from before they were orphaned, and it was more of a pseudo-sisterhood, which Aoi had sort of fallen into as well. But, once Aoi entered the Corp and then quit the sword, she probably didn’t feel she could turn to her cultivator for any help, so at that point Shinobu took more full responsibility for her as a permanent household member.

Moving back on to Shinobu’s timeline, if I’m remembering the Giyuu Gaiden correctly (it’s been a while since I read it so I don’t recall exactly), that story took place shortly after Giyuu sent Tanjiro and Nezuko to Urokodaki, and it was also shortly after Shinobu became a Pillar. Since Tanjiro took two years to train after that, that would put her at age 16. Since Kanao joined the Corp in the same batch as Tanjiro, that means Shinobu would have had about two years between becoming a Pillar and taking Kanao as her official Tsuguko (I stress ‘official’ because it comes with distinction Tengen respects, it’s not casual “sure, I’ll look after you” thing). In that time, she had (at least) three other previous Tsuguko, all girls given butterfly hairpins, and who were all killed by demons in that two year period.

Conjecture about Shinobu and these Tsuguko:

Knowing how likely she is to be killed before she has an opportunity to avenge Kanae, Shinobu was likely in a hurry to train a Tsuguko and started trying to pass her knowledge on right away. It’s possible they were even closer in age to her than Kanao, maybe even older, and quite possibly physically stronger. It’s possible they were trained under Flower Breathing cultivators and still used that Breath, which would have given Kanao opportunities to learn by watching. That said, Shinobu doesn’t mention or think back to her Tsuguko often, and they never appear in Kanao’s flashbacks, though their deaths are some of the little pieces that strengthen her resolve to slay demons (she seems to care more about how her pseudo-sisters’ families were killed by them). My guess is that Shinobu made a clear divide between family and work, so as to protect the little girls from getting attached to more people who were likely to be taken away from them. Likely, her Tsuguko and the Butterfly Mansion girls resided in separate spaces and had very little interaction, and their Pillar/Tsuguko relationship was kept very formal so they could all focus on their demon slaying goals (albeit they were probably fond of each other anyway, signified by the butterfly hairpins).

In that two year period, the following events occur in roughly this order:

Rengoku become a Pillar (around age 18 or 19, and since he was raised practicing Flame Breathing he probably finished the Final Selection around age 12 or 13, so it clearly took him a more normal period of time to become a Pillar. But, despite being naturally gifted with strength his mother recognized, this drives home how hard he needed to work to overcome a perceived lack of “talent.”)

Iguro becomes a Pillar (around age 19 or 20, so he likely had worked at it a long time)

Aoi passes the Final Selection and quits the sword (thereby leaving Shinobu able to leave most of the hospital and household work to her since she’s no longer training), Muichirio becomes a Pillar (around age 12 or 13, genius-level speed at attaining Pillarhood)

Mitsuri becomes a Pillar (around age 18 or 19--a friend, yay! Also someone who became a Pillar way faster than normal.)

On these note, please also me to jump backwards a few years to when Kanae was still alive. Uzui had to have been a Pillar by at least age 18, but given the state of Ubuyashiki’s illness, probably a lot earlier than that, and he probably didn’t take very long to become a Pillar after entering the Corp. Since Giyuu was already a Pillar in Sanemi’s flashback, then he attained Pillarhood by, at the very oldest, age 17, so it took him four years or less. Interesting that in all these four or more years he’s been convinced the position is vacant, there’s no one else who performs Pillar-worthy achievement in the Corp’s most widely used Breath style. That really drives home the difference between the Pillars and the average cannon fodder. (Also worth noting, the Kamaboko Squad’s progression seems to fall somewhere in the middle; right to the very end the Taisho Secrets state how Tanjiro was still far from mastering Hinokami Kagura.)

At late 17 or age 18, two events occur:

Shinobu begins filling her body with poison for the sake of exacting revenge, knowing she will likely be eaten (she began about a year before the Pillar Training arc)

Kanao sneaks out to the Final Selection of her own will and with self-studied Flower Breathing, officially becomes a member of the Corp. Shinobu worries Kanao was just doing this because it’s what everyone around her does, as Kanao cannot express that she’s built her own hatred for demons.

Shinobu makes Kanao her Tsuguko almost right away, making the following changes (conjecture in italics):

Teaching her proper Breathing and sword technique (and the little girls witness her quick progress with blowing up gourds)

Instructing her very simply just to focus on cutting on demons’ heads so that she doesn’t get caught up in indecision on the battlefield

Censuring Kanao a bit for her choice to go against her sisters’ wishes and take up the sword, for now she risks death and giving the other pseudo-sisters yet another person to grieve. Given the risky nature of their work, Shinobu feels forced to treat her the same strict way she treated her Tsuguko instead of treat her as a sister. Kanao accepts this and goes from treating Shinobu as her sister to treating her as her master (calling her “Shihan” instead of “Shinobu-neesan”).

Over the course of the events of canon, Tanjiro and company spend a very large portion of their time in recovery at the Butterfly Mansion (even if a large portion of that time is spent unconscious), they might as well be pseudo-adoptive little brothers. But, I suspect Shinobu bonds more readily with girls. Also in that time, Kanao speeds up the ranks (she attains Hinoto rank, the 7th of 10 ranks, while Tanjiro & co attain the one above that, Hinoe). Furthermore, thanks to Tanjiro’s influence, Kanao also makes leap and bounds in being able to express herself, like something finally broke through. This at last leaves Shinobu somewhat relieved, after maybe five years or so since she first adopted Kanao. By that time she is getting anxious about the impending final battles (and her death, which she has deemed inevitable but purposeful), and she tells Kanao the plan. And then Oyakata-sama is like, “heeeey, so I heard you want to be friends with demons, I got you one, her name is Tamayo.” (It’s possible he already told her he was planning to get Tamayo’s help and wanted her cooperation, but he didn’t actually approach Tamayo about it until after Pillar Training started (though by Kimetsu logic, it’s highly possible that the crow talking to Tamayo took place much earlier than when it was presented). I gotta wonder how quickly they worked to combine their research and if the other girls in the mansion had any idea who Tamayo and Yushiro were.

And then, at age 18 (or likely 19 given the progression of the series and very lengthy recovery periods, heck maybe even 20), Douma. Shinobu dies, Kanao switches back to calling her Shinobu-neesan instead of Shihan, Kanae’s butterfly hairpin which Kanao wore breaks in battles, Shinobu exacts her revenge on Douma while her efforts against Muzan are also in motion and then she reunites with Kanae and her parents in spirit, and Kanao wears Shinobu’s butterfly hairpin in the final showdown and then she makes Shinobu the surprise hero in the surprise final battle to save Tanjiro. It was a really long night, and a really short, busy life.

#Kimetsu no Yaiba #Demon Slayers #Kocho Shinobu #Kochou Shinobu #KnY fandom theories and meta

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newsfundastuff · 4 years

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(Bloomberg) -- Global cases of the coronavirus topped 1.5 million, less than a week after surpassing the 1 million mark. New York, the U.K. and Belgium reported their deadliest days so far.The crisis will escalate if countries don’t start showing more solidarity, the head of the World Health Organization said, urging the U.S. and China to show “honest leadership” and stop bickering.U.S. Democrats are seeking at least $500 billion in the next stimulus bill, and Hong Kong announced a fresh package valued at about $18 billion. U.K. Prime Minister Boris Johnson is stable and responding to treatment at a London hospital.Key Developments:Global cases top 1.5 million; deaths pass 88,000: Johns HopkinsFederal medical aid to states falls short, House report saysGenome researchers find most NYC cases came from EuropeU.S. recession model at 100% confirms downturn is already hereSmoking helps open gateway to coronavirus infection, study showsStarbucks Sees Six Months of Pain (7:27 a.m. HK)Starbucks Corp. said a sharp slowdown from the coronavirus pandemic will worsen before getting better, with the financial impact extending as far as September. The company based its assessment on the tentative recovery in the Chinese market, its most important along with the U.S. The coffee chain went through social distancing and mandatory closures in the Asian nation earlier in the year, giving it an early glimpse at how the situation would play out in the U.S. and elsewhere.Airlines Squeezed By Delays in U.S. Rescue Package (7:13 a.m. HK)U.S. airlines’ desperate bid for $29 billion in government rescue cash is being frustrated by a lengthening process and demands that companies provide more detailed financial information, people familiar with the situation said.Carriers that filed April 3 for the grants intended to help meet payroll costs expected the checks to begin arriving days ago, said people familiar with the aid discussions. Instead, U.S. Treasury officials have asked for another round of data that appears to be more related to a separate loan process instead of the cash grants, further delaying the relief, the people said.California Has $1.4 Billion Plan to Buy Medical Equipment (5:17 p.m. NY)California Governor Gavin Newsom secured a deal to import 200 million masks on a monthly basis for health care workers, grocery store employees and others on the front line of the coronavirus pandemic, part of a $1.4 billion planned investment in personal protective equipment.Some of that equipment could be shared with other states facing shortages, Newsom said at a press briefing Wednesday,“California is just uniquely resourced,” Newsom said. It can use “the kind of scale that few other states, few other countries can even resource, so we’re pleased to do that and it’s our responsibility to do more.”Read more hereU.S. Cases Climb 9.6%, Deaths Top 14,000 (4:20 p.m. NY)The growth in U.S. coronavirus cases showed signs of slowing Wednesday, even as deaths accelerated in some of the hardest-hit states.U.S. cases rose 9.6% from the day before to 419,975 as of Wednesday afternoon, according to data compiled by Johns Hopkins University and Bloomberg News. Cases nationally had been climbing an average of 11% a day over the past week. Deaths rose 19% to 14,262.New York had another day of record fatalities, reporting 779 more deaths. The state has lost more than 1,500 to the virus over the past two days, for a total of almost 6,300. Still, Governor Andrew Cuomo said hospitalizations are falling, showing social distancing is working.“Nobody is saying we peaked,” Cuomo said. “We’ve flattened the curve for this point of time.”New Jersey reported a record 275 deaths. California also had one of its deadliest days, with 68 fatalities. Illinois had 82.Michigan, which has the most infections after New York and New Jersey, saw cases increase 7% to surpass 20,000, according to the state health department. Deaths rose by 114 to 959N.J. Has Record New Deaths (1:36 p.m. NY)New Jersey reported a second day of record new deaths from Covid-19 and a tapering of infections.Cases rose by 7% to 47,437, the fourth straight day of increases of 10% or less. In the last two weeks of March, New Jersey saw daily increases from 20% to 82%.Governor Phil Murphy reported 275 new fatalities since yesterday, the biggest one-day increase since the crisis began.N.Y. Reports Record 779 Daily Deaths (1:36 p.m. NY)New York suffered another day of record fatalities from the coronavirus outbreak, reporting 779 additional deaths even as hospitalizations declined.“The number of deaths will continue to rise as those hospitalized for a period of time pass away,” Governor Andrew Cuomo said Wednesday at his daily virus briefing.The state has lost more than 1,500 people to the virus in the last two days, for a total of almost 6,300.Despite the rising death toll, Cuomo said the state’s social-distancing rules and other measures were working.WHO Says World Must Pull Together (1 p.m. NY)The coronavirus crisis will escalate if countries don’t start showing more solidarity, the head of the World Health Organization said, urging the U.S. and China to show “honest leadership” and stop bickering.“If you don’t want many more body bags, then you refrain from politicizing it,” Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus said at a briefing in Geneva Wednesday. “No using Covid-19 to score political points.”When asked about President Donald Trump’s threat to cut funding and claim that the WHO favors China, Tedros said the WHO tries to treat everyone equally, and the WHO will do an assessment of its successes and failures.He urged the U.S., China, Group of 20 countries and the rest of the world to come together and fight.“For God’s sake, we have lost more than 60,000 citizens of the world,” he said. “Even one person is precious.”Tedros revealed he has been receiving racist insults and death threats.‘Too Early’ for Europe to Start Easing Restrictions, Agency Says (12:47 p.m. NY)The European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control warned Europe not to rush into lifting restrictions that are helping slow the spread of the pandemic.“Based on the available evidence, it is currently too early to start lifting all community and physical distancing measures” in Europe, the agency said in its latest risk assessment. “Sustained transmission of the virus is to be expected if current interventions are lifted too quickly.”The ECDC noted the reported new infections today reflect the measures that were in place a week earlier.U.K. Announces New High for Fatalities (12:02 p.m. NY)The U.K. reported a further 938 deaths from the coronavirus on Wednesday, up from yesterday’s record daily total of 786.In total 60,733 people have tested positive for the illness, up from 55,242 reported on Tuesday, according to the latest figures from the Department of Heath and Social Care. The day’s figures indicate a slight increase in the rate of growth.Some 14,682 tests were conducted in the country on April 7, more than the 14,006 conducted the day before. The U.K. aims to conduct 100,000 tests a day by the end of April, seeking to replicate the mass screening seen in countries such as South Korea and Germany.EU Plans to Prolong External-Border Closure Until May 15 (11:45 a.m. NY)The European Commission proposed prolonging until May 15 a ban on most travel into the European Union. Maintaining the restriction on non-essential travel into the bloc for another 30 days is necessary to contain the spread of the coronavirus, the commission said in a recommendation that needs the approval of member-country governments.EU Braces for Arrival of 8,000 Cruise-Ship Passengers (11:00 a.m. NY)Eleven cruise ships carrying around 8,000 passengers in total will arrive at European Unions ports between April 8 and 11, the European Commission said.The EU laid out guidelines for member nations on handling the travelers, saying ships with passengers known to be infected with the coronavirus should be directed to ports close to hospitals with adequate capacity.The commission also urged a coordinated EU effort to designate several ports for “fast-track” crew changes, citing the “essential role” of maritime transport in the bloc’s international goods trade.De Blasio Says Distancing Eases Ventilator Demand (10:55 a.m. NY)New York City’s social-distancing strategy appears to be working, and one result is less demand for ventilators than had been projected, Mayor Bill de Blasio said.The city had estimated that it would need as many as 300 more of the life-saving machines this week to treat coronavirus patients but has needed to add only 100, de Blasio said Wednesday at his daily virus briefing. It has 5,500 in all.Statewide, the infection rate has begun flattening, even as the death count rises.EU Working for Coordinated Ends to Members’ Lockdowns (10:40 a.m. NY)The European Commission is trying to coordinate how member states end lockdowns following criticism that the bloc’s initial response to the pandemic was chaotic. An internal draft of a memo seen by Bloomberg sets out conditions for easing to begin as well as other steps that be needed, such as expanding testing capacities and using apps to gather data.“Any level of (gradual) relaxation of the confinement will unavoidably lead to a corresponding increase in new cases,” according to the memo. Gradual exits and a phased-in restart to economic activity may be best, according to the memo. “Not all population should go back to the workplace at the same time.”The adoption of the plan has been pushed back, according to commission spokesman Eric Mamer, who told journalists in Brussels that timing is a “tricky issue” since countries are at different stages of the outbreak.Oktoberfest in Doubt as Germany Sees Lasting Impact (8:59 a.m. NY)Bavaria’s state premier cast doubt over the annual Oktoberfest, offering an idea of how long German authorities expect the pandemic to upend social life. Markus Soeder, a political ally of Chancellor Angela Merkel, told the Bild newspaper that a decision will be taken in June, but that widespread travel and border openings by then are “very unlikely.” The traditional beer festival, which draws millions to the Bavarian capital of Munich, is scheduled to start Sept. 19 and last two weeks. If it takes place at all, “it will be under completely different conditions,” Soeder told Bild.Local French Curfew Blocked in Legal Rebuke of Lockdowns (8:51 a.m. NY)A French court blocked a curfew in a municipality north of Paris, in what is probably the first legal rebuke in the country of measures designed to halt the spread of the coronavirus. The court said the mayor of Saint-Ouen-sur-Seine had failed to justify the curfew, which went from 7 p.m. to 6 a.m. The judge said that the regional government had already taken steps to prevent gatherings, including shutting liquor stores after 9 p.m.India’s Most Populous State Seals 15 Districts (8:23 a.m. NY)India’s most populous state, Uttar Pradesh, has sealed off 15 of its districts worst affected by infections.“Since the numbers have risen sharply, this move is essential to stop community spread,” R. K. Tiwari, chief secretary of the state, said in a television interview on Wednesday. The state has so far recorded 326 infections and three deaths.India has had total infections of 5,360 and 164 deaths, according to data from Johns Hopkins University. A 21-day national lockdown ends April 14.Boris Johnson is Stable, Responding to Treatment (7:54 a.m. NY)U.K. Prime Minister Boris Johnson is in a stable condition in intensive care and is “responding to treatment” for a severe coronavirus infection, his spokesman said. Johnson was taken into St Thomas’ hospital in London on Sunday and moved to the critical care unit on Monday after struggling to shake off the symptoms, including a cough and a fever.Democrats Seek At Least $500 Billion in Next Stimulus Bill (7:36 a.m. NY)Democrats want $250 billion in small business aid, with $125 billion channeled through community-based financial institutions that serve farmers, family, women, minority and veteran-owned cos, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer said in a joint statement.Hong Kong Unveils Virus Relief Package (6:33 a.m. NY)Hong Kong Chief Executive Carrie Lam announced a fresh government stimulus package worth about HK$137.5 billion ($17.7 billion) to support the city’s deteriorating economy. The spending package will include an HK$80 billion job security program to subsidize 50% of wages for affected workers for six months.WHO Says Lifting Lockdowns May Be Premature (6 a.m. NY)“To think we’re close to an endpoint would be dangerous,” Hans Kluge, the World Health Organization’s regional director for Europe, said at a briefing. Sweden is showing a fresh surge in cases, while the WHO is concerned about a dramatic increase in Turkey, he said. Countries should not lower their guard, he said.“We have got to ensure that the public understands we’re moving to a new phase,” said Bruce Aylward, one of the WHO’s top officials who recently led a mission to Spain. Countries need to make sure they’re hunting the disease down, because the key to eradication is testing patients, isolating them and tracing their close contacts. Some restrictions may need to continue for some time while others are gradually loosened, he said. “It’s not lifting lockdowns and going back to normal. It’s a new normal.”Spain’s success in slowing the spread proves that lockdowns and measures such as testing and contact tracing can work, Aylward said. While the country had a 20-fold increase in cases in the week through March 14, the rate later slowed to doubling every eight days.For more articles like this, please visit us at bloomberg.comSubscribe now to stay ahead with the most trusted business news source.©2020 Bloomberg L.P.

