#its not so much scorched earth. its actually a really interesting jumping off point for poe3 (please please please please pl

[nulfaga]

Rpg game devs were just having a crisis of faith in 2018. BOTH dos2 and poe deadfire in the same yr being like 'the gods are selfish beings who use us as batteries for their power, we must do away with them and forge our own destiny'

[epic-potato-crisp]

Courtship [1/2] (AjinWeek2020/3)

Day 3: Favourite Ship/Romance/Lover

By: @ryokasmagic

Note: I have two OTPs in Ajin (Tosaki/Izumi and Kou/Kei) and I honestly can’t pick between them. Decided to go with KouKei for this one though. This has two parts, so far part 2 is supposed to be posted for Day 7. I hope you enjoy!

…..

“You’re amazing.”

And ever since that fateful day, the words haven’t left Kei’s mind.

At first, he thinks there is nothing redeemable about Nakano.

He is too loud and gets overly excited about everything, always barging into Kei’s private space. He seems earth shatteringly optimistic and ready to take on whatever obstacle the world is ready to present him with an energy that Kei can barely begin to comprehend.

In hindsight, this might have been what has fascinated him about Nakano so much to begin with.

They gradually begin spending more time together, but then, this is bound to happen, Kei thinks, when you’re stuck in one hideout with eight other people with little choice in the matter.

It has nothing to do with the fact that he actually enjoys Nakano’s company.

No, he certainly hasn’t stooped down to that level.

Of that he is certain.

…….

It starts innocently enough.

They’re sitting outside the hideout, taking a break after hours of training.

“What if we weren’t Ajin?” Nakano Kou asks.

“What?” Kei frowned, “That is the most stupid question I’ve heard in weeks.”

“No, think about it.” Kou gestures with his orange popsicle. “What if we were…you know, normal high schoolers.”

“We are normal.” Kei frowns. He is a perfectly respectable member of society, thank you very much. He may have an above average regenerational ability that might classify him as “immortal” in some instances, but he has no duty to disclose that to anyone.

He isn’t a dropout runaway that can barely memorize the kanji required to graduate.

“You know what I mean.” the other boy says, “Like…what if we weren’t on the run from the government?” His gestures got broader.

“That’s a rather pointless scenario. You might as well ask me what would have happened if I hadn’t gotten hit by that truck.” Kei rolls his eyes and moves his hazelnut-chocolate cone out of reach, away from potential Kou-induced hazards.

He catches Kou eyeing him from the side.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously.” the redhead replies indignantly, giving him a light nudge that has Kei scowling, “Isn’t it fun to think of what-ifs?”

“No, it isn’t.” Kei replies, and then relents under the expectant stare. He takes a bite of his ice.

“Well, fine. Let’s say I wouldn’t have gotten hit by the truck.” He pauses, considering the possibility and comparing it with his schedule at the time. “I would have had to turn in a physics project that week. Write a biology exam the week after. Not to mention our assignment in history about the reformation of- “

“Dude, I mean like, fun things.” Kou says, exasperatedly, “Like, you know. The next party you got invited to- “

Kei is excellent at politely turning these invitations down-

“Or like, an outing to a karaoke place or an arcade after school?”

After-school is reserved for math-club-meetings and further study-

“Or like, you know, getting a girlfriend!”

“I never had one.” Kei replied bluntly.

“What?!”

Kou’s shocked enough that he drops his popsicle. It rolls a few feet away from them, out of the shade and into the scorching afternoon sun. He stares wistfully at its departure.

“Oh man, I was going to finish that.”

“Get a new one.”

“Noo, they’re rationed. In any way I don’t feel like walking anymore than I need to today.” He pouts, slumping against the cooling wall.

Kei sighs, before wordlessly offering him his chocolate cone.

“Really, dude?”

“Call me dude ever again and you’ll have bigger problems than this.”

“Thanks, man.” Kou says, which isn’t much better and gives him a genuine smile that Kei wishes wouldn’t make him so happy on the inside.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So, coming back to the topic at hand- “

Kei suppresses a groan. He has been relying on the convenience of Kou’s short-term memory to prevent them from ever continuing the previous conversation.

“What about it?” he asks instead, reaching for the water bottle and taking a large sip.

“Like, really? Never?”

Kou looks a bit like a Golden Retriever whose owner has forgotten to take him on a walk.

“No.” Kei shrugs, “Is that so weird?” It’s a serious question.

He’s never considered that his social life could be boring, by others’ standards, being far too focused on becoming a diligent student that represented his family well.

“Ah, no, no, it’s cool.” Kou waves him off, words encouraging, “Not everyone has to have a girlfriend in High School.”

Kei doesn’t let him notice any of the relief he feels at those words.

“Some of us just aren’t dating our homework, ya know?” He breaks out into laughter.

“Die.”

“I can’t. I swear man, I’ve tried!” Kou throws up his hands in desperation, shaking his head and Kei turns away so that he can’t see the traitorous hint at a smile on his face.

“Would you ever want one, though?”

“What?” Kei arches an eyebrow.

“What do you think? “

A day full of peace and quiet, with no training or social interactions, preferably locked away in my room, Kei thinks, but he’s certain that’s not what Kou’s referring to.

“A girlfriend. Or, you know, a boyfriend.” Kou shrugs, and Kei feels the blood freeze in his veins.

His friend-by-default notices his incredulous expression.

“We’re in the 21st century, right? It’s not that weird.”

Kei doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

“You’re expected to marry someone of the opposite gender.” he says, remotely, “Unless you can avoid it.”

“In theory!” Kou has finished his ice cream and wipes his hands on the grass, “Like, maybe it’s not that you just haven’t found the right girl? Maybe you’re just- “

“Okay, enough.” Kei cuts across him. His heart thunders in his chest and thoughts of Kaito resurface in his mind, which is more than he can bear after hours of training exhausting him to the bone.

“Are you too much of a chicken to find out?” Kou’s grin is teasing, and competitive.

“Find out what?”

“If it’s perhaps not just girls you’re interested in?”

“When would I find that out?” Kei answers, ignoring the inexplicable jump his heart takes all of a sudden, “We’re fugitives in a battle. We barely have time for this.” He gestures vaguely and checks his watch, “Speaking of, we should get back to training.”

“Come on, ten more minutes.”

“You said that half an hour ago.” Kei deadpans, “No ten more minutes. This second.”

“Is that what you want me to say when you refuse to get up in the morning and want me to cover for you?” Kou teases.

Unfairly, he has a point.

“Whatever.” Kei sighs, chalking it up to the heat that he doesn’t feel like debating Kou on this particular topic.

“I propose a challenge. No, a bet. If you chicken out, I’ll assume you’re too much of a coward after all. Ready?” Kou asks, pointing at him, brimming with self-confidence.

“And what makes you assume I care?”

There’s the Golden Retriever look again. “Oh, come on, Kei.”

Kei sighs. He’s a good person, he tells himself, a respectable member of society. He’s doing Nakano a favor by not subjecting him to alienation from the only one in his peer group and the devastating consequences that might have for his social development.

“Okay, tell me what it is.”

“We pretend to be boyfriends for a week!”

Kei stares at him, dumbstruck, but before he can get a word in edgewise, Nakano cuts him to the chase: “No, wait. I’m serious. Nothing, strange, like, ya know.” He blushes scarlet, clearing his throat and Kei thanks the Gods above that he doesn’t elaborate on the subject.

“Like hand-holding and that stuff. Maybe a date night where we watch movies.”

“That sounds dumb.” Kei replies before he can stop himself.

“Dumb, but not impossible?”

“We don’t even have time for a…” Kei pauses, wrestling with the unfamiliar word and its embarrassing implications, “date night where we watch movies. We have to train. Fight Sato, in case you forgot?”

“Consider it a team-building exercise!” Kou grins widely.

“I could think of a way more interesting exercise where my IBM gets to practice attacks on you.”

Kou laughs.

“Yeah, we have to train.” he admits, “You’re right. But seriously. Do you really…not want to try it out? Or does it just sound unusual to you?”

Kei bites his lip. He can’t believe that Kou goaded him into this conversation.

“If we were, theoretically- “he cuts in sharply, as Kou’s eyes widen in excitement, “To try that out. We would need to have some rules.”

“Sure, definitely.” Kou nods along.

“And it would not cross a week.”

“Nope, that’s the idea.”

“And if I didn’t like it, we could end it at any time.”

“Yeah.” Kou replies without skipping a beat, “Consider it, like…a social project.” He stretches out his hand. “You’re on board?”

Kei has to admit he’s not completely adverse to the idea. He’d pay money to see the expressions on the others’ faces when he told them about their plan.

And also, for some strange, unspeakable reason, having a movie night with Kou doesn’t seem like the worst of ideas.

Kei clears his throat.

“It’s a deal.” he says.

[spoon-writes]

Ends of the Earth | Chapter 6

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Mando x OC

Read on FFN or AO3

Summary: When Sinead's husband is ripped from her, she escapes the Hutt Empire and goes on a quest to find him. Since being a runaway slave in the Outer Rim isn't exactly easy, she makes the Mandalorian an offer he can't refuse and soon they travel across the galaxy, looking for her missing husband.

Chapter index

Chapter 6 - The Mechanic

The hangar was quiet when they entered, no sign of the mechanic or her pit droids anywhere.

At the starboard side of the ship a panel had been moved aside and complicated machinery was exposed to the world. Parts of the turbine had been ripped out, making sure that the ship wouldn't be able to get off the ground.

As she examined the ship, Sinead's eyes strayed to the exit by their own volition, her heart beating just a little bit faster. Rationally, she knew that Fennec Shand had no idea that she was even there, and Sinead didn't think herself so important that she was a target, but the scared, vulnerable part of her brain screamed at her to find passage on the next ship out of there and never look back.

Sinead started when Mando shouted and came thundering out of the ship, looking around wildly.

"The kid's gone."

"What do you-"

Mando zeroed in on one of the pit droids. "Where is he?"

The poor droid collapsed in the sand with a shriek.

The mechanic came out from her workshop, cradling the kid. "Quiet!" She looked down at the cranky child. "Oh, it's okay. You woke it up! Do you have any idea how long it took me to get it to sleep?"

Mando stared at the mechanic, his body radiating barely repressed nervous energy. "Give him to me."

The mechanic shifted her grip on the child. "Not so fast! You can't just leave a child all alone like that. You know, you two have an awful lot to learn about raisin' a young one."

Sinead's eyes widened. "Oh, he's not mine."

The mechanic pursed her lips and looked from Mando to Sinead. "Right ..." she said. "Anyway, I stared the repair on the fuel leak." The diagnostic machine beeped angrily, and she gave it a good whack. "There you go. I have a couple of setbacks I want to talk to you about. You know, I didn't use any droids, as requested, so it took me a lot longer than I expected."

Mando fetched a bag from the ship. "She'll stay back if you have any questions." He nodded toward Sinead.

The mechanic looked her up and down. "Do you know your way around a starship?"

"Provided with a map I'm sure I can figure it out."

"Don't go thinking it's gonna be cheaper just cause you leave some help behind! You still owe me-"

"I know." Mando stopped in front of the mechanic, who looked at him suspiciously. "Thank you."

“Oh …” She shot Sinead a confused look, who could do nothing but shrug. Apparently, gratitude was a rare thing in Mos Eisley.

The Mandalorian moved toward the exit with the mechanic hot on his heels. Sinead stayed by the ship, wondering if she should find somewhere to hide, or if it would be too hard to explain to the mechanic.

A droid slinked up to the ship, a small wrench in its hand.

"Sorry," Sinead said, and the droid stopped in its tracks. "The Mandalorian don't want any droids on the ship. Don't ask me why."

The droid beeped dejectedly and let the wrench slip from its hands and fall to the ground with a thud.

Sinead was poking around the damaged side of the ship when the mechanic came back, holding the child on her hip.

"He's left with some Corellian looking fella." She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. "You know what that's about?"

Sinead didn't, as the mere mention of Fennec Shand had put all other considerations on the sideline.

"I don't like the look of him. He's too ..." the mechanic searched for the right word. "Young."

"I think the Mandalorian can take care of himself."

"Eh, you're probably right. He could break that little twerp in two if he wanted. You want down?"

"Wha-? Oh."

The kid was let down on the ground and toddled toward Sinead, his small feet making tracks in the sand. When he came to a power-converter, he tried climbing it instead of going around and teetered on the edge before Sinead grabbed him.

"That's not for climbing," she said, already pulling her braid out of his hands.

"Now you're here, I might actually get some work done." The mechanic grabbed a toolbox and moved to the open panel. "You know what species he is?"

Sinead sat down on a durasteel crate, the kid sitting calmly on her lap. She let him grab her braid, since it was apparently the only thing he was interested in.

"I've no idea. The Mandalorian hasn't exactly been in a sharing mood when it comes to the kid."

"Yeah, he doesn't seem the chatty type."

"You don't know half of it." The child cooed when Sinead lifted him to examine his little face. "Maybe he's a lannik."

"Now I haven't seen a lannik in a day and a half, but I'm pretty sure they didn't use to be green."

"Mm, stranger things have happened."

The kid seemed to understand, somehow, that they were talking about him. He babbled a short string of nonsensical sounds and gave her a toothy smile.

There was something about him that made Sinead sure he wasn't a lannik; he was strange in a way she couldn't put her finger on, when she looked into his dark eyes, it felt like something much older looked back.

The harsh smell of fuel hit her nose, and Sinead wondered if she should move further away, but as long as the mechanic didn’t run, she supposed there was nothing to worry about.

"Name's Peli, by the way." She used both hands to clamp down on a pipe that dripped fuel. "Did you say you know anything about ship repairs?"

"I'm Chela. And that really depends on what you want me to do. I grew up around freighters, but never really had an interest in learning how they work."

Peli shot Sinead a look over her shoulder.

"Sorry. But what do you want me to do?"

"Take the hydroclamp over there-" she nodded toward a greasy toolbox- "and put it right next to my hand, will ya'?"

Sinead placed the child on the ground, and he waddled after her as she went to grab the clamp.

"Hey!" Peli shouted to one of her droids. "Make sure the kid doesn't get in the way."

Sinead crouched down next to Peli. From here, the smell of fuel nearly knocked her over. "So just put it here?"

"Don't scratch the pipe, or else we have a whole new leak on our hands."

The hydroclamp whirred as it compressed around the pipe, stopping the leak.

Peli got off her knees and stretched, and there were new stains on her overalls. She didn't seem to mind. "That’s one fire out. Now on to the next three hundred. What did you do to this boat?”

"I told you, meteors."

"Uh-huh. Must have been one of them new starships that shoot meteors instead of lasers.”

"Might have been. Stranger things, and all that."

"Strange, right."

Next, Peli showed Sinead how to remove the camburator and replace it with one that wasn't half melted into the circuitry. Peli carefully removed the burnt chunk of metal but before she had a chance to put in the new one, a random charge went through the wires and a flame shot out from the hole.

"Kark!" Peli yelled and jumped back. "Where's the damn-"

One of the droids came bounding up, beeping cheerfully all the way. A small panel on its helmet slid aside and it doused the fire, a strong scent of chemicals overpowering the smell of fuel. When it was done, it turned to Peli who gave it a quick pat on the head.

“Figure his no droid policy doesn’t extend to emergencies.”

The kid watched all this sitting a safe distance away, his small hands buried in the sand.

"Whatever jackass modified this boat did a piss-poor job of it. Who links a baffler to a flux surger? Was this put together by a Kowakian monkey-lizard on spice?"

Sinead cautiously stepped forward to look at the damage. It didn't look like the fire had done anything but scorch the metal plating on the ship, that already looked like it'd flown through an active volcano. "Can you fix it?"

Peli made a sound at the back of her throat. "Can I fix it she asks." She exchanged a look with the droid. "Sure, but I can’t promise it’ll hold in the long run. Those meteors really did a number on you."

Sinead shot a look toward the exit. "Just as long as we get off this planet."

"Not a fan of the heat are ya?"

"The sand. It gets everywhere."

Peli snorted as she grabbed a complex tool and started work on the camburator. "Yeah, the desert isn't for everyone. You should stay back, by the way, easier to do on my own. Don't wanna have to worry about you electrocuting yourself on the y-brantor."

Sinead didn't complain, pulling back and leaning against the remains of a half-gutted hoverbike.

She watched Peli work for a bit. "Has Tatooine changed a lot since the Hutt died?"

"Oh, heard about that, have you?" Peli didn't look up from the ship.

"Everyone this side of the galaxy has heard that the Hutt croaked."

"I guess you're right. Well, instead of paying protection money to the fat slug, we give ‘em to whatever gang happens to be top dog this week." She pulled out another burned part. "Can’t complain though, at least these ones don’t break my droids when I’m a few credits short."

"Seems a bit counterintuitive, doesn’t it, breaking your droids? How are you supposed to make any money then?”

"Yeah, I’d say take it up with Jabba, but you’re kinda late for that."

"Let’s just hope the afterlife is filled with salt pits."

"Personally, I hope he’s stuck in the belly of a sarlacc."

Sinead smiled at the thought. "Oh, that’s good."

Peli had her entire head inside the ship when she spoke, making her voice sound muffled. "So how long’ve you been traveling with the Mandalorian?"

"Not that long. Around four days, perhaps?" It was always so hard to tell when most of the time they spent hurling through space.

"Is it really true they never take their helmets off?"

"Seems so. I've never seen him without it."

"Well-" Peli pulled her head out, a smear of oil across her forehead- "how do they eat?"

"You know, I haven’t actually seen him eat. Or sleep, for that matter."

"You think he’s a droid?"

Sinead huffed out a laugh. "You know, that would explain so much."

Their conversation halted when the kid wobbled over to Sinead, who sat him down next to her on the hoverbike. He had found a bolt somewhere and was examining it with childish curiosity.

"You’ve been on Tatooine all your life?" Sinead said after the silence had gotten too much. It was nice talking to someone who knew how to have a normal conversation.

"Born and bred. My da worked the space port before me. Taught me all I know."

A small, wistful smile spread across Sinead's face. Her father had tried teaching her about ship maintenance, but she hadn't been interested to learn, she would rather fly, explore the galaxy. His voice rang through her head, 'you're not gonna get farther than the next system over if you don't know how to take care of your ship, space-bug.' And then he leaned over and kissed her forehead. Her heart ached. She hadn't thought about that in a long time.

"Chela? You all right there?"

Sinead blinked and looked around. She was still in the hangar on Tatooine, and her father had been dead for 11 years.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, can you repeat that?"

Peli looked at her, her brows knitted. "Sure. Said I started working alongside him when I was old enough to hold a wrench and not kill myself by wandering in front of an ignited turbine."

"And your mother? She was a mechanic too?"

"Nah, was a scavenger out in the Dune Sea. Never had a mind for mending machines, only pulling them apart, she used to say. Sand People got her about fifteen years ago."