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bountyofbeads · 5 years

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‘Everything I have is gone’: Crews race to rescue survivors of Hurricane Dorian in the Bahamas

By Maria Sacchetti, Dan Lamothe and Anthony Faiola | Published September 06 at 11:09 PM ET | Posted September 7, 2019 8:25 AM EDT |

ABACO ISLANDS, Bahamas — With time running out to save stranded survivors of Hurricane Dorian, Bahamian and U.S. rescue crews combed through rubble in the hardest-hit areas Friday and braced for the death toll to rise.

Five days after the storm made landfall in the Bahamas as a Category 5 hurricane, authorities said it was unclear how many people were in need of assistance and how many had died. Officials and aid organizations struggled to reach remote towns in the sprawling island nation, with logistical issues preventing the deployment of rescue boats and aircraft.

“My house is gone, everything I have is gone; this is all I’ve got left,” Eddie Peredema, a gardener in Marsh Harbour, said as he pointed to his green T-shirt. “We need food, we need shelter. We need help, right now.”

Marsh Harbour, the largest town in the Abaco Islands, was devastated by the storm, as were surrounding areas. Teams in hazmat suits are searching for survivors and bodies amid storm debris, storing remains in a refrigerated container in the back of a health clinic.

Already, the United States is expanding its response, amid signs that the scope of the effort so far has not been enough. As many as 43 people have been confirmed dead — 35 in the Abacos Islands and eight in Grand Bahama — but the number was expected to rise. Thousands of people are possibly missing and tens of thousands may need urgent help.

“We acknowledge that there are many missing and that the number of deaths is expected to significantly increase,” Prime Minister Hubert Minnis said in a statement Friday night. “This is one of the stark realities we are facing in this hour of darkness.”

The Coast Guard has expanded its presence from five rescue helicopters on Monday to a dozen, along with eight cutters. The service has 1,000 members positioned to assist with relief efforts in the Bahamas and across the southeastern United States.

Rear Adm. Douglas Fears said his service has carried out 208 rescues in the Bahamas this week and staged helicopters on Andros Island, a sparsely populated archipelago south of Grand Bahama Island, whose northern side was overwhelmed by the storm.

Aboard the USCGC James, a national security cutter that is coordinating the Coast Guard’s rescue response in the Bahamas, service members monitored air traffic on computer scanners and tracked emergency calls on a whiteboard as they prioritized the most desperate cases.

A 5-month-old was “starving,” one report said. A 90-year-old man had a broken back, read another. Two diabetics, two children and one spouse, read a third. A woman somewhere on a baseball field had a decreasing heart rate. A 60-year-old man needed dialysis, and a 400-pound man was suffering from blood clots.

George F. Menze, a Coast Guard pilot, said he wished there were a clinic closer to the affected islands than the hospital in Nassau, a trip that can take 45 minutes by helicopter. But he said the response is typical for a hurricane as devastating as Dorian, which he said was “like a giant tornado.”

Service members on the James dispatched helicopters across the ravaged area, sometimes with little more than coordinates to go on and no way to communicate with people on the ground. Plans shifted constantly, as more urgent medical cases were called in and more survivors were found.

In one case Tuesday, they rescued a man who had been trapped for 16 hours under the collapsed remains of his house.

Overall, they took 30 people to the hospital Thursday, and 17 more a day earlier, as Air Force and Marine Corps teams have worked to assess the damage to runways and other infrastructure.

Flying over the Abaco Islands in his helicopter Friday, Menze said the area is “kind of ground zero.” His first task on the flight was to find a group trapped in a garage near Marsh Harbour. But there was no place to land the MH-60 Jayhawk.

Others already on the ground could help them, so he headed north to Guana Cay, where there were American citizens and Bahamians in need of medical attention, including a woman who was running out of insulin.

From the air, Menze and his crew saw a car that had been hurled on top of a boat. Houses were smashed into sticks. Swimming pools were filled with murky brown water.

On the ground, Willis Levarity, 48 — who on ordinary days is the “director of fun” at a resort featuring paddle boarding, golfing and swimming — waved his hands at the crew. The helicopter landed on a golf course.

Gina Roberts, 52, boarded with her daughter Shannon, 34, a Type 1 diabetic whose insulin supply was running low. Roberts had to leave her husband behind. That morning, she received word that her father had died of an illness unrelated to the storm.

Roberts said that during the storm, golf carts flew in the air. Stone houses shifted off their foundations. Some saw tornadoes rip into the ground.

Other victims traveling on the helicopter told harrowing tales of barely surviving and of many more dead, swept away.

Schamere McKenzie, 22, a supermarket cashier from Murphy Town, said her family fled their home as the hurricane ripped it apart. They survived in their Buick.

She had been with her parents, sister and a 7-year-old nephew, and was evacuated with her mother, who suffers heart ailments. McKenzie said she saw a truck filled with bodies headed to the morgue Thursday.

As the Coast Guard transported them to Nassau, McKenzie’s mother, Sandra, thanked the service members. “You are a blessed people,” she said, near tears.

The U.S. Agency for International Development, which is overseeing the American relief effort in the Bahamas, has delivered emergency shelter materials for 35,000 people, and hygiene and water containers for about 3,000.

John Morrison, spokesman for Urban Search and Rescue Virginia Task Force 1, based in Fairfax County, said the group was working with USAID and dispatching 57 rescue workers and four dogs to search house to house for victims or people in need. An aerial survey of the storm’s path showed that at least half of homes and buildings were destroyed.

The humanitarian crisis could have ripple effects: One search-and-rescue volunteer who delivered supplies to Grand Bahama this week said he saw at least 26 boats, overloaded with people, leaving the island and heading west to Florida, about 140 miles away. “They’re doing what they can to get off the island,” said Russ Montgomery , who goes on search-and-rescue missions coordinated by the CrowdSource Rescue group. He said that people he met on the hard-hit northern islands are not waiting on help from the Bahamian government, but instead were making cooking fires with debris from destroyed houses and drinking rainwater out of truck beds.

In Freeport, a group of about a dozen friends reported that they had conducted rescues via personal watercraft Tuesday, parking in some cases on people’s roofs to save them.

Desean Smith, 39, said in a phone interview that his cousin had called him during the storm as her home began flooding. Within an hour, the water had risen from her ankles to her waist, and it was chest-level when Smith arrived on his watercraft.

He took his cousin and her family to higher ground and saw many more people who needed to be rescued. He estimated that he and his friends transported 40 people to safety in two hours.

“It’s like a war zone,” Smith said. “All of the landscape, everything that was green and lush before, is dead.”

Lamothe reported from Washington and Faiola from Marsh Harbour, Bahamas. Lori Rozsa in West Palm Beach, Fla., and Rachelle Krygier in Miami contributed to this report.

#climatechangeisreal #climateaction #climate change #naturaldisasters #national news #world news #uknews #international news #u.s. news #bahamas #grand bahamas #abaco islands #dorian #hurricane dorian

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lorajackson · 4 years

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Global Cases Top 1.5 Million; Singapore Numbers Up: Virus Update

(Bloomberg) — Global cases of the coronavirus topped 1.5 million, less than a week after surpassing the 1-million mark. New York, the U.K. and Belgium reported their deadliest days so far. Singapore announced its largest daily increase.The crisis will escalate if countries don’t start showing more solidarity, the head of the World Health Organization said, urging the U.S. and China to show “honest leadership” and stop bickering.U.S. Democrats are seeking at least $500 billion in the next stimulus bill, and Hong Kong announced a fresh package valued at about $18 billion. U.K. Prime Minister Boris Johnson is stable and responding to treatment at a London hospital.Key Developments:Global cases top 1.5 million; deaths pass 88,000: Johns HopkinsSingapore reported its largest daily increaseFederal medical aid to states falls short, House report saysGenome researchers find most NYC cases came from EuropeU.S. recession model at 100% confirms downturn is already hereSmoking helps open gateway to coronavirus infection, study showsJack Ma Helps Repair China’s Image (8:15 a.m. HK)China’s richest person is now playing a prominent role in philanthropic efforts that are effectively helping President Xi Jinping improve the country’s image overseas after Covid-19 spread around the world, unleashing a devastating human and economic toll. That’s a stark turn from just 18 months earlier, when Ma had to publicly dispute speculation that the government had prompted him to step down from the e-commerce giant he founded.Half a Billion People at Risk of Poverty (8:00 a.m. HK)The economic hit from coronavirus threatens to put more than half a billion people into poverty unless countries take action to cushion the blow, according to a report from the charity group, Oxfam. Under the most serious scenario of a 20% contraction in income, the number of people living in poverty could increase by between 434 million and 611 million, said the report, which is based on an analysis by researchers at King’s College London and the Australian National University.China Has 63 Cases (7:56 a.m. HK)China had 63 additional confirmed coronavirus cases on April 8, with 61 of them from abroad, according to statement from the country’s National Health Commission. There were 56 asymptomatic cases, half of them from overseas.Singapore Numbers Surge (7:30 a.m. HK)The city-state reported its largest daily increase in coronaviruscases on Wednesday, just as the country started a partial lockdown. Authorities said there were 142 new cases, bringing Singapore’s total to 1,623. An Indian national who died while awaiting his test result was subsequently confirmed to have the infection, according to the Ministry of Health. Investigations are going on to establish the cause of death, it said. If confirmed, that would be the seventh fatality linked to the disease.Starbucks Sees Six Months of Pain (7:27 a.m. HK)Starbucks Corp. said a sharp slowdown from the coronavirus pandemic will worsen before getting better, with the financial impact extending as far as September. The company based its assessment on the tentative recovery in the Chinese market, its most important along with the U.S. The coffee chain went through social distancing and mandatory closures in the Asian nation earlier in the year, giving it an early glimpse at how the situation would play out in the U.S. and elsewhere.Airlines Squeezed By Delays in U.S. Rescue Package (7:13 a.m. HK)U.S. airlines’ desperate bid for $29 billion in government rescue cash is being frustrated by a lengthening process and demands that companies provide more detailed financial information, people familiar with the situation said.Carriers that filed April 3 for the grants intended to help meet payroll costs expected the checks to begin arriving days ago, said people familiar with the aid discussions. Instead, U.S. Treasury officials have asked for another round of data that appears to be more related to a separate loan process instead of the cash grants, further delaying the relief, the people said.California Has $1.4 Billion Plan to Buy Medical Equipment (5:17 p.m. NY)California Governor Gavin Newsom secured a deal to import 200 million masks on a monthly basis for health care workers, grocery store employees and others on the front line of the coronavirus pandemic, part of a $1.4 billion planned investment in personal protective equipment.Some of that equipment could be shared with other states facing shortages, Newsom said at a press briefing Wednesday,“California is just uniquely resourced,” Newsom said. It can use “the kind of scale that few other states, few other countries can even resource, so we’re pleased to do that and it’s our responsibility to do more.”Read more hereU.S. Cases Climb 9.6%, Deaths Top 14,000 (4:20 p.m. NY)The growth in U.S. coronavirus cases showed signs of slowing Wednesday, even as deaths accelerated in some of the hardest-hit states.U.S. cases rose 9.6% from the day before to 419,975 as of Wednesday afternoon, according to data compiled by Johns Hopkins University and Bloomberg News. Cases nationally had been climbing an average of 11% a day over the past week. Deaths rose 19% to 14,262.New York had another day of record fatalities, reporting 779 more deaths. The state has lost more than 1,500 to the virus over the past two days, for a total of almost 6,300. Still, Governor Andrew Cuomo said hospitalizations are falling, showing social distancing is working.“Nobody is saying we peaked,” Cuomo said. “We’ve flattened the curve for this point of time.”New Jersey reported a record 275 deaths. California also had one of its deadliest days, with 68 fatalities. Illinois had 82.Michigan, which has the most infections after New York and New Jersey, saw cases increase 7% to surpass 20,000, according to the state health department. Deaths rose by 114 to 959N.J. Has Record New Deaths (1:36 p.m. NY)New Jersey reported a second day of record new deaths from Covid-19 and a tapering of infections. Cases rose by 7% to 47,437, the fourth straight day of increases of 10% or less. In the last two weeks of March, New Jersey saw daily increases from 20% to 82%. Governor Phil Murphy reported 275 new fatalities since yesterday, the biggest one-day increase since the crisis began.N.Y. Reports Record 779 Daily Deaths (1:36 p.m. NY)New York suffered another day of record fatalities from the coronavirus outbreak, reporting 779 additional deaths even as hospitalizations declined.“The number of deaths will continue to rise as those hospitalized for a period of time pass away,” Governor Andrew Cuomo said Wednesday at his daily virus briefing. The state has lost more than 1,500 people to the virus in the last two days, for a total of almost 6,300. WHO Says World Must Pull Together (1 p.m. NY)The coronavirus crisis will escalate if countries don’t start showing more solidarity, the head of the World Health Organization said, urging the U.S. and China to show “honest leadership” and stop bickering.“If you don’t want many more body bags, then you refrain from politicizing it,” Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus said at a briefing in Geneva Wednesday. “No using Covid-19 to score political points.”When asked about President Donald Trump’s threat to cut funding and claim that the WHO favors China, Tedros said the WHO tries to treat everyone equally, and the WHO will do an assessment of its successes and failures. He urged the U.S., China, Group of 20 countries and the rest of the world to come together and fight.“For God’s sake, we have lost more than 60,000 citizens of the world,” he said. “Even one person is precious.”‘Too Early’ for Europe to Start Easing Restrictions, Agency Says (12:47 p.m. NY)The European Centre for Disease Prevention and Control warned Europe not to rush into lifting restrictions that are helping slow the spread of the pandemic.“Based on the available evidence, it is currently too early to start lifting all community and physical distancing measures” in Europe, the agency said in its latest risk assessment. “Sustained transmission of the virus is to be expected if current interventions are lifted too quickly.”U.K. Announces New High for Fatalities (12:02 p.m. NY)The U.K. reported a further 938 deaths from the coronavirus on Wednesday, up from yesterday’s record daily total of 786.In total 60,733 people have tested positive for the illness, up from 55,242 reported on Tuesday, according to the latest figures from the Department of Heath and Social Care. The day’s figures indicate a slight increase in the rate of growth.Some 14,682 tests were conducted in the country on April 7, more than the 14,006 conducted the day before. The U.K. aims to conduct 100,000 tests a day by the end of April, seeking to replicate the mass screening seen in countries such as South Korea and Germany.EU Plans to Prolong External-Border Closure Until May 15 (11:45 a.m. NY)The European Commission proposed prolonging until May 15 a ban on most travel into the European Union. Maintaining the restriction on non-essential travel into the bloc for another 30 days is necessary to contain the spread of the coronavirus, the commission said in a recommendation that needs the approval of member-country governments.EU Braces for Arrival of 8,000 Cruise-Ship Passengers (11:00 a.m. NY)Eleven cruise ships carrying around 8,000 passengers in total will arrive at European Unions ports between April 8 and 11, the European Commission said. The EU laid out guidelines for member nations on handling the travelers, saying ships with passengers known to be infected with the coronavirus should be directed to ports close to hospitals with adequate capacity.De Blasio Says Distancing Eases Ventilator Demand (10:55 a.m. NY)New York City’s social-distancing strategy appears to be working, and one result is less demand for ventilators than had been projected, Mayor Bill de Blasio said.The city had estimated that it would need as many as 300 more of the life-saving machines this week to treat coronavirus patients but has needed to add only 100, de Blasio said Wednesday at his daily virus briefing. It has 5,500 in all.Statewide, the infection rate has begun flattening, even as the death count rises.EU Working for Coordinated Ends to Members’ Lockdowns (10:40 a.m. NY)The European Commission is trying to coordinate how member states end lockdowns following criticism that the bloc’s initial response to the pandemic was chaotic. An internal draft of a memo seen by Bloomberg sets out conditions for easing to begin as well as other steps that be needed, such as expanding testing capacities and using apps to gather data. The adoption of the plan has been pushed back, according to commission spokesman Eric Mamer, who told journalists in Brussels that timing is a “tricky issue” since countries are at different stages of the outbreak.Oktoberfest in Doubt as Germany Sees Lasting Impact (8:59 a.m. NY)Bavaria’s state premier cast doubt over the annual Oktoberfest, offering an idea of how long German authorities expect the pandemic to upend social life. Markus Soeder, a political ally of Chancellor Angela Merkel, told the Bild newspaper that a decision will be taken in June, but that widespread travel and border openings by then are “very unlikely.” The traditional beer festival, which draws millions to the Bavarian capital of Munich, is scheduled to start Sept. 19 and last two weeks. If it takes place at all, “it will be under completely different conditions,” Soeder told Bild.India’s Most Populous State Seals 15 Districts (8:23 a.m. NY)India’s most populous state, Uttar Pradesh, has sealed off 15 of its districts worst affected by infections. The state has so far recorded 326 infections and three deaths. India has had total infections of 5,360 and 164 deaths, according to data from Johns Hopkins University. A 21-day national lockdown ends April 14.Boris Johnson is Stable, Responding to Treatment (7:54 a.m. NY)U.K. Prime Minister Boris Johnson is in a stable condition in intensive care and is “responding to treatment” for a severe coronavirus infection, his spokesman said. Johnson was taken into St Thomas’ hospital in London on Sunday and moved to the critical care unit on Monday after struggling to shake off the symptoms, including a cough and a fever.Democrats Seek At Least $500 Billion in Next Stimulus Bill (7:36 a.m. NY)Democrats want $250 billion in small business aid, with $125 billion channeled through community-based financial institutions that serve farmers, family, women, minority and veteran-owned cos, House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Democratic leader Chuck Schumer said in a joint statement.Hong Kong Unveils Virus Relief Package (6:33 a.m. NY)Hong Kong Chief Executive Carrie Lam announced a fresh government stimulus package worth about HK$137.5 billion ($17.7 billion) to support the city’s deteriorating economy. The spending package will include an HK$80 billion job security program to subsidize 50% of wages for affected workers for six months.WHO Says Lifting Lockdowns May Be Premature (6 a.m. NY)“To think we’re close to an endpoint would be dangerous,” Hans Kluge, the World Health Organization’s regional director for Europe, said at a briefing. Sweden is showing a fresh surge in cases, while the WHO is concerned about a dramatic increase in Turkey, he said. Countries should not lower their guard, he said.“We have got to ensure that the public understands we’re moving to a new phase,” said Bruce Aylward, one of the WHO’s top officials who recently led a mission to Spain. Countries need to make sure they’re hunting the disease down, because the key to eradication is testing patients, isolating them and tracing their close contacts. Some restrictions may need to continue for some time while others are gradually loosened, he said. “It’s not lifting lockdowns and going back to normal. It’s a new normal.”For more articles like this, please visit us at bloomberg.comSubscribe now to stay ahead with the most trusted business news source.©2020 Bloomberg L.P.

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newstfionline · 7 years

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Hurricanes Harvey and Irma offer sobering lessons in the power of nature

By Joel Achenbach, Abigail Hauslohner and Patricia Sullivan, Washington Post, September 17, 2017

MIAMI--The astonishing hurricanes of 2017, Harvey and Irma, have provided a sobering lesson in the power of nature, along with some modest reassurance about how Americans respond when calm blue skies turn a violent gray.

The next test could come sooner than anyone wants. This stormy hurricane season is a long way from over, and there are ominous stirrings in the Atlantic, which has a history of brewing tropical cyclones that spin toward the United States. Hurricane Jose has been loitering in the Atlantic and might be preparing a run toward the East Coast this week. And Hurricane Maria is expected to hit the Leeward Islands in the Caribbean on Monday.

While Texas and the Southeast pick up after significant wind and flood damage, the welcome news from the Harvey and Irma hurricanes is that, in a crisis, neighbors help neighbors. The government did not stumble and bumble as it did initially during the Hurricane Katrina disaster of 2005. Improved storm track forecasts gave millions of people and civic leaders time to prepare for tornadic winds and biblical flooding.

But the storms were not without moments of confusion and chaos, as well as tragic mistakes.

In Texas, first responders were overwhelmed, leaving many flood-related rescues to a nomadic corps of volunteers with boats. In Sarasota, Fla., the American Red Cross struggled to staff emergency shelters because many of its local volunteers are snowbirds who don’t arrive in Florida until October or later, said Jacqueline Fellhauer, who manages one of the Red Cross shelters.

“We were just trying to grab people out of the sky,” she said.

Perhaps the biggest lesson from the storms was driven home by the shocking images of flooded nursing homes in Texas and eight deaths at a facility for the elderly in Florida last week: In emergencies, communities and their government officials need to be much more effective in protecting the most-fragile members of society.

The episode in South Florida, where the facility grew dangerously hot after losing air conditioning in the storm--along with multiple instances in Texas where entire residential populations of the infirm and wheelchair-bound required boat rescues--has prompted advocates and state authorities to finger-point and soul-search.

Advocates argued that all nursing homes should be marked as top priorities in both state evacuation and emergency response strategies. Better enforcement of existing codes--such as ensuring that generators are functional and up to date--might also be necessary.

“The lesson learned is, when you lose power you have to get the frail elderly out of the nursing homes,” an outraged Sen. Bill Nelson (D-Fla.) said in a telephone interview, remarking on the deaths at a Hollywood, Fla., facility. “The nursing home is right across the street from the hospital.”

In Houston, scores of people died in flooding that, although historic in scale, was predicted by meteorologists many days in advance. Harvey would strike the Gulf Coast and then inundate Southeast Texas with days of rain, they warned. Yet many residents were unprepared to see their homes and belongings lost suddenly to floodwater, and thousands needed to be rescued from the tops of homes or cars, sometimes after making ill-advised ventures out into the fast-flowing current.

A number of observers have applauded Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner’s decision not to evacuate the city. The flooding, in the end, caused fewer deaths than the evacuation of Houston ahead of Hurricane Rita in 2005.

In the aftermath of the storm, the state’s highly decentralized system of government meant that casualties were slow to tally and the desperate needs of local jurisdictions--like Beaumont, a city that languished without running water for days--appeared to get lost in the morass of competing cries for help.

The volunteers who flocked to the rescue efforts in Houston were a source of pride for many Texans, and an illustration, many said, of what went right during the crisis. But the citizen heroes of Houston learned some lessons as well. The flooded streets of the city and its suburbs contained dips and hills, deep water, shallow water and dangerously rushing water, and the amateur rescuers were sometimes woefully ill-equipped.

Air boats and john boats were good for city rescues but often became treacherous in strong currents, they found. Bigger boats could handle the current, but were useless in shallower water, and problematic when curbs, cars, mailboxes and other obstacles got in the way.

Charitable efforts after the storms also saw a tide of donations mismatched to needs: too many clothes and would-be rescuers, and too few cleaning supplies and ready laborers to help with the unglamorous task of dragging moldy furniture out of wrecked homes, local church leaders said.

Hurricanes expose the flaws in infrastructure. And in some instances, the airing of those flaws has sounded like a broken record.

Earlier warnings against Houston’s unchecked building explosion have come back to haunt it yet again, environmentalists and civil engineers said this month, attributing part of the flooding to the city’s lack of adequate drainage and excessive building in areas of known risk.

Old sewage systems in flat landscapes that require the pumping of wastewater need backup plans when the power gets knocked out and the facilities flood, as much of Central Florida has discovered. The power grid turned out to be so vulnerable to windstorms that 16 million people across the southeastern United States, most of them in Florida, lost power from Hurricane Irma, a U.S. record. Some still haven’t gotten it back.

And then there are the basic needs that come with the basic facts of living on or near a coast.

“We need better generators, we need to require generators at shelters, and they need to be beefy enough to sustain lights, food service, and a semblance of air-conditioning and fans,” said Sarasota City Manager Tom Barwin.

There were “glitches” in the shelter plan in Miami-Dade County, Mayor Carlos Gimenez admitted as the storm roared toward Florida. He had insisted that the county open enough space for 100,000 people. But the Red Cross had trouble mustering volunteers amid difficult travel conditions, and many shelters were short-staffed.

In 1960, when Hurricane Donna rode up Florida, a peninsula that juts directly into Hurricane Alley, the state had fewer than 5 million residents. Today it has more than 20 million, and an average of roughly 1,000 people move to the state every day.

The Houston metropolitan area’s population, estimated by the U.S. Census Bureau to be about 6.6 million, has similarly boomed during the past few decades, adding more than 100,000 people from 2014 to 2015 alone.

Along the packed U.S. coastlines, these waves of humanity are meeting a rising sea. Climate change intensifies deluges, and warmer water can supercharge a hurricane.

But trying to stop the population growth would be unrealistic, experts and officials say.

“People are going to come to Florida,” Sen. Nelson said. “So we have to use the best scientific evidence about hurricanes and wind speeds and drainage and water and so forth, so that we have smart growth, not irresponsible growth.”

Robert Gilbert, a professor and the chair of the civil, architectural and environmental engineering department at the University of Texas at Austin, echoed that view for geographical “bathtubs” like Houston and New Orleans.

Instead of rebuilding homes with the kind of materials that will require the large-scale stripping of drywall every time there’s a flood, communities should build with the reality of floods in mind, Gilbert and other experts said. They recommended using materials that hold up better in water and considering drainage. For example, in many frequently wet parts of the world, homes are made of concrete, he said.

“Saying we’re not going to let people move there is naive,” Gilbert said. “Maybe a better way of looking at it is how to build better, so that people can get wet but not lose their houses and not lose their jobs.”

And instead of offering flood insurance to only those in arbitrarily marked flood zones, face up to the reality that flooding is a pervasive risk that warrants broad protection in the United States, he added. “The way we deal with flood insurance in the United States is broken.”

Others think it might be better to throw in the towel in some spots.

In Houston, Mayor Turner said Thursday that rebuilding low-income apartment complexes in areas like Greenspoint, a frequent flood zone on the north side of the city, might not be wise.

“Quite frankly, we’ve already had a conversation with FEMA because it may not be the best thing to rebuild in those locations,” he said at a news conference. “Otherwise we’ll find ourselves in those conditions again.”

In Bonita Springs, in Southwest Florida, flooding from a late August storm had not dried up by the time Hurricane Irma hit last week, submerging the area in four feet of water a few days later.

The low-lying city has been involved in a years-long legal battle over whether to allow development on its east side. It’s vacant now and absorbs rainwater during major storms.

Mayor Peter Simmons thinks it’s time to consider buying out dozens of homeowners and letting the river do what it wants to do, an idea he said he discussed this week with Gov. Scott.

“No matter what you do, Mother Nature is always going to win,” Simmons said.

William “Brock” Long, the FEMA administrator, has had two epic storms in his first three months on the job, and what he’s seen affirms his philosophy that the United States needs a fundamental change in disaster preparedness.

Americans need to save money, Long said. They need to recognize that disasters will happen.

In Miami, where authorities have yet to finish clearing thousands of downed palm trees and power lines, humorist Dave Barry--who lived through Hurricane Andrew in 1992--offered his own lesson learned from Irma:

“Never fall into the trap of thinking it won’t happen again. But also never fall into the trap of thinking, while it’s happening, that you should have moved to Oklahoma. No offense to Oklahoma, there’s a reason you live in Florida. And in the end, it’s worth it.”

#Hurricane Harvey #Hurricane Irma #Florida #hurricane lessons #disaster preparedness

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everyonediesinalabama · 7 years

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Everyone Dies In Alabama: by Jonathan Rutan (this one is also inspired by Alexa and Kathryn)

This is a clear command:

Basic thumbed the line. Not as much as he’d thumbed other lines. Further along she’d spun some true beauty words—all scalpel perfect to the heart, no misunderstandings there—and those were halfway faded with all the attention they’d received.

She’d answered him back. After years of silence—and every prayerful plea where he’d once knee bent a hope for any response at all, even if it was a harsh rebuke—she’d answered. How could he not touch everything she’d sent?

He was in love with what she’d sent. When he paused to think on it—which was often—he knew well that it was all beyond great. Each line spoke eloquently of how he hadn’t yet changed.

And, that was the problem. He thought he had. Yes, he remained in savior mode—I can rescue January, myself, everyone—but no longer did he think that it would be his hands alone that would save.

His intent was upon the soul now. He was all about what Christ would have for her, or for his own, life—those hours in church after church proving that best.

Along each pew, and during every conversation with every sweet congregation member that had smiled satisfaction that he was there—so good of you to join us, are you married, is your wife here too—Basic had foolish thought one thing: his heart had to be a switch.

He still wanted porn, but, he kept it at bay—Harlow Tate, and all her movies, left on the backest of backburner’s. He’d even managed to stop his hourly check in upon Harlow’s real name. Sure, he’d once written to Kathryn Lex’s FaceSpace page—had gained the courage, or insanity, to type out a quick note too, something that had said she could just be Kathryn, not Harlow, if she wanted—but that was nice as well, right?

However, if he were being full honest, there had been more. A quick message left on Kathryn’s Chirper page—to wish her a happy Valentines—and, he couldn’t forget this, a message was sent to her Harlow Tate specific Bouncer site, all blogged long about her long past porn career. But, beyond that, there had been nothing.

Harlow Tate, or Kathryn Lex, or whatever, was not his concern, and, yes, while he did occasionally peek in upon her, he didn’t write anymore, or feel a slump into heartache, whenever he stumbled along anything that made him think she was getting back into porn. It had been years since the day Kathryn’s mother had notified the world that Kathryn needed help for drug addiction, and mental illness, and since then Kathryn Lex hadn’t been Harlow once. Oh, there may have been issues—the 69HarlowTate blog spot run by Gustavo, whoever that was, and the FaceSpace page dedicated to Harlow as well—in fact there was plenty that warned that no one who ventured into the sex industry ever, truly, escaped from it, but it was beyond time for Basic to stop obsessing.

And, really, he had thought himself such a success in that regard. It wasn’t an hourly peek. Maybe that wasn’t much, but it was a different, no more obsessions here because Basic now knew he served something higher, something better. He was a Bible reading champ—verses by the gallons noted and studied each day—and, he really did pray.

Please, please Lord, save January, save Kathryn—for me, sure, but really for you, so they can know you. Hadn’t that meant he’d changed?

Apparently not. Basic was already back into porn, throwing wide any internet connection he could find to scroll back to old Harlow Tate video’s, or to ones with whatever Jenna happened to be the star, or to classic’s’ with that other lady, and the actor who was playing her son, so he could see a few pounds of flesh and feel nothing along the pitter, and patter, of his heart.

He was finding it hard to care about that. He knew that Christ was true, and that he, Benjamin Basic, had been made to serve him, yet Kathryn Lex and her movies beckoned—absolutely all old, he’d checked, and had re-checked, and still it seemed as if a miracle had occurred. In his years of not looking, nothing new had been made. Yet, her long ago did beckon…and he so badly needed to watch.

It was another problem. Basic thumbed the line once more, and couldn’t stop feeling the texture of this difficulty. He was head over heels about these words—her every typed-out vein of hate something he could only forget whenever he watched porn. Yet, he shouldn’t be watching porn—it ruined him so. How screwed was he?

When he’d known January Why, talks at the house her parents had given to her, hurried kisses he’d felt her pull away from the instant they’d landed on her lips—which begged the question, why had she let him continue with those—she hadn’t given him anything. Oh, there had been a gift on his birthday—a card, and a dinner, had peeked out as well to say hello—but nothing of heart had bothered to make its presence known.