The kid pulled himself upright and tried crawling onto Sinead's lap. She caught him before he slipped.

"I’m sorry to hear that."

"It was a long time ago. Da went a couple of years later, left the work to me. Can’t complain, lots of people would kill for a job with steady credits. Providin’ the customers pay, of course."

"You get a lot of traffic here?"

"Mos Eisley’s the biggest spaceport on Tatooine, so we get our fair share. Not lacking for work, that’s for sure. You’d think that after the Hutt’s death, smugglers and grifters wouldn’t have a reason to dock, but they still show up like mold.”

"Maybe Tatooine has something special to offer."

"Ha! We ain’t got nothing to offer except sand and Jawas."

"And I’m sure that out there, someone is just dying to find a place filled with nothing but just that. That person is probably psychotic, but they’re out there."

Peli's laugh echoed from where her entire upper body was inside the ship. "Chela, you're all right."

Biting her lips, Sinead looked up at the blue sky, suddenly feeling very lonely. No matter how well they connected, Peli would always know her as Chela.

She changed the subject. "So, you have any good stories to tell me? Any shady smugglers or dashing rogues come your way? I'm sure working here all your life you must've seen a thing or two.

Peli stood up, her face contorting in pain as she grabbed her back. "You know, you ask a lot of questions, Startin' to feel like I'm being interrogated here."

"Sorry about that. I just like hearing stories. I had a broken holorecorder when I was little, that only recorded sound, and I went around interviewing everyone who would let me."

"What happened to it?"

"It was ... lost, a long time ago. We traveled a lot, so I guess I needed something to occupy my time with-"

"Didn't learn a damn thing about starships, that's for sure."

"-so I started collecting stories. Everyone has something to tell.”

"You know, most people collect interesting rocks, funny drawings ..."

"Hey, out in space there's a distinct lack of interesting rocks. I found the next best thing."

Peli shot her a look before returning to work on the ship. Her curly hair was plastered to her forehead. "So, to answer your question, yes, I have a couple of stories from over the years. I don't know if you noticed it on your little stroll around town, but this ain't exactly Coruscant. We get lucky if we go one day without a shootout in the street."

"Hey, I've been to Coruscant once and I barely got off the ship before someone tried to sell me some spice. I’m sure Mos Eisley isn't that different."

"Sounds like what happened to Brendo last week. Hope you didn't end up with a vibro-blade between the ribs."

Sinead snorted. "No, it didn't go that far."

Peli came up again, this time with a small component in her hands. She sat down on the nearest surface and started to pry it open. "Now let's see, a good story for your collection ..."

Sinead settled in and listened to a long-winded story involving a banged-up YT-1300, a bunch of imperial stormtroopers, and a hangar left in ruins.

"I don't suppose the Empire paid your friend for damages?"

"Bastards nearly arrested him on account of 'harboring a fugitive', go figure. And you know, I was pissed that slimy bastard stole my dock. Changed my tune when I saw what they did to the place."

"Did he manage to salvage anything, or is it still a smoking hole in the ground?"

"After clearing out the rubble, the place was mostly working again. Ugly, but usable, which is the official Mos Eisley motto if you ain’t noticed.”

Stars dotted the sky, which had gone from azure to a dark blue. Surrounded by tall walls, the shadows seemed deeper, but in contrast, even though the suns had set, the stonework had spent all day baking in the sun and was still radiating heat. It wouldn’t be long until that heat dissipated, and the desert would grow freezing cold. It reminded Sinead of many night on Sriluur huddled under a thin blanket, waiting for the sun to rise.

"He's still telling that story to every poor bastard he manages to corner. As he tells it, he's lucky to be alive."

Peli and Sinead sat at a low table under the stars, looking at the ship that had been fixed as well as any competent mechanic could. At least it no longer looked like it had been to hell and back.

The tall walls surrounding them blocked out all sounds of Mos Eisley.

Sinead leaned back in her uncomfortable chair and looked up at the darkened sky.

"So, you've always known you wanted to be a ship mechanic?"

Peli looked up from the datapad she was thumbing through. "Yes ma'am, ever since I was a little 'un. Growing up in a spaceport certainly helped, but I've always found that ships spoke to me, sort of. Does that make sense?"

Sinead leaned back even further, almost slipping out of the chair. "Sure it does."

"What about you? You always knew you wanted to be a ..." Peli gave Sinead a scrutinizing look. "Smuggler?"

"I'm not a smuggler," Sinead said with a laugh. "I'm ... I don't really know what I am. Searching, I guess."

"Hey, ain't any of my business. Learned a long time ago there're more creds for those who keep their traps shut."

Sinead gave her a soft smile. "'Preciate it."

The child slept on a chair beside Sinead, swaddled in a blanket to ward off the oncoming chill. She reached out and ran a finger over his little head.

"You know, back when I was your age, one of them big freighters stopped by to regroup after their ship was in a tiff with some pirates or other. I was brought on to help them sort themselves out, and I guess the foreman took a likin' to me because he offered me a job on the ship."

"Well then, what're you doing here?"

"Easy now. I ain't gonna lie, I was mighty tempted to take it. They needed someone who had a way with boats and droids. Apparently the last one ended up skipping out after first pay." Peli eyes were hazy with old memories.

"Why didn't you?"

Peli huffed out a breath. "Tattoine is my home. I ain't got much in the way of family, but I got my droids, and that's gotta be enough." She affectionately patted the closest droid on its domed head. "This one got chucked after a podrace, found him out by the dump, nothing but a pile of bolts and rust. Think he got hit by a podracer down in the pit."

Sinead looked at the little droid.

"Imagine if I hadn't been here, what would've happened to him. I pretty much had to remake him from the bottoms-"

"Wait ..." Sinead held up a hand to stop Peli. "You fix droids ..."

Peli's eyebrows knitted together. "Yeah. Chela, are you-"

"Hold on."

Sinead got up from the chair so fast it nearly tipped back and raced to the ship. No time to turn on the lights, she ripped open a compartment and rifled through it until her fingers closed around the memory bank.

When she came back, the child was awake and looking around blearily. He reached out to her, but she skirted around and placed the little box in front of Peli, who now looked thoroughly confused.

"Can you find out what's on this?"

Peli picked up the memory bank. "Kriff, Chela, what did you do to this thing? Remove it with a sledgehammer?”

Sinead's smile was strained. "Something like that. Can you do it?"

Peli turned the box over and over, looking at the fraying wires. "Shouldn't be a problem, I can reroute it through one of my droids."

"You can't connect it with a datapad or something?"

"This came out of a droid, meaning it's going into a droid if we want to know what's on it. You know what we're looking for?" Peli said, getting up and striding into her workshop.

Sinead followed her closely, picking at her fingernails as Peli went around turning on the lights and grabbing various tools.

The workshop was cluttered in a very particular, organized way found in garages and repair stations all over the galaxy; gear and instruments were strewn across every surface not occupied by ship-parts in various states of repair. An old astromech had been chucked in the corner, ripped for parts until it was nothing but a hollow shell. The low ceiling seemed to trap the overpowering smell of fuel and oil.

Peli sat down on an overturned oil-drum and called over the nearest droid, who came slinking up to her, clearly not enthused about the prospect of having a foreign element plugged into its brain.

"Oh, don't be such a baby," Peli said when the droid beeped sadly. "It’ll be over in a sec." With a knife she replaced the wires with new ones and started plugging them into the droid.

Sinead heard a sound behind her, and she turned to see the one of the other droids walk up with the child in its arms.

"Done," Peli said, leaning back from the droid. "Give it some time to calibrate and ask away."

Her mouth was dry. Sinead forced herself to swallow and took a deep breath.

"Are there any records of a Kyen Beck ever having been on the facility?"

The droid trilled a long line of binary.

"My binary's a bit rusty, can you ...?"

Peli sat up in the chair. "Oh, sure. Um ... it says that ... there are records of a K. Beck being shipped to the facility. Is that it? Who's-?"

Sinead found the nearest clear surface and sat down. Heart hammering in her chest, she felt the ground shifting under her feet. It was like seeing the convor again, the sheer proof that Kyen was a tangible person who had left a sign for her.

"Where did he go next? I-I mean, does it say what happened to him?"

Peli listened to the droid. "No it doesn’t, I’m afraid."

Her heart hurt.

Sinead leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. "Fuck."

"I gotta know, who's Kyen?"

Peering through her fingers, Sinead saw Peli's worried eyes looking back. "Please don't ask any questions. I'm not in the mood to come up with a lie."

"Most folks aren't as forthcoming about the fact that they're lying."

"Not in the mood to pretend I'm not a liar either."

Sinead leaned back and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the smell of oil. She knew for a fact that Kyen had been there, just not where he went.

The droid beeped another long string of binary that Sinead didn't even bother trying to figure out.

"Wait a minute-" Peli listened to the droid, her brow furrowed in concentration- "according to this, all of the slaves-" she gave Sinead a shocked look- "were sent to a mining facility on Celva-Celvalara. Where's that?"

For the second time in as many minutes, Sinead's heart jumped into overdrive. "Celvalara? I've heard that before ..." she got up and started pacing around.

Peli watched her go in circles, rolling an old metal spring between her palms. "It's a planet?"

Sinead was about to answer, when her deeply ingrained self-preservation kicked in and she stopped herself before saying too much. She did recognize it, but that didn't mean she had to tell everyone.

"I don't know. I'll look into it." She reached Peli and took her hands into her own. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I really mean it."

Something akin to a blush spread over Peli's face, mostly obscured by the perpetual layer of dirt and oil covering it. "Um, yeah, well, I didn't exactly fight a sarlacc, did I."

"You might as well." Sinead squeezed her hands. "Thank you."

She rummaged in her pockets and withdrew the necklace, which had been tangled into a small ball. "I have this ... thing ... it's not much, but please take it as payment."

Peli peered at it. "You got that from Zinza?"

"If you mean the old lady with the disagreeable attitude, then yes."

"Ha! How much did you pay for that thing?"

"Forty creds."

"Forty! You got ripped off."

Sinead let out a small chuckle. "I think paying anything would constitute as being ripped off."

Peli cackled and waved her away. "Keep it. Who knows, you might end up meeting a blind droid in need of an optic unit."

"I'll make sure to give you a good tip, then."

"I like the sound of that."

<- Previous chapter - Next chapter ->

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 14 – From This Point and On

D-day: it is a term coined from the landings performed by the Allied at Normandy, which lay in hands of Nazi Germany during the Second World War.

There are several historical debates concerning the accurate representation of “D.” The most commonly supported argument nowadays is that “D-day” is an acronym for “Day-Day,” and the former “day” is believed to be a temporary connotation of the date of the landings, which was unsettled at the time.

Simply put, “D-day” was named for “the day unknown,” in a way. Which is ironic, considering the fact that by the 21st century this term has come to denote a specific date of an event or operation.

On the other hand, had Rael known the origin of “D-day,” he would have thought that it could not be any more perfect for his situation. Because even though it was the D-day for him, he had no idea whether he could depart for Lukedonia.

At the same time, however, now kind of familiar with the human called Yuhyung Jang, he really did not care.

He did not care that the researcher did not show up on time for an hour, as long as he could leave by the end of the day.

And Rael could swear he took care in making himself sound not too irritated with the delay, but the KSA agent leading him to the lab was sweating his glands off trying to appease him.

“P-please don’t worry, sir! I’ll teach him a lesson as soon as we find him!”

Rael already told him a number of times he needed not to fret, to no avail. Then again, the director and the doctor, the most authoritative personnel in KSA, and Yeonsu and Sangin, the most influential agents of KSA, looked more than ready to bark like a dog or jump off the building, if only Rael had said the word.

So Rael was not surprised to see lesser employees, including his guide, acting like a bunch of scaredy-cats.

Hence Rael gave up on relieving his guide of his anxiety by the time they reached Yuhyung’s lab, which was sealed by a wooden door fit into the frame as a provisional boundary, perhaps because Yeonsu made the original door useless with a kick.

“Hey! Yuhyung! You in there?!”

The agent pounded the door, and they were met with a crashing sound within, something to be heard from a demolition site.

“What on earth is keeping you there for an hour?!”

“S-sorry! Sorry! It’s just that...”

“Well, hurry up! You’re late...!!”

“N-no! Don’t open the door! Please, don’t!!”

Yuhyung freaked and yelled, while Rael spied something through the opening of the wooden board.

‘A smoke? Is there fire again?’

He was about to warn the agent, when the latter jerked open the door and screamed at Yuhyung demanding to tell them what kind of trouble he brewed this time. He thereby allowed the misty body flickering inside the lab to spill out to the corridor.

Rael was unfazed by the déjà vu of his previous visit to Yuhyung’s lab. He was only interested in what had happened to the owner of the lab.

‘It doesn’t smell like something burned... But I wouldn’t dub it as an ordinary smoke. What is this smell...?’

The blonde noble was about to step into the room to inspect better, when the agent next to him blocked his mouth with his hand. At the same time his knees gave out, and the man promptly collapsed.

“Agent Jung!”

Just then Yuhyung, with his nasal area protected with a thick piece of cloth, bolted out of the lab and examined the fallen agent. As soon as he recognized Rael, who was also wearing alarmed eyes, he literally groveled before him.

“P-please! I need your help!!! W-we must not let this gas spread through the building!”

Rael’s composure kicked in upon the man’s plea, and he lunged towards the chamber. He shut the door and surveyed his surroundings to find out where the smoke was coming from – under Yuhyung’s desk.

Or rather, from the center of a mass of shattered glasses scattered about the leg of his desk.

When he had to take advantage of Frankenstein’s lab in the past, Rael collected enough scientific knowledge and experimental tips to realize exactly what he would need in this situation. The noble fervently rolled his eyes, which soon landed on a round-bottom flask labeled “neutralizer.” Sparing no second, he snatched the utensil and catapulted it.

He swiftly maneuvered his body so he would be safely away from the smoke even before the chemical would hit the glasses, and instantly even thicker smoke blasted through air, with a sound of an acid scorching the surface of a metal.

However, the phenomenon was short-lived, as the first smoke blended with the new smoke and grew faint in color and stench. Rael waited for the original smell to dissipate completely until he unfastened the door.

“T-thank you so much! That’s right... The neutralizer. How could I forget? I was so stupid. I was...”

“So startled you missed it. Which is natural. Totally understandable. By the way, what was that gas?”

Yuhyung’s face turned melancholy, distressed, while Rael took the agent to a nearby cot, still unconscious.

“This gas was one of the secret weapons we were developing against the Union. Or rather, it was one of the weapons we were developing against modified humans. What we had in mind was a weapon that can subjugate modified humans.”

“You mean only modified humans?”

“That’s right. When humans go through body modification, their genes naturally go through man-made genetic mutations, which create unnatural biochemical molecules to last permanently in their genetic make-up. So we figured if we come up with a weapon that reacts exclusively to such molecules, we will be able to arm ourselves with a weapon that works solely on our enemies AND prove devastating against the Union. I was in the lead of the project concerning this gas.”

A weapon that makes a lethal chemical reaction with physical traits unique to the modified humans – it sounded more than efficient to Rael. Which in turn made him question how come KSA has been keeping it secret even now. And how come the researcher seemed so disappointed when he should be practically stabbing the air with his nose in pride for such a breakthrough of weaponry.

Yuhyung opened his mouth in reply, which punctually rid Rael of his questions.

“But we were met with a problem. With our current technology and resources, it was impossible for us to adjust the effectiveness of the gas while keeping the Union’s radar quiet. In the end, this gas became a blackout tranquilizer that takes effect on modified humans and ordinary humans – a huge waste of our time and money and effort.”

Yuhyung turned his head towards the spot where the gas used to rise, his pupils dense with dejection and mixture of affection and hatred.

“So I decided to destroy it, after saving a sample of it in case we would need it in the future as a reference. And I was trying to make the bottle more airtight just before you arrived, so... Yeah. Uh, but I’m not blaming you! Not at all! This is all because I was clumsy.”

“...Does our upcoming trip have anything to do with your nervousness...?”

“Uhm... It’s true that I got less sleep than usual last night, but... Uh, but that doesn’t mean I blame you for this! I will never do that!!!”

Rael waved his head ever-so-slightly before he clogged his voice box. After all, his priority was not shaping his conversation with Yuhyung into an actual conversation. They were supposed to drop by the director’s office one last time before they moved on their way.

Still, Rael could not help peeking at the man as they walked towards their destination.

‘Frantic but certainly gifted in research. In other words, a puzzle of a human being.’

Now that he learned about this so-called supposed special weapon against the Union, he had even come to admire Yuhyung.

He was aware that “keeping the Union’s radar quiet” did not simply mean keeping the Union in the dark regarding this gas.

‘In addition to keeping this gas secret, these people would have had to downgrade their technology on the surface, to make KSA technology appear like a firefly in the face of a sun in comparison to Union technology. So that even if Union gets to take a look at their technology, those monsters wouldn’t notice that KSA has been trying their hands on studies and experiments on body modification behind their backs.’

Even with limited resources and technology aside, the fact that this man managed to develop such a pioneering weapon to near completion under the invisible eyes proves how talented he is as a developer.

‘Not to mention KSA’s technology on body modification would be at least a century behind that of the Union. Not that KSA must have been slacking off with their lab progress, but its technology in the essence would be no more than imitation of Union technology, thus obviously lacking in precision and quality. But this guy designed what could have been a masterpiece with inadequate resources, mimicry of technology, and progress that would not draw Union’s attention.’

What could have happened if this human received his salary not from KSA but from Union? What if this researcher decided to antagonize nobles or werewolves?

‘I’d hate to even imagine what could have happened.’

Joyful for the very first time that he was not an opponent to an ordinary human, instead of a supernatural fighter or a modified human, Rael glanced at Yuhyung with veneration.

In other words, noblekind and wolfkind have earned a superbly deft ally.

Which is why Rael’s footsteps had grown much more steadfast on his way out of the director’s office.

‘Now it’s all up to me. As long as I do my job correctly, this project will be a success. And Lukedonia and werewolves would get to boast tighter alliance and security and accelerate their recoveries. And the Kertia advisory patriarchs would hopefully acknowledge me. So I will do a good job. I must.’

Feeling his anxiety stirring, Rael calmed himself.

‘A lot of things will change from this point and on.’

*****

Meanwhile, Frankenstein’s Lab

“...Beg your pardon?”

Frankenstein retorted at his visitor, apparently unhappy that she must repeat herself, as suggested by her pursed lips.

“Where is the 3rd Elder?”

Frankenstein could tell that this was not a social or friendly visit, for Lunark was donning a face of a child whose mother verbally offered some broccolis.

“Mind if I ask you why you need to see him?”

As soon as he asked, Lunark’s grimace thickened. Now she looked like a child whose mother shoved broccolis into her face.

“Mind if I ask you why you need to know?”

Lunark replied, somehow making herself sound like she had her teeth clenched tight despite her wide-open mouth.