Yet that gift—a book he couldn’t forget, such a well written collection of Stephen King short stories that Basic was sure he’d mentioned he’d picked up weeks ago and hadn’t really liked—didn’t that matter? Add that book on with that card, and that dinner, and he did have something, yet this message was what stuck. It felt so personal he really wished she’d giftwrapped it special years back, tied it with a bow instead of that silly novel.

This is a clear command: Do not contact me, whether directly or indirectly at any point in the future.

She’d used a colon, that was impressive. Basic would have gone with a period—a declaration. THIS IS A CLEAR COMMAND—all upper cased and loud with nothing to follow. He wasn’t sure what else could be said. A period would have sufficed.

But, would it have been grammatically correct? Basic wasn’t sure about that. He loved to write. Stocking shelves back in his PubClub days, or the many hours he’d spent in the Marine Corps—usually cleaning something or taking out the trash, not exactly what he’d been expecting to do while serving his country—had been nice, but writing was what held his passion. Yet, grammar, that alluded him.

What truly made a comma correct instead of a semicolon? And, when did “I” come before “E,” and how was he supposed to be sure that a new paragraph should be started when he adored letting his sentences linger, drifting on and on with no end in sight?

Often, anything he wrote was an explosion of underlined reds and squiggled greens on the screen of his nice, and new, MicroPage Breeze. That computer had top of the line spell check, its processor’s assuredly doing double duty trying to figure out just what it was he’d meant to spell, or how he could have formed that sentence better, each time he typed up something new.

January didn’t have that problem. It was another reason to love what she’d written.

Basic had looked for it, flipping through his Webster’s dictionary just to be certain. A colon, or colons, it’s definition something that clearly stated it was supposed to be used to direct attention to matter—that matter being a nice long list, or an explanation.

Basic let his finger hover. He couldn’t feel the intent anymore. Some well-placed tape—all Scotch and clear—had finally been used to keep him far from the perfect she’d spun, but he could still find the grooves of what she’d meant. Her perfect did direct his rapt attention, the period he would have dotted down not slicing into him half as well as this.

“Do not contact me,” he would have used a comma in-between “whether directly, or indirectly,” but that probably would have been wrong as well. He really couldn’t think of a better way—her words, that sentence, such a gleaming razor’s edge that always set his knees to jelly, and made him feel nauseous.

He didn’t know why he read what she’d sent as much as he did. Yet, at the same time, he knew full well why he would always read it again, and again.

Already he’d saved a copy to his laptop—that MicroPage was rather awesome, so small yet so full of memory and potential—and had printed a personal copy for himself as well. That was what he was reading now, the personal, the one he’d hand laminated and sometimes stuck in his pocket whenever he had to remind himself not to look her up on the internet.

An example of indirect contact…

The tape was slick, glossy, a membrane smooth broken only by tiny, jagged, lines of teeth that he always made when one strip of Scotch didn’t quite stretch far and he had to stop, take off another, and begin again. Often, Basic would close his eyes, feel the slick as he imagined his finger’s skating along the contours of the words she’d spent the time to create.

Had it taken her a week, mere hours, or maybe just a day had been all that was required? Her time spent over her computer remained a mystery. How long had it been before she’d hit send and her message had arrived in his Gmail account? Basic shouldn’t care this much about her—wasn’t he finding it hard to care about everything else? Yet, without porn, he was such a failure.

A better man, a sane man, someone not branded as stalker long ago, would have already found the avenues that would have allowed him to slip free of her hold, but Basic wasn’t that type of guy. He’d always been obsessed, it had only taken January Why to help him figure that out even more.

An example of indirect contact is placing me on a prayer list for a religious organization that sends notifications by post or sending messages via a third party.

He’d done that, all of it. The religious organization thing for sure. He’d asked many at a local church to pray for her to come to know Christ. After each smile conversation—and a few awkwards where he’d explained that no, actually, he wasn’t married—he’d slip it in. Please, could you, if it’s not a problem, pray for January?

Weren’t you supposed to do that? If you went back to Church and said you believed—if you’d changed too as he was supposed to have changed and were all about Christ and his salvation in yours and other’s lives—then wasn’t it important to get folks to come to know the Lord?

And what about love? What if you loved someone, really loved them and wanted them to be saved by the one thing you had become certain was true salvation, wasn’t that a good thing to feel? Basic had thought it was.

He already knew well that his own hands wouldn’t work. Leaning in to kiss January on her doorstep, or wanting so bad to stop a father from cussing out a mother, all of that had been avenues Basic had longed to take in-order-to save himself—he’d even longed to give enough gifts to January, or to a hundred other girls, or to just write Kathryn Lex for the hope that, somehow, he could conjure up a happy. Something that would save these women from any pain they’d ever felt.

It had all been mistake.

He wasn’t anyone’s savior. He’d assumed he’d gotten that branded deep into his soul on that doorstep—January all scream and blur of denial at his approaching lips—but he hadn’t. He’d just turned to Christ to try and save—had used religion as gift—and that had been mistake as well.

However, for a while, Basic had given Christ’s way—okay, really, his way yet it had been shined with the veneer of the Church—a good go. He’d asked, and had asked, and had found it not at all that hard to also add her address down whenever certain prayer sheets had been passed his way. In fact, it had been beyond easy, a simple act of slipping off the top of a pen and closing his eyes. Her address was always available for him to see.

He wasn’t all that sure she still lived at that address anyway. Back when he’d worked at a PubClub grocery store, wearing black aprons, black shoes, and hoping each time he turned a corner there she would be, he hadn’t written often. A letter on his birthday, sent precious hope her way—his name sometimes attached if he felt brave enough to raise his hand and truly notify her of who it was that was putting stamp to envelope—was all he’d accomplished.

But, in further attempts at that full honesty thing, that wasn’t—absolutely—correct. Mainly it had been letters, yet he had found her online just as he’d found Kathryn Lex online. A MeTube account she had, her profile on FaceSpace, that Chirper site she sometimes logged onto to vent frustration over John Travolta and his wayward massages. Maybe he’d overdone it long before he’d started over-mailing, yet, he hadn’t texted anymore, there was that.

She’d asked him to stop when he’d done that before. It was a week after that inappropriate doorstep kiss, her scream still fresh in his head, a reverb of “mistake, mistake, you idiot.” She’d called him stalker because she’d called a day after that kiss, had said they couldn’t hang out anymore, that he’d grabbed her head, had yanked at her, had tried to force his tongue down her throat, but he hadn’t done any of that. Sure, he’d leaned in, his hands probably stretched out—he was leaning, he needed balance—but, he hadn’t grabbed.

Basic didn’t think he could forget. The way her hair had flown, a cyclone of blond fury as she’d screamed surprise and his lips had brushed scalp instead of the edges her mouth. Once, long before, he’d leaned forward and she’d accepted, but now there was just the echo of his failure, the way her blond had whipped ribbons of distress across his face—the taste of goodbye as he’d landed a smack on her temple.

Was that a tongue trying to be jammed down a throat? Was that hands yanking at her head? Basic didn’t think so, but he felt the empty, the down and down of wrong when she’d labeled him wretched and had said “How dare you, I thought you told me you would wait for me?”

And maybe it was that which had tugged at him, had made his over text, his over call, had made his everything that had been the foundation of what he’d done that whole next week preordained—something out of his hands, doomed to happen no matter what. He’d wanted to explain—he would wait, forever, I’m so sorry.

However, there was one hiccup he was certain he could never explain to January. He hadn’t thought of her—of any of the many times he’d asked if she was interested in him, when she would reply she wasn’t and he’d smile, sigh an okay, say he’d wait an eternity—that night.

He’d been too obsessed with making a statement—please don’t like anyone else, please, please, like only me—and nothing much else had bothered to swing by to remind him that he had, once, sworn to be a gentleman. So, he’d called, texted, had sent one long message via her FaceSpace Chat Room icon, each attempt the equivalent of throwing tiny stones into the ocean and hoping, somehow, that Australia, or Japan, would feel the ripple all the way from the East Coast.

She’d never responded, not once, until his twice a day, every day, granted him a Sunday call where she’d said he was a stalker and had asked for him to throw away her number. He had. As soon as she was off the line her number had been deleted from his phone, some hurried pages in well used notebooks ripped out as well and sent to his very own shredder so he wouldn’t be tempted to remember when she’d given him her digits and he’d written them down on the margins of what should have been for English class alone.

It had been years since then, and he would never bother her via phone again, yet was writing her a sin he needed forgiveness for? For the longest time, Basic had thought the answer no. Now, he was certain of yet another mistake.

However, that now was a now based only in a present tense universe of this very moment. His writing to her—and sending all those gifts—were things that resided in a past he hadn’t bothered to feel guilt over whenever he’d mailed anything her way. He’d been too busy with her address—did she still live at the place he remembered—to be concerned about anything else. That gift to himself on his birthday, the once a year letter that was followed with only a few—your worthy of a greater love—letters in-between, had received no response so maybe she’d moved, maybe she’d thrown everything away without tearing any envelope open to see what he’d written. He brought fingers back over her words. “An example,” he liked that, lawyer precision with a teacherly air added on for flare.

Of course, she was a teacher, so maybe no flare was intended, yet he decided to enjoy the fantasy no matter what. She could have spent her hour, those minutes, that day, forming the most legally acceptable, teacher to pupil, explanation ever and though that was amazing he took only one thing to heart. She had gotten the messages he’d sent, and the ones from his church. That made him really, really, happy.

The third-party issue was what was upsetting. Explainable for sure, yet, upsetting. He could find no way to be happy about that.

So many had told him not to write, to leave her be, and he knew he should, but he hurt. Like a piece of himself was missing, a throne of absence in his heart—some fool king holding court with loss and grief. To write her—not knowing if she would ever receive a thing, with the possibility of daily rejection playing heavy overhead—was a dream he wouldn’t wake from. He valued the delusion, but, he didn’t want to hurt her either.

He went to others. He told them to tell her Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, congrats on that new job—they lived in a small town, if he asked around enough it wasn’t hard to hear all about her success. But he’d only ever meant for those others to tell her in their own words, to give that Merry, or that Happy New, from their own lips not as shadow couriers hand delivering messages which she’d never wanted to hear.

He should have explained more, told with a greater flourish that what he’d meant was for them to say congrats just so she could hear a congrats. It was Christmas, or a New Year, and maybe she hadn’t yet received a reminder of those events. Wouldn’t she like that?

He could imagine it well. How his friends, that were her friends too, didn’t say, “Happy New Year, just wanted you to hear that,” but instead said “Hey, Basic, remember Basic, well, he’s still consumed with you and he wanted me to let you know he wishes you a Happy.” It wasn’t what he’d intended, and it was probably more a way to make her New Year into something that was already turning out to be not going so well.

But that wasn’t the last of the third-party issues that could be heated up and used for more branding—something hot, and iron red, with “Awkward,” or “Creepy,” set to smoke as it seared more truth upon his soul. There was how he’d driven to her house—dark of night, car kept in neutral so he could silent slip towards her mailbox. He’d put fliers in there, little notices that said “Jesus Loves You,” and “Come to Westwood Baptist for Revival,” things he was too afraid to mail yet wanted her to find without knowing they came from him.

Surprise, Jesus loves! Surprise, there’s a church that knows your around! Anything other than, surprise, Benjamin Basic was outside your house. It wasn’t exactly third party, it was pretty much him alone being twisted bad, but maybe he’d been better at his subterfuge then he ever could have expected. Maybe she thought it had all come from someone at Westwood—like he’d cajoled some poor pastor into silent slipping instead of him.

Whatever the case, that too wasn’t the end. He had one more—a big more—how he had approached her boss, Doctor Forrester Murphy, how he’d annoyed that man to death with inane requests. Just what had he been thinking?

Basic didn’t know. It was so strange. For the longest time that throne of absence could, somehow, also morph into a racing panic—a tribal drum pulse of booming certainty that he had to act now before it was too late. Her email—each “This is a clear command,”—had stilled that, but, for a while, when he’d felt that panic he had to do something.

Drive to her mailbox, be brave enough to use a stamp and send some mail the normal way, or go to her boss, the man who ran the Noel English department, and talk to him again, and again. Each had been an idea formed and executed with ease and—for a time—it had all seemed okay.

Totally reasonable—in no way inappropriate. He’d been such an idiot.

It was all hindsight. How Basic would embarrass himself into Doctor Forrester’s office—or should he have said that better, the man had two last names, maybe it should have been called Doctor Murphy’s office. How Basic would awkward smile too, ask a few questions about Doctor Forrester’s most favorite city, “Make any trips to San Fran recently,” yet hurry on to January as soon as he could.

“I mean,” he’d say, getting to the point, and—it was a talent—expertly inserting his foot into his mouth at the same time. “I know she isn’t a doctor yet…”

“Which is necessary,” Doctor Forrester would reply. He always replied this way. “I’ve told you this. She has to have her PHD.”

“Yes sir, yes, you have told me that, it’s just…if you could give her tenure…just do it…she’s a great teacher.”

An eye roll and sigh would appear next, Basic already feeling an extra layer of warmth—all red shame and foolish—spreading along his neck and face. So perhaps he’d understood well—from the beginning—that this was stupid yet he’d done it, again, and again, convinced himself that avoiding her, while getting others to talk to her, or help her, was okay. It truly had felt a grand idea.

“I’ll see what I can do,” it was how Doctor Forrester would always finish, some slight smile—please leave my office—curling across him as Basic made a hurried retreat.

The man was large, and not just in stature. He did hold a swelling girth, an accumulation of beers, and sodas, and years of responsibility—Basic supposed—that had gathered around his midsection to protect all that was valuable inside. He was fat, yet, in other ways, so many ways, he stood huge in what really mattered.

He was mammoth in Basic’s eyes for sure. Here is what I wish I could be. Here is someone whose career, how he holds himself, the way he treats everyone with respect, is what I should copy.

Basic may have felt it wrong to annoy the man about January, yet he’d been helped in ignoring that feeling with how much he admired Doctor Forrester. Surely, he won’t care too much about my obsession, he’s too decent to care.

But, had Basic gone further than even he could have imagined? Was her third-party statement not just about the common friends they shared, or his silent mailbox trips, but also about her boss—someone who could have vented his frustration, about Basic, to January?

There was a Joyce story, all underlined and highlighted, on her FaceSpace page—and Doctor Forrester was the Joyce authority on campus, that was his thing—and the way Doctor Forrester had also liked a picture that January had posted there, and how they were friends via that internet site as well. Basic was consumed, he wouldn’t deny, and he’d looked her up so much. It gave him questions, such countless questions.

Maybe there wasn’t just venting, maybe there was more, much more. Just how terrible had his third--party issues—I’ll get them, or them, or them, to do what I cannot—been? Had it lead her to other men—large men with fake decency—that she never should have gotten involved with?

Basic didn’t care that Dr. Forrester was black—he had Paul, and all those Kathryn Lex movies with insanely hot black women, to thank for that. Basic’s black mixing it up with white racism had faded the more he’d hoped January was being treated well by Paul—and, seriously, finding out that he could enjoy lesbianism no matter the color of its participants was a great race envy killer as well—but he did care if the good old Doctor wasn’t all that good. Would he use her? Had he used her? If yes, then what Basic had done wasn’t just terrible...it was a million words passed that.

He couldn’t stop the questions—Forrester, really, maybe Forrester—that such thoughts brought. Why had he pushed, and pushed, in-regards-to her? Why? And why wasn’t she the first time he’d acted that way?

Basic had never written tons as he’d done with January—just little notes, tiny messages sent to Kathryn Lex, and others, on their FaceSpace pages—yet, he’d been awful before. It was a level of jerkitude that had cozied up to dickishness after spending way too much time getting friendly with asshole. Alexa was his best example of this. He still hoped for a way to make amends for what he’d done. She was his first. Not his first sexual—Basic still had his V-Card, V-Chip, V-Whatever that said only, “Look, dad, I’m not the quitter, loser, weakling, you always said I was, I can stick with something to the bitter end even if it is my virginity,”—Alexa was simply his first real signpost.

Sure, there had been others. A few he’d stared at during tenth grade Biology class—sorry, Ashley, hope that didn’t freak you out. And those he’d slid his arm up against—hello Monique, we’re friends, we laugh, and though I should ask you out I’ll instead awkward touch until you get annoyed and never speak to me again. But Alexa was the major, the fast pull from “I’m pretty normal,” as he slipped off onto the access ramp of “Whoa, this isn’t the correct way to be.”

Basic had once made a list of those who’d found a special in his heart. It was something to hold against January’s. Her every Liam, Beau, and others, followed by his Vicky, his Katie, his Monique, and his Alexa. But, really, there was more, way more. If he kept being honest—and, he needed to be, he was so tired of his old self, the stench of his lies that tried, vainly, to make his past seem better—his list had to include Jill, and Ashley, Hannah too with Courtney, Samantha, and Nichole—couldn’t forget them—added on to really make everything way too long to ever be read in a timely fashion.

Most of those, especially Samantha, Hannah, Ashley, Courtney, and Nichole, wouldn’t even know how he’d thought of them. How he’d pined—do they like me, was it a mistake to send that gift—and how every text or email he’d placed into the ether was a heart drop of worry, and passion, he could barely stand.

What if they don’t write back? What if they sent three smiley faced emoticons before, with one “LOL that was so funny,” message tacked on as sweet surprise, yet this gets neither?

The cornerstone of his soul, his self-esteem, was a polished rock set upon a pedestal of these ladies every action. If she’s happy, I can float. If she smiles, I have purpose. But if she cries, or does nothing, I am lost.

Where January was the greatest indicator of this—I have to get her back—Alexa was his beginning. If he had been more observant, better able to take his eighteen-year-old self for a full body inspection—soul bent, mind askew, heart slightly out of alignment, maybe I should go get that looked at—he could have avoided so much.

He’d met Alexa at his first college. He’d gone to three, two in his home state, one of those a very expensive—a place he never should have chosen—and the other the beauty of Noel and all it had to offer.

Alexa was at the home state expensive. It was Samson University, nestled not that far from the University of Alabama at Birmingham, but quite far from Auburn and the more main campuses of what was just the University of Alabama. It was a college surrounded by other colleges, the University of Noel not that far from it either.

Samson was gated, very private, the kind of institution that had rolling waves of green grass that had to be cut even during cold winter months when snow made a rare appearance and baffled the gardeners who probably couldn’t fathom why they still had to mow. Basic was sure the high rate of tuition went into painting such epic lawns their vibrant emerald hue—there was no way the color of that grass could be real, it glowed on dark, overcast, days—but such thoughts often fled quite quickly into way more pertinent issues.

He was out of high school, he was supposed to be becoming a man, he was definitely doing as he pleased, tuition rates—and epic debt—something to leave for another day. All he knew with great certainty was that his parent’s’ carried most of his burden—he had a few loans in his name, the rest were for them—and he could focus on better. Finding a girl to make out with, maybe have sex with, took the number one spot. It beat getting a diploma, and a career, by miles.

And Alexa lived on the same floor he did. It was an interesting co-ed, not co-ed, dormitory experiment that consisted of pod like squares for the boys to have, with pod like squares right next door for the girls to enjoy. An outside walkway, all gray concrete floors and ceilings, gave entrance into marbled halls and thick metal doors where two would live on bunked together beds set across from tiny cabinets, and even tinier desks.

This was the living space that the freshman at Samson University had been given to call their own. The squares they made into a home all positioned around rectangular bathrooms that could make the whole atmosphere of these pods a heavy soup of thick humidity whenever any roommate decided to shower hot. And Alexa lived in the pod, the place, the concrete slash marble just down from where Basic bunked with his “I need to like him,” roommate Todd.

Alexa had curly dark hair, and a way of calling him kid— “Hey kid,” “What’s up kid,”—that he liked. At first, she seemed more interested in Keith, another fellow pod inmate who had a room across from Basic and Todd, but that ended in a hurry and she was soon over with Basic all the time—playing Mortal Kombat on his X-Station, and sometimes kissing him whenever he joked, yet didn’t joke, that if he beat her she had to plant one on his lips.

Soon their slight kisses became heavy, long hours—yes, hours, he was just not up to moving beyond lip on lip—a bliss of isolation since her roommate was off with some other guy most likely enjoying activities that might get her a quick trip home to start a surprise family. Basic liked those hours. How he would kiss Alexa and talk, and talk, and then kiss some more. Sometimes, lots of times, he moved his hand up under her shirt, cupped the edges of her breasts as if they were toys specifically made for him to explore. He had the eighteen-year-old certainty that she had to like this—and maybe she had, though he was all clumsy explorer rough on areas that most likely needed a much more gentle touch.

Yet it was in where his hands had drifted next that could in no way, absolutely not, have been liked by her. He attempted to venture south, his fingers playing atop her hips, skipping along the brass of her jeans that—if unbuttoned—would allow him to go where he’d never been. She would tell him no, he would bring his fingers back, return to those kisses, until his fingers—I can’t believe this, it’s like they have a mind of their own—somehow made their way, again, to that brass and she’d sigh repeat herself.

It was a game—the heat of her along his teeth, the smack and crackle noise of her tongue, and breath. He loved kissing her, but—back then—he was rock hard with the want of other things too. He hadn’t yet found himself an eternal soft with the women he was with, and so his fingers skipped, until, one night, everything stopped.

They weren’t even kissing, she just grabbed his hand, pulled him into the bathroom of his pod—luckily long after anyone had used it, no soup of humidity there—and told him he’d won. She’d thought about it—a lot—and she was tired. Tired of saying no, tired of his skipping hands that never seemed to learn—they could have sex, he could pop open that brass and do whatever he pleased. She still wasn’t sure she wanted this, but she really was oh so tired of sighing.

He’d won. Basic had never felt so awful.

The bathroom was dark, a flickering of heat and white playing along the edges of a closed wooden door. No one was outside, it was that rare early eveningish hour where people were done with class yet had no want of sleep in their beds. Was he supposed to kiss her, take that brass as his own and hold his trophy—do whatever he liked? Basic wasn’t sure, the drum thump of his heart refused to entertain any notions that this was right, or wrong, it felt only off—a missed beat with no hope of ever getting back on track.

He understood his cruelty, however, it was the only absolute he could find—this looming beast of him that had pushed, and pushed, this beauty into a corner. It was so much like his father—hey, dad, why do you keep mom sequestered against a wall, your heavy shouts, your heft, denying her the chance to live a life of peace—and he knew, years later, that this was the start. You win, no greater words could have ever been used to make him forever impotent.

He could have done it, been a bit more cruel and lifted her onto a bathroom counter, stripped her of her jeans and made her first—his first too—the romance of bleach cleaner air mixed with the subtle undercurrent of mold that had yet to be stripped free. The whole bathroom was just the best place to lose one’s virginity he was sure—it was the second absolute of the evening, he was so relieved they were hitting him so easy now—and then a final one arrived.

He didn’t like her. Alexa Chevy, a girl who would always be linked with desperate car dealerships and hurt—did her last name connect her to any of those dealerships, and why had he never bothered to find that out? Alexa Chevy, her interest in him, how she’d stuck around and finally told him he could do whatever he liked, the only plus he could truly say he had for her.

There were the kisses, and her curly hair, how she’d said “Kid,” and how a few times, just a few, he’d lied and told her she was Samson University to him, yet, there was nothing else. What was her middle name—he had no clue—or her favorite color? He knew she still carried a torch for her high school friend, John Nice, but who John Nice was, or where he lived, all that was lost in a much simpler pleasure. She liked him, she let him kiss her, and that was enough. Basic hadn’t bothered to ever think of Alexa as anything outside himself—a girl he should have treated so much better.

He began to push even harder. That night, and others, he stopped all kisses, not with her, he made out with Vicky quite forcefully, and unexpectedly, probably would have slept with her too since he was slightly drunk yet incidents occurred, life moved on, until the day Alexa and John reconnected and Basic was done.

Spring break, a beach trip, Basic had pushed but he’d missed the way she had, once, been enamored with him. She wasn’t supposed to be with anyone else. He could, but not her.

Making out with John Nice—but had there been more, he was never sure, yet, he’d had his suspicions—wasn’t part of the agreement. Such news made him angry, not a January hurt—why won’t she like me—simply angry. She had to pay.

Samson University was a small place, the kind of college where any turn in any hall would lead one—often—into the hurried embrace, or stumble, across a friend they’d seen only moments before. Basic caught sight of Alexa everywhere, her living on the floor he called home helped, but it was also as if he couldn’t flee far enough from her sight.

He began to run. If she was in a hall, he’d tuck tail and bolt for a longer way towards the classroom he’d been after. If she were along a sidewalk headed to lunch, he would rush through traffic to reach the safety of the other side. Basic had no clue if she noticed, or if she cared, but he wished she would. Let her hurt, stew, see the raw rejection I leave each time our eyes meet and I blankly put my back to her.

Of course the truth—she means something, I don’t know what exactly, maybe I just miss the way we once talked, but she means something—wasn’t what Basic liked to ponder. Each turn was really another signpost to his own heart, a bright green direction marker clearly announcing to everyone his heartbreak over first browbeating her into maybe sex, and then betraying her with Vicky.

John didn’t mean a thing, he was a certainty, the logical outcome born of Basic’s intent. It could have been anyone, that Spring Break, that beach, just the opening for Alexa to release all the hurt Basic had already leveled her way.

She stopped by his room. It was what he’d secret hoped for far too long. His chance—she’s back in my grasp—to either draw her close, or rip her to shreds.

“I miss you,” she was drunk, a wafting odor of recent beer, stale vodka too, lingering along her lips as she hiccupped a smile.

His roommate was gone, the pod yet again empty—people really didn’t like this early evening the night’s about to begin but it hasn’t truly started so let’s not go back to the dorms just yet, hour. Basic could have done so much.

Talked to her like they once had done, said “I miss you too.” He could have smiled back, or nodded, or merely said that’s nice in a pitiful attempt to make a dig at John, but instead he’d tasted a bitter glint of victory. It was beyond delicious.

“Why are you here,” he asked.

“What…I…” she was mumble sober now, his words had struck harder than he’d expected. “I just…I miss you.” “But you’ve seen how I’ve turned from you, right,” Basic said. Please let it be a yes, let this victory be complete. “Have you seen that?”

“I…yes,”

Oh, it was bitter, and dark. This victory was a hint of ash he had yet to identify as something so similar to the charcoal he would drink years later after a botched suicide attempt. He swallowed it greedily.

“Then take that as a sign,” Basic said.

How dare she stop liking him. Just because he’d made out with Vicky, just because he’d pushed away first, that gave her no right to like him any less. It was a thought so much like what his father had always shout punched towards his mother that Basic was sure—at that exact second—he could have turned to any mirror and found his reflection changed into that man. Finally, the son had become what he’d always been born to be.

“I don’t like you,” Basic continued, “I don’t want to see you, and, if you are on fire do not, ever, come to me to put you out. I’d rather see you burn.” He slammed the door, tried to convince himself happy, and hadn’t apologized for almost a decade. However, that had been about it. Maybe he’d given her one letter, and a gathering of objects too, some things he’d acquired from her and had returned to her doorstep later-on, a note tucked inside to further underline that whole “I’d rather see you burn,” declaration. Nothing on par with what he’d lettered hoped along to January Why, and his decade later apology had been on FaceSpace—he was always using FaceSpace, what was up with that—with no desire to add on to it in anyway, so why did Why garner more intent?

Basic didn’t know. All he did know was that Alexa really should have been that first signpost warning. He was his father—a man who needed women only for the foundation of happy he had to make them give.

And maybe it was a part of his savior complex after all—but his complex directed only towards its usual intent of saving himself. Forget how any woman felt, it was how they made him feel that mattered. It was an idol Basic sacrificed to daily. How can I be complete? How can she save me? With no bother given to whether this god might be false.

But, the Alexa signpost had been ignored—or, better yet, overlooked as he’d reached down onto the motorway of his life and had tried not to notice whatever off ramp he’d found himself upon. There had been others, of course there would be. Whenever you ignore a past it is so amazing how it always comes back to say hello.

However, he did try to run. It was so nice of him, so hero brave how he would attempt to stay isolated, away from hurting and being hurt, by going back to his better idol of porn and inner hate—I’ll be alone, I don’t need anyone because none live up to my expectations—but every so often his head would peak free and he’d try another day, another relationship. Katie, years later, at Noel, before he met January, just another poor victim of his poor soul.

It is an inconvenience for me to contact the authorities, file reports, appear in court, etc. in order to file a harassment complaint or to pursue legal action against you such as a no contact or restraining order. I do not wish to be inconvenienced by you any more than I am by sending you this message. Do not waste my time further.

More January words, not Katie in the slightest, yet thinking of Katie, and Alexa—and Vicky, and Courtney, and Monique as well, and Nichole, and Samantha, Jill too he supposed, though Jill was gay so she probably hadn’t cared that Basic was just some weird straight guy who had depended on her smiles—made those words significant. If he was in love with all she’d emailed, then this was the part that had somehow become his truest soulmate. They were the word’s he wanted to get down on one knee in front of, slip a slender ring out from a velvet box to speak engagement and promises of a future family.

“I do not wish to be inconvenienced by you any more than I am by sending you this message,” so powerful, so direct, why couldn’t he ever write, or think, or feel, anything that to the point? And, whenever he reflected on how he’d been a jerk, a douche, and a dick, everything that January had typed just made more sense.

However, he would have put a comma after etc. Adding the slight period as well, making etc. into etc., something with a space—that curvy intake of breath—so the sentence would flow with a purpose. Or, at least, flow better in his mind.

It was another grammatical separation between he and January, her words and his exactly like their lives—full of drift, she on one continent, he all sorrow look on another. It had been the same with Katie. The differences between them something that Basic—but only if he’d been a better man—should have taken to heart so he could have avoided her entirely.

She was another who carried around blond as if it were golden spun thread, some secret luxury that those of the red, or black, or brown haired variety would never understand. She also had an aversion to just about every food known to man since it seemed she carried an allergy to almost everything that was edible, and, she wore glasses. Nice one’s, not too thick, not too thin, the kind of scholarly frames that begged to whipped off in a dramatic fashion if ever something serious—“And who, madam, is the murderer,”—was asked her way.

Once, at Noel, before an English class they both were enduring, she’d hurried inside, running wild through a sudden rain with her white shirt a damp smother that Basic was sure it hadn’t been when she’d set out for the day. Basic too had gotten caught in this Alabama tempest, the odd chaos of a fast-moving maelstrom that had left burnt images of bright lightning, and curtains of rain, in its wake long after only five to ten minutes of actual damage. In Alabama things were just that way. All rush heat and strong, those five to ten meant a lot, but then the world went back to silence.

He handed Katie some of the thick brown, all public bathroom approved, paper towels he’d already been using to sop up his hair, and his shirt, and, when she’d smiled thanks, he realized he really wouldn’t mind learning more about who she was. Those glasses helped, they had fogged from the rain, and sparkled clear into her brown eyes when the sun came out. At her apartment—right before their first kiss—he slow moved them off, staring at her as if he were cool, and collected, and knew that this was exactly what he wanted.

She cried. As soon as their lips parted, his hands already itching to travel up to the mounds of his pleasure that rested on her chest—man, he really did like breasts, he would have to temper that soon—he leaned away, and she burst.

He knew why. Before the kiss they had talked, just like January, maybe not to the exact length—with January he spent days weaving hours into a narrative of “I do like her, and, she must like me back,”—but they had taken some time. Basic had heard all about how Katie had made out with women—no sex, just heavy tongue action and petting—how she’d slept with quite a few guys too—all jerks, they’d used her—and how she knew, right then, she only wanted something that meant something. She was after relationship.

And Basic wasn’t. He hadn’t yet realized that way down deep, far into the corners of his soul, he was not capable of using women to the degree he desired—gosh, maybe I am a quitter, dad—but, he was close. He told Katie as much. That he just wanted sex, nothing more. He never said, “Only from you, I’m going to use you and leave you like all those other guys have,” but he did spell out use, and abuse, the casual hurt that comes from making it clear you couldn’t have cared any less about the person you were with.

His kiss had been the culmination of her desire to create something versus his honesty that he didn’t want that in the slightest. Her tears were expected, like January’s email that he’d printed out and couldn’t stop touching. This was always going to end the way it had.

But, Basic played ignorant. Or, he’d tried to be that way. Pushing off from Katie, the lines of moisture pouring from her eyes a large crowd of shame and disgust shouting only “Foul,” “Fool,” “How Dare You,” as they trickled onto her shoulders and the cushions of the couch beneath, he’d known exactly why she was crying—he’d still made sure to play.

“Are…are you okay,” he asked. There was a softness too, something new that tugged at him more than the truth of what he was seeing. It was in that moment, taking in those tears, that he felt nothing—no passion, no strength—from the lower regions of his body. It was something that bothered him way more than her sadness. “What’s wrong?”