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you before you.”

“You sound like there’s a reason you can’t tell me.”

“You sound like there’s a reason you can’t show him to me.”

“Can’t you just let me know why?”

“Can’t you just let me see him?”

The banter between two gorgeous man and woman was interrupted by a third person who was not altogether unrelated to their conversation.

“No need to tire yourselves with a potential argument. I’m right here.”

The 3rd Elder joined the lab, separating a towel from his half-dry hair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lady Lunark?”

Lunark turned her hesitant eyes to Frankenstein. He met her straight in the eyes, questioning if she were staring at the right person.

“There’s nothing that Frankenstein cannot listen among the things that are meant for me. There shouldn’t be anything that he can’t listen.”

The 3rd Elder so very kindly explained, and Lunark signaled her acquiescence with a sigh.

“Recently, I have been in lead of my kind’s search squad, made up of warriors in order to track down Union facilities. And we picked up a couple locations. But there is a problem – or problems.”

“And what would they be...?”

“First, the facilities we found were already shut down. Second, those facilities belonged to Crombell.”

“Crombell? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. And don’t ask me how we figured that out; that’s the least of your concerns. Those facilities were wiped out so clean we couldn’t fathom anything about the ones that preceded us – whether they are male or female, or single or multiple. But curiously, they left the security camera footages intact, albeit tampered and therefore unhelpful.”

“Perhaps the ones who did the shutdown felt no need to delete them, with the footages already tampered beyond repair.”

“Probably. Frankenstein, has your gang ever taken a field trip overseas for their shutdown operation...?”

“No. For now they’re working in joint with KSA only in Korea, within its shoreline. They haven’t even been to Jeju Island.”

Lunark nodded, having expected such an answer. She focused her eyes at 3rd Elder, devoid of contempt for once.

“Well? Does this ring a bell for you?”

“...It’s hard for me to say exactly who this could be. But I think I can come up with a list of candidates behind this, if you want me to.”

“You think you can finish it in two days?”

“I’ll do that. Which is why I’d like to be excused. There’s not even a second to waste.”

The 3rd Elder turned his feet, his loose hair generating a faint whistle of a wind. Frankenstein started talking only after his sounds vanished impeccably, Lunark not even looking at him.

“Did Ignes’s data include locations of Crombell’s facilities?”

“...Yeah. Guess she undertook espionage on Crombell while devising defense against him.”

Soon afterwards Lunark sighed, still not looking at him.

“Sorry for being so biting back there. I wanted to speak to him in private if possible.”

“And why is that?”

“I figured you’d sprint outside as soon as I tell you about this. You know, so you can look into it yourself. I didn’t want to add more to your shoulders when you’re already carrying a weight worth a continent.”

“...I can’t deny that it’s most convenient for me to handle everything myself. But for now, I’m anchored to this place. So I have no intention to do that. Or rather, I’ve no time to spare for that. I’m starting to wonder how much of a busybody you take me for.”

“Busybody? I’ve never considered you a...”

Lunark rapidly rotated her head, as if complaining to him that is the most preposterous accusation she has ever heard. However, she realized how sharp her voice had become and took a deep breath.

“Anyways, sorry for barging in. I’ll be back in two days.”

Lunark turned towards the door without haste, only to glance back after a few steps.

“You do realize you’re the one who’s making me a busybody these days, don’t you? You’d better not keep me concerned about you.”

Frankenstein could not budge even after she was gone.

‘She’s concerned about me?’

In response, Frankenstein’s heart started to twist and turn, like a pair of socks in a dryer set to high.

When she did not tell him the purpose of her visit at first, he was oddly disappointed. Because with their entire history with Union taken into account, and simply with their relations taken into account, he anticipated her to glare at 3rd Elder, not him.

And when she later apologized on the matter, he was reassured. Reassured to find out that she was being considerate in her own way. Seemingly she is still being considerate for him.

Frankenstein then noted he was much more reassured than he is supposed to be and bit his lips.

‘Snap out of it, Frankenstein. This is no time for you to let that woman sway your feelings.’

Frankenstein scattered his hair, reprimanding his heart for not being itself whenever it is concerned with Lunark.

‘I need to get a grip on myself. Though I’m not sure why she keeps getting on my nerves after all this time... I really need to get a grip.’

The QuadraNet project will come to life, starting with Lukedonia, with help from nobles, werewolves, KSA, and his family in Korea. On the other hand, more than a handful of people are working their heads off to cleanse the world of the Union, especially Crombell. Therefore, it is best for him to focus on nothing but finding a solution to his new secret that not even Raizel is knowledgeable of.

‘A hoard of things will change from this point and on. I need to focus.’

*****

As for 3rd Elder, he was composing in his bedroom a rough draft of the list he promised to Lunark. Nevertheless, he knew this list would be meaningless. He was certain he knew the one Lunark was looking for, by 80% accuracy.

The fact that footages from security cameras, albeit tampered, were lingering at the scenes was more than enough to teach him who did it.

‘This is definitely her style with the job. But why? Why would she do that? I thought she was also one of Crombell’s assassins.’

Soon his brain yielded two most likely options.

‘Either she chose the extremity of eradicating everything about her commander so that no one would acquire a thing about him... Or she chose anti-Crombell propaganda now that he is gone. Though that leaves a question of whether there is someone she is serving if the latter is the case.’

He had input Helga’s name on the list, as he was typing the names in the alphabetical order. After deliberation, he began to move his hand.

‘Maybe... Just maybe...’

The cursor began to delete letters with a series of clicks, starting with “a” and ending with “h.”

Saving the list excluding Helga’s name before closing it, 3rd Elder let the air rustle through his windpipe in low vibration.

‘Maybe things will change from this point and on.’

(next chapter)

You have reached the 25% of this fanfic series! I’m not talking about the number of chapters (which keeps changing as I am typing up this message). I’m saying this was the last chapter of the introduction part of this fanfic, which is why the preceding chapters did not contain what could be considered a crisis or a battle (minus the skirmish Takio had gone through during his past, which was what chapter 13 featured). And of course, things will change beginning from next chapter. Hope you’d stay tuned for those!

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Blood Spatter - Part 2

 Part 1

________________________________

It isn’t often I wake in the morning, even when it’s Sunday and the club is closed, so it takes a while for sleep to fall away and for me to gather my faculties. The place beside me is empty and cold, and I stare at the impression left on the sheets where the blanket it still a little pulled back.

Torrid recollections flood my mind, awakening the same heat deep within my body – it’s so intense I can feel Kiril’s thumb trailing down my cheek, playing across my lower lip and slipping into my mouth. But I know for a fact it was Sebastian who warmed my bed last night.

There has never been anything remotely unsatisfying about our encounters – when we relent to our need for carnal relief he is all I am able to think about, if I’m able to think at all.

I’m just lucky I didn’t moan Kiril’s name while in the throes of rapture.

I hope I didn’t.

Noises from elsewhere in the apartment draw my attention to the fact Sebastian is still here.

Another first.

He has never stayed the night, nor have I at his place, and that’s the way we’ve preferred to have it… have each other. Flesh on flesh without the hang-ups.

So what the hell does it mean?

He’s pottering around in my kitchen by the sounds of it, again not something he’s ever done nor am I used to – I am not entirely sure how I feel about this, especially with the memory of Kiril Lambert’s hands gripping my hips still vivid and fresh.

Wrapping myself in my fluffy robe, I take a moment to stretch out the wonderful ache of my body, and marvel at how much better I now feel.

Jazz still weighs on my mind – I will never let it go – but my brain is free of pain.

“Sebastian?” I call tentatively, poking my head out of the bedroom to scan the hall before heading to the kitchen.

“Expecting someone else?” he quips, meeting me under the arch, and if he hadn’t been smiling his usual charming smile, I might have really worried I’d sighed the wrong name in satisfaction.

“No, it’s just… this is different,” I offer, flopping onto a stool.

“Well, I had to make sure you’re okay,” he points out. “You were pretty messed up yesterday. How’s the head?”

“Still there,” I quip, rubbing the back of my neck. “Pain free, thanks to you.”

“Luckily for you, that’s the kind of healing I’m good at,” he grins, and with a wink turns to open the fridge.

Luckily he can’t see my expression – a cringy hybrid of guilt and scorching reminiscence.  

“Your fridge is a tragedy, it’s no wonder you’re unwell,” he grumbles, removing a bottle of milk well and truly past its use-by date.

“I don’t eat here often,” I shrug.

“Often enough to stock up on beer though,” he snorts.

“Beer is an important food group!” I defend sheepishly, and he casts me a reproachful look over his shoulder. “Come on, Sebastian, you’re not my nutritionist.”

“Maybe I should be,” he grunts, holding up a jar of… something. “This has been here since you moved in, hasn’t it?” he sighs, and I shrug. “Miho, it’s growing features of its own.”

“I’ll call it Jeff,” I announce proudly, and Sebastian straightens. “Fine, I’ll go shopping today and fill the fridge with vegetables.”

“Which you’ll inevitably not eat,” he huffs.

“Well it’s your fault for letting me have dessert first!” I volley triumphantly, and he narrows his eyes.

“You’re not having dessert for breakfast,” he tells me sternly.

“I’m an adult, I can eat whatever I like,” I proclaim obstinately, and he approaches when I get to my feet.

I feel like I’m playing a dangerous game with him standing here in my kitchen, like we’re about to cross an invisible line that borders fuck-buddy and love interest; not sure how I feel about that.

What I am sure I feel, is the settle of his hand on my hip and the warmth radiating from his chest as he draws closer.

“Eat whatever you like, huh?” he smirks, tapping his fingers.

“And yet I’m very selective about, what I put in my mouth,” I exhale against his lips, tempting him with half lidded bedroom eyes.

“Sadly, I’m not one of the food groups,” he teases, nipping my lips but refusing to allow me to delve much deeper.

“That’s fine,” I grin, pursuing him, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’ll counteract with some exercise.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs, letting me catch him, delve into him, and get far too aroused before he pulls away. “Wish I could,” he says.

His eyes say yes, but he’s stepped back.

“But I have to get to Heathrow.”

My arms cross sulkily over my chest.

“My sister is coming home for a visit, and I promised to pick her up,” he adds in explanation.

“Fiiiiiiine,” I grump. “Guess I’ll just have to amuse myself.”

“Now there’s a stirring image,” he smiles cheekily.

“Ugh, get out before I jump you,” I growl, taking his arm and swinging him toward the door, and laughing he allows it.

  Doing something as normal as supermarket shopping feels for some reason quite strange. It’s not like I’m above the mundane necessities of life, but wandering up and down aisles pushing a cart is so far removed from the doof-doof of the club or the crystal finery of Pale’s lounge.

Hmm, the lounge, my wrist encircled by Kiril’s fingers.

“Are sanitary products truly so fascinating?” a voice queries, a caress down my spine though no contact is made.

“Did I just…” I blink, turning to look into Kiril’s laughing eyes.

“Did you just…?” he prompts, the slow smile creeping into his lips indicative of where he thinks my mind has gone.

He’s a regular customer and a powerful man… a stunning specimen… and so I try my best to hold in the roasting return volley that jumps first to my mind. Still, he’s the one inexplicably ambushing me in the feminine hygiene section.

“I’m just trying to decide if it’s worth paying extra for the organic product,” I remark casually, “considering its ultimate fate.”

To his credit, he doesn’t flinch at the discussion over tampons.

“One should never compromise on the finer things,” he philosophises, as easily as if we were talking about fine wine. “If you are unable to afford the more pleasant option, however, I would gladly pay the difference.”

There is no way I can’t laugh at this.

“Seriously?” I chuckle. “What on Earth are you doing here, Mr. Lambert?”

Shopping for a girlfriend perhaps? I know he doesn’t have a wife – a wedding like that would be spectacular. Kiril Lambert is business royalty after all.

“I’m stalking you,” he declares, his boy-like shrug incongruous with the expensive, clean lines of his charcoal, Savile Row suit.

A thrill shudders through me. It shouldn’t, but it does.

“I read somewhere you’re the CEO of a high-profile insurance company,” I say slowly, trying to measure my breaths. “That doesn’t dominate your time?”

“One should never compromise,” he repeats, reaching to the shelf and picking up a the most expensive box of tampons available, “on the finer things.”

Fighting a blush, I cover the effect of his implication with an incredulous laugh.

“So, let’s finish your shopping so we can talk,” he adds, and I feel my cheeks relax in response to the change in his tone.

Stern.

“Talk about what?”

“Your missing friend,” he replies, “and what I can do to help you find her.”

This I did not expect, and it slaps me into a bit of a daze.

”Wh… why?” I manage.

“Here is not the place to hold such a discussion,” he tells me, and begins to wheel my trolley.

Together we travel up and down the aisles in silence, and when all is done and paid for, he tells me his limousine driver will deliver them to my apartment when we’re finished with our café date.

Kiril’s words, not mine.

But it’s not just the café around the corner; oh no, we ride in conspicuous luxury to London’s newest exclusive eatery. This isn’t somewhere you can just walk off the street and enter, grab a table and a latte – it’s the kind of exclusive that opens with a month long waiting list, and a menu with pastries costing more than I might spend on food for a week.

As we enter, I’m aware of eyes turning to us: mostly women envious of my company and equally as critical of my ‘day off to slum it’ attire.

“This isn’t awkward at all,” I murmur but Kiril doesn’t break stride on his way through the doors toward a spacious booth at the rear of the café, urging me along with the feathery touch of his fingers in the small of my back.

“Ignore the spiteful stares of the envious, Sparrow,” he tells me softly, adding to the heat in my cheeks. “Unless you’d like to draw their ire a little more with a true spectacle?”

Suddenly, all I can hear, see, smell, taste and feel, is him. The recollection of the previous night, with the sense of him superimposed over Sebastian, hits me with full force and I actually stumble as my legs weaken.

“That’s a yes, is it?” Kiril whispers into my ear, my back against his chest, his arms steadying me. “Hmm? Right here in the middle of the café?”

“Mr. Lambert, welcome back,” a voice welcomes cheerfully, and Kiril shifts his eyes slowly in that direction. “Oh…uh… I apologise for interrupting,” the waiter rushes. “Should I… just…”

“Bring menus,” Kiril snaps, and the waiter scurries away, nearly falling over his own feet.

“Hungry?” I ask, gaining control over my senses again, but when I pull away from Kiril’s body I immediately wish I hadn’t.

“Oh, I could eat you up right here,” Kiril rumbles, and I think all my clothes fall off.

“I don’t think you’ll find me on the menu,” I tell him, leaving off the part where I’d happily make the necessary amendments.

“Shame,” he muses, entering the booth and settling.

He watches me do the same, every move I make catalogued by a stare that misses nothing.

“You said you could help find Jazz,” I say, knotting my fingers in front of me on the table top. “How?”

“I’ll be honest,” he says bluntly, the toe of his perfectly polished shoe bumping into mine, “but my information doesn’t come for free.”

That I will give him anything he asks for without hesitation is on my lips instantly, and I only just manage to keep from voicing it.

Anything is awfully broad.

“What could a man like you possibly want from me?” I ask instead, and his answer comes first as the slow brush of his foot up my calf.

So here is this insanely remarkable man playing footsies with me, and I ask him what he could want?

“Miho, it’s pretty clear what he wants!”

Even though his expression is polite, the amicable look of a man conducting business, he’s nudging me closer and closer toward a reaction. And I should want to demand he stop – hot or not he is all but a stranger and I do have a sense of decency – but I’m paddling against rapids trying ardently to sweep me away completely.

I want it, but I have my pride, and men like him don’t do anything without reason – take the risk?

“Take it,” a voice whispers: silk flowing over my skin.

“I’ve an incredibly boring work event to attend tonight, which would be infinitely more interesting with you at my side.”

“A date?” I chortle, unable to keep in my incredulity trapped. “That’s the best you can manage?”

Then the toe of those perfect shoes are against my thigh, moving closer to somewhere he most certainly shouldn’t be touching – my legs clench together, trapping his foot.

He doesn’t fight, leaving it where it is, and I absolutely should be standing up and stalking about enraged, but a very large part of me wants to find out what he intends to do with those mirror-shine shoes.

“Shall I show you the best I can manage?” he grins, an animalistic gleam in his eyes.

“I accept, on one condition,” I manage, my voice thin and dry, and one of his eyebrows lifts in amusement,

“Which is?”

I want Jazz back more than my own life is worth, but I’ve never uttered a sentence more difficult.

“You keep your hands – and feet – to yourself.”

Is there disappointment there? Frustration? Anything reflecting the rage of my own flesh? Maybe, but Kiril agrees nonetheless.

“I will hold you to your word,” he tells me seriously: a smouldering promise rather than a threat.

“And I to yours,” I exhale, wanting it to sound a whole lot more self-assured than it actually does. “So…”

Looking satisfied, Kiril leans back and temples his fingers.

“So, I need an escort,” he declares smugly. “Business dinners are tedious – you, will make it less so.”

Not exactly what I was anticipating, and that, along with some measure of disappointment I wish I could have kept to myself, must be written on my face because Kiril’s smile widens knowingly.

“Escort?” I repeat sceptically, hardly oblivious to the connotations.

“Would you feel better if I referred to you as my date?” he offers, challenging me in a different way. “Is that what you want it to be?”

A hawk, his gaze sharpens on his prey – me, a pigeon – and he’s about to sweep in for the kill.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter what it’s called,” I finally reply: non-committal. “You want arm candy; it is what it is.”

“Entertaining arm candy,” he adds. “Old men in pressed suits and starched collars are anything but exciting.”

“Surely a man in your position is used to that environment,” I point out.

“My familiarity with it has nothing to do with my lack of enjoyment,” he volleys easily. “And here you are, the perfect candidate to spice up the evening.”

“Because you have something I want,” I frown. “Or so you say.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered by his proposal, and my attraction to him is so powerful, I can barely contain myself.

I cross my legs.

“The moment you concede to my request, is the moment you find out for sure,” Kiril smirks, choosing to emphasise that word specifically, and I scowl.

It’s clear he is used to getting his way, but it’s just as evident he knows I’m not one to roll over, to bow, to surrender – but this is Jazz.

My greatest weakness as well as strength is laid bare before him, and he is taking advantage.

“I already told you,” I sniff, trying not to sneer or pout.

“Use my words, Sparrow,” he insists, burrowing through my sense of self-respect, laying waste to my ego.

Swallowing my pride, I square my shoulders confidently, owning my decision, my commitment to getting back my friend.

“I concede.”

This victory doesn’t seem to please him as much as I thought it would, and I capitalise.

“Now tell me what you know.”

Without hesitation he nods, and I’m floored.

“The Konstantin you’re searching for,” he begins, leaning back in a more casual posture, “is my little brother.”

Like I’ve been punched in the gut, all the air leaves me. Gasping like a fish out of water. The song and dance I’ve been making all over London in my attempts to locate Jazz and the one person of interest I have in her disappearance, and his very brother has been in my club every other night.

Suddenly I’m livid.

There’s no way he didn’t hear about my quest; I’ve been shoving my nose into every place I can think Jazz and Konstantin might have gone together, shouting my distress from the rooftops, and received only silence, even from the police.

“You had to have known before now,” I hiss, only just managing to keep the venom behind my teeth.

Leaning forward, I rise up, hands now fists pressed against the tabletop if only to keep them from lashing out at him in anger.

“Calm down, Sparrow,” he instructs, no longer smiling, but he can take his pet name and shove it up his ass.

“Don’t you dare ‘Sparrow’ me,” I growl, baring my teeth and pouring out all my potential for intimidation, which isn’t insignificant by any means. “Where is she?”

“That I do not know,” Kiril responds, spreading his hands with perfect calm. “In point of fact, I don’t even know where Konstantin is.”

Quivering with indescribable rage, I rock back and shuffle out of the booth, dead set on marching to the hell out of there and placing a call to Inspector Parker about this revelation, but Kiril slaps his hand around my wrist.

“You intend to go back on your word?” he whispers, tugging me against the edge of the table at his side.

“Oh, you set me up!” I exclaim loudly, glaring down at him - stares across the café turn to us.

“Yes, I did,” he admits, ignoring the attention we’ve drawn in favour of attempting to freeze me with those beautifully verdant eyes. “But if I’m not mistaken, you’d do anything for your friend, and agreed to do so.”

“I don’t need you to find her, Mr. Lambert,” I grate, lifting my arm, but Kiril holds firm. “I will take your name to the police and tell them you know something, so get your secretary to leave some time open for your interrogation.”

“Unlikely,” he counters, stroking the inside of my wrist with his thumb, which only enrages me more.

Against his pale skin, Kiril is suddenly wearing the handprint of my displeasure.

“If you knew anything about Jazz, you wouldn’t act like such a smug bastard,” I seethe, and my lips poise to continue when Kiril’s eyes narrow keenly.

The rising crest of my anger and indignation shudders as an opposing force meets it, attempts to push it back.

“Get off,” I snarl, throwing off his grip and stepping out of arm’s reach, allowing the swirl of ire to gather momentum once more. “If your brother has done anything to Jazz, I will burn him, and you also for daring to stand in my way.”

Storm clouds gather in his expression and thunder rumbles through every word Kiril speaks.

“It is unwise to threaten me, Miho,” he enunciated slowly, and cold ripples through my body.

“I… I’m leaving,” I stammer around the lump in my throat, but I find it impossible to move.

“If you leave now,” he says, so quietly and yet not whispering, “you will likely never see Miss Mann again.”

“And it’s just as unwise to threaten me,” I exhale thickly, though the heat in my face and the trembling air in my lungs is evidence enough I’m losing control of my composure.

Unaffected, Kiril rises, not once breaking eye contact. He is far taller than he should be, and the darkness at his back, outlining the shape of his imposing figure seems too real.

“Konstantin has an apartment not far from here,” he tells me, ignoring my unimpressive retort. “And I have a key.”

“Give it to me,” I hiss, breathless, too proud to cower, but far too unnerved to raise my voice much more.

“No,” he drops plainly, then his very edges soften. “But, you may join me – assuming of course you can wrestle your ego into submission long enough to reiterate your commitment to our agreement.”

Hubris calls for me to slap him again, to stalk out and ban him from ever entering Pale again – but my friendship with Jazz is far stronger than that. Even if he has something to do with Jazz’s disappearance, too – and I’d be stupid not to consider this given his manipulation – I have no real choice but to accept.

“I agree,” I tell him frostily, re-affixing my handbag on my shoulder and crossing my arms over my chest.

 Kiril watched Miho closely, relentlessly, where she sat beside him in the back of his limousine. She was still, a statue frozen in a moment of wrathful indignation, with her gaze fixed forward; but he knew she had him in her peripheral vision, seeming ready in an instant to defend herself from unwanted contact.

Contact he wanted.

There she was, so close to him, warm, determined and fierce, and desire pulsed through his veins. How easy it would be to drag her into his lap, snake his hands around her and squeeze around her delicious curves, and bury his face against her neck.

But he didn’t, because he suspected something Narumi had missed when she manipulated Miho’s thoughts into forgetting her encounter with Alex – a recollection that had already begun to surface once more. This resistance, the way she fought against his ability to overwhelm her emotions – and won – suggested she was even more than the stunning, confident businesswoman he’d first taken her for.

And he wanted her all the more for it.

As their vehicle pulled into a secured underground car park, Miho’s eyes widened a little.

“He lives here?” she questioned.

One Tower Bridge overlooked the Thames, and the iconic Tower Bridge itself. The complex as a ridiculous piece of real estate someone like Miho would never be able to afford – millions of pounds for luxury she only ever saw in film.

“This is the last address of his I’ve known,” Kiril responded, exiting the car himself, though it was the driver who released Miho from its confines.

Unlike the subterranean car parks Miho had experienced across the city, this one was bright and absolutely spotless. There were no petrol fumes, no rubber marks on the sealed concrete ground, and all painted markings were in pristine condition.

Without a word, Kiril began in the direction of the elevator, using the same key-card that had admitted their entry to the car park, to open them.

Dubiously, Miho stared at the confines of the elevator interior, obviously cautious about being trapped in the small space with Kiril without the presence of another person. Pure obstinacy pushed her forward and to the very back, where she leaned against the mirrored wall and glared as Kiril joined her.

“It’s going to be a very long night for you if you keep that up,” he pointed out, smiling like he actually hoped she’d persist.

“I suppose you’ve love me to be compliant and pliable and all over you like the women you bring to Pale,” she snorted, continuing to glower as the doors closed them in.

“Oh no, I quite prefer you combative,” he chuckled, moving closer, and Miho sidestepped to avoid being further boxed in. “Much more entertaining.”

“I’m not here for your amusement,” she huffed, crossing her arms again, but it made balancing a second dodge a little difficult.

She found herself in the corner, Kiril directly before her looking most pleased with himself; and she was infuriated, in part because he insisted on challenging her when she was here only to serve her mission, but more so that the closer he drew, the more her skin eagerly anticipated his touch.

The doors opened on the fourth floor to a clear and pleasant chime, but Kiril continued to smoulder, close enough to Miho for her to actually feel the radiant heat from his body – or so it seemed.

“No comeback, Sparrow?” he prompted smugly, leaning his head forward, and Miho turned her cheek.

“My comeback might very well be my knee to your groin if you keep pushing me,” she growled, but Kiril’s smile only widened.

“The lady likes to rough-house,” he noted, and Miho expelled a frustrated breath, using her shoulder to nudge past him and exit to the landing.

Chuckling, Kiril followed – the more she rebuffed him, the greater his desire for her to submit to him willingly.

“So you’re a big-wig CEO,” Miho said, approaching one of only two doors on the floor. “What does Konstantin do to be able to afford a place like this?”

“I tend not to involve myself in my brother’s affairs,” Kiril replied, touching the key-card to the electronic lock beside the door. “The origin of his wealth has nothing to do with me.”

“Yet you’ve access to his luxury apartment,” Miho pointed out dryly.

“I never said it was given to me,” he responded, reaching around her to push open the door. “Ladies first.”

Well that obviously changed things a little – card or no card, it was trespass if Kiril didn’t have permission to be there. What if Konstantin was home?

“Even better,” Miho muttered in determination, and stomped into the spacious, dark wood appointed living area.

But it was quiet and clean, and Miho’s call to Jazz went unanswered.

“Refrigerator is empty,” Kiril noted, not that he was especially surprised, but Miho did not respond.

In the master bedroom she’d thrown open the door to the walk-in closet to search for women’s clothing, but finding none, she made her way to the ensuite. There she found no evidence of a woman either, but that only meant Jazz hadn’t made herself at home – or maybe hadn’t been given an opportunity to.

“Damnit,” she cursed, rushing from room to room, scanning, opening, searching every nook and cranny.

Kiril, meanwhile, was far from frantic. He wandered lazily from room to room, but wasn’t really looking for anything in particular. When he finally reached the master bedroom, he stopped in the doorway, staring.

On all fours, with backside in the air and her right cheek pressed against the plush carpet, Miho was peering under the king-sized bed, fishing around for what, Kiril did not know; but he found himself transfixed by the sight. Her posture was not an invitation by any means, and yet the idea of folding himself over her, pulling back on her hair and tasting the skin of her throat, bubbled furiously in his blood. Resisting the urge to follow through tainted the sound of his voice when he finally spoke.

“What are you expecting to find under there?”

Her body flinched but did not straighten. Instead she reached a little further, grunting as she reached her limit, and only sat back when she’d snared her prize.

“Apartments like this are serviced by professional cleaners,” Kiril pointed out, approaching. “It’s unlikely you’ll find any traces of your friend.”

“And yet…” Miho smiled thinly, staring at the small black and white swirled bead.

To Kiril it meant very little, but obviously Miho knew something.

 Inhaling slowly, I close my eyes.

This seemingly generic bead clasped between my fingers is personal to me. The ridiculously overpriced Pandora bracelet I’d given Jazz for her last birthday, comprised of elements I had chosen individually.

But there is something much deeper here, and I’m suddenly not me anymore.

The world tilts and my ears are filled with the sound of Jazz laughing, laughter emerging from my lips. She opens her eyes and I’m staring into the face I know as Konstantin’s, and his lips press against my collarbone.

Raggedly, my breath hitches as he holds me firmly against him, my legs, Jazz’s legs against the edge of the bed – and I’m giggling as he kisses up my neck and threatens to topple me backwards. But he has to work for it, I struggle and squirm and try to fend him off, but the way he grips Jazz’s wrist is a grip unbreakable, somehow gentle but commanding against my refusal to submit. Finally, he twists a leg behind mine and shoves us back against the mattress, and as Jazz’s back sinks into the deep softness of the duvet, the Pandora bracelet explodes from my wrist and beads bounce all around us.

A stillness falls as the last glass sphere rolls into hiding beneath the bed, and Konstantin peers at me with an intensity that stokes a dangerous furnace within my belly – and I can feel his desire pressing insistently between my thighs, and as he releases Jazz’s wrist, I fold my arms around his neck and draw him down to meet a fierce passion of my own.

It bounces twice, the black and white, silver swirled bead as it drops from my hold to the sound of a breathy moan. A shudder rips through my body, but as I blink, it’s Kiril’s hand I find against my cheek, his body so close we’re lightly touching. We’re standing in Konstantin’s bedroom, of course – I was always there despite what I saw and felt; it doesn’t make sense. And my emotions are muddled, mine and Jazz’s blended together, my flesh singing from Konstantin’s promise of carnal pleasure: suddenly reflected in the coolness of Kiril’s palm brushing against my face.

“What… are you?” I exhale, heat on my breath, a shivering anticipation of his slowly approaching face and a painful conflict between wanting him to take me like his brother had – hadn’t – and knowing I have every reason to shove him away.

I should shove him away.

“That look,” he responds, green fire crackling in the slim space between us, and I tremble as his other hand comes to rest lightly against my hip. “That invitation.”

“It’s not…” I begin, but my body betrays me, shifting with his encouragement to close all distance. “Kiril…” I hiss, desperately fighting to order my thoughts before I’m drowned by this wave of inexplicable need, this ludicrous urge for him to smother me. “I saw… I saw them…”

“I see you,” he states plainly, and his lips tease across mine.

Arching into him flashes an unintentional green light, and our mouths unite with a dizzying lust over which I have very little control.

PART 3

[xivu-arath]

a tess and whirl fic for @rorykillmore! this was meant to be a gift fic but then life happened and I couldn’t write for most of the year,,, I’ve been picking at it in bits since then, because what I’d gotten done had been good and this is a rp dynamic I’m still very fond of, so I wanted to give them a good, shared reunion!

In this moment, as much as he’s ever wanted anything, he wants to seem cool and put together and... not quite the bot she remembers from that other, messed up Earth.

“What do you think, Whirl?” Cyclonus asks, in his slow and brooding way. Typical Cyclonus – there’s Meaning there. They trail behind Tailgate for a moment, and Cyclonus shoots him a stern look, one that would pin lesser bots (and ones that didn’t know he was such a softy) in their tracks.

Whirl tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Eh?”

Ahead of them, the official is still droning on about building layouts and regulations, so Whirl feels pretty safe in ignoring him completely. Between being guided by someone who clearly thinks that as robots, they have to enjoy precise and exacting details and the tension itching under his plating, he hasn’t exactly been trying to pay attention. If Cyclonus and Tailgate guess that he’s struggling to not make terrible and impulsive decisions, they don’t say anything about it, and Tailgate’s more than happy to play tourist anyways. After all the fuss about this Cybertronian sanctuary on a figuratively new Earth, it only makes sense to actually go and check it out, but something about it makes Whirl twitchy.

Well, not something. He’s got a pretty good idea of what it is, and he’s not exactly up for talking about his feelings today, not with these two. There’s a balance here and it’s precious and important – more important than his problems. He’s not going to disrupt it just for the sake of being less sharp-edged and jittery.

Sure, there are no fights to pick and no people to antagonize (unless he goes looking for Megatron, and he’s not that desperate just yet) but he’s had practice being the nice Autobot who doesn’t blow people up for looking at him wrong, lately. He can handle a few days of... this.

This being what so many Cybertronians would be eager for. A place they can call their own – kind of – without all the messes and scars of what they’ve done – sort of – and a lot of people paying attention in case someone snaps and starts making superweapons or trying to cyberform the planet. It’s a place for ‘bots that have nowhere else, with just scorched ground behind them. In theory, it’s great.

“Whirl,” Cyclonus says again, and he pulls ahead a little, to make up for being caught thinking.

“I mean... it’s nice, in a settle down and retire kind of way. It makes sense, you two starting to feel your age,” he chirps, trying to get in a dig before they really think something’s up. “But settling down, playing nice... it’s just not me, you know? Anyways, I bet they don’t even allow–” He casts around for something more interesting than the humourless agents overseeing the sanctuary’s opening, just in case there’s something he can deflect to – or better yet, distract Tailgate with, which would in turn distract Cyclonus, a tactic that’s as useful as it is absolutely sweet – and his optic passes over a small group of humans following yet another agent, adorably small against the Cybertronian-sized hallway.

Is that...? He stops walking completely and Cyclonus takes a few steps only to turn back with a quiet grunt. Whirl ignores him, optic narrowing as he leans forward. The sharp current of not belonging here stays, an itch at the back of his spark, but it’s now sharing room with something else, just as prickly but much brighter.

“Is there a problem?” he hears their guide say, stiff and careful, and Tailgate adds another question but it might as well have been static for all he’s listening by now. Without quite meaning to, he moves, transforming to rush towards the group and then drop back to the ground. He hooks a claw onto the wall as he lands, partly to steady such a fast transition and partly for style points.

Most of the group stumbles back, leaving Tess standing alone, looking up at him with open, obvious surprise.

In this moment, as much as he’s ever wanted anything, he wants to seem cool and put together and... not quite the bot she remembers from that other, messed up Earth. Not that it’ll matter. She’s always been a bit too good at seeing through that kind of mask.

“Well, I never!” he sings out. “It is you.”

“Whirl?”

------------

The DEO agent, after complaining extensively about how he has a job to do and things are chaotic enough without Cybertronians going off-course to have sudden reunions – Whirl doesn’t bother telling him that he should wait to see what Cybertronian reunions are like! – does show them to a cozy little lounge.

Tess looks about as composed as someone can be when shorter than all the furniture surrounding her. Even the way she stands there, head up and arms folded, is familiar, sparking all sorts of fond feelings of relief and delight that Whirl would really much rather ignore. He doesn’t know what to do with them, after all.

Less fond is the way Cyclonus is frowning sternly at her, but he frowns sternly at everything, so that’s okay.

“So,” he says. “The two of you knew each other when you were both trapped in this alternate Earth.”

“That’s right.” She pauses, eyeing him and Tailgate – who’s perched on a minibot sized chair, and is just a little over her head. “Which you both seem to be taking pretty well.”

“It’s not that different from everything else we’ve been through, honestly,” Tailgate says, ticking off on his fingers. “How many alternate things have we visited by now? There was that quantum jump, that terrible Functionist Cybertron, Swearth of course....”

“...Should I even ask?”

“Best don’t,” Whirl tells her, taking some weird pride in how quickly Tess’s expression changes to bemused weariness. Even compared to... rift-Earth, the Lost Light and the trouble it found will always be something else. “It takes even longer to explain Swearth than the others, and we’d need months at least to go into the actual quest.” Which seems less appealing by the second. That trip to the past, that horrific what-if of Cybertron, all the Matrix stuff... it cuts too close to the spark. Best not to get into it.

“What little of it there was,” Cyclonus says, all grumbling scorn, and returns to glowering into the wall behind her.

It’s Tess’s turn to eye him, raising an eyebrow. “And the two of you are also part of the crew –”

“We’re his friends!” Tailgate breaks in, and Whirl hurriedly looks away, but not before he catches surprise flickering across her face again.

“A Cybertronian refuge without the shadow of the war or its factions, holds some interest for us.” He’s not looking but he can feel Cyclonus’s gaze on him now, and his plating bristles up defensively. So yeah, he has friends and they spend all their time being up in his business. It’s hardly fair. “Whirl was... keeping us company.”

“Because I owe them for a few dozen rescues, back on the Lost Light,” he says airily, waving a claw. “And besides, I like playing the annoying third wheel.”

“Of course,” Tess says, lips tugging into a faint smile. “It’s... a pleasure to meet you both, regardless.”

“You too!” Tailgate says, optics brightening, and then slides off of his seat. “Why don’t we let you two catch up? We can keep looking around – you can comm us when you’re done.”

It only takes a few more polite pleasantries (and one open threat to tear up the room) before they walk off hand in hand and Whirl’s left to fiddle with his claws, sneaking looks down at Tess and suddenly out of anything to say. Should he ask how she’s been? But that’s so polite, and then she’ll know he’s feeling weird about this, and ughhhh.

Happy reunions aren’t supposed to happen to him. He doesn’t know how to deal with them.

It’s virtually impossible for him to be quiet for too long, though, so he seizes on the first thing he can think of. “So! You’re still doing the whole corporate empire thing? Going to take over the world, capitalist-style?”

Tess grimaces at him – admittedly a carefully restrained one – and with that he feels a little less overwhelmed. “Yes, exactly,” she says, voice dry. “LuthorCorp might become a sponsor for the sanctuary, actually. I’m here on an introductory tour.” She pauses, probably mulling something over. “I first considered it because of you, actually.”

“Don’t just say things like that! I’ll start to think you actually care.” It’s... sweet that she thought of him, but he has to at least make some effort to push it aside.