“I…I…” she sobbed. “I just can’t…I can’t be used again.” He brought a thumb to her cheek, and brushed aside a tiny drop from the corner of her eye. He was going to keep lying, he needed to. Not for her, it was the flaccid ruin between his legs that needed to be addressed with more kissing, and with letting his hands travel up to her chest, as he tried to figure out why he wasn’t reacting as he should.

“I’m not,” he began, “I don’t know where this will go, I don’t. Let’s just…we’ll take it slow…it’s a kiss…and, I promise…I won’t hurt you.” He brought his lips back to hers, pulling himself along her couch until she was caught in the middle of all those cushions, and all his weight. They’d kissed a lot that night, and for many nights after, yet, when a month was up—his impotence all that Basic cared about—he was done.

His promise had been as trustworthy as a politician, something said to make Katie “you need to vote for me,” compliant without any real intent given. Already, as it had been with Alexa, he hadn’t liked her much. She was nice, and he did enjoy the fog of her—such a hurry from the rain and whatever hid behind her glasses—it was simply that whenever that fog cleared he began to realize their differences weren’t just kind of substantial, they were vastly substantial.

He was sure if he breathed incorrectly she might need an EpiPen and a trip to the hospital. He had no clue how to handle her “I’ve made out with women,” statement either, a nice revelation—it made her much hotter in his eyes—yet he’d lied his virginity away already, “Of course I’ve had sex, of course,” not the first or last time he would ever do such a thing and he knew he couldn’t deal. If he’d had none, how could he ever please a woman who’d had so many?

Basic broke. He finally told her they couldn’t hangout anymore, the drop in her eyes, all that brown behind clear glass, filling him with more shame and disgust than her tears ever could. She looked so sad, so hurt, he should have just yelled another “I’d rather see you burn,” some grand declaration that this was how he would always treat a woman. Like a jerk.

I do not seek an apology or an explanation for your actions, and any instance of either constitutes contact, which I expressly forbid you from doing.

January should have stopped with, “Do not waste my time further,” or, better yet, “I do not wish to be inconvenienced by you anymore than I am by sending you this message.” There truly was such beauty in those lines.

But, she kept on going. To cover her bases for sure. All that legal perfection that left no wiggle room for him to exploit—she had said don’t text, or call, but now everything was off the table. It often made Basic wonder if Paul, or someone else she was with—could it be Doctor Forrester, did that Joyce story on her FaceSpace page mean something—knew law. If maybe they had been sitting comfort beside her, whispering another line to add in so that, in any court of the land, it would be abundantly obvious she’d made her point as concrete as possible.

While freedom of speech is certainly extended to you in a broad and legal context, that does not give you the right to continue your agenda against some’s wishes and outside of normal societal boundaries in the form of harassment. Repeated, unwanted advances including but not limited to sending unsolicited and unwanted letters and items by mail and initiating unsolicited and unwanted internet contact is a form of harassment in Alabama and every other state. It is simply not legally acceptable for you to behave this way, regardless of your intentions.

Many times, while holding the taped edges of her note, feeling that thin membrane over her words, and the teeth grooves of his immature measures to protect—forever—what she’d sent, Basic would skip this part. Better to fingertip the, “I do not wish to be inconvenienced,” than to be constantly reminded of how off he could be.

It was another hindsight bit of clarity—what, exactly, had been in his mind? All those letters, all those gifts, four years of them mounting up and up with the hope that maybe, just maybe, she would like what he was doing. How could he have ever thought that okay?

Of course, he had dreamt a sly smile, her blond hair pulled off from her face as she afternoon rushed back from work, a package he’d mailed found corner secure along her doorstep. She’d sigh—a nice “You’ve got to be kidding me,” would be whistled out for sure—yet, perhaps, when she opened everything, saw the DVD copy of the Star Wars Christmas special, or that novel about Phineas Poe, it would tickle something joyous, maybe she’d sit back and read, or watch a bad yet good bit of old television, and that would be nice.

He’d dreamt such fantasies—let her have the slightest smile, that’s all I mean to create—yet her silence had spoken more than anything. Yes, she had told him not to text, or call, and, yes, she had thrown books into the back of his truck in a very direct denial of his gift giving, just because this email was the first solid—underlined twice and highlighted in brightest red, at least it was in his eyes—declaration of “NO,” it didn’t mean she hadn’t been saying that all along.

He hadn’t been listening. He didn’t want to listen. Here he was, in Alabama, absolutely, and unequivocally, still the same man he’d been when he’d known her—and, really, all his letter’s’ had spoken of such change.

He was a liar, plain and simple. Thoughts of Courtney, and Hannah—can’t forget her—proved that for sure.

Courtney had been another someone he’d endured a class with at Samson, someone he hadn’t kissed, ever, yet someone he’d talked to quite a bit. He’d made her laugh, she seemed nice, and when she’d mentioned she worked at a local movie theater and could get him in for free he was quick delight in taking her up on that offer. Basic loved movies, who didn’t, so why not use her to get an employee discount.

But, at the theater, she busy as he waited in the lobby for his free movie to start, she’d stopped by, had apologized for leaving him to dollar game machines that offered unlimited abilities to kill aliens as-long-as he hit the right combination of buttons. Basic hadn’t cared. She was busy, he was having fun feeding quarters into a game it didn’t seem he had the correct hand to eye coordination he truly needed—she could have left the theater all together and he would have been a bliss of “I just saved seven bucks by seeing this film for nothing.”

However, for some stupid reason—at least it had seemed only stupid to him at the time—he hadn’t said thanks, or, no problem. He hadn’t even laughed an “It’s okay” kind of chuckle, but had instead smiled and said, “I get it, you don’t want to be near me, it’s okay, if you don’t want to hang out that’s fine.” He’d done that repeatedly—saying such words as if they were a joke he was surprised she didn’t get. Every time Courtney had come over, and he’d uttered his inanity, her eyes got a guarded look—a “what did he mean by that,” caution—until his movie was over and he’d finally gone to say his thanks.

As soon as she saw him she pulled a friend—some other guy—to her side, and held his arm as a shield as Basic spoke his appreciation and she refused to make eye contact. It was a weird moment, a friend suddenly switching to uncomfortable and distant, and it took the whole ride back to his apartment for Basic to see. He’d meant a joke, “I get it, you don’t want to be around,” but it spelled such truth. She was another signpost—a foundational importance—and he couldn’t even pinpoint when she had become that way.

And this was a woman he knew, but had no feelings for. Had she seen through his feeble humor, “I get it, I do,” to hear only what he must have been shouting, “DON’T LEAVE ME, YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO COMPLETE ME.” Since he hadn’t seen Courtney after that, their endured together class continuing for three weeks more yet she’d skipped out of every single one—thank the Lord for that—he was certain the answer had to be yes. She’d heard every shout fully, and had decided to jump far from who he was.

Hannah was a little odder. A nothing at all, really, seriously, nothing had happened between them, he hadn’t even talked to her all that much, yet his eyes were already opened—all due to January, he was sure he’d never get them to close again. He could easily make out everything he hadn’t been able to see before.

She was the daughter of a local pastor, some man who spoke wisdom and advice with a nonchalance Basic was in awe of. How can anyone know so much so easily? She was also beautiful, long black hair, the kind of skin that appeared a perpetual hue of slightly roasted elegance, she was a woman who turned heads far past any angle they would normally go, and Basic was not attracted to her in any way.

To her looks, yes, he was still a guy, a heterosexual one with bent fantasies about sleeping with family members yet a heterosexual one nonetheless, and, she was gorgeous. Had he looked at her too much, however? Had he taken in the gorgeous and dreamt—just thought what it would be like to give up January and be beside another beauty?

Basic had, he was sure of it. So many years past Ashley and that Biology class and still his eyes betrayed him—they were always too open—and he must have stared, and stared, taking in so much and knowing too the reality of what it was he was looking at.

In limited conversations—lasting moments if that—he found no common ground, nothing in Hannah’s smile or nod or even her laugh to say she liked him back. Even worse, there was nothing in her words for Basic to find of interest either.

Yes, she served the Lord—had gone on mission trips to Israel and Hawaii, if Hawaii could somehow be a trip for only Christ intensive, not beach intensive, purposes—and, yes, she was on her way to being a full-fledged nurse, there was so much there for anyone to find fascinating yet each time Basic spoke with Hannah he was certain he would have had much more of a connection with a brick wall if he’d spent the time with it instead. They were not compatible.

Which made looking at her, and asking her out, even stranger. She did know the Lord, and he did find her attractive—maybe he should give it a go. That was all Basic assumed he’d been doing when he’d looked her up on her FaceSpace page—she had accepted his friend request—to type out a hurried, “Would you like to go see the new Pixar movie,” in her Chat Room section.

He made sure it was Chat Room. It was a Sunday afternoon, he could have done it face to face—he’d been at her father’s church, had seen her there—but FaceSpace was his favored way to contact any woman, and, he was terrified she might say yes if it were face to face. If that happened…wow, she’d catch the hurt look for sure, the “I can’t believe she agreed to this,” that he knew would come next.

Chat Room was the safest option. Surely, she would ignore, do as most women did when met with a duller than dish soap and scummy water kind of guy they didn’t want to pay attention to. She had to ignore. There was no way she couldn’t see the obvious. They, absolutely, had nothing in common.

She went worse. Basic had been prepared for silence—he was so used to that he considered it part of the conversation, I say “Hi,” crickets start up right after, this is how talking goes, right—but her quick “I’m not really interested in you, ever, sorry,” was striking. He hated her for that.

Her silence would have reaffirmed January—see, no woman wants me so January, who doesn’t want me yet I can’t get her out of my mind, might still be an option. Her silence was factored in, made welcome with a seat ready at a banquet table in his heart, and then Hannah went and kicked him in the legs. Sent him tumbling when he’d risen to accept her muted entrance.

She spoke what was real— “I’m not really interested in you,” what January had been saying with her silence and he had been ignoring oh so well. And, his hate for her—how dare you hit me, make me tumble—was a surprise. Hadn’t she meant nothing?

And she, and Courtney, weren’t the last he’d pined for unexpectedly. There remained all those women he couldn’t stop listing: Samantha, and Ashley, Vicky, and Jill, Nichole too, and so many others he’d had conversations with, and then had over-texted, over-gifted, over everything until their every response was the silence he only wished Hannah would have given.

However, usually their silence was enough. He would, always, continue for a little while. Not with Hannah, or Courtney—her “I’m not really,” and her skipping of the remainder of their class, had done the trick—but with Nichole, with Samantha, with Jill and Vicky and so many others he’d drop a, “Hey, hope you’re doing well,” from his phone to theirs. Yet, when no reply was returned—and perhaps he would send that text every few weeks or so, he wasn’t perfect—he’d quit, go back to porn, or self-pity, or whatever, to fill his days.

It was still a strangeness then—he couldn’t stop mulling that over. Why was it that January was who he couldn’t quit? And he really, really, had thought he’d changed.

I will keep a copy of this message and send date to show to the proper authorities if you continue to contact me, as proof that I was clear for your one-sided correspondences to completely halt. I have every right to live a life free from constant harassment and to choose who is present in my life and who is not. Again, do not contact me under any circumstances. If I begin receiving anonymous letters or any other form of contact that is obviously from you, I will present every instance of former contact with your name attached to the authorities.

She did have that right, to live how she pleased, to be free—that was, absolutely, hers to have. Basic only had some arguments with her use of harassment. It was better stated—in his mind—as annoyance, or pestering. He’d never threatened. He’d never called her names or had said she was evil. He’d mainly apologized his actions away—probably why she’d told him not to do that again—and had repeated a constant mantra that she was beautiful. Many of his letters were only that, “You’re beautiful, I believe that fully, yet Christ believes it more.” Was that harassing?

The answer was tricky. It shouldn’t have been. On the surface, all black water calm with not a ripple insight, yes would have been enough. In all actuality, he had no argument, he was harassing. She’d told him never to text, never to call, she’d returned a very nice gift, placed all special in her work mailbox, right into the back of his truck—it was a novel, one bent and rather tattered along the front page he’d signed and had scribbled “You’re worthy of a greater love,” upon. Her silence wasn’t the only way she’d shouted, “STAY AWAY,” and, still, Basic had written, and written, until he’d forced her into a scream.

The answer was such a solid yes, he was harassing, yet beneath all that still water—along currents he didn’t believe January would ever care to swim—there were riptides he knew of that made the answer deeper. It wasn’t just a yes—it was yes, and a yes. It was harassment added on with so many layers, layers upon layers, of foundation that he may have used with Alexa, and Courtney, with Hannah, and Katie, or with so many others yet with January he’d built that foundation as far down as it could go. It made what he’d done to her so much worse.

He loved her. Basic wasn’t sure what that meant—there were no startling beams of whitest sun peeking through a quick break in thickest clouds, there were no trumpets or angel choruses, there was just the simple fact that the thought of not seeing her left him with a yawning crevice he didn’t know how to face.

He was still the man who craved empty. His porn addiction, and how he’d leaned forward to kiss January the night she’d fallen in love with Paul—I want this, I will be saved by this—proved that well. How she ran those fingers through her hair though, how she could be talking about sparring at her gym, and getting kicked in the face, how that would make her sudden turn, her face a better beam than any whitest sun—it broke his empty to dust.

He wanted to be around her. Or, better yet, he just wanted to see her, to catch a glimpse of her smile and feel a rapturous whole he’d never expected to find. It was probably why he’d taken that job at the PubClub store when he’d never wanted to work there before.

He’d been out of college, his Master’s Degree from Noel sitting pretty and unused in his closet, all gather dust ready to be ignored for the foreseeable future since it was a good degree, yet it would only help him if he went for that Doctorate. And he was going to do that, as soon as a few GRE’s scores were deemed appropriate and mailed off, and as soon as his recommendations were filled out and emailed along as well—he did choose school after school, and sent the required money and forms, but Basic knew he wasn’t any colleges top number one priority and so the town of Noel, right next to Noel college, was where he would be. He would just have to work whatever job he could find to make a lot of ends meet before he could take off for something else.

And PubClub was hiring. Simple as that. He applied to the one in Alabaster, stayed far from the one in Calera because she lived in Calera, just off from the airport exit and loved PubClub with a passion—she’d talked about shopping there, and the Asian guy she said was quite cute, many a time during the short few months he’d been let near to her.

But the Calera store had somehow gotten hold of his application, and was all that had called him back. He’d put in an application at Target, at Walmart, at Noel college as a janitor, and no one had bothered to return any interest his way. Well, Noel had gotten in touch, had sent a very nice—it felt glossy, unbendable—letter to spell out just how overqualified he was to sweep and mop at his alma mater, but everyone else was as silent as January already had become.

Until Calera rang. He should have said no. He should have dipped further into his savings and put in for a local McDonalds or started sleeping in his truck next to the park with all those face trees. He should have done so much, but this was another sign of foundation—he was certain—how could he say no?

He felt for January. Walking her back to her place after a Halloween party, how he’d heated up a sudden shiver across her shoulders and had known that his arm around hers just clicked. That had to mean something, right? Sure, he’d almost immediately ruined it by awkwardly trailing his fingers between her legs about ten minutes after—an insurmountable level of wrong that had started his slide out of her life—but there had been that arm, her shoulders, if he felt something shouldn’t it mean something?

And, there were nights at a local coffee shop as well, sitting outside in frigid metal chairs—thin seats of iron always ready to accommodate anyone at any time. Around glass table’s too, and the hurried steps of harried waiters trying to find the one person who’d ordered hummus with vegetables rather than hummus with pretzel chips, he would talk to friends, or see her talking to friends, and, suddenly—it was never planned—she’d catch his eye, or he hers, and that click would return. He didn’t want to laugh, or cry, or talk with anyone, at any time, on any seat of iron, without sharing all of that with her. How could that have happened? And, again—please, please let this be true—wasn’t it supposed to mean something?

Long before he realized he needed to take her to church in-order-to bring salvation into her every “I’m going to hell,” story, Basic understood how January was becoming a bedrock to his days. All solid earth necessary, if she wasn’t there he might go spinning into who knew what.

And, he did try to get her to that church, yet he also inappropriately attempted a foul goodnight kiss, and wrote her all those letters, and got a terrible job at a terrible store all because he couldn’t bear the thought of her gone. She could bear it, clearly, he just wasn’t able to return the favor. Seeing her with Paul, or other guys, at PubClub—which he did, often, that time of running into her in the frozen food section, all alone, just he and she, was the oddity—was okay.

It was seeing her that mattered, and he tried to ignore everything that was truth. It was just some store, just a shoulder, just a few moments of eye connecting to eye at a coffee shop, it was just question after question with no answer because none was ever coming. Not a single thing with January had ever been something as defining as he’d hoped.