For all that it’s been so long – years for both of them, he’d guess – she catches on all the same. “And we can’t have that,” she replies, sardonic without missing a beat. It drains back out of her voice just as quickly. “It is good to see you, Whirl. And it’s good to see that... things have changed.” He tilts his head, optic narrowing in surprise, and Tess doesn’t bother to mince words. “You used to tell me that most of the crew wanted you dead.”

He had, hadn’t he? And he’d been right, then.

“They did! Right up until... some of them didn’t. They changed their minds without even consulting me about it.”

She smiles, the expression distant. “I think I might know the feeling.”

That’s all the sincere reconnecting he can take, and he leans forward, doing that obnoxious looming thing that freaks out anyone underfoot. Not Tess, of course. She’d become immune to it after a month of knowing him. “Well, I’m not going to stay, but at least now it was worth dragging my aft out here –”

“You won’t?” Her expression is so openly surprised and troubled that he lets her interrupt, and his vocalizer stutters. Not good. He needs to find something outrageous to say, fast.

“As if a ‘bot like me deserves to end up here,” he says, meaning it in several ways and knowing she’ll catch all of them.

Tess frowns up at him, not quite sad and not quite stern. It’s the kind of look that just sits wrong, like it shouldn’t be directed at him in the first place. “Will Cyclonus and Tailgate be staying here?”

“They like it,” he mutters, optic narrowing. “I don’t know. Maybe. For a while.”

She lets that hang in the air for a second, so at least he can brace himself before she starts briskly hitting him with facts. “They seemed happy enough to have you with them. Even as a... dedicated third wheel.”

“You met them for ten minutes.” Whirl doesn’t bother trying to stifle the synthetic whine in his voice. Let him sound annoyed and plaintive. Maybe it’ll get this over with faster.

“They admitted to being your friends in that time,” she reminds him, and there’s nothing he can say to that. Sure, he’s nearly killed them before, and they’ll probably risk it again trying to do friendly things like helping with his problems, and that’s just... life, now! Like the war being truly over, or Megatron developing a sense of guilt, just another thing that feels like exposed circuitry sparking up when he’s least expecting it.

Whirl pinches his claws together and rocks his weight back, folding up like one of those Earth birds that’s all legs and neck and beak.

“You know,” Tess says, suddenly thoughtful in a way that sounds like the leadup to a terrible idea, “I’m sure if there were Cybertronians causing trouble regularly and LutherCorp did become a sponsor, I’d have to pay a visit. To make sure our views align with that of the sanctuary and its image, of course.” Her smile is tucked away and downright conspiratorial. “Just something to think about.”

“That’s a bribe!” he says, delighted and flattered. “Tess Mercer, bribing me to hang out on Earth. Imagine that.”

“I’m a lot busier, nowadays. I had to make sure we have some way of catching up.” She hesitates. “And to give you another reason that might be... easier.”

Whirl’s had enough experience now with the whole people not wanting him to go and die to not say or do anything stupid in response, but it’s a close thing. He still has to reset his vocalizer a few times and clear it with a big buzz of static before he can trust his voice to sound anywhere close to how he wants it to.

“Well, if you’re going to go to all the trouble of making business decisions just so I can piss people off for a few months... sure, count me in.” He crouches down and leans in close, his optic hovering only a bit above her head. “And you know, we might be doing this whole peace and healing thing now, but if you ever need anyone stepped on or shot up....” It’s probably half a joke.

Maybe.

“I’ll know where to find you,” she says, unconcerned and unflappable because it’s Tess.

They shake on it like it’s a proper deal, her hand wrapped around the very tip of one claw. By the time Cyclonus and Tailgate wander back in – late as usual, the saps – the stinging ache of not being right is just a little closer to an echo.

It’s enough, for now.

[yourfandomfriend]

SPN Finale and Dabb Thoughts

So, I've been keeping so much of this to myself since season 12...

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SUPERNATURAL SPOILERS BELOW

Also, long-ass post with criticism of Andrew Dabb, so hit “J” if you’re not down to crit.

Ready?

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Plot

I’m conflicted. On paper, this is my ideal SPN finale. Having Chuck pull the plug on c137 is so effing cool, I can’t wait to see what happens. The idea of the boys finally discovering, right before the show ends, that their lives of suffering and sacrifice are just wank material? That the cosmic entity who controls their fate is a lying sadist? The possibilities are endless and the last scene was fun as hell. Fully looking forward to seeing how it all shakes loose. 10/10 for the plot.

However.

Chuck

That’s just... not like Chuck at all. He used to be complex. He was loving and apathetic, cruel and compassionate, selfish and giving, grand and tiny. A wonderful monster and a terrible father. A riddle wrapped in a burrito. 

At least, he was when Kripke and Carver wrote him. Yeah, Kripke’s was a more inscrutable being while Carver’s was a “welp, cat’s out of the bag now, so let’s just carve this turkey” kind of God. But both contained multitudes.

Whereas Dabb’s Chuck is the manager of a Popcopy.

A pure villain. An oily, sadistic, narcissistic garbage deity without a second dimension. And without the context, I’m totally down for that. The idea of making the God of SPN’s world a pervert who creates good people, falls in love with them, and then tortures them until they’re “interesting” because its the only way he can shoot his goo is fantastic.

Sure, it’s been done a thousand times before, but we’ve been with these characters so long and watched them hurt and lose so many times, it’s almost like a reconning. It’s what most stans think of the people who control their favorite characters’ fates. But it’s completely disruptive to what’s come before.

And with any other showrunner, my first thought would be, It’s clearly a fakeout. Writers lie, right? This all must be ramping up to something bigger. But isn’t Kripke or Carver. This is Dabby boy.

Andrew Dabb

When Kripke and Carver’s seasons make me see scorched earth and think it’s laying the groundwork for something deep, I find out Dabb’s already spent and is fast asleep with a smile on his face. He leads up to no payoff and pays off with no lead-up. He destroys the world he inherited to get what excites him and then throws it in the trash when he inevitably gets bored.

Also, like with 12 and 13′s finales, I should’ve felt more given the events of the episode. But I didn’t. The tone was flat, the theming was MIA, the structure was a mess -- I mean, the scene where Cas gets thrown and just lays on the ground to stay out of the way while Dean’s all ready to shoot Jack and then Sam parks a damn mile away and runs to stop them for, like, an hour --

-- and the continuity is screwy, because, well, continuity is boring, right? It’s constraining and hard to keep track of, and totally ruins a big twist. Like having Lucifer and Michael finally fight -- otherwise known as The Apocalypse, an event that was hyped in season 5 as ending in half the planet getting nuked -- is really just a wire-fu stunt that couldn't blow a pencil off a lopsided desk, because the main event is Dark!Jensen in his little hat and how about we end it like the Thriller video on a goddamn freeze frame? Why not?

And the thing season 5 was built around, free will, the idea that no matter how big things got, Sam and Dean could always say no to the angels using them, even archangels. Humans can change the world with their choices. Well, forget all that because now Michael can leave the side door open and sneak back in! 

Sure, it contradicts not only prior continuity but also everything the show stands for... but wasn’t it a sweet reveal when Dean turns around and oh no! It’s not Dean it’s Dark!Jensen and let’s get him back in the little hat!

And Sam. He’s always been ridiculously reverent of characters like God and Death. And he wanted to believe that Chuck was ultimately good. The Ultimate Good. When Sam believes in someone, it takes him a while to turn on them, Jack is proof of that. Having him pissed at Chuck from the jump was really uncharacteristic of him. Not only that, it robs his revelation of all its impact.

There’s no sense of betrayal for Sam, no room for characters arcing, not for Sam or Dean. Just a flat, telegraphed twist. I honestly would’ve preferred they did some plot judo and had Sam be the one Chuck convinced to put Jack down (”You know it’s the right thing to do.” “It has to be you.” etc.) and had Chuck argue with Dean to keep him busy while Sam stole the god gun and snuck out. 

Dean could’ve realized via conversation what Chuck was up to and raced off to save not only Sam but Jack and Cas from this cruel little drama. All while Chuck smirked down the clock, thinking he was just giving Dean enough rope to hang himself with. As usual.

Then have Sam realize as he’s pointing the gun at Jack that Chuck played him, and have Dean finally shoot God, just like he always wanted.

Billy

Given the ending, I have hope. Hope that Billie does something about the way the story has treated her since season 12. She was supposed to be the character who kept the writers honest and made sure they couldn’t use death and resurrection as a “Get Out of Jail Free” card, and then halfway through season 12, after humiliating her all season, Dabb uses resurrection to literally get the boys out of jail free.

He killed her off, teased consequences and forgot about them, and when she came back, (along with twenty other characters) she suddenly couldn’t wait to bring the boys back from the dead for no reason and teleport them out of impossible situations and lecture Rowena on the natural order and here’s a Mystery Box! A whole room of Mystery Boxes! Isn’t that interesting?!

Still, the last scene of the finale gives me so much hope. If Chuck really did what I think he did, if he really Azreal’d the universe, then everything is on the table in season 15 in a way that actually makes sense.

Also, the revelation that Death is into tickle porn is a thing of beauty and a joy forever. And everyone having to tell the truth and us finding out the petty secrets Sam and Dean have been hiding from us is gold.

I need to got to work in the morning so it’s long past my bedtime. Hit me up if you want more Dabb crit, praise, and jokes later. All my thoughts on Jack and Crowley and Mary, Michael and the Lucifer/Nick story, the real reason I quit @supernatural-answers, whatever you want.  I feel like finally sharing all. 

[femcurrent]

Sorry Gen X, Blade Runner 2049 was better than the Original

by Caity

Four hours ago, I walked out of the Seattle cinerama--one of the last four theaters of its kind in the world--awestruck by Denis Villenuve’s latest cinematic marvel. Sixteen hours before that, I was falling asleep watching the cult classic it was based on.

Now before any flamethrowers comment on this basing their responses purely on the title of my post and that line, I will say that I paused the film as soon as I noticed my weariness, went to sleep, and finished it the next morning so that I did not miss any part of the film. And for the most part, I enjoyed it. Ridley Scott created a beautifully shot film with an amazing score, and it had one of the most moving antagonist death scenes I’ve seen on screen. I even forgave the ridiculousness of Roy jumping across building tops clutching a dove after he uttered the line, “All those memories will be lost in time like tears in the rain.”

But as someone who identifies as both a cinephile and general fan of science fiction, this film was a bit of a let down. A large part of that is due to the source material--Philip K. Dick’s novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” Our protagonist, Deckard, a generally uninteresting bounty hunter type, learns of four rogue replicants who have returned to earth and are causing chaos, and he then proceeds to hunt down and “retire” them. (It’s not execution if they’re not humans!) That’s the whole plot--incredibly linear. Sure, along the way, he develops a loose romantic connection with another replicant, Rachel, who is having a bit of an identity crisis after learning she’s not really human, but Rachel’s purpose in the film is mostly for Deckard to realize that maybe replicants are people after all. (And spoiler alert--he might be one too!) The final scene with Roy showing empathy and recounting his love of life as he slowly dies accomplished that point way more than any of the moments with Rachel.

So why was the new one better? I’ll tell you five reasons in the least spoiler-y way I can.

1) Representation: The first film created a world that, understandably, featured Chinese people, food, and language assuming the future interconnected world of 2019 would be influenced by the planet’s majority culture, but basically every main character was white, and overwhelming male. There were three female characters, Rachel, Pris, and Zhora. Zhora got zero character development, Pris, a “pleasure model,” was essentially a sexual being whose main goal was not dying, and Rachel, while empathetic and given a decent amount of screentime, did not really have a personality. 

Blade Runner 2049 had TWO black people (they didn’t disappear in this futuristic world--I wasn’t sure), a few Latino people including Edward James Olmos revisiting his role from the first one, and a much more balanced male to female cast. Robin Wright, ever powerful, plays a police chief who perhaps values order over individual life. Ana de Armas plays an AI with a heart of gold. Carla Juri gave a stunning performance as a memory scientist/artist. And Mackenzie Davis plays a charming prostitute. Furthermore, Sylvie Hoeks’s character “Luv” was a typical badass right-hand man type. The role could have easily been played by a man, but it wasn’t! Speaking of the antagonists and representation, Jared Leto plays a wealthy CEO desperate to find a way to make even more money, and he was blind. It did not hinder his ability to do his job, and it also wasn’t his only character trait. It was just...part of who he was. It was awesome.

While the film could have included some more people of color in prominent roles and an LGBTQ character should have been included, overall, the cast of the second film was significantly more diverse than the first.

2) Storyline and characterization. I already mentioned the lackluster plot of the first one, but 2049 was brilliant! Instead of telling the audience in a 10 minute infodump exactly what’s going to happen at the start of the movie, we discover details of a curious case alongside our protagonist, K. We make predictions that are sometimes true, and sometimes we’re thrown some curveballs. And unlike the first one, I actually cared about the people in the film. They had backstories, reasonable motivations, and enough screen time to fully develop them along the way. The first movie was 1 hour 57 minutes long and dragged. The second was 2 hours 43 minutes and I did not notice the time go by.

3) Female Sexuality. I haven’t done much research, but I’m sure there are plenty of angry blogs about the sex scene in the original film. If you are unfamiliar with this scene, let me tell you: it did not age well. And while the new movie tried to excuse it, providing evidence that Rachel was interested in Deckard from the moment they met, it’s really hard for me to watch a scene where a woman actively runs away from a man who kissed her, is blocked, and then told to say “Kiss me” to him and think to myself, “Oh yeah, this seems consensual. She’s definitely not just saying that out of fear of her current situation.” The new film was not able to change what was made, so the writers, Hampton Fancher and Michael Green, played it off as she was afraid of any form of intimacy with a man she was interested in, and not just afraid of Deckard himself. Way to work with what you’ve got fellas! But the new film’s sex scene was completely the opposite. Ryan Gosling’s K is completely satisfied with not being able to touch his romantic partner. However, she wants more and finds a creative way to get around the whole holograms-don’t-have mass thing. It was a moving moment and definitely a step forward for female sexuality.

4) Social Commentary. While the Original Blade Runner definitely hit on the idea of overpopulation (people had to move off of planet earth!) that wasn’t the main goal. And it did bring up the important question of “what does it mean to be human?” subverting the idea that “antagonist” means “bad guy.” The replicants just wanted to live. But Blade Runner 2049 took it a step forward--replicants are second class citizens for no real reason other than they aren’t the ones in power. I’m sure the line, “Dying for the right cause? What could be more human than that?” resonated with many people in the audience.

On top of that, there was a ton of social commentary on resource management and global warming. LA had to be walled off from the rising ocean tide, there was constant rain, and for some reason, it alternated between snowing and scorching heat over the course of very little time and distance.

5) Cinematography. Ok, actually, the cinematography of the first one was brilliant. No complaints here. But the new one does not disappoint. #giveDenisVillenuveadamnOscar

Where the first film felt like, “The future if it were the 80s” complete with sharply angled flying cars and shoulder pad power suits, this one is a representation of “the future if it were the mid 2010s.” There were corrupt corporations, women taking control, abuse of the environment, and an oppressed people fighting for equality. In conclusion, if you haven’t seen Blade Runner, you could still enjoy Blade Runner 2049 if you like well shot, futuristic suspense films with legitimate female representation. If you liked Blade Runner, go see Blade Runner 2049 and don’t be a slave to the ideology that “the sequel is never as good as the original.”

[fragment-of-the-soul]

Grimoire Card, Fenrir Operations Group

The Warlock clad in blue stopped before the drop off. He had traveled for many hours into the Vault of Glass, his curiosity of the Vex getting the better of him, and now, before him lay a large battleground. The battleground had three main lanes from what he could see. The left lane lead down into a somewhat flat, open area after the back stairs, while the right lead to a raised platform that looked to be some kind of bullet cover. The mid lane was by far the most open of the three with what looked like a teleport pad in the bottom most section. Floating islands surrounded the field, those that the Warlock likened to sniper posts. He could see the scorch marks left behind from rocket launchers all over the floors and walls, though they seemed to concentrate along the mid lane, especially in the bottom most area. What kind, he could not tell exactly from his vantage point, but they were large and had smaller scorches around them. 'Perhaps a cluster bomb rocket?', the Warlock thought quizzically. Vex remains were, quite literally, everywhere the Warlock looked. Even from a distance he could see that their cores were blown out or, as was for most of the bodies, were blown in half. 'Whatever had happened here had to have been a boss fight of some kind', the Warlock thought. As this thought crossed his mind the Warlock looked to the largest corpse on the field. A large Vex Hydra. He jumped from his vantage and floated down to the field. There he eyed the Hydra from a distance for a moment. It's large segmented body lay broken, it's head section having been blown apart from it's body. The Warlock stepped closer, his curiosity begging to have a look at the Hydra. As he came in reach of the giant Hydra, he noticed something he had not from his vantage. Past the Hydra and laying in the center of the supposed teleportation pad was a Vex conflux. How exactly he had missed it was a mystery to him, but he quickly noticed that it wasn't like any conflux he had ever seen before. It's normal blinding white color seemed have been dulled and looked more grey than anything else. The Warlock moved past the Vex Hydra, his curiosity focused on some new for the moment. As he stepped down the stairs he noticed just how scorched and broken area looked. To his left and right he could see four dark corridors that he was sure spawned hordes of enemies at one point, but were now empty and quiet. The pillars that held the roof above the corridors were cracked and one was even destroyed, the roof having collapsed with no support. He looked to the conflux and pulled out his companion. His Ghost, who had green and yellow stripes and four spikes, drifted closer to the strange conflux. The floating companion twirled it's body and hummed as it scanned the conflux. "Hmm, how odd. This isn't a Vex made conflux, it's Guardian. " This caused the Warlock to blink behind his helmet. Guardians made this? But how could that be possible? The Ghost hummed as it continued its scan. "Interesting, there seems to be some kind of message here. Here let me connect you." The Warlock heard static as his Ghost connected him to the message. He waited for the message to begin but all he heard was static for a few moments. He creased his brow in irritation at the constant static in his ear when he heard it, a voice. "...Tol-...... We nee-..Can't stay-..................." "Run-............ Vault. We can-....Trust me. W-....." The Warlock waited. The speech was horribly broken but he could hear two voices. A man and a woman were talking but the speech was too broken for him to really hear what they were saying. What he could tell was something had happened and they had retreated to the Vault. Why they had chosen a Vex stronghold he wasn't sure, but he kept listening. He could hear heavy breathing and gunfire, lots of gunfire actually. He could just make out the sounds of the Vex exploding in the background and new voices as well, though what they were saying he couldn't make out. Then, after what must have ten minutes of nothing but fighting everything went quiet. He heard static again for a moment, then the womans voice from before spoke up, this time much clearer. "That should do it. Give it a try Soarin." The Warlock heard someone clear their throat. "Alright. Uh, hello? Is this working?" There was laughter in the background and the Warlock was tempted to join in. "Imagine it's similar to our comms Soarin. Just act like your talking to one of us. Just like any ordinary day." The Warlock could hear the playful tone in the womans voice. He heard a grunt which, he assumed, had come from the man. "Easy for you to say, Tolly. Talking to a conflux isn't really ordinary." The woman, whos name he now knew as Tolly, laughed. "Alright alright, but we do need to hurry. This conflux won't be up for long and then we need to get the hell out of here before more Vex decide to jump us." He heard the man, Soarin as the woman called him, sigh. "Right." The Warlock heard him clear his throat once more. "If you are listening to this message please understand that you could be hearing this years after or even years before the actual event that I am about to tell you about." There was a pause. "My name is Soarin and I am the leader of the clan Fenrir Operations Group. My clan and I have retreated to the Vault so that we may send this message across time. The Tower was attacked approximately two months ago by the Cabals Red Legion. In doing so the Tower was destroyed, the Traveler was imprisoned and the Last Safe City on Earth is no longer safe." The Warlock could hear how tired the male Guardian sounded. The strain on this man, his fellow Guardians voice was almost too painful to listen to. He could hear armor rustling in the pause the other Guardian left inbetween his speech. He heard the woman speak next and the strength in her voice was gone. She sounded so small, the Warlock wasn't sure if he was listening to same Guardian or not. "Look, whoever is listening you need to be careful. We're only very recently been able to connect to the Light again, but we're still all very weak. Our Ghosts are drained and the Vanguard are scattered. We've already lost so many Guardians." Her voice cracked and the Warlock felt empathy for the female Guardian. He clenched his fist as the message continued with the man speaking again. "If your a fellow Guardian then listen up. We need you. Mankind needs-" Someone cleared their throat roughly. He heard the woman chuckle slightly as the speech continued. "-Mankind, Exos and the Awoken need you. Whatever time you may be hear this from, stand up and fight. Do not let the Cabal have our home. Do not be afraid to fight back and take what is ours. We may not be the first ones, but my clan and I are not giving up. We may only have five members left but we are a Wolf pack. We stand as one and we will fight as one." There was cheering in the background. Whoever this Guardian was he was exceptional at rallying his comrades. There was static for a moment as the voices plended together then they cleared slightly. "Dammit why no-.. Hurry Tol-..." There was gunfire. The Warlock heard Vex teleporting and their screams as Vex Hobgoblins fired their wire rifles. He held his breath as he listened. There was a yell and then an explosion of some kind. He waited, waited for what felt like ages but what was only a few seconds in reality. Then he heard coughing and more calls, as if the group of Guardians were checking to see if everyone made it. He heard something shift on the ground, perhaps rubble or perhaps Vex bodies he couldn't tell. He heard the females voice, though she sounded far away. "If you are still listen, then know that we may still be out there. I don't doubt we're leave the Vanguard, but we're tired of waiting. Remember Guardian, a wolf is not a wolf without the pack and this pack is going to get our home back." There is silence after that. The Warlock looks to his Ghost and he notices that the conflux is missing. "The Tower destroyed? The Traveler imprisoned?! That is not possible, is it?"

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Nashville Predators enjoyed Halloween – We won't clog this whole section with NHL player Halloween costumes. If that's your thing, you can find a rundown on the league web site, although they seem to have left one out. But we will mention the Predators, who may have been enjoying themselves a little too much, starting with P.K. Subban:

But the real stars were Nick Bonnino and his wife Lauren, who went as the scariest thing a hockey player can imagine.

The second star: Ryan Reaves vs. Phil Kessel – OK, one more Halloween one.

The first star: Chance the mascot – The new Vegas mascot has not had a warm reception, as documented here.

Honestly, the whole thing is reasonably funny, but I'm putting it in the top spot solely for the little girl who goes "GOOD ONE, DEL." That kid kills me. That needs to go right up there with "Way to go, Paul" as a generic hockey putdown.

Be It Resolved

We're a month into the season, and the Golden Knights are still decent. Sure, everyone realizes that they're not as good as their record indicates, but they're far better than most of us expected. It turns out that expansion teams in the salary cap era can be reasonably competitive right away.

Meanwhile, the Arizona Coyotes began the year with a record-tying 11 straight losses, and their season is already basically over. Other teams, like the Sabres, Rangers, Canadiens, and Oilers are another bad week or two away from being in the same boat.

All of which leads us to our crazy idea of the month. From the same minds that brought you the Jagr Draft, Cup champs picking their banner night opponent on live TV, and using the Cliffhanger guy to announce player signings, please welcome the league's newest rule: The Nuclear Option.

Yes, the name's kind of dramatic, I know. The idea lives up to it.

It would work like this. Every year, at the end of the regular season, all the non-playoff teams have the option of hitting the reset button on the entire franchise. If a team decides to go nuclear, they get to protect up to three players in the entire organization—not just NHL, but prospects, unsigned picks, etc.—and everyone else instantly becomes a free agent. No cap hits, no buyouts, no re-signing anyone, no compensation. Everything you spent the last decade building is gone.

In return for nuking the entire organization, the team gets two things. First, they move to the front of the line for that year's draft lottery odds, if they're not already there. And second, they get to restock in an expansion draft, under the same rules as the ones the Golden Knights just had.

Three players, an otherwise barren cap situation, top odds in the lottery, and an expansion draft to start all over with. Would you do it? Would you take the Nuclear Option?

It goes without saying that not many teams would. This year's Coyotes wouldn't, for example. They've been rebuilding for years, and have plenty of good young players worth holding onto. I doubt any of this year's bad teams would seriously consider it, unless things go completely off the rails somewhere.

But last year's Avalanche would have had to at least think about it, right? And you can bet that a team like the Sabres would have jumped at the chance a few years ago leading into the McDavid draft. You'd probably see the option used once or twice a decade, just about always after a team had fired its old GM and hired a replacement with a mandate to rebuild. Imagine that new guy having the option to walk in, take one look around, go "NOPE" and just bulldoze the entire thing.

(As an added bonus, the same league full of cry-baby GMs who spent all of last year whining about how the expansion draft made their jobs slightly harder would absolutely lose their minds if they had another one dropped on them with a few weeks' notice. That's not the main point here, but it's a nice side-benefit.)

How much fun would it be to argue over whether your favorite team should use the Nuclear Option? How hard would you have to work before you started to talk yourself into it? How mad would you be when Nuke Day came around and your team chickened out and didn't do it?

Like most great ideas, the NHL would never do it in a million years. But they should. Terrible teams need hope too, and the Golden Knights have proven that it's not as far away as you might think. You just need a way to get there. You need the Nuclear Option.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

Today's obscure player is a guy you probably saw a few photos of this week: former Sabres and Canucks goaltender Gary "Bones" Bromley.

Bromley was never drafted, but was signed by the expansion Sabres in 1971 and made his NHL debut two years later. He played 12 games backing up Dave Dryden for the 1973-74 Sabres, then won the starting job for most of the 1974-75 season after Dryden left. He played well, going 26-11-11 and helping the Sabres to a league-high 113 points. That team went all the way to the Stanley Cup final, but turned to late-season acquisition Gerry Desjardins and Roger Crozier for the entire run; despite appearing in over 50 regular season games, Bromley never even saw the ice in a playoff game that year.

He'd play just one more game for the Sabres the following year before heading to the WHA for two seasons. He returned to the NHL in 1978 after signing with the Canucks, and spent three years pulling part-time duty. After a year in the minors, he retired in 1982, having won 54 games over six NHL seasons.

Today, he's probably best remembered for the fearsome skull mask he wore in Vancouver. It was one of the most unique looks of the era, and to this day often shows up on lists of the greatest masks ever.

Trivial Annoyance of the Week

Have you ever been at a point when things were going well—not awesome, not great, but reasonably well—and then your stupid friends show up to remind you that their lives are way better than yours?

That's what it felt like to be a hockey fan this week.

The big news in the sports world this week was the World Series, a seven-game thriller that drew big ratings. Games six and seven were good, but the real show came earlier in the series, as the league's secret new baseballs resulted in every third batter hitting a home run off the face of the moon and everyone went crazy over how much fun it was. Oh, OK, so now sports fans enjoy games with lots of offense. When did this happen?

[Checks earpiece]

I'm being told that everyone has always thought offense was fun. Huh. Well OK, then where were all of you during the NHL playoffs?

[Checks earpiece]

Right, I'm told that the deciding game of the Stanley Cup final featured 58 scoreless minutes, a fluke goal that had to be reviewed, and an empty netter. Huh. I'd completely forgotten about that game. I can't imagine why.

Meanwhile, the NFL stole a few headlines with it trade deadline. If you follow football, you know that their deadline is usually a bust. Unlike in the NHL, where GMs just pretend because they like excuses, the salary cap actually does make trading hard in the NFL because signing bonuses get instantly converted to dead money when a player switches teams. So moves are rare, especially midseason ones, and the trade deadline often passes without anyone really even noticing.

But not this year, where everything went insane and trades were happening everywhere. And not just NHL deadline-style veteran rentals, but big names, young stars, potential franchise quarterbacks…everyone. It was madness. Glorious, wonderful madness.

And then you've got the NBA, where the season is only just starting but everyone has a personality and says interesting things and players quit on their teams over Twitter and fired coaches go scorched earth on Instagram.

Look, other leagues, we get it. You're more fun than the NHL. Leave us alone.

I mean, we're trying, OK? The Golden Knights are a genuinely cool story, Nikita Kucherov and Steven Stamkos are killing it in Tampa, the Kings are kind of back, and the Blues and Devils are surprisingly good. That's something, right? Scoring's up slightly because of extra power plays, there's intrigue in New York, and the Coyotes are terrible, which can be entertaining in its own kind of way.

Sure, we may not have record offense and blockbuster trades and social media wars. We're working on it, OK? You don't need to rub it in our faces all at once. Why don't you go lose half a season to a work stoppage?

[Checks earpiece]

I'm told that other sports don't do that anymore. Wonderful. Good for you. Now finish your seasons, pack up and get out of your stadiums. We're going to need them for our outdoor games pretty soon.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Hey, it's not like the NHL never serves up a ridiculously high-scoring playoff game. For example, today let's travel back to 2006 and see what happens when two rivals decide to play with the goaltending sliders pushed all the way down…

It's the second round of the 2006 playoffs, and the Senators are hosting the Sabres for game one. It's a great matchup, featuring a 113-point team facing a 110-point team. It also pits the conference's lowest goals-against against its fourth-lowest, so I'm sure there won't be much offense. Hey, defense wins championships, am I right?

Our clip begins a few seconds after the opening faceoff as we get a look at the Sabres lines and yeah it's already 1-0.

Mike Grier has tipped in a Derek Roy feed to give the Sabres the lead. Nice start. Now they just have to settle in and play a classic road playoff games, take the crowd out of it and wait until—oops never mind it's 1-1.

That Ottawa goal was Jason Spezza from Dany Heatley and Wade Redden, as the Senators deploy their famed "guys we love right now but will eventually leave town as villains" line. I guess Daniel Alfredsson missed a shift.

The Senators make it 2-1 just 15 seconds later. A quick warning here: This game is in Ottawa, which means it features the Senators goal horn guy, which means you're going to be deaf by the end of it. He's a tad excitable. Here's some behind-the-scenes footage of him at work, but it's a preseason game so he's taking it easy.

On the other hand, we've got Bob Cole. You win some, you lose some.

Six minutes in, the Sabres tie it at 2-2. (Hello, Numminen.) Amazingly, this will be the last goal of the first period, as everyone's arms are tired and they decide to just skip ahead to the intermission.

By the way, the goaltending matchup here is Ray Emery against Ryan Miller, which is fine, but we have to point out that this was the year the Senators had Dominik Hasek. But he got hurt at the Olympics, depriving us of one of the great face-the-former-team revenge matchups in league history. Damn you, Olympic injuries, maybe Gary Bettman was right about you all along.

We're back for the second period, both teams having made their intermission adjustments. In the Sabres case, that was apparently "let's give up easy breakaways." and they go out and execute it beautifully.

Buffalo gets it back quickly, as they get a 2-on-1 and then do that video games move where you forget which button is the pass one and just end up with everyone skating into the goalie and pushing the puck into the net because you have penalties turned off. It's super effective!

A few seconds later, the Senators have a 5-on-3 and you can probably guess how this turns out. They do that thing where they park Zdeno Chara directly in front of the net and dare the goalie to do anything about it. It works, because the only goalie crazy enough to ever swing at Chara was Ray Emery.

We skip ahead to goals by Derek Roy at the end of the second and Mike Fisher at the start of the third, and it's 5-4 Ottawa. Both starting goalies are still in, by the way, and will stay in for the entire game. I always thought that was an underrated aspect of this game's silliness.

Side note: This is somehow only the second craziest game featuring Ray Emery and the Sabres.

At this point, things actually settle down and the two teams decide to play NHL playoff hockey, which is to say nobody does anything interesting for almost an entire period. The keyword here is "almost," as things are going to go off the rails as soon as we get to two minutes left. Which is right…now.

The Senators have a one-goal lead late in regulation, a powerplay, the puck in the Sabres' zone, and still somehow manage to give up a 2-on-1. Derek Roy buries the one-timer and it's 5-5.

Hey, was I the only one who called him Derek Wah for his whole career, like Patrick Roy? I don't think I was.

We get a brief glimpse of a dude with an Obscure Player Alumni Maxim Afinogenov jersey, but before our brains can process that we're back to the action. The Senators still have a powerplay, remember. You'll never guess what happens next.

This may be my favorite moment from the game, as Bryan Smolinksi bangs home the go-ahead goal with a minute left and makes one of the all-time great "whew, did we ever just dodge a bullet there" smug faces. Hold that thought, Bryan.

We're down to 20 seconds left, and all the Senators have to do now is cram all six guys into the goal frame and call it a day. Instead, there's a mixup behind the net, the puck comes out front, and Tim Connolly buries it to tie the game. The crowd makes that classic "Are you F-ing kidding me?" noise you only get in the NHL playoffs, and we're off to overtime.

OK, settle in because these two teams are going to smarten up and get conservative. Ha, no, just kidding, the overtime is going to last 18 seconds.

The end comes when Anton Volchenkov commits what might literally be the worst turnover in modern playoff history. Seriously, let's just admire that thing. Not only does he fan on the pass, he kicks it off both skates and then turns his back to the puck as the Sabres break in. By the time Chris Drury scores the winner, Volchenkov is just sadly sliding off into the corner on his belly. Other than that, I thought the shift went well.

The Sabres ended up taking the series in five games, three of which came in overtime. But the Senators earned revenge in 2007, knocking out Buffalo on their way to the Stanley Cup final. This time, Emery and the Senators learned from their mistakes and made sure that when the puck was behind their own net at a crucial moment, they never let the other team even touch it.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @DownGoesBrown.

DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Nashville Predators enjoyed Halloween – We won’t clog this whole section with NHL player Halloween costumes. If that’s your thing, you can find a rundown on the league web site, although they seem to have left one out. But we will mention the Predators, who may have been enjoying themselves a little too much, starting with P.K. Subban:

But the real stars were Nick Bonnino and his wife Lauren, who went as the scariest thing a hockey player can imagine.

The second star: Ryan Reaves vs. Phil Kessel – OK, one more Halloween one.

The first star: Chance the mascot – The new Vegas mascot has not had a warm reception, as documented here.

Honestly, the whole thing is reasonably funny, but I’m putting it in the top spot solely for the little girl who goes “GOOD ONE, DEL.” That kid kills me. That needs to go right up there with “Way to go, Paul” as a generic hockey putdown.

Be It Resolved

We’re a month into the season, and the Golden Knights are still decent. Sure, everyone realizes that they’re not as good as their record indicates, but they’re far better than most of us expected. It turns out that expansion teams in the salary cap era can be reasonably competitive right away.

Meanwhile, the Arizona Coyotes began the year with a record-tying 11 straight losses, and their season is already basically over. Other teams, like the Sabres, Rangers, Canadiens, and Oilers are another bad week or two away from being in the same boat.

All of which leads us to our crazy idea of the month. From the same minds that brought you the Jagr Draft, Cup champs picking their banner night opponent on live TV, and using the Cliffhanger guy to announce player signings, please welcome the league’s newest rule: The Nuclear Option.

Yes, the name’s kind of dramatic, I know. The idea lives up to it.

It would work like this. Every year, at the end of the regular season, all the non-playoff teams have the option of hitting the reset button on the entire franchise. If a team decides to go nuclear, they get to protect up to three players in the entire organization—not just NHL, but prospects, unsigned picks, etc.—and everyone else instantly becomes a free agent. No cap hits, no buyouts, no re-signing anyone, no compensation. Everything you spent the last decade building is gone.

In return for nuking the entire organization, the team gets two things. First, they move to the front of the line for that year’s draft lottery odds, if they’re not already there. And second, they get to restock in an expansion draft, under the same rules as the ones the Golden Knights just had.

Three players, an otherwise barren cap situation, top odds in the lottery, and an expansion draft to start all over with. Would you do it? Would you take the Nuclear Option?

It goes without saying that not many teams would. This year’s Coyotes wouldn’t, for example. They’ve been rebuilding for years, and have plenty of good young players worth holding onto. I doubt any of this year’s bad teams would seriously consider it, unless things go completely off the rails somewhere.

But last year’s Avalanche would have had to at least think about it, right? And you can bet that a team like the Sabres would have jumped at the chance a few years ago leading into the McDavid draft. You’d probably see the option used once or twice a decade, just about always after a team had fired its old GM and hired a replacement with a mandate to rebuild. Imagine that new guy having the option to walk in, take one look around, go “NOPE” and just bulldoze the entire thing.

(As an added bonus, the same league full of cry-baby GMs who spent all of last year whining about how the expansion draft made their jobs slightly harder would absolutely lose their minds if they had another one dropped on them with a few weeks’ notice. That’s not the main point here, but it’s a nice side-benefit.)

How much fun would it be to argue over whether your favorite team should use the Nuclear Option? How hard would you have to work before you started to talk yourself into it? How mad would you be when Nuke Day came around and your team chickened out and didn’t do it?

Like most great ideas, the NHL would never do it in a million years. But they should. Terrible teams need hope too, and the Golden Knights have proven that it’s not as far away as you might think. You just need a way to get there. You need the Nuclear Option.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

Today’s obscure player is a guy you probably saw a few photos of this week: former Sabres and Canucks goaltender Gary “Bones” Bromley.

Bromley was never drafted, but was signed by the expansion Sabres in 1971 and made his NHL debut two years later. He played 12 games backing up Dave Dryden for the 1973-74 Sabres, then won the starting job for most of the 1974-75 season after Dryden left. He played well, going 26-11-11 and helping the Sabres to a league-high 113 points. That team went all the way to the Stanley Cup final, but turned to late-season acquisition Gerry Desjardins and Roger Crozier for the entire run; despite appearing in over 50 regular season games, Bromley never even saw the ice in a playoff game that year.