He had to be harassment, and foundation, how else could he explain something even more disturbing. He was delighted to find out that she could present every bit of his former contact to the authorities.

Did that mean she’d gotten each item he’d mailed? He’d sent so many, letters that reached ten pages in length, perhaps more, some of them diving head long into growing, and growing, soliloquies all about his virginity, and how he was addicted to incest pornography. It was a lot to digest, and added on with the gifts and the unwanted FaceSpace messages that he’d started back up once he’d realized she’d unblocked his old account—she couldn’t have read all that, saved all that, for real, right?

It was something that blew Basic’s mind. He may have foolishly dreamt her happy over what he’d sent, but never once had he entertained any hope that she’d actually sit down and peruse, or keep, any of it. He really had expected for her to throw it all away as soon as it reached her door.

It was another heart tug, something that seriously made him consider another bit of ignorance. He already knew he was in trouble. Before her message got into his Gmail account, before he’d printed out anything and had lamented it with such painstaking care, he’d sent her an email of his own. It was time stamped—all safely done before she said This is a clear command—but, it was an old email address he had, something she probably wouldn’t find for quite a while. Maybe he should write more? He could imagine well. She scrolling to this ancient address on the internet, something she hardly logged onto anymore, and finding his message that was filled with poems—sappy ones, heartbreak ones—she’d never wanted to read. If she didn’t realize they were sent prior to her own email being hate delivered his way, then she’d be going to the authorities for sure so why not continue? Just screw what she wanted. One last for real message. No poetry, just more heartbreak—thank you so much for reading, for not throwing anything away—scrolled long in another fifty-pages minimum. Would that be so bad?

I must urge you to consider that future employers, rental agencies, or anyone else performing a background check on you will possibly deny you services or employment based on a documented harassment charge or restraining order. Do not perceive this as an aggressive threat, for your compliance to simply halt an action is all that is required. Once more, I do not want an apology or an explanation, and any effort to extend one is completely unwanted.

This was the only part of her message that didn’t work for him. Sure, he ran his fingers along every line, feeling the breath of her disgust in each “to simply halt an action,” she probably had keystroked hard with her frustration. He read it, and reread it, along with everything else, but her last paragraph didn’t stick. In fact, it was an utter failure.

He was so proud of her for writing him this. If she hated him as much as this letter implied—and, really, it wasn’t implied, it was boldly put and made with gusto yet implied sounded better—than a nice “BACK OFF BUDDY” was needed. And, she wrote it so well. How could he not be proud?

But the authorities, the denial of service, he’d earned that and more. He’d earned a hundred ounces of aggressive, oceans of it that would boil over and scald him with the venom she could have written, yet nothing but this had come. Why was that?

And, why hadn’t she also already gone to someone to send a harassment charge his way? Seriously, whenever those silly heartbreak poems were read it was going to happen anyway, so why the delay? Basic had no clue.

He would have gone with her, all perfect witness for the prosecution here. Or, better yet, he would have swung by a court house alone—filled out the necessary paper work himself, if only she’d asked.

“Excuse me,” he did have that vivid imagination, and this conversation was easy to conjure.

He would walk up to a desk, some court clerk—female, in his mind it was an old lady—staring at him as he approached. She would be looking at him through bottle glasses for sure, yet ones not Katie nice in anyway. These glasses would be too big, too cumbersome, the insanity of their size made worse by the years of soul killing paperwork that would be noticeable, and so heavy, upon this court clerk’s shoulders.

“Yes,” she would reply. This conversation surely would be better than any other she’d ever had. In his mind, Basic could easily see how great he would be making her day.

“Yes,” he would repeat this. Everything was going to be awesome, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be nervous. Some repetition was bound to slip through. “I need to fill out a restraining order.”

“Against whom,” he hoped that was right. It could have been “who, against who,” but his imagination, like the real him, wasn’t January Why grammar perfect.

“Against me,” he would say. “I’ve annoyed a girl, this beautiful girl, or harassed her…probably…I mean definitely…better to say I’ve harassed her. I can swear on a Bible too—on anything you want—to the amount of letters, and gifts, I’ve mailed to her, and how I wrote her on her FaceSpace page. I’ll swear to it and sign whatever. I think keeping a hundred-mile distance, and no contact via mail or phone or whatever, should do…that okay?”

This little fantasy would come to a halt after that. The court clerk—tiny too, with graying brown hair and a mousy face—would stutter a couple “What,” and maybe a, “I think I need to go get my supervisor,” yet he would keep at it until everyone who needed to understand understood. January Why was foundational, and he had harassed her. He wasn’t going to change, there was no way he could change, and he needed to be stopped.

It was a fantasy he longed to make true, yet it needed her—just ask me, say turn yourself in and I will—to speak words he knew she’d never say. He was thirty-six now, four years past when January Why had known him, and, sure, he’d kicked porn out for a while, had three years fasted that off and had taken cable and internet out of his apartment, but his letters, those gifts, how he’d tried so vainly to make contact with Kathryn Lex, made his change only surface.

He was still the virgin she’d known, still obsessed with sex, with her, with taking his savior complex and using it to imagine that some woman, every woman, would one day be the end all and be all to every section of his happiness. Wasn’t he the perfect candidate for a restraining order? Why wouldn’t she just ask him already? Yet, as expected—and even if she ever did read those heartbreak poems this would probably be the same outcome—he got silence. He’d always been ninety-nine-point nine percent sure she would one day respond as she had, all hate and stay away creep, but a point one percent of hope had been nice. He’d sealed it into every letter he’d mailed—please, just please, let this make her smile—but it was time to let that point one go.

She’d asked him not to write, and though he would miss not writing her, he had to, finally, do as she’d asked. It was the only thing that kept him from a response.

But, he was so tired of not changing, of holding up January, or Hannah, or Alexa, or Katie, or Jill, or Nichole, or even Kathryn Lex and all the others, as foundation when he knew he needed more—a lot more. He found it hard to sleep. He’d toss, and turn, sometimes rushing to his closet to find her laminated note and thumb it dear until he felt relaxed. And that wasn’t good.

He needed something real, not a thin membrane over words filled with a heat he could never touch. He needed finality, something he could use to kill off every bit of him he despised. He just had no clue where he could get that.

Church was a loss. Not for others, just for him. It was something he’d discovered not long after January had kicked him out of her life.

He’d wanted to get her to salvation, take her to places he remembered from his childhood—sermons about mercy and love, the pierced side of a God who’d humbled himself to the cross so that all of humanity didn’t have to take that cross up for themselves. But what did that really mean?

Basic didn’t know. He was ashamed to find out he honestly had no clue what that kind of love was about.

He believed in God. He wished he didn’t. He often thought he stood a better chance at using women—getting all that sex without a care in the world for how much hurt he could make others feel—if he could just kill the morality in him. The whisper voice of, “Wrong, Wrong, This is Wrong,” and the ache of empty whenever he tried—simplistically for sure—to sleep with someone yet mumble fumbled a retreat almost as soon as his lips touched theirs.

Who was the author behind that empty, the secret scripter that had slipped some code of morals into him at his birth? And, there had to be someone. If he was a man of many questions—this must mean something, right, or, why am I drawn to the damage—then this was the most foundational question he’d had in a life filled with foundations. It might even have been the only bit of foundation that mattered.

In a world that gave him a pass—it’s okay, go have sex, do drugs, do whatever just make sure, in triplicate, you won’t hurt anyone though what the definition of hurt really is now a-days is rather fluid—he couldn’t because no pass made this right. Some things were wrong even if everyone sang them pretty and there had to be something else, something bigger, to speak against that pass. And trying to get January into that church—though Basic was in no way a Christ follower at that moment—had made him wonder. Maybe he should learn more about what he knew January needed.

It was, yet again, another moment of “This really is as simple as that.” He believed there was a way out of hell, a beautiful resurrection and life, but he hadn’t been letting that belief guide him. So how could he have ever gotten January to that church? He wasn’t really interested in going, why would she be? He went. Yet, he went for her. In each prayer, along those pews, it was never, “I need to know God so I can have a relationship with him.” Instead, it was always, “I’ll understand Jesus, I’ll find out about this cross, for her,”—a deluded hope that in doing such a thing then, and only then, would another church trip be a success if ever January returned.

And, it kind of worked. Not fully—he was still obsessed, still more consumed with the idol of January Why than the truth of Christ—but taking toe dips into the shallowest end of a vast sea of truth was better than no toe dip at all. Church helped steer him from porn, it had helped to open him up to the fact that he wasn’t worthless, that he was loved by a God who’d sent his son to die for him—but, it wasn’t enough. January’s message made sure of that.

He had a roving cavalcade of churches he went to. The bigger the better. If he could slip into the back, find pew one-hundred-eleven in a mass of rows that equaled only one-hundred pews exactly, that was perfect. Sit in the shadows, try not to make too much eye-contact, raise hands though and praise the Lord but do it in no way to make community and always, always, think more of January Why than of Christ while there.

Who was he serving? It was something that had been gnawing at him for far longer than what he’d laminated. Even those toe dips shouted of Christ’s authority in his life. He knew the secret, the reason, his whole purpose of being—every whisper of “Wrong,” every typed-out section of that moral code in his soul—was the fingerprint of God screaming that he was real and that he had created Benjamin Basic to serve only him. Yet Basic served January Why, himself too, all those foundational women and porn, far more than he ever had the creator of the universe.

And, he kept writing her, he had too. If he didn’t who would write? Who’d tell January Why about Christ?

His words had shifted. They’d started with, “You’re pretty,” or “You have so much strength in you,” and then had modified to allow for a touch of “You’re worthy of a greater love,” to finally “I love you but Christ loves you more.” He had told her about God, but he’d spent far longer focused only on himself—how could he not spend even more time trying to make that better? He had to save her. He had to save himself. It was a last touch of foundation he would hold in his grasp long after his knuckles went stark white from the effort and his palms began to bleed from the nails digging into them.

This was his. This was important. And there was no way God was big enough to handle the magnitude of how January Why, and how Basic himself, needed to be made better.

This is a clear command:

It took her words—as they had in so many other areas of his life—to open him to what was real. God was big enough, and every attempt to write her—I can make her smile, I can save her—every hope that his scribbled beauty message was something she wanted to hear, died the way it should have always been dead. Life wasn’t his to give. Oh, Basic could point the way, say look up there, on the cross, that’s love, that’s life, that’s salvation from the damnation we deserve, but he could never bring someone to that cross. Only God could.

He couldn’t pray for January anymore. Or for Alexa, or for Katie, or for Hannah and Nichole, Jill and Samantha, either. All those women, all those obsessions and each bit of his “I can save them but also save myself,” complex that had only ever led him into treating such fine women as objects rather than as real—it all had to go.

And what about Kathryn Lex? What about porn? They both, for sure, needed to be dragged over to the trash bin of his soul. No longer could he heartbreak hope that Kathryn would stay far from anything adult—her life was her life, and he had no right to care as much as he did about the choices she made. For that grand long while he’d stayed away from watching her, from thinking about her, but that had been more about his worship of January than anything healthy and now was the time.

Basic had to die. Not physically, and with tons of pills—he’d already tried that, it wasn’t the rousing success it somehow had seemed it might be. He had to die to self, to all the bits and pieces of his flesh that screamed for her, or her, or that porn, or that text message, to take up the empty. But how could he do that?

Church, he had a feeling it would work if he surrendered, truly trusted in Christ to do as he’d promised and saved without Basic trying to save himself. But church meant community, and letting go, and Basic knew that felt a greater fear.

Perhaps he could just die by pushing everyone away? Really push too, a total cut off. He could let his change be nothing internal, yet external would be kind of different—the equivalent of a repaint, that house, his life, still the same foundation yet the walls were a completely new color so wasn’t that something?

And just how many areas of foundation would he need to work on—yet, that wasn’t right, it wasn’t foundation anymore, it was idolatry. Just how many idols did he have to paint over, or tear down, in-order-to stop his toe dip and jump fully into the belief that God has this, or, maybe, instead, absolute loneliness is what I need in-order-for life to make sense?

Basic wasn’t sure. He knew his idols reached a plenty—hello porn, so glad you’re back now that I’m watching you again—he most likely had hundreds of false God’s hiding out everywhere, but he was sure of the biggest one of the moment. It was held all Scotch tape slick in his hand. He could shred it, chose God and hope and being better just by tearing this apart.

Or, there was that other way to go. He could still shred this and then get on FaceSpace, delete his sister, Nichole, his aunts and uncles, so many family members and Samantha and Jill as well. In fact, he could delete the whole account and get a new phone, new number, kill off the temptation to send another chat, or text.

But, how could he explain that to people. If he were a stronger man, stronger in his faith, just stronger, he would be able to shred what he’d laminated and simply focus on Christ—keep everything the same only change his priorities—but, Basic already knew he wasn’t that strong. He had to make the clear delineation, that was the old me, this is the new, and doing that while getting better, being in community, trusting in Christ, was so scary.

Because Christ didn’t demand this. God had made it clear that he was to be the only foundation, but he also—in his words, in the Bible—had spelled out loudly that a strong Christian, one of such faith and belief, could be in the world yet not of it. And Basic wasn’t that level of believer yet. He would slip, fall, over text or rewrite January, and that other way—just be alone, cut everyone off—was so tempting.

Give up to God, or give in to isolation, the choices where so different, and Basic had not one clue about what to choose. Yet, no matter what, something would be done.

No longer would he text a story to Nichole, and fret, and fret—it’s been five minutes, she hates me—when it didn’t get a response quick enough. No longer would he talk to his sister—it didn’t happen often, but it did happen—and feel his stomach slump into that free fall of regret when a joke didn’t land and he couldn’t make her happy. None of this was those women’s fault—it’s not you Nichole, it’s not you Larall—it was merely him. Something else had to be the center of his self-esteem, the Lord of who he was, and to make her, or her, or himself, that ruler was something Basic now knew was driving him insane.

He stood. He had a desk, old worn wood stained a nice coffee brown. It held a lamp, his computer, and a row of books that would make him look quite the religious scholar if anyone bothered to swing by his apartment to wonder why he had a Bible, a Qur’an, and a Book of Mormon, there. It was all stuff from his father—that man the fervent bookworm who’d read every scrap of faith he could find. Basic just enjoyed the desk, the feel of it whenever he sat and typed up a quick poem, or a longer short story. He enjoyed it most of all, however, when January’s email was at his fingertips.

It was time to let that go. Everything else, whatever choice came next—deep faith, or deeper isolation—would arrive whenever it arrived but this, for sure, had to happen now.

Everyone died in Alabama, and it felt right—right here, right now—to get started on however he would expire. His mother had died in Alabama—up in Gardendale, next to a Presbyterian church he hadn’t bothered to step foot inside of, they were Baptist, they had to go to the place a block over—and so had his father. His dad had decided to do it down in Dothan, in a rental house, working at Fort Rucker and only sometimes—just every couple hour’s—wondering why he was so short of breath until he dropped from a blood clot that had stuffed up his lungs and caused a massive heart attack.

There were other’s too. His grandmother had bit it inside this state, so had his grandfather, probably a few aunts and uncles would go that way as well—his extended family did either live here or were close by—even his dog would probably die soon in Alabama and, again, it felt so right.

His suicide attempt had been at a hotel here as well—Basic even had a thought that somehow, in some Doctor Who timey whimey short of way, maybe people all over the globe suddenly appeared in Alabama, died, and then where transported all perfect, yet no longer amongst the breathing, back to where they lived—so why not? Die to self, die to old, die to the hope and dream and the please and please of ever seeing January Why again. He couldn’t pray for her anymore, he wasn’t strong enough to do that and not also obsess over her soul or the dream of rounding that corner and spying her—this had to be the way. He was going to kill obsession in one quick shred.

Basic walked over to what he needed, a place that had once, years back, eaten away the margins of some notes where her phone number had been hidden. It was a squat machine out in his living room—his apartment had a nice living room slash kitchen area, it was so cool. There were teeth there too—grooves of hungry metal that would slip through all the tape he’d used

Basic set her note, “This is a clear command,” center perfect. He turned the machine on—the thing purring, so desirous to do what it had been created to do.

This was the first step towards whatever death he was about to begin.

#short story #fiction #amanda tate #lexiloon #kathryn weiland #shotokate #alexa winn #savior complex #depression #obsession

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srseattlestreetnews · 7 years

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Seattle Street News 54, On The Town

City News:

Invasion of the Cyber Snatchers?

One of the Tipster Army sent in a disturbing tip. The tipster, who works as a Doc Wagon medic, was wandering out in the Barrens at night after an evening of blowing off steam and headed into an alley to relieve himself. What did he find there? A dead body. That isn’t a big deal, it happens all the time. The body belonged to an unidentified human male, age unknown. The man had nice, expensive clothes, something a bit rare in the Barrens, and that is what caused our tipster to take a closer look. The man was certainly dead, and hadn’t been dead long. He was also missing an arm, a leg, and an eye, all on the same side. The body parts were not ripped off as if by some berserker, but carefully and precisely cut off. The tipster had to leave quickly because the sounds of Knight Errant sirens where quickly approaching. For a body in the Barrens.

We all know what this means. First off, the victim probably had a SIN. But more importantly for SSN readers: There is a probably a cybersnatcher in town. If you have cyberware, be careful, there seems to be someone dangerous on the loose.

In Three Seconds—(by demmalition1)

It’s cold up here.

I’m alone above this city, sitting over the roof looking down on people as I write this. The wind is biting over 10 stories up, and the ledge that this neon billboard hangs off of isn’t the greatest. The crisp night air crackles with the hustle and bustle of Seattle’s nightlife community. I see so many people below going about the night, perusing through the numerous vices that entrap us in our daily loop.

One person below me stands out from the crowd, her bright pink mohawk cuts through the crowd with a dazzling display of bio-fiber patterns shifting through her spiky mane. She meets a man and goes around the corner to buy a few hits of bliss “for a friend.”

I see a man walk into a well known strip club, my AR display flashes his SIN in front of my eyes, showing he’s married with two kids. A bit of digging shows he visits here at least once a week, he’ll be out a few hours from now hammered with his best buds.

The store below me a few doors down has kicked a couple out from their shop. Attempted shoplifting apparently, but the couple had money and was willing to pay for the items they had in their hands. The shopkeep goes on to claim that their money was no good there, he needed cold hard nuyen and their corp scrip wasn’t enough to buy the items. They’re going to go home to their kids empty handed again.

A block and a half down a woman screams out of view from an alleyway. Looking over I see a small crowd forming, looking on and shooting trids with their commlinks or cybereyes. After tracking their feeds I see the woman, she’s just been mugged and blood runs down her face and is pooling on the ground below. No one is going to help her, no one has thought to comfort her or call Knight Errant. The reason why? She’s SINless and likely can’t pay for their help. After all, why would anyone have any decency in their hearts to help someone in need? It’s not their commlink that got stolen, it’s not their credsticks that got lifted. She would be lucky to make it home tonight. I do the responsible thing and pay for DocWagon to cart her away. They arrive 15 minutes late, no rush to help someone who’s not even considered a person in the eyes of some.

On the other side of town a police raid on an “abandoned” apartment complex is being formed. This is a well known Cutter territory and, officially, no one lives there. Word has it on the street that illegal BTLs are being moved through here, with personafixes being wired into the heads of some bad men as they beat on bunraku puppeted people. It’s all well and good that Knight Errant go in and rescue the people there, but their actions in doing so are the crux of the problem. See, all this torture stuff happened on the top floor of the complex, and the tenants there knew to stay away in exchange for not being roughed up in their shithole “apartments”. Well when the cavalry went in and saw no SIN on “John Q. Public” they shot them dead for being in a “gang controlled zone”. In total 6 gangers were killed and 19 bodies were sent to the furnace. The bunraku puppets had their personafix chips taken out then sent on their way. No SIN, no support. They will live with these memories for what's left of their lives, all they could do was watch and feel pain.

Next up on the chopping block of this fair city is a man by the name of Miles Coltrane Parker. He was too poor to afford anything of value and often walked throughout the city at night to take in the sights and sounds. He wasn’t homeless, he wasn’t mentally ill, and he wasn’t a troublemaker. He just walked everywhere he went. Well, reports say that he was killed on the spot when he crossed into unmarked corp territory, their land their laws as is provided in their extraterritoriality agreement. A little talking to a PR rep later and she said he walked past multiple warning signs and might have been a runner. That’s right everyone, you read that correctly. The man who had no electronics, no team, no magical aura, and no sense of urgency in his step was a potential runner! I ask where I could go to see the warning signs and I was directed to a warehouse a bit outside of town near his place. I walk up and, what do you know, no warning signs! You can do this yourself readers, just walk up and see the complete lack of warning signs. Oh, wait, you got to turn on your AR feeds to see them. See, Miles was too poor to afford an AR overlay for his daily life and he was legally barred from purchasing one due to his lack of SIN. That’s right folks, he was too poor to see his own death. Many SINless can’t legally buy or afford AR displays and thus can’t see the warning until it’s too late. I wonder how many bodies they put away with this little trick. After all, those they legally kill aren’t legal people according to the law.

The final story for tonight concerns an ork kid, I’m using the letter “X” to protect his identity. X couldn’t be more than 8 years old and was walking home to his parents after spending a night out playing hooky with his friends. X, like his parents, has a SIN and is a legal member of society. The police report released the next day tells it from his point of view and the slightly blurred traffic cam footage released backs him up as well. As X was rounding a corner a group of four kids grab him and shove him into an emptied out trash bin before slamming the lid shut on top. They then take a set of pre-placed baseball bats and crowbars and proceed to beat on the can over and over for a few minutes, scattering like a breath in the wind when they see a car rounding the corner. Knight Errant agents tracked the boys down and drag them in for formal booking and interrogation. Guess what? All four kids have parents who belong to the Humanis Policlub. As of press time no formal charges have been filed.

All of this happened in three seconds one cold night in Seattle.

Entertainment News:

Garfield High Production of Les Miz opens this Friday

Garfield High’s production of Les Miz opens this Friday and will star a number of children who are part of our community. Look out especially for young Gavrosh, a star on the rise if there ever was one.

Aztechnology’s PR Image Dips after Aztech-Cola Ad Debacle

Last week Aztech-Cola released a new ad. It was tailored specially for us. It was supposed to catch the zeitgeist of Dzhugashvili’s Seattle. A hologram of now deceased megastar Christy Daee was inserted into the Aztech-Cola commercial. The scene was of a crowd of SINless protesting and Knight Errant advancing. It was reminiscent of the SINless protest that took place a few months ago (See SSN 44), but rather than violence, Christy Daee presents the Knight Errant forces with Aztech-Cola and everyone bursts into song…a newly remixed version of her hit “Sunny Daee.” The ad immediately caused outrage. On one hand, SINless rights activists found the ad trivializing of their struggle for equality as well as the violence they have had to endure in that fight, on the other hand, Sunny Daee fans found the use of her image and remix of her song disrespectful to their beloved, departed star.

The ad was almost immediately taken down and Aztechnology issued a prompt apology. But will it make a difference?

Features:

Once More 14--(by Breach)

Aztlan now possesses technology capable of killing the Great Dragons, and some of you might be wondering “Why didn’t the Dragon Council do anything about this?” Well, they were a little busy with a problem of their own.

I don’t think any metahuman could possibly claim to understand just how the Dragon Council works, but what we do know is that it is headed by a position called “Lorekeeper”, who has traditionally been the dragon that possesses the Jewel of Memory, a record of the collective history of dragonkind. Dunkelzahn possessed this artifact until his death, when his Will bestowed it upon the Great Dragon Lofwyr (perhaps hoping to teach the ambitious golden wyrm some wisdom?) Lofwyr held the title of Lorekeeper from that point on - until recently.

The Dragon Civil War is complicated, and scholars debate over when it actually started, but I’m going to cover only the most important parts. Sirrug’s attacks on Aztlan were one opening salvo, which was followed by Hestaby’s address to the UN on July 23, 2073 in a speech where she spoke of things dragons do not speak to metahumans of, and condemned Sirrug’s actions as war crimes, which helped lead to his condemnation and escalation of the Amazonia/Aztlan war.

Hestaby’s speech contained a lot of suggestions, both on the part of dragons and metahumanity, but few listened to the whole and chose to focus on only the parts that most enraged them; for the dragons, it was her concessions to metahumanity—most of dragonkind, particularly the Great Dragons, view metahumanity as pawns and playthings, pets at best, unworthy of a seat at the negotiation table. Her condemnation of Sirrug was a betrayal of dragonkind.

The strife between Hestaby and Lofwyr was the greatest; I’ve heard rumours that Hestaby actually defeated Lofwyr in some sort of draconic test of strength and would have claimed the Jewel of Memory for herself, but she rejected the continuation of dragonkind’s old ways and allowed Lofwyr to keep the Jewel and the title. If this rumour is true, Lofwyr has been stewing over the humiliation for years; there’s nothing more dangerous than a humiliated dragon.

Immediately after her speech, the head of Hestaby’s Shasta Shamans, Elliot Eyes-of-Wyrm, was killed by a sniper. While no one is sure who called the hit, Lofwyr was a prime suspect, and clearly the one Hestaby blamed; a week later, Hestaby and a veritable army of spirits appeared in Dubai over Saeder-Krupp’s Middle-Eastern headquarters and disassembled the entire complex - without a single metahuman fatality and only a few minor injuries to the staff there.

This led to a year of shadow warfare between the Great Dragons, with alliances being fostered and formed and attention being focused away from other affairs; Saeder-Krupp’s businesses have suffered for Lofwyr’s distraction, and in the wake of the chaos, a greater threat would emerge when Lofwyr’s brother, Alamais, seized the GeMiTo sprawl as his personal demesne. Believing dragons the true rulers of Earth, Alamais and his followers turned GeMiTo into a feeding ground, beginning a year of terror for all those metahumans unable to flee.

Despite his disagreements with Hestaby, open warfare with metahumanity was not part of Lofwyr’s agenda, and the Lorekeeper’s attention switched instead to the predation of his brother; gathering an alliance of dragons and metahumans to oppose Alamais. As typical in draconic battles, they started with his hordes, raiding the wealth of Alamais with the help of most of the Dragon Council. Attacks against the allies of the Loremaster escalated in response.

In early November, 2074, it was reported by magical experts that a great accumulation of magical power was detected around Mount Shasta; at 0139 on November 3rd, the energies released; at the same time, a massive explosion occurred in Alamais’s GeMiTo compound, though the Great Dragon himself survived. Shortly the same day, Alamais’s loyalists descended upon GeMiTo; what had been hunting for sustenance became retaliation as the dragons wreaked wanton destruction upon the life and property of GeMiTo’s residents.

This was the final straw for Lofwyr, who had to bring his brother to heel. Gathering an army of mercenaries and shadowrunners, as well as the efforts of several dragons including, reportedly, the Great Dragons Lung and Arleesh, Lofwyr descended upon GeMiTo. In a battle spanning two days (November 5 and 6), Lofwyr’s forces made their way towards Alamais’s lair, where the two brothers engaged in open battle above their gathered loyalists. Lofwyr came out triumphant, tearing his brother’s heart from his chest and securing his place in the hearts and minds of the world. Lofwyr had saved the world from Alamais.

The aftershocks were largely political; for two months the Dragon Council met in secret and the world was free of draconic meddling. The repercussions of this assembly are still being felt: Sirrug was imprisoned away from the world as punishment for his open warfare on metahumanity; Hestaby was banished from the affairs of dragonkind, her horde forfeit, as punishment for defying the traditions of dragonkind; and the Black Lodge, a secret society in Germany, was unanimously condemned and its destruction vowed by the Council.

The hordes of Hestaby and Alamais were divided among the Council, with Lofwyr’s loyalists receiving the bulk of the largess and Hestaby’s friends receiving the least. But one more shock was left - Lofwyr surrendered the position of Loremaster (though not, as best I can tell, the Jewel of Memory), recommending Celedyr as his replacement. The Council, eventually, agreed.

Celedyr’s first act was to call a truce upon violence between dragonkind and metahumanity; giving a year for affairs to be settled (and a bloody year it was), since December 26, 2075, the dragons of the world have been forbidden by the power of the Loremaster and the Council from waging open warfare upon metahumanity.

By decree of the Council, dragonkind has no further conflict with metahumanity, and the Great Dragon Civil War is behind us. Hestaby has not been seen since January 9, 2074, when she was spotted conducting one final survey of Mount Shasta, now empty and lifeless.

Questions about history? Ask Breach! [email protected]

Corp News:

Kidnapped NeoNET Exec Rescues Herself

SSN got a special tip with a video attached. My tipster sent this message:

"Seen this trid on Kappa yet? A dog running after a mouse in a park. After thirty minutes it starts chasing its own tail instead, running in circles. The rest of the trid is just three hours of this scene interspersed with three-second sequences of a small planet rotating around a giant K. Boring stuff right?

It’s the story behind it that’s interesting. According to my source, it shows the VR battle between NeoNET’s Gaeaca and Pluto, the rogue NeoNET AI that had got her abducted for her own protection. Looks like she managed to jack into the Matrix from her isolated gilded prison. Then she hacked into Pluto and harnessed the resources of NeoNET’s Kappa host to get Pluto to literally run after itself. It helped that Kappa is as much a piece of Gaeaca’s mind as can be.

It was just a matter of time, after that, for Gaeaca to bring her guards back to their senses and for NeoNET Security to shut Pluto down. Gaeaca’s current status is a close-kept secret but I was assured she's alive and recuperating from her ordeal."

It looks like we have one of our kidnapped Execs back in Seattle, and it looks like this one was kidnapped by her own company, or at least a part of it. But the bigger news is that NeoNET has a Rogue AI kidnapping its execs. What is happening over there at NeoNET?

Aztech Promises Increased Security at Their Gyms

In light of the footage revealing the attack on Krund Yuste Alfonso in the downtown Aztechnology gym, Aztechnology PR reps held a press conferenece addressing the embarrassing incident. Their RP rep insisted the attack was an isolated incident and that they are having their top security expert Grace Castillo retrain all Aztechnology gym security personnel. Seattlites and been assured that Aztechnology gyms are completely safe and an excellent place for all of your fitness needs.

Gang News:

Lone Wolf Attacks on Gangs on the Rise

One of the Co-Leaders of the gang Iberis, “Flower” and two other gang members were attacked recently by an unknown cybered-up assailant, reportedly with razor fingers. Flower was badly injured, but a hospital tipster says she is recovering quickly and will be back in action shortly. A tipster familiar with Iberis told SSN that Flower and her lieutenants were attacked by an elite professional, but were still able to hold their own, evidence of the strength and power of new gang Iberis. Members of The Lost Boys were also rumored to be attacked by the Razor-fingered Attacker.

In another part of town, near the newly renovated Crowne Hotel, there has been reports of an “Angel in a Black Duster” murdering gang members on a massive scale. Tipsters note that bodies have been found scattered like so many toys, shot, burned and beaten. This angel seems to be some sort of mage, with reports that they merely point at gang members and they catch fire.

There are continued reports of a troll and an orc ambushing and attacking Trollkiller gang members.

This is a lot of violence against gang members including death. I think it is time that the SSN says a few words about gangs. Gangs, like runners, fixers, blackmarketeers, and all the rest, are denizens of the shadows. They are part of our community and they are not all the same. Sure, some are Trollkillers, sociopathic racists who don’t contribute to the community, but not all of them are. Some are just SINless kids trying to find community in the middle of a crappy situation. Gangs are sometimes violent and sometimes they are blights. But sometimes, they keep the community safe when Knight Errant wouldn’t dream of entering the neighborhood. Sometimes, they are the only after school program these kids have.

All you Lone Rangers, before you go off murdering gang members, remember, some of them are children just trying to make it in the 6th World.

Runner News:

On the Town and In the Shadows

This was a great week for Shadow Watchers, many of our favorites were out and about on the town, and tips were coming in at a furious pace. Disgraced underground fighter 'Pretty Boy' Floyd was spotted around the Columbia area. Plotting a return to the ring perhaps? The runner Legs was seen smoking cigarettes and drinking vodka at Le Chat Noir. She was cynical as usual. MMFEC was out an about: Firepower was seen boxing at the Renton gym (a gym that seems to have some serious management problems), Electronics was on a date with one of our favorite VR personalities…one we’ll call “Princess” (we hope that went well, what potential power couple!), Conversationalist was seen at the Frozen Yogurt place where the Faces meet…all the Faces? They are one good-looking group! But isn’t that always the case? Lastly, one VR tipster told us the Cloud was seen at a new VR hangout: Studi0 54. Word has it, Studi0 54 is the new hotspot for the denizens of the shadows. SINless are welcome.

Seattle Street News is an independent activist news source released weekly on Tuesdays or Wednesdays

[Watch CorporateSINs on every Wednesday, 6pm PST or on Youtube at, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h11c7BLFQtc&list=PLHKocVDXoWBtzze1SGGUnU6KB5UFrDLFo]

#CorpSINs #shadowrun #HyperRPG

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