He’d play just one more game for the Sabres the following year before heading to the WHA for two seasons. He returned to the NHL in 1978 after signing with the Canucks, and spent three years pulling part-time duty. After a year in the minors, he retired in 1982, having won 54 games over six NHL seasons.

Today, he’s probably best remembered for the fearsome skull mask he wore in Vancouver. It was one of the most unique looks of the era, and to this day often shows up on lists of the greatest masks ever.

Trivial Annoyance of the Week

Have you ever been at a point when things were going well—not awesome, not great, but reasonably well—and then your stupid friends show up to remind you that their lives are way better than yours?

That’s what it felt like to be a hockey fan this week.

The big news in the sports world this week was the World Series, a seven-game thriller that drew big ratings. Games six and seven were good, but the real show came earlier in the series, as the league’s secret new baseballs resulted in every third batter hitting a home run off the face of the moon and everyone went crazy over how much fun it was. Oh, OK, so now sports fans enjoy games with lots of offense. When did this happen?

[Checks earpiece]

I’m being told that everyone has always thought offense was fun. Huh. Well OK, then where were all of you during the NHL playoffs?

[Checks earpiece]

Right, I’m told that the deciding game of the Stanley Cup final featured 58 scoreless minutes, a fluke goal that had to be reviewed, and an empty netter. Huh. I’d completely forgotten about that game. I can’t imagine why.

Meanwhile, the NFL stole a few headlines with it trade deadline. If you follow football, you know that their deadline is usually a bust. Unlike in the NHL, where GMs just pretend because they like excuses, the salary cap actually does make trading hard in the NFL because signing bonuses get instantly converted to dead money when a player switches teams. So moves are rare, especially midseason ones, and the trade deadline often passes without anyone really even noticing.

But not this year, where everything went insane and trades were happening everywhere. And not just NHL deadline-style veteran rentals, but big names, young stars, potential franchise quarterbacks…everyone. It was madness. Glorious, wonderful madness.

And then you’ve got the NBA, where the season is only just starting but everyone has a personality and says interesting things and players quit on their teams over Twitter and fired coaches go scorched earth on Instagram.

Look, other leagues, we get it. You’re more fun than the NHL. Leave us alone.

I mean, we’re trying, OK? The Golden Knights are a genuinely cool story, Nikita Kucherov and Steven Stamkos are killing it in Tampa, the Kings are kind of back, and the Blues and Devils are surprisingly good. That’s something, right? Scoring’s up slightly because of extra power plays, there’s intrigue in New York, and the Coyotes are terrible, which can be entertaining in its own kind of way.

Sure, we may not have record offense and blockbuster trades and social media wars. We’re working on it, OK? You don’t need to rub it in our faces all at once. Why don’t you go lose half a season to a work stoppage?

[Checks earpiece]

I’m told that other sports don’t do that anymore. Wonderful. Good for you. Now finish your seasons, pack up and get out of your stadiums. We’re going to need them for our outdoor games pretty soon.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Hey, it’s not like the NHL never serves up a ridiculously high-scoring playoff game. For example, today let’s travel back to 2006 and see what happens when two rivals decide to play with the goaltending sliders pushed all the way down…

It’s the second round of the 2006 playoffs, and the Senators are hosting the Sabres for game one. It’s a great matchup, featuring a 113-point team facing a 110-point team. It also pits the conference’s lowest goals-against against its fourth-lowest, so I’m sure there won’t be much offense. Hey, defense wins championships, am I right?

Our clip begins a few seconds after the opening faceoff as we get a look at the Sabres lines and yeah it’s already 1-0.

Mike Grier has tipped in a Derek Roy feed to give the Sabres the lead. Nice start. Now they just have to settle in and play a classic road playoff games, take the crowd out of it and wait until—oops never mind it’s 1-1.

That Ottawa goal was Jason Spezza from Dany Heatley and Wade Redden, as the Senators deploy their famed “guys we love right now but will eventually leave town as villains” line. I guess Daniel Alfredsson missed a shift.

The Senators make it 2-1 just 15 seconds later. A quick warning here: This game is in Ottawa, which means it features the Senators goal horn guy, which means you’re going to be deaf by the end of it. He’s a tad excitable. Here’s some behind-the-scenes footage of him at work, but it’s a preseason game so he’s taking it easy.

On the other hand, we’ve got Bob Cole. You win some, you lose some.

Six minutes in, the Sabres tie it at 2-2. (Hello, Numminen.) Amazingly, this will be the last goal of the first period, as everyone’s arms are tired and they decide to just skip ahead to the intermission.

By the way, the goaltending matchup here is Ray Emery against Ryan Miller, which is fine, but we have to point out that this was the year the Senators had Dominik Hasek. But he got hurt at the Olympics, depriving us of one of the great face-the-former-team revenge matchups in league history. Damn you, Olympic injuries, maybe Gary Bettman was right about you all along.

We’re back for the second period, both teams having made their intermission adjustments. In the Sabres case, that was apparently “let’s give up easy breakaways.” and they go out and execute it beautifully.

Buffalo gets it back quickly, as they get a 2-on-1 and then do that video games move where you forget which button is the pass one and just end up with everyone skating into the goalie and pushing the puck into the net because you have penalties turned off. It’s super effective!

A few seconds later, the Senators have a 5-on-3 and you can probably guess how this turns out. They do that thing where they park Zdeno Chara directly in front of the net and dare the goalie to do anything about it. It works, because the only goalie crazy enough to ever swing at Chara was Ray Emery.

We skip ahead to goals by Derek Roy at the end of the second and Mike Fisher at the start of the third, and it’s 5-4 Ottawa. Both starting goalies are still in, by the way, and will stay in for the entire game. I always thought that was an underrated aspect of this game’s silliness.

Side note: This is somehow only the second craziest game featuring Ray Emery and the Sabres.

At this point, things actually settle down and the two teams decide to play NHL playoff hockey, which is to say nobody does anything interesting for almost an entire period. The keyword here is “almost,” as things are going to go off the rails as soon as we get to two minutes left. Which is right…now.

The Senators have a one-goal lead late in regulation, a powerplay, the puck in the Sabres’ zone, and still somehow manage to give up a 2-on-1. Derek Roy buries the one-timer and it’s 5-5.

Hey, was I the only one who called him Derek Wah for his whole career, like Patrick Roy? I don’t think I was.

We get a brief glimpse of a dude with an Obscure Player Alumni Maxim Afinogenov jersey, but before our brains can process that we’re back to the action. The Senators still have a powerplay, remember. You’ll never guess what happens next.

This may be my favorite moment from the game, as Bryan Smolinksi bangs home the go-ahead goal with a minute left and makes one of the all-time great “whew, did we ever just dodge a bullet there” smug faces. Hold that thought, Bryan.

We’re down to 20 seconds left, and all the Senators have to do now is cram all six guys into the goal frame and call it a day. Instead, there’s a mixup behind the net, the puck comes out front, and Tim Connolly buries it to tie the game. The crowd makes that classic “Are you F-ing kidding me?” noise you only get in the NHL playoffs, and we’re off to overtime.

OK, settle in because these two teams are going to smarten up and get conservative. Ha, no, just kidding, the overtime is going to last 18 seconds.

The end comes when Anton Volchenkov commits what might literally be the worst turnover in modern playoff history. Seriously, let’s just admire that thing. Not only does he fan on the pass, he kicks it off both skates and then turns his back to the puck as the Sabres break in. By the time Chris Drury scores the winner, Volchenkov is just sadly sliding off into the corner on his belly. Other than that, I thought the shift went well.

The Sabres ended up taking the series in five games, three of which came in overtime. But the Senators earned revenge in 2007, knocking out Buffalo on their way to the Stanley Cup final. This time, Emery and the Senators learned from their mistakes and made sure that when the puck was behind their own net at a crucial moment, they never let the other team even touch it.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you’d like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @DownGoesBrown.

DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

[bestfriendforhire]

Entry 283

  “Pufflewink?  What are you doing here?” I asked, bending down to pet the small, black kitten.

 She nuzzled my hand briefly and then started walking away.

 Where was Raine?  She rarely let Pufflewink out of her sight.  She would even take the kitten with her on jobs when possible, but I didn’t see her anywhere.

 Pufflewink had stopped and looked up at me.  My little fairy friend darted over to Pufflewink, and a vision entered my mind of me following the kitten.  Who was I to argue with a fairy?  Well, I did frequently, but not today!  Pufflewink actually did start walking again once I took a couple steps behind her.

 I quickly looked to the side, thinking I saw something there, but the curtains in the room we were passing were moving in the breeze from the vent.  I really wasn’t good at taking things slow anymore.  There were numerous times when I’d find myself partially distracted in the middle of listening to someone and had to take a moment to register what was just said.  

 Exceptional eyesight being a detriment at times was not something I ever would have considered before my change, but I could get distracted by a missed stitch in someone’s shirt that I vaguely noticed before focusing on it.  When away from home, I could get startled by dust in the air if something seemed to be blowing toward me.  The fighting over the last couple months had left its mark on me.

 Pufflewink was obviously burdened by a sense of distraction as well.  She’d happily march several feet with her tail flicking in the air, and then suddenly pounce at my little fairy friend, who easily dodged the kitten.

 I pictured my little friend straddling the kitten, riding her like a mount.  A confused feeling came to me along with an image of the fairy flying through the air.  I tried again, trying to impart a sense of happiness with the thought.  More confusion.  This time I tried showing how happy I would be at seeing the little fairy with a kitten mount.  No luck.  The faint smell of food from this evening’s meal lingered near the kitchen, which gave me an idea.  I pictured the fairy being fed if she were on the kitten, since I had never seen my little friend without appetite.

 She finally granted my wish!  I darted into the kitchen, grabbed some bacon, and used a spell to start cooking the bacon in air.  My attempt at even cooking was blasted by a laser from my little friend, scorching part of the meat.  Poor Pufflewink jumped at the flash of light, but my little friend easily soothed her, promising her bacon as well.  Great.  Now I felt bad.  Raine had taught me that bacon wasn’t good for cats, though she’d eat plenty even in her kitten form.  Poor Pufflewink would have to be denied.

 “Mila, please say you’re recording this.” I stated.

 “Of course, master.  Mother, Lady Pendreigh, Cosette, and Raine are already watching.” she replied.

 “Tell your mother it’s past her bedtime.  Chad wouldn’t approve.” I teased.

 “Quite right, master.” agreed Mila.  “Mother wishes for me to inform you that she does what she wants.  She hashtagged the response, reiterating that she does what she wants.  There are also a very large number of GIFs attached if you wish to view them.  Mother will surely complain if you don’t, but I warn you that the substantial sum would even take you a good minute to view in their entirety.”

 I laughed, causing the pair before me to look back.  An image came to mind of my little friend being fed, so I used a spell to feed her the burnt part first.  Pufflewink’s attempts to catch the bacon were anticipated, but quite amusing to watch with a fairy on her back.

 “Uh oh… Master…” started Mila.

 Too late.  Raine jumped through the air as a kitten, eating the rest of the bacon mid-leap before darting away.

 “I should’ve known I was teasing two kittens.” I laughed.

 Raine had proven capable of smelling food cooking from any part of the house.  After she became more familiar with Marco’s dishes, she was even able to tell us what he was cooking.  without Mila’s help.

 My little friend flew off the kitten and up to my face, demanding to know why her bacon was gone.  I pictured Raine’s theft in my mind, trying to leave out my sense of amusement by it.  Raine had been moving slowly for her, but my little friend probably only caught a blur at best.  The tiny fairy crossed her arms and mounted the kitten again, much to my delight.  She projected an image of charging after Raine, but there was a question to it, asking for Raine’s location.

 “Mila, where’s Raine?” I asked.

 Pufflewink charged ahead.

 “In the ballroom, master.  Pufflewink knows.  She was sent to fetch you.” explained Mila.

 “Raine sent Pufflewink to fetch me?” I questioned, surprised by what I was hearing.

 “She speaks cat, master.  You’ve seen it.” replied Mila.

 “Well, yes, but why wouldn’t she just ask you to call me or come find me herself?” I asked.

 “Master, we’re speaking of Raine.  You can’t really expect her motivations to be like most.” she stated.

 “Fair point.” I acknowledged.

 Though Raine was reasonably acclimated to living here now, she still was hesitant when speaking with most of us.  Luckily, the jobs she took for my company all had shining reviews, though they were a bit more scarce than average.

 I took off to the ballroom, dodging past Pufflewink on my way.  Cosette and Raine were playing Ancient Tribes of Earth together.  Raine, back to human, sank into her chair upon my arrival.

 “I-I… I w-wanted Pufflewink t-to h-have an… an adventure.” she mumbled.

 Oh.  Right.  She probably heard Mila and me speaking.  Raine’s senses were beyond me by a very considerable margin.

 “That’s fine.  I was just surprised is all.” I assured her.  “So what’s up?”

 “Raine and I saw a meteor fall and thought you might help us go check the crash site.” explained Cosette.

 “I suppose I can play for a bit.  Why are we interested in a meteor?” I asked.

 “M-materials.” muttered Raine.

 “According to an old book she found, meteors occasionally bring rare ores to the world.  She might be able to make some fancy weapons, armor, or jewelry from it!” exclaimed Cosette.

 Cosette focused on healing magic in Ancient Tribes of Earth, but she had some combat skills as well.  Her character, Madeleine, was a blonde halfling vampire whose face seemed to be modeled after Cosette’s own.  Being part of the small vampire clan within our guild seemed to amuse her greatly, but I didn’t really see the appeal.  Vampires had to use their magic or magic items to protect themselves from the sun during daylight hours and had penalized stats in bright light.  They were pretty lethal in the dark, especially at night.

 Given that Raine’s character still didn’t have any combat-related skills, I could see why the two wanted help.  Alma was surely working, like always, and Portentia was probably out patrolling the city.  There were plenty of guildmates on even this late, but many of them would probably be begging for Raine to craft something for them in exchange for help.  She was still our best craftsman by far.

  “Quest accepted.” I told them, sitting down as Mila logged me into the game.  There was nothing quite like adventure to pass a night.

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Nashville Predators enjoyed Halloween – We won't clog this whole section with NHL player Halloween costumes. If that's your thing, you can find a rundown on the league web site, although they seem to have left one out. But we will mention the Predators, who may have been enjoying themselves a little too much, starting with P.K. Subban:

But the real stars were Nick Bonnino and his wife Lauren, who went as the scariest thing a hockey player can imagine.

The second star: Ryan Reaves vs. Phil Kessel – OK, one more Halloween one.

The first star: Chance the mascot – The new Vegas mascot has not had a warm reception, as documented here.

Honestly, the whole thing is reasonably funny, but I'm putting it in the top spot solely for the little girl who goes "GOOD ONE, DEL." That kid kills me. That needs to go right up there with "Way to go, Paul" as a generic hockey putdown.

Be It Resolved

We're a month into the season, and the Golden Knights are still decent. Sure, everyone realizes that they're not as good as their record indicates, but they're far better than most of us expected. It turns out that expansion teams in the salary cap era can be reasonably competitive right away.

Meanwhile, the Arizona Coyotes began the year with a record-tying 11 straight losses, and their season is already basically over. Other teams, like the Sabres, Rangers, Canadiens, and Oilers are another bad week or two away from being in the same boat.

All of which leads us to our crazy idea of the month. From the same minds that brought you the Jagr Draft, Cup champs picking their banner night opponent on live TV, and using the Cliffhanger guy to announce player signings, please welcome the league's newest rule: The Nuclear Option.

Yes, the name's kind of dramatic, I know. The idea lives up to it.

It would work like this. Every year, at the end of the regular season, all the non-playoff teams have the option of hitting the reset button on the entire franchise. If a team decides to go nuclear, they get to protect up to three players in the entire organization—not just NHL, but prospects, unsigned picks, etc.—and everyone else instantly becomes a free agent. No cap hits, no buyouts, no re-signing anyone, no compensation. Everything you spent the last decade building is gone.

In return for nuking the entire organization, the team gets two things. First, they move to the front of the line for that year's draft lottery odds, if they're not already there. And second, they get to restock in an expansion draft, under the same rules as the ones the Golden Knights just had.

Three players, an otherwise barren cap situation, top odds in the lottery, and an expansion draft to start all over with. Would you do it? Would you take the Nuclear Option?

It goes without saying that not many teams would. This year's Coyotes wouldn't, for example. They've been rebuilding for years, and have plenty of good young players worth holding onto. I doubt any of this year's bad teams would seriously consider it, unless things go completely off the rails somewhere.

But last year's Avalanche would have had to at least think about it, right? And you can bet that a team like the Sabres would have jumped at the chance a few years ago leading into the McDavid draft. You'd probably see the option used once or twice a decade, just about always after a team had fired its old GM and hired a replacement with a mandate to rebuild. Imagine that new guy having the option to walk in, take one look around, go "NOPE" and just bulldoze the entire thing.

(As an added bonus, the same league full of cry-baby GMs who spent all of last year whining about how the expansion draft made their jobs slightly harder would absolutely lose their minds if they had another one dropped on them with a few weeks' notice. That's not the main point here, but it's a nice side-benefit.)

How much fun would it be to argue over whether your favorite team should use the Nuclear Option? How hard would you have to work before you started to talk yourself into it? How mad would you be when Nuke Day came around and your team chickened out and didn't do it?

Like most great ideas, the NHL would never do it in a million years. But they should. Terrible teams need hope too, and the Golden Knights have proven that it's not as far away as you might think. You just need a way to get there. You need the Nuclear Option.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

Today's obscure player is a guy you probably saw a few photos of this week: former Sabres and Canucks goaltender Gary "Bones" Bromley.

Bromley was never drafted, but was signed by the expansion Sabres in 1971 and made his NHL debut two years later. He played 12 games backing up Dave Dryden for the 1973-74 Sabres, then won the starting job for most of the 1974-75 season after Dryden left. He played well, going 26-11-11 and helping the Sabres to a league-high 113 points. That team went all the way to the Stanley Cup final, but turned to late-season acquisition Gerry Desjardins and Roger Crozier for the entire run; despite appearing in over 50 regular season games, Bromley never even saw the ice in a playoff game that year.

He'd play just one more game for the Sabres the following year before heading to the WHA for two seasons. He returned to the NHL in 1978 after signing with the Canucks, and spent three years pulling part-time duty. After a year in the minors, he retired in 1982, having won 54 games over six NHL seasons.

Today, he's probably best remembered for the fearsome skull mask he wore in Vancouver. It was one of the most unique looks of the era, and to this day often shows up on lists of the greatest masks ever.

Trivial Annoyance of the Week

Have you ever been at a point when things were going well—not awesome, not great, but reasonably well—and then your stupid friends show up to remind you that their lives are way better than yours?

That's what it felt like to be a hockey fan this week.

The big news in the sports world this week was the World Series, a seven-game thriller that drew big ratings. Games six and seven were good, but the real show came earlier in the series, as the league's secret new baseballs resulted in every third batter hitting a home run off the face of the moon and everyone went crazy over how much fun it was. Oh, OK, so now sports fans enjoy games with lots of offense. When did this happen?

[Checks earpiece]

I'm being told that everyone has always thought offense was fun. Huh. Well OK, then where were all of you during the NHL playoffs?

[Checks earpiece]

Right, I'm told that the deciding game of the Stanley Cup final featured 58 scoreless minutes, a fluke goal that had to be reviewed, and an empty netter. Huh. I'd completely forgotten about that game. I can't imagine why.

Meanwhile, the NFL stole a few headlines with it trade deadline. If you follow football, you know that their deadline is usually a bust. Unlike in the NHL, where GMs just pretend because they like excuses, the salary cap actually does make trading hard in the NFL because signing bonuses get instantly converted to dead money when a player switches teams. So moves are rare, especially midseason ones, and the trade deadline often passes without anyone really even noticing.

But not this year, where everything went insane and trades were happening everywhere. And not just NHL deadline-style veteran rentals, but big names, young stars, potential franchise quarterbacks…everyone. It was madness. Glorious, wonderful madness.

And then you've got the NBA, where the season is only just starting but everyone has a personality and says interesting things and players quit on their teams over Twitter and fired coaches go scorched earth on Instagram.

Look, other leagues, we get it. You're more fun than the NHL. Leave us alone.

I mean, we're trying, OK? The Golden Knights are a genuinely cool story, Nikita Kucherov and Steven Stamkos are killing it in Tampa, the Kings are kind of back, and the Blues and Devils are surprisingly good. That's something, right? Scoring's up slightly because of extra power plays, there's intrigue in New York, and the Coyotes are terrible, which can be entertaining in its own kind of way.

Sure, we may not have record offense and blockbuster trades and social media wars. We're working on it, OK? You don't need to rub it in our faces all at once. Why don't you go lose half a season to a work stoppage?

[Checks earpiece]

I'm told that other sports don't do that anymore. Wonderful. Good for you. Now finish your seasons, pack up and get out of your stadiums. We're going to need them for our outdoor games pretty soon.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Hey, it's not like the NHL never serves up a ridiculously high-scoring playoff game. For example, today let's travel back to 2006 and see what happens when two rivals decide to play with the goaltending sliders pushed all the way down…

It's the second round of the 2006 playoffs, and the Senators are hosting the Sabres for game one. It's a great matchup, featuring a 113-point team facing a 110-point team. It also pits the conference's lowest goals-against against its fourth-lowest, so I'm sure there won't be much offense. Hey, defense wins championships, am I right?

Our clip begins a few seconds after the opening faceoff as we get a look at the Sabres lines and yeah it's already 1-0.

Mike Grier has tipped in a Derek Roy feed to give the Sabres the lead. Nice start. Now they just have to settle in and play a classic road playoff games, take the crowd out of it and wait until—oops never mind it's 1-1.

That Ottawa goal was Jason Spezza from Dany Heatley and Wade Redden, as the Senators deploy their famed "guys we love right now but will eventually leave town as villains" line. I guess Daniel Alfredsson missed a shift.

The Senators make it 2-1 just 15 seconds later. A quick warning here: This game is in Ottawa, which means it features the Senators goal horn guy, which means you're going to be deaf by the end of it. He's a tad excitable. Here's some behind-the-scenes footage of him at work, but it's a preseason game so he's taking it easy.

On the other hand, we've got Bob Cole. You win some, you lose some.

Six minutes in, the Sabres tie it at 2-2. (Hello, Numminen.) Amazingly, this will be the last goal of the first period, as everyone's arms are tired and they decide to just skip ahead to the intermission.

By the way, the goaltending matchup here is Ray Emery against Ryan Miller, which is fine, but we have to point out that this was the year the Senators had Dominik Hasek. But he got hurt at the Olympics, depriving us of one of the great face-the-former-team revenge matchups in league history. Damn you, Olympic injuries, maybe Gary Bettman was right about you all along.

We're back for the second period, both teams having made their intermission adjustments. In the Sabres case, that was apparently "let's give up easy breakaways." and they go out and execute it beautifully.

Buffalo gets it back quickly, as they get a 2-on-1 and then do that video games move where you forget which button is the pass one and just end up with everyone skating into the goalie and pushing the puck into the net because you have penalties turned off. It's super effective!

A few seconds later, the Senators have a 5-on-3 and you can probably guess how this turns out. They do that thing where they park Zdeno Chara directly in front of the net and dare the goalie to do anything about it. It works, because the only goalie crazy enough to ever swing at Chara was Ray Emery.

We skip ahead to goals by Derek Roy at the end of the second and Mike Fisher at the start of the third, and it's 5-4 Ottawa. Both starting goalies are still in, by the way, and will stay in for the entire game. I always thought that was an underrated aspect of this game's silliness.

Side note: This is somehow only the second craziest game featuring Ray Emery and the Sabres.

At this point, things actually settle down and the two teams decide to play NHL playoff hockey, which is to say nobody does anything interesting for almost an entire period. The keyword here is "almost," as things are going to go off the rails as soon as we get to two minutes left. Which is right…now.

The Senators have a one-goal lead late in regulation, a powerplay, the puck in the Sabres' zone, and still somehow manage to give up a 2-on-1. Derek Roy buries the one-timer and it's 5-5.

Hey, was I the only one who called him Derek Wah for his whole career, like Patrick Roy? I don't think I was.

We get a brief glimpse of a dude with an Obscure Player Alumni Maxim Afinogenov jersey, but before our brains can process that we're back to the action. The Senators still have a powerplay, remember. You'll never guess what happens next.

This may be my favorite moment from the game, as Bryan Smolinksi bangs home the go-ahead goal with a minute left and makes one of the all-time great "whew, did we ever just dodge a bullet there" smug faces. Hold that thought, Bryan.

We're down to 20 seconds left, and all the Senators have to do now is cram all six guys into the goal frame and call it a day. Instead, there's a mixup behind the net, the puck comes out front, and Tim Connolly buries it to tie the game. The crowd makes that classic "Are you F-ing kidding me?" noise you only get in the NHL playoffs, and we're off to overtime.

OK, settle in because these two teams are going to smarten up and get conservative. Ha, no, just kidding, the overtime is going to last 18 seconds.

The end comes when Anton Volchenkov commits what might literally be the worst turnover in modern playoff history. Seriously, let's just admire that thing. Not only does he fan on the pass, he kicks it off both skates and then turns his back to the puck as the Sabres break in. By the time Chris Drury scores the winner, Volchenkov is just sadly sliding off into the corner on his belly. Other than that, I thought the shift went well.

The Sabres ended up taking the series in five games, three of which came in overtime. But the Senators earned revenge in 2007, knocking out Buffalo on their way to the Stanley Cup final. This time, Emery and the Senators learned from their mistakes and made sure that when the puck was behind their own net at a crucial moment, they never let the other team even touch it.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @DownGoesBrown.

DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: The Nashville Predators enjoyed Halloween – We won't clog this whole section with NHL player Halloween costumes. If that's your thing, you can find a rundown on the league web site, although they seem to have left one out. But we will mention the Predators, who may have been enjoying themselves a little too much, starting with P.K. Subban:

But the real stars were Nick Bonnino and his wife Lauren, who went as the scariest thing a hockey player can imagine.

The second star: Ryan Reaves vs. Phil Kessel – OK, one more Halloween one.

The first star: Chance the mascot – The new Vegas mascot has not had a warm reception, as documented here.

Honestly, the whole thing is reasonably funny, but I'm putting it in the top spot solely for the little girl who goes "GOOD ONE, DEL." That kid kills me. That needs to go right up there with "Way to go, Paul" as a generic hockey putdown.

Be It Resolved

We're a month into the season, and the Golden Knights are still decent. Sure, everyone realizes that they're not as good as their record indicates, but they're far better than most of us expected. It turns out that expansion teams in the salary cap era can be reasonably competitive right away.

Meanwhile, the Arizona Coyotes began the year with a record-tying 11 straight losses, and their season is already basically over. Other teams, like the Sabres, Rangers, Canadiens, and Oilers are another bad week or two away from being in the same boat.

All of which leads us to our crazy idea of the month. From the same minds that brought you the Jagr Draft, Cup champs picking their banner night opponent on live TV, and using the Cliffhanger guy to announce player signings, please welcome the league's newest rule: The Nuclear Option.

Yes, the name's kind of dramatic, I know. The idea lives up to it.

It would work like this. Every year, at the end of the regular season, all the non-playoff teams have the option of hitting the reset button on the entire franchise. If a team decides to go nuclear, they get to protect up to three players in the entire organization—not just NHL, but prospects, unsigned picks, etc.—and everyone else instantly becomes a free agent. No cap hits, no buyouts, no re-signing anyone, no compensation. Everything you spent the last decade building is gone.

In return for nuking the entire organization, the team gets two things. First, they move to the front of the line for that year's draft lottery odds, if they're not already there. And second, they get to restock in an expansion draft, under the same rules as the ones the Golden Knights just had.

Three players, an otherwise barren cap situation, top odds in the lottery, and an expansion draft to start all over with. Would you do it? Would you take the Nuclear Option?

It goes without saying that not many teams would. This year's Coyotes wouldn't, for example. They've been rebuilding for years, and have plenty of good young players worth holding onto. I doubt any of this year's bad teams would seriously consider it, unless things go completely off the rails somewhere.

But last year's Avalanche would have had to at least think about it, right? And you can bet that a team like the Sabres would have jumped at the chance a few years ago leading into the McDavid draft. You'd probably see the option used once or twice a decade, just about always after a team had fired its old GM and hired a replacement with a mandate to rebuild. Imagine that new guy having the option to walk in, take one look around, go "NOPE" and just bulldoze the entire thing.

(As an added bonus, the same league full of cry-baby GMs who spent all of last year whining about how the expansion draft made their jobs slightly harder would absolutely lose their minds if they had another one dropped on them with a few weeks' notice. That's not the main point here, but it's a nice side-benefit.)

How much fun would it be to argue over whether your favorite team should use the Nuclear Option? How hard would you have to work before you started to talk yourself into it? How mad would you be when Nuke Day came around and your team chickened out and didn't do it?

Like most great ideas, the NHL would never do it in a million years. But they should. Terrible teams need hope too, and the Golden Knights have proven that it's not as far away as you might think. You just need a way to get there. You need the Nuclear Option.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

Today's obscure player is a guy you probably saw a few photos of this week: former Sabres and Canucks goaltender Gary "Bones" Bromley.

Bromley was never drafted, but was signed by the expansion Sabres in 1971 and made his NHL debut two years later. He played 12 games backing up Dave Dryden for the 1973-74 Sabres, then won the starting job for most of the 1974-75 season after Dryden left. He played well, going 26-11-11 and helping the Sabres to a league-high 113 points. That team went all the way to the Stanley Cup final, but turned to late-season acquisition Gerry Desjardins and Roger Crozier for the entire run; despite appearing in over 50 regular season games, Bromley never even saw the ice in a playoff game that year.

He'd play just one more game for the Sabres the following year before heading to the WHA for two seasons. He returned to the NHL in 1978 after signing with the Canucks, and spent three years pulling part-time duty. After a year in the minors, he retired in 1982, having won 54 games over six NHL seasons.

Today, he's probably best remembered for the fearsome skull mask he wore in Vancouver. It was one of the most unique looks of the era, and to this day often shows up on lists of the greatest masks ever.

Trivial Annoyance of the Week

Have you ever been at a point when things were going well—not awesome, not great, but reasonably well—and then your stupid friends show up to remind you that their lives are way better than yours?

That's what it felt like to be a hockey fan this week.

The big news in the sports world this week was the World Series, a seven-game thriller that drew big ratings. Games six and seven were good, but the real show came earlier in the series, as the league's secret new baseballs resulted in every third batter hitting a home run off the face of the moon and everyone went crazy over how much fun it was. Oh, OK, so now sports fans enjoy games with lots of offense. When did this happen?

[Checks earpiece]

I'm being told that everyone has always thought offense was fun. Huh. Well OK, then where were all of you during the NHL playoffs?

[Checks earpiece]

Right, I'm told that the deciding game of the Stanley Cup final featured 58 scoreless minutes, a fluke goal that had to be reviewed, and an empty netter. Huh. I'd completely forgotten about that game. I can't imagine why.

Meanwhile, the NFL stole a few headlines with it trade deadline. If you follow football, you know that their deadline is usually a bust. Unlike in the NHL, where GMs just pretend because they like excuses, the salary cap actually does make trading hard in the NFL because signing bonuses get instantly converted to dead money when a player switches teams. So moves are rare, especially midseason ones, and the trade deadline often passes without anyone really even noticing.

But not this year, where everything went insane and trades were happening everywhere. And not just NHL deadline-style veteran rentals, but big names, young stars, potential franchise quarterbacks…everyone. It was madness. Glorious, wonderful madness.

And then you've got the NBA, where the season is only just starting but everyone has a personality and says interesting things and players quit on their teams over Twitter and fired coaches go scorched earth on Instagram.

Look, other leagues, we get it. You're more fun than the NHL. Leave us alone.

I mean, we're trying, OK? The Golden Knights are a genuinely cool story, Nikita Kucherov and Steven Stamkos are killing it in Tampa, the Kings are kind of back, and the Blues and Devils are surprisingly good. That's something, right? Scoring's up slightly because of extra power plays, there's intrigue in New York, and the Coyotes are terrible, which can be entertaining in its own kind of way.

Sure, we may not have record offense and blockbuster trades and social media wars. We're working on it, OK? You don't need to rub it in our faces all at once. Why don't you go lose half a season to a work stoppage?

[Checks earpiece]

I'm told that other sports don't do that anymore. Wonderful. Good for you. Now finish your seasons, pack up and get out of your stadiums. We're going to need them for our outdoor games pretty soon.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

Hey, it's not like the NHL never serves up a ridiculously high-scoring playoff game. For example, today let's travel back to 2006 and see what happens when two rivals decide to play with the goaltending sliders pushed all the way down…

It's the second round of the 2006 playoffs, and the Senators are hosting the Sabres for game one. It's a great matchup, featuring a 113-point team facing a 110-point team. It also pits the conference's lowest goals-against against its fourth-lowest, so I'm sure there won't be much offense. Hey, defense wins championships, am I right?

Our clip begins a few seconds after the opening faceoff as we get a look at the Sabres lines and yeah it's already 1-0.

Mike Grier has tipped in a Derek Roy feed to give the Sabres the lead. Nice start. Now they just have to settle in and play a classic road playoff games, take the crowd out of it and wait until—oops never mind it's 1-1.

That Ottawa goal was Jason Spezza from Dany Heatley and Wade Redden, as the Senators deploy their famed "guys we love right now but will eventually leave town as villains" line. I guess Daniel Alfredsson missed a shift.

The Senators make it 2-1 just 15 seconds later. A quick warning here: This game is in Ottawa, which means it features the Senators goal horn guy, which means you're going to be deaf by the end of it. He's a tad excitable. Here's some behind-the-scenes footage of him at work, but it's a preseason game so he's taking it easy.

On the other hand, we've got Bob Cole. You win some, you lose some.

Six minutes in, the Sabres tie it at 2-2. (Hello, Numminen.) Amazingly, this will be the last goal of the first period, as everyone's arms are tired and they decide to just skip ahead to the intermission.

By the way, the goaltending matchup here is Ray Emery against Ryan Miller, which is fine, but we have to point out that this was the year the Senators had Dominik Hasek. But he got hurt at the Olympics, depriving us of one of the great face-the-former-team revenge matchups in league history. Damn you, Olympic injuries, maybe Gary Bettman was right about you all along.

We're back for the second period, both teams having made their intermission adjustments. In the Sabres case, that was apparently "let's give up easy breakaways." and they go out and execute it beautifully.

Buffalo gets it back quickly, as they get a 2-on-1 and then do that video games move where you forget which button is the pass one and just end up with everyone skating into the goalie and pushing the puck into the net because you have penalties turned off. It's super effective!

A few seconds later, the Senators have a 5-on-3 and you can probably guess how this turns out. They do that thing where they park Zdeno Chara directly in front of the net and dare the goalie to do anything about it. It works, because the only goalie crazy enough to ever swing at Chara was Ray Emery.

We skip ahead to goals by Derek Roy at the end of the second and Mike Fisher at the start of the third, and it's 5-4 Ottawa. Both starting goalies are still in, by the way, and will stay in for the entire game. I always thought that was an underrated aspect of this game's silliness.

Side note: This is somehow only the second craziest game featuring Ray Emery and the Sabres.

At this point, things actually settle down and the two teams decide to play NHL playoff hockey, which is to say nobody does anything interesting for almost an entire period. The keyword here is "almost," as things are going to go off the rails as soon as we get to two minutes left. Which is right…now.

The Senators have a one-goal lead late in regulation, a powerplay, the puck in the Sabres' zone, and still somehow manage to give up a 2-on-1. Derek Roy buries the one-timer and it's 5-5.

Hey, was I the only one who called him Derek Wah for his whole career, like Patrick Roy? I don't think I was.

We get a brief glimpse of a dude with an Obscure Player Alumni Maxim Afinogenov jersey, but before our brains can process that we're back to the action. The Senators still have a powerplay, remember. You'll never guess what happens next.

This may be my favorite moment from the game, as Bryan Smolinksi bangs home the go-ahead goal with a minute left and makes one of the all-time great "whew, did we ever just dodge a bullet there" smug faces. Hold that thought, Bryan.

We're down to 20 seconds left, and all the Senators have to do now is cram all six guys into the goal frame and call it a day. Instead, there's a mixup behind the net, the puck comes out front, and Tim Connolly buries it to tie the game. The crowd makes that classic "Are you F-ing kidding me?" noise you only get in the NHL playoffs, and we're off to overtime.

OK, settle in because these two teams are going to smarten up and get conservative. Ha, no, just kidding, the overtime is going to last 18 seconds.

The end comes when Anton Volchenkov commits what might literally be the worst turnover in modern playoff history. Seriously, let's just admire that thing. Not only does he fan on the pass, he kicks it off both skates and then turns his back to the puck as the Sabres break in. By the time Chris Drury scores the winner, Volchenkov is just sadly sliding off into the corner on his belly. Other than that, I thought the shift went well.

The Sabres ended up taking the series in five games, three of which came in overtime. But the Senators earned revenge in 2007, knocking out Buffalo on their way to the Stanley Cup final. This time, Emery and the Senators learned from their mistakes and made sure that when the puck was behind their own net at a crucial moment, they never let the other team even touch it.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter @DownGoesBrown.

DGB Grab Bag: Halloween Hijinx, The Nuclear Option, and an Ode to Offense published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv