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brawlingdiscontent · 3 years ago

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the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 3/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o, mature rating)

(part one) (part two)

Hi all, I am so sorry for the space between these updates! - I am so close to finishing my PhD (not in any history or medieval studies field, lol) and things are just really hectic with revisions, publications and syllabi, etc.

A reminder that the last chapter (from 5000 years ago) ended with Charles being graphically/violently threatened by a mysterious man. (See the link above if you’d like to re-read it.

Warnings: Slightly gory description, mentions/implications of violence and sexual assault, child death (not Charles’ kids)

----

In the end, they don't set off that afternoon.

It’s decided in a council, a strategy meeting that Charles is not invited to, and reported to him curtly by Lehnsherr later that day that if they start off early enough it’s only most of a day’s ride to Eoforowic, and is the preferable alternative to the vulnerability of camping overnight.

He sees almost no one before the Danish king returns to the tent bearing an evening meal.

The man in question has forgone the advisors and trailing pages, leaving his subordinates behind for the night, as no loud voices or other signs announce his arrival. The denizens of the camp are likely off savouring the hours of daylight that remain in varied nefarious ways. The long summer nights are not yet over, but in the tent it’s darker, shadowed but not yet dim enough to warrant a candle or fat lamp. The canvas walls seem to glow faintly with the strange quality of early evening light.

Charles has arranged himself in a defensive position, seated at the small table on the lone chair facing the tent flap. He took advantage of his time alone to redistribute a number of the furs from the main pile, making the corner where he intends once again to sleep more comfortable and well-padded. Together with the extra things Alex brought him--when, under the watchful eyes of the guards, they risked exchanging only a nod to confirm his task’s success--he fashioned a warm berth for himself. His current placement, with its slight chill, is a tactical necessity. He straightens in the hard, wooden seat. It’s best to avoid being caught in a prone position lest Lehnsherr take it as an invitation.

When he enters, Lehsherr carries in two rough-hewn, steaming wooden bowls balanced atop an extra stool.

“You must be hungry.”

Charles scans him for ulterior motives, finding none for now. He hasn’t eaten since the food that was left for him this morning, but can’t seem to muster up much of an appetite.

“Yes. Thank you,” he says anyway. He needs to keep his strength up.

Lehnsherr sets the bowls on the small table, nudging one slightly towards Charles, and the stool beside it. He then turns away, once again going through the routine of divesting himself of his gear. If he notices or has any feelings about Charles’ rearrangement of his space he says nothing, leaving Charles to return to his own thoughts.

That afternoon, after the monstrous man retreated, slinking off to some other part of the camp while Charles stood shaken, Charles’ guards had suddenly and conspicuously reappeared.

As he was escorted back to Lehnsherr’s tent, Charles had, briefly, turned over the possibility of telling him what happened. Of what could be construed as nothing other than a violent threat. But the man hadn’t actually done anything, hadn’t even touched Charles. And what, even, were the chances that Lehnsherr would believe him—or that he would care? In any case what exactly could he expect the Dane to do? The bear-man, whoever he is, must be powerful, as he contrived some way—whether by bribery or sheer command—to send the guards away from their positions outside the tent.

—Or, the thought had occurred to him, both disturbing and the most plausible yet, perhaps Lehnsherr had sent the man to threaten him, to warn him off and keep him in line. It is this possibility that is nearest in his mind as Lehnsherr wanders the tent.

“I trust you found your men well?” Lehnsherr questions, not turning from where he is folding his gambeson.

Charles contemplates several responses. Acerbic: ‘Alive would be a more accurate understanding.’ Another part of him wants to respond in anger, Logan’s blackened eye, the morning’s events, urging him to confront and accuse Lehnsherr. It’s an urge he knows is at least partly the product of fear. He presses his palms flat against the wood of the table and feels its uneven surface press back. In the end, exhausted, and unwilling to cause a fuss, he settles on, “I did,” then turns towards the bowl before him.

The food is hot, rabbit this time. Likely commandeered from one of the many the braziers and fire pits that dot the camp as he doubts Lehnsherr has had time for hunting. It is good, and Charles feels some appetite flare again, even when Lehnsherr has divested enough weapons and layers and joins him at the table.

A silence falls between them, not exactly awkward, but not quite comfortable either. On Charles’ end, it stems from reservation. Lehnsherr, conversely, seems content not to speak.

Charles steals surreptitious glances between bites. He studies the lines of the other man’s face trying to puzzle him out as the shadows in the tent begin to lengthen.

He’s a man become even more confusing and inscrutable after the day’s events. If Lehnsherr had sent that beast of a man to threaten him in place of doing so himself, it speaks to a capacity for sophisticated psychological manipulation, one that goes beyond and complicates his reputation for sheer brutality. For all of Charles’ careful planning he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Lehnsherr might be worse than Shaw. He needs to know who he’s—getting into bed with, his mind supplies—getting involved with. Only then can he have any hope to defend himself. For who can say what will happen to whatever appeal he has—the tenuous sexual hold that had checked Lehnsherr the night before—once Lehnsherr finally gets what he wants and is sated. What then can Charles possibly do to hold him back, should he prove monstrous?

He must have been more transparent in his observation than he realized, an act which once again is misinterpreted.

“Relax, your Highness.” Lehnsherr says. “I’ll honour your wish to wait. I won’t touch you.”

“Until we are married,” Charles says aloud if only to remind himself, tracking with his eyes the slow advance of a line of shadow across the table.

“Until we are married,” Lehnsherr agrees, his voice carrying notes of something that has Charles turning back studiously to his food to avoid analyzing.

...

The sun is just ghosting above the horizon when they assemble to head off the next morning, gently bathing the plain in its orange-red glow. There’s a morning chill carried in the wind that batters at Charles’ cheeks. It wipes away the bleariness of the early hour, and makes him glad that extra furs were among the items that he’d requested Alex fetch. And yet the last edges of summer are holding on; it’s nothing compared to the winter they’ll face once the seasons change and even the memories of warmth fade.

Lehnsherr had woken him just before dawn, and they’d had a hurried breakfast in the tent by the light of a flickering taper. More of the flat, dry bread and some of the season’s last berries, foraged from a nearby bush.

They’ll be going overland to Eoforwic. It’s the slower route than sailing up the coast, which tells Charles that either Lehnsherr doesn’t want their journey observed or reported, or that he’s uncertain of what awaits them in Eoforwic.

Scanning the group, Charles counts about fifty gathered, all told. Enough to defend themselves if it came down to it, but still a small enough party to travel relatively unobtrusively.

His horse gives a restless shuffle, tugging gently on the reins in his hands. A nobleman's former mount, certainly. Fine little features stand out in the saddle, tack, and gear. The rivets in the saddle bags are detailed in a star motif, points radiating out in blades of light, as only the very wealthy could afford. It was probably scavenged from its slain owner, or, optimistically, was given up by a defeated city relinquishing its riches. Londres had given up several hundred horses in the surrender.

Lehnsherr, who’d gone off on an unnamed errand after seeing Charles matched with a horse, approaches once more. He’s leading not only a horse of his own, but a woman. Charles recognizes her dark eyes and small stature from the previous morning.

“Charles,” Lehnsherr says without ceremony, “this is Angel. She’s here to assist you.”

He looks back over at her, as she returns his gaze placidly. Assist him? The road, travelling rough as they are, is no place for an attendant. Then, focusing on her smooth expression, it all clicks into place.

Assist him. Ha. More like spy on him. He quickly re-assesses the meeting he interrupted yesterday as an intelligence report. Interesting. Sebastian, with his more traditionalist views, would likely not have thought to assign such a job to a beta or omega woman.

He manages, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel.” It’s a lie, of course, but Charles was raised with manners, and she can’t help the assignment she's been tasked with. While Charles is fairly confident in his charm, Angel proves just as enigmatic as her commander, offering merely a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow before turning to see to her own mount.

With eyes on him secured, Lehnsherr seems relatively content to leave him alone, as he heads up towards the front of the column to rally the troops.

They set off, and Charles easily falls towards the back of the group, ghosted by Angel. If he had any remaining doubts about her occupation, they dissipate after watching her subte, silent moments, even on horseback.

Travelling en masse, they alternate bursts of speed with walking breaks to keep a sustainable pace for the horses.

He is content to pass the first canter course just relishing the abandon of the pace, the uneven terrain below the horses’ hooves. The sun gradually climbs higher until he can feel the warmth of it on his hair, and the wind blows across his face. He basks in the experience of being out in the open, running wild (if not free) after six months of siege.

The dusty roadside is lined here and there with dots of blue chicory, long stems stretching up tenaciously towards the sky. A flock of chaffinches, startled by their appearance, burst in flight. His spy, Angel, seems to have melted away into the group, perhaps prefering to operate in her usual mode when her targets don’t know she’s there. It is tempting to forget the circumstances and enjoy the moment.

But Charles is too pragmatic, hardened by bitter experience underlined by recent events, to let this lapse in Lehnsherr’s attention (Angel aside) go to waste.

In the first walking break, he looks around at the stragglers in the second half of the party for promising targets of some reconnaissance of his own. Just ahead and to his left are two burly men engaged in animated discussion. Inching subtly closer, he’s disappointed but not surprised to find that they’re speaking Danish. He has so little of the language, certainly not enough to make reliable sense of their discussion, but at the least perhaps listening might improve his facility. He listens amongst the glottal phrases for repeated sounds he might begin to decipher.

“It’s a blunt-tongued language, isn’t it?” a warm voice addresses Charles from slightly behind.

He starts and turns his body in the direction of the sound—as pleased to hear the softer tones of Saxon as he is startled at the sudden intrusion—to find another rider approaching on his right.

He’s a young man, a little younger than Charles from appearances, and clothed in unusual attire. A flat sort of cap, fashioned from a vibrant dark red material, adorns his head. His tunic, where it peeks through his furs, is woven of rich fabric: not over-ornamented, but of a quality far surpassing the coarse weaves and eclectic dress of the surrounding men. He carries himself with a cool confidence, perched lightly on his saddle, relaxed and much more poised than any other of Lehnsherr’s men.

Charles pulls gently at the reins, slowing his horse’s pace to allow the other man to draw even with him.

Even as he takes him in, the clothing stirs a memory at the back of his mind of a childhood long ago; Muslim traders at the Norman court. The memory is an old one; Sebastian’s kingdom was an insular one and didn’t get on with outsiders, let alone cultured guests from the learned centres of the world.

“Forgive me for startling you, Your Highness,” the man says. Despite Charles’ deliberate choice to leave his circlet behind at the tent, it seems that Lehnsherr’s scene in the banquet hall the other night has left him no chance of anonymity.

“That’s quite alright. Though, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“The name’s Armando, sir.”

“Armando.” He says, rolling the name around in his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It's the second time today he’s offered these words, but he finds he can be more sincere with them when not faced with a spy. “And what is your role here?” He’s a figure somewhat misplaced among the rough-and-tumble Danes.

“I’m a physician. Born in Cordoba, and trained in Alexandria.”

A frisson of excitement runs through Charles at this announcement. “You speak Saxon very well for an Andalusian. Better than myself, and I’ve been speaking it almost since birth.”

“Thank you. Once I had the first few, the next languages came easily enough.” He switches into Norman for the second part of explanation to demonstrate.

“How many others do you speak?”

“Fluently? I’d say seven--maybe eight.” He cracks a broad, warm smile at Charles’ astonishment. “What can I say? I’m adaptive.”

Mindful of his spy close at hand, Charles yet can’t hide his delight to be in the company of a fellow seeker in the pursuit of knowledge, one with personal experience of the madrasas of the learned world at that. Despite this, he tries to rein himself in before his enthusiasm overwhelms his caution. After all, no matter how much he may seem a kindred spirit, he doesn’t know Armando nor his agenda. And, after seeing firsthand the danger that lurks in the camp, he’d be a fool to count himself safe.

They settle into a comfortable rhythm. It’s in the next walking break that Charles, between probing questions about the scientific and medical developments out of Baghdad, catches sight of a head above the crowd. His heart stutters, and he almost jerks on the reins impulsively. Riding up at the front, near Lehnsherr, but a bit off to the side. He’s easy to spot, rising nearly head-and-shoulders above the men surrounding him, stature and bearskin robe unmistakable.

“Armando, what can you tell me about that man?”

Armando follows his gaze to the front of the party, and when he sees the man to whom Charles refers seems to hesitate.

“He goes by the name of Sabretooth. He leads one of the strongest factions among the Danish warriors.” He pauses so long that Charles thinks he might have to prompt again, before continuing. “He and his supporters are known for their unyielding savagery in battle. I’ve only ever seen the aftermath.” Armando looks towards the riders at the front, squinting into the midday sun at the outline of the man in question. His words seem improbably incongruous in the brightness of the day. “Going into battle they consume a potion to free them of inhibitions and drive away all traces of remorse. Many of his followers file their teeth, supposedly to more easily rend the flesh of their enemies. Except Sabretooth himself who they say likes the challenge of a duller edge.”

Charles masks his disquiet with a wry remark. “No doubt a firm favourite of his Grace.” He had heard tell of such stories, whispers of viking cannibals, but had always assumed them to be over-inflations of reality.

“You’re wrong about that, actually.”

He looks back over, surprised.

“I have the sense—mind you, this is just my perception—that His Grace dislikes him very much.”

Charles thinks on this. Armando’s explanation would seem to square with the disagreement he witnessed back at the camp. Furthermore, the man—Sabretooth—seems prone to unpredictable violence, of a sort that might irk someone as careful and controlled as Lehnsherr. And yet—

“If that's the case, why invite him on such a party?

Armando takes a moment to respond, looking between the two riders up ahead. “There’s a common saying in Alexandria. It translates roughly to: a wise man holds his enemies close to his breast but far from his heart.”

Charles nods in agreement as he notes the appropriateness of it, thinking of the justification he had used to convince Lehnsherr to take him along even as he once again reconfigures his knowledge of the man. He, too, is an enemy Lehnsherr has held close. But before he can take the train of thought much further, the low blast of a horn signals the return to a canter, and it’s lost in the clatter of advancing hooves.

…

In the late afternoon, the first sign of smoke on the horizon alerts them. It curls above the treetops a little ways off the road. Too dense and heavy to be from a cooking fire.

The nearby homestead is set back from the road, but after the party halts at another horn blast a few riders break away from the pack in its direction. Charles pulls his horse past the crowd of remaining men and follows after them.

It’s a desolate scene. What was formerly a cottage now smouldering ashes but for the charred edges of a door frame still standing. The field of crops outside is churned up and scattered. Crushed stalks of barley that were trodden under horses’ hooves are beaten into the mud. A handful of slaughtered animals lie along the path. But what is most evident is the woman crouched in front of the remains of the house, keening in grief. Her ragged dress is torn, at her side a small child with a soot in their hair and clothes.

Lehnsherr has already dismounted, handed off his reins to another rider in order to survey the scene. Charles follows suit without a thought, and once he gets closer, it unfolds before him tragic inevitability.

He sees the dead man lying a few feet away from the woman and child, his grotesquely splayed body telling the story of his violent end. Then, clutched in the woman’s arms, a boy. A mere child, perhaps thirteen summers. His small eyes are closed almost peacefully, his forehead smeared with clotted blood.

Armando, who has followed Charles from the road, is quick to be rallied to aid.

Insensible in grief, the woman seems to barely register their presence as they cautiously approach. The young child, likely too small to comprehend the events that have taken place, tugs on her dress to get her attention, until she at last looks up at them. Her gaze is empty as one beyond reach, already crossed over to the next world.

It strikes Charles deeply, who freezes, feeling her disconnection mirrored in his own. Dissociation is a strategy he’s used to make himself hard, hiding his emotions in a fortress to protect them from a scene that has and will continue to play out countless times across the countryside. Recognizing it now in this woman, he’s struck by its haunting unnaturalness, the hollowness it invokes.

Armando, who had gently nudged the woman aside to conduct an examination, looks up and shakes his head.

The young child shrieks suddenly, drawing back and cowering behind their mother, who, past caring, doesn’t noticeably react. The cause is soon clear: having finished attentively examining the scene and damage, Lehnsherr is making his way over. To his credit, in response to the child’s dismay he slows his approach and spreads his hands wide in the universal symbol of non-aggression. It’s the only reason that Charles makes no move to stop him as he nears the woman and child, and crouches down.

Charles watches as he starts a conversation in Saxon, gently asking a question or two. He thinks he hears Lehnsherr quietly mutter a few words following the woman’s stilted responses. Then the man pulls an aged leather drawstring pouch from somewhere on his person, and produces several small, glinting coins which he hands to the woman.

A weregild.

Blood price for so much death and evil, paid for with some mere pieces of metal. He rails internally at his own impotence, safe behind a palace wall while people are suffering; dying. And at the authors of the violence, as Lehnsherr’s actions here have surely confirmed, the very men he rides with.

He’s overwhelmed by a helpless rage that washes over him like a tide.

“A few coins” the words come out flat, subdued. “Do you think they can repair the loss of a husband, bring back her child?” It’s an accusation but empty, anger deserting him as quickly as it arrived for a dull hopelessness.

Lehnsherr turns to him, delayed. His gaze is a bit distant, as though he’d forgotten Charles was there.

“It will bring them food,” he says levelly, “buy them shelter for the winter. Nothing can bring back the dead.”

Charles stands there for an indeterminable span of time, consumed by the endless cruelties of men. By this tangible reminder of the pain caused and lives lost to men—no, not men, beasts, seeking only personal glory, an enrichment of power.

“You generals and your wars,” he says coldly and turns away, the smoke still stinging in his eyes.

#cherik #viking au #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #x-men #subtle a/b/o #cherik fic #brawlingdiscontent #twtbog #encomium carolis regis

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inactiive-shit · 5 years ago

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Don’t Stop If I Fall

Title from Hang ‘Em High by My Chemical Romance. Listening to the song could improve the story, but it’s not necessary to understanding it.

There is now a part two: But Grow If I Can’t

Warnings: Character death, apocalypse, violence

Pairings: None

Words: 3,313

Summary: When Virgil makes a promise, he means it. Further more, he always fulfills it. Even when it’s not quite in the way Patton was hoping.

If anything else needs to be tagged, or if you have anything else to say, please let me know! I am always open! Thank you so much for reading, and without further ado, please enjoy!

They’d been running for hours.

Or maybe Patton’s perception of time was all messed up, because he didn’t think he’d be able to run for hours, no matter if his life depended on it or not. Regardless, it felt like hours, and Patton’s legs had been shaking for longer than he could remember, and he was pretty sure his feet were bleeding in his leather boots. The field-turned-desert blurred by, and just for a moment, Patton glimpsed Logan running next to him with Roman slightly behind him. The bag on Roman’s back had to be weighing him down. Patton didn’t know how he could possibly run like that. His bag and Logan’s bag were no where close to the size.

Patton began lagging, and he gasped, “I can’t - can’t run. I need - break. Please.” He felt Virgil’s hand on his back, and heard Virgil’s own panting voice urge him on.

“Just a few more minutes, Pat. A few more minutes, and we can rest. Promise. I promise.” Virgil’s hand fell away, and Patton pushed himself on. Virgil had yet to break a single promise he’d made to them. He promised they’d all make it off campus alive, and they had. He promised they’d find a working car to get them out, and they had. He’d promised they’d all live, and they had. He’d promised they’d find out how to survive, and how to defend themselves, and they had. Virgil had promised everything was going work out and, against all odds, it had.

So, despite Patton’s burning lungs and shaking legs, he ran. They all did. They ran and they ran and they ran. They ran until no one could breathe, and then they stopped.

“O-okay,” Roman muttered. “They should be. . .far enough behind us now. We can. . .sleep. Restock.”

“I. . .I am unsure of that, Roman. They travel at a slightly accelerated rate. We had the advantage of traps and warning before but now-”

“Lo, stop.” Virgil pulled his bag off and began digging through it. “Eat now. We’re going to find somewhere to go and a way to get out, but we’re going to have to be smart, and that means eating.” He raised his head and gave Patton his most reassuring smile. “I promise.” Virgil passed a bag of nutrigrain bars to Roman and went back to looking in the bag.

“He’s right, Logan. Focusing on the negatives won’t get us anywhere. We just have to keep our hopes up and our minds open. We’ll find a way.” Patton forced a smile at Logan. Roman muttered an agreement and shoved the bag at him. Virgil pulled water and a map out of his bag, and sat by Logan. They began scouring the map together and Patton collapsed next to Roman, bag finally off his aching shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay, Padre.” Roman rubbed Patton’s shoulders as he leaned back. “They were the two smartest kids in the whole school. Hell, they might be the smartest people left alive. They’ll find us a way out of this.” Patton turned and gave Roman a tremulous smile.

It was funny, in a sad way, when Patton thought about the past. Before the end of everything, and before people were going crazy and killing each other for nothing, they had all been happy and normal. Patton had been friends with all three of them, and Virgil had known of Logan, but they weren’t acquainted. Patton knew they’d get along, but neither was keen on meeting new people. And Roman was always too busy with theater to ever meet anyone. Back then, he’d been the person everyone else came to for emotional help. Now it never seemed to be quite like that.

Patton remembered the day the end swept down on them like a storm. He’d been at Virgil’s on-campus apartment when it came rushing by. They hadn’t known until an hour later, when Patton was getting texted by all his friends, begging to know where he was - was he safe? could they come over? what was going on? - and he told them Virgil’s address. Logan had been the first to arrive, decked out in a lab coat splattered with red. At the time, Patton had convinced himself it was paint. Now it was easier to say it was blood. It always had been blood, and lies didn’t do anybody favors in this world.

Roman had arrived half an hour after Logan, out of breath and frantic to know that his best friend was alright. Something had happened to the theater club, and they were going crazy or something. The scratches on his face stood out bright from the stage make-up, and Patton was terrified. They all were, and none of them knew what was going on.

They were the only two of Patton’s friends that showed up. Then, Patton had hoped that they simply found shelter elsewhere, somewhere safer with their family. Now, Patton wished they had died. It would be a mercy. Now, Patton knew they were much more likely to have become one of the many things chasing them through the world.

That day was years ago. Patton wondered when the details would start to fade.

“-tton? Patton, listen. We have a plan.” Virgil was waving a hand in front of his face, and Patton blinked a few times.

“Yeah, what’s up, kiddo?”

“There are mountains-”

“Foothills,” Logan cut in. Virgil waved a hand.

“Semantics, calculator watch,” Roman muttered.

“Shut up, both of you,” Virgil snapped. “There are mountains that way. If we get to them, we might have a chance. I don’t think they can climb. When we stayed in that five story building, none of them could get up the ladders and they barely managed the stairs.”

“Yes. We head for the mountains, and we find a path steep enough for us to climb but too steep for them to follow.” Logan swallowed audibly, and he almost sounded awed when he spoke again, “We might be safe there. If they cannot follow us, we could. . .have a home again.”

No one spoke for a long moment, looking down at the ground instead. The notion was just about the scariest thing Patton had heard. A home meant a place to be, and something that you couldn’t pick up and take with you when you inevitably had to run. It was tempting and revolting at the same time.

Patton wanted it desperately.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Roman posed dramatically, for morale, and helped Patton up. Virgil and Logan had all four of their bags, and they were trying to redistribute what they could. Virgil and Roman carried larger bags than Logan or Patton because they had already been stronger before the end had come. They maintained that ability, even once Logan and Patton began to lose any fat they had, left only with bare bones and thin muscles.

It wasn’t ideal, but they made it work.

In a couple minutes, the bags were packed and back on their backs. Roman had insisted he take the food for this leg of it because Virgil had been toting it for days. It was heavier and moved more than the bedding, making the whole thing harder to move with. Roman was nothing if not chivalrous, he insisted with a degree of arrogance Patton knew was feigned. Perhaps once he’d been that foolish - perhaps once they all had. Now their vices were far more serious and far less naive than arrogance.

They started off at a slow walk, and Patton watched the light die from the sky. When he was little, he was told the sun was going to bed just like he was. Patton always thought it was comforting, and it would be a happy thing to tell his own kids someday. A sort of legend, passed down from parents to children. But not anymore.

Now Patton knew the sun wasn’t going to bed, it was giving them cover. The sun was taking one of the few advantages people had, and it was leaving. The light was dying, and it was trying to take them all with it.

The foothills inched steadily taller in the distance, and Patton wondered how they were expecting to run up a mountain in the dark when he was barely able to stand now. Surely there was going to be debris and plants and all sorts of other things they needed to look out for on a mountain.

Unless, of course, they really couldn’t get up there. In which case, maybe Patton would finally stop feeling like he was going to fall apart at any given opportunity.

Logan urged them into a jog, and Patton tried to measure the foothills in his head. He’d learned a lot of skills since the world had ended, but spacial things - like distance and size - hadn’t stuck. Nowadays, Patton could patch up a wound, stitch himself with no anesthetic, kill on instinct, and make just about anything into a weapon when he was on a time crunch. But he had no idea how tall the mountains were. In fact-

��Run!” Suddenly Logan was pulling ahead, and there were growls echoing somewhere behind them. Patton pushed his legs harder into the ground, propelling himself forward. Roman was trying to regulate his breathing like he’d taught them all to do - he’d been in track during high school. He had a lot more experience with running, at first. Now any of them could give him a run for his money.

Virgil was running beside Patton, and their arms moved in synchronicity. Virgil’s left pulled back and Patton’s right pushed forward. Virgil took a step in time with Patton. They both went forward like they were reaching for the golden fruit.

Patton wished there was a golden fruit at the end of this race. They had one apple, and it was made mostly of bruises.

Roman pulled a little farther ahead, and Patton matched their breathing. Whatever Roman was doing to pull off this sprint after the marathon they’d just run, he was doing it right. Patton needed some of it.

The next time Patton looked left, there was nobody there.

“Virgil!” The scream bounced around them, and it didn’t even matter because the things were already closing in. Patton froze and almost over-balanced before spinning in place. He couldn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was gone, Virgil was gone and-

Logan careened by Patton, and then he saw the lump on the ground. They both collapsed near Virgil, and Roman stood watch over them.

“Get him up. Hurry. Get him up,” he muttered. Patton pushed Virgil into a sitting position, and Virgil hissed.

“What happened, kiddo?” Patton tried to push Virgil up more, to get him on his feet, but Virgil wasn’t moving.

“Tripped. There was a branch, I think.” He slowly looked down. Patton glanced at the mass that was gaining ground.

“Virgil, it is pertinent that you get up. Now. We need to move.” Logan, who rarely lost his composure since those first few weeks, was pulling roughly at Virgil’s shoulder, trying to stand him up.

“Yeah, Virge, c’mon. Move.” Roman didn’t take his eyes off the approaching horde, but he was pulling on Virgil’s hood. Virgil hesitated, and then he grabbed Roman’s hand and pulled himself up. Patton grabbed his other hand, tugging forward, and Virgil took a step and fell again.

“Virgil! Please, kiddo, you need to get up, come on, Virge.” None of them were looking at Virgil, or how pale he was. None of them saw him staring at his ankle in abject horror. None of them saw the angle that his foot was resting at.

“Run.” Virgil thrust the map into Roman’s hand. All three of them froze.

“Virgil, what. . .” Logan saw his ankle. It was a clear break.

“You need to run. Now. If you stay here any longer you won’t be getting away.” Virgil shifted his bag into his lap and dug through it. He shoved a few of the blankets at them. “Take these and go.”

“No no no, we can support you. Virge, we can carry you there. Just get up. Please, just get up.” Patton pulled at Virgil’s arm, and Virgil shook his head. He wouldn’t look at Patton.

“I’ll slow you down. You need to go.”

“We’ll leave the bags and I’ll carry you, Virgil. C’mon, you know I’m strong enough,” Roman pleaded.

“No!” he snapped. “If you carry me, we’re down two supply bags so we can starve and freeze, and that’s assuming you can outrun them while carrying me! Which, newsflash, you can’t!” He stuffed the map back into Roman’s shaking fist.

“Virgil, we can-”

“We can’t.” Virgil didn’t leave room for argument. The screams felt close enough to be touching them. “You have to run. You have to-” his voice broke, “leave me.” Virgil rubbed his face. Patton was frozen on his knees, staring at Virgil like he’d suggested the sky was made of rubber chickens. “My ankle is broken. There’s no running for me, guys. You have to go, now, while you still can. Please.”

“Virgil, we can’t-” Patton’s words shattered and a sob burst through his teeth.

“You’re going to be okay, Patton. You’re going to live,” Virgil said gently. He caressed Patton’s face.

“I-I-” Roman stuttered off, staring from Virgil to the things and back. His eyes got glassy, and Roman kissed the top of Virgil’s head, sweat and tears tasting the same on his tongue. “I love you, Virge. We’ll see you soon.”

“Not too soon, huh?” Virgil squeezed Roman’s hand. Logan, kneeling on Virgil’s side, pressed his head into Virgil’s.

“You are an entirely incorrigible disaster, Virgil Taylor.”

“What’s to improve, specs?” Virgil rubbed his head against Logan’s, a language Patton had watched them develop as soon as they met. They communicated in a way all their own.

Logan stood, and Patton saw droplets on the lenses of his glasses. He could also see how terrifyingly close the things were getting, and this wasn’t right. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. They were all supposed to make it. This was wrong. This wasn’t right.

“Patton, Patton, you need to go, okay? Go with them. You have to run, Patton. You have to run for me, okay? Because my ankle’s broken and I can’t run for myself right now. So I need you to do it for me.” Tears were in Virgil’s eyes, and Patton shook his head. He couldn’t just leave him here like this, pain and fear glimmering in eyes once so bright. “Patton, you have to.” Patton felt the other two grab his arms and pull him up, and he never thought he had it in himself to hate someone he loved quite so much.

“No! No, Virgil! Please!” Patton pulled against them, but he was small and they’d been running for so long he wasn’t sure he would ever walk again. “I can’t do this without you! Virgil, please!”

“Patton, it’s going to be okay. Do you hear me, Pat? It’s going to be alright. It’s going to be fine.” Virgil looked in Patton’s eyes, and Patton stopped struggling. “I promise, Patton. Everything’s going to be okay. But you have to run now. You have to run, and you have to get far, far away from here. Don’t look back, Patton. You run and you run and you do not look back. Okay? Just go.” Tears streamed down Virgil’s face. “Run, Pat. Don’t look at me, okay? It’s going to be alright, I promise. Just run. Run!”

Patton staggered around and he put one foot in front of the other. He was putting so much distance between him and Virgil, and he didn’t know how it was going to be okay, but Virgil had promised, and Virgil didn’t break his promises. Virgil only promised what was true. But that didn’t explain the sobbing, uneven breaths coming from Roman, and it didn’t explain the blanket clutched tightly in Logan’s arm. Nothing could explain Logan squeezing Patton’s hand to the point of breaking, despite all those times Logan had told them holding hands while running actually slowed you down.

Nothing could explain anything. All Patton felt was fear, and even that wasn’t making sense.

Roman grabbed Patton’s other hand, tugging him forward. They were all three sprinting toward something - Patton didn’t know what; he couldn’t remember and he couldn’t care. All Patton was aware of was the howling coming from behind them.

And then the screams.

They were blood-curdling, and Patton whimpered as they rose in volume. He didn’t want to think about what was making them, even though he knew that it wasn’t a what. It was a who.

The screams suddenly gurgled and cut off. They suddenly seemed much quieter too. Patton couldn’t help himself - he had to turn around. He had to see what was going on. He couldn’t just assume that he knew, because there was too much room left for doubt. Logan always said that if you couldn’t see it, you couldn’t know for sure.

So Patton twisted his head around, still being pulled by Roman and Logan. He heard a high-pitched whine coming from somewhere, but nothing was registering. Nothing except for the mass huddled in a pile, tearing at something. He thought he could see fresh red staining their faces though he was too far away to see that kind of detail. He thought he could see something struggle. If he really focused, he thought he could hear a whisper of a scream, some plea for help. Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe-

“Patton, stop pulling - away.” Roman was gasping. His hand was sweaty in Patton’s. “I kn-know it hurts, but. . .but we can’t go ba-ack for him. Please, Padre, just keep running.” Logan tightened his grip on Patton’s hand, like a reassurance that they were all going to be okay, like everything was going to be fine.

But that’s what Virgil had said, what Virgil had promised, and he had lied. Nothing was ever going to be okay again. They would never have a home again. Without Virgil, without all four of them, together and living, nothing could ever possibly be okay or home again. They had lived and breathed every traumatic experience and every lucky break together for the last five years, and now he was expected to go on without a part of himself? He’d be better off without a leg to run on!

Tears poured down Patton’s face, and he didn’t know when they stopped running. Patton didn’t know when they reached the mountains or the foothills or whatever they were, and he didn’t know when they began the uphill struggle. Patton didn’t know when they finally made it, and Patton didn’t know when they stopped. He didn’t care. He felt pain and numbness at the same time.

He did hear Logan say, “We’re safe,” before bursting into tears and almost shattering his glasses into his own eyes. He did hear Roman sit down next to him, map clutched in one fist and expression blank. He did see the sky begin to lighten, the very first oranges and baby blues coloring the world. He did see a clear day and a part of the world seemingly untouched by horror.

Patton sat in bloodless grass and cried, making no noise, because he saw everything Virgil could have had. He saw exactly how everything could have been fine. He saw it all, and all he could do was cry. Virgil had made them one last promise: everything’s going to be okay. And it was now. The sky was blue and the grass was green and Patton was finally safe. After years of struggling and fear, they were finally safe. And Virgil was nowhere to be seen, and nothing had ever been less okay.

#ts #sanders sides #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #don't stop if i fall #lamp/calm #platonic lamp/calm #ts fanfiction #ts fanfic #my fanfiction #my writing #fanfic

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taffystake · 6 years ago

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Alrighty, ladies and gentlemen. Its time for me to start this little show on a new platform. Because spam messaging one discord server and then putting into a google doc to redistribute makes it mildly complicated, this is the new and improved format for Taffy’s Take. Now then, let’s begin again.....

Dr. Stone Review

Written by: Richiro Inagaki

Illustrated by: Boichi

Dr. Stone is one of the newest manga to gain a strong foothold in Weekly Shonen Jump. Back in 2017, many of Jump’s longer-running staple series like Bleach and Assassination Classroom were cancelled and 6 new series were started, a number that stands miles above the previous years in the magazine of 2 series in 2016 and 3 in 2015. Dr Stone was one of these six series and is the massive success story from these rookies, having gained an anime adaptation and a large push in Shonen Jump itself despite barely being 2 years old at this point. And as a fan of the manga, I want to show why exactly it deserves the push that it has received.

Dr Stone starts out in modern day Japan as we meet Taiju and his science-loving friend Senku, with Taiju doing his best to psyche himself up for confessing to his crush. Just as he is about to do so, a bright light erupts in the sky and turns all of humanity into stone statues. The two men eventually manage to free themselves from the stone that imprisons them, Taiju by determination to free himself and his crush, Yuzuhira, and Senku by counting every second that he was petrified. And now, over 3000 years in the future, the pair must adapt and survive their new environment: the now reclaimed-by-nature lands of Tokyo.

The first twelve chapters have the story focus on Taiju as our main character, with him and Senku quickly establishing how they might revive the people trapped in the stone and using science and their resources to generate simple living. But the first person they revive, a behemoth of a high schooler called Tsukasa, very rapidly establishes himself as wanting to keep the world the way it is, absent of any technology. This comes to a head in chapter 12, where Senku is killed by Tsukasa before he takes Taiju and the now-revived Yuzuhira as part of his tribe.

These first twelve chapters are fine and the focus on Taiju is okay, but the story feels like your average shonen manga with the blockhead protagonist who will win things by sheer determination and I can feel eyes glazing over as they wonder why I enjoy this manga if that’s what it’s like. Simple. After those first 12 chapters, the focus of the story shifts to Senku as we see how he survived his death and his new plan to generate his own kingdom to fend off Tsukasa;s. This leads to him finding a village of humans, who quickly become an extremely interesting supporting cast as Senku uses science and technology to appeal to the villagers and get them on his side. And the story escalates from there, with the current storyline being focused on creating suitable water transportation to get the group across the ocean to South America, where Senku has determined the strange light to have initially emitted from.

Now, reading a story about a science-loving teen doing the world’s craziest Civilization technology tree rush ever can be interesting, but this is a manga. What about the art? Now, it’s time to talk about Boichi, one of the strongest manga artists I’ve ever seen. He can generate some of the most detailed drawings I’ve seen in many manga, creating a very realistic feeling to the art as it creates this environment of reforested Japan. And while this extends to the character models too, Boichi isn’t simply a strict adherent to realism, as most of the characters and especially Senku will be plastered with ridiculous, over-the-top expressions that just sell the feeling of a scene better than anything. But to truly understand the level of work and detail Boichi goes into, I will give an example. For a few panels, we get to see the International Space Station for reasons I dare not spoil. Boichi looked at hundreds of reference images for the structure and detailed to the best of his ability to be a one-to-one recreation of it on the page. And having compared them, it is awe-inspiring how well-detailed it is to the real thing without looking like he simply traced his references.

Dr Stone, while it can have some story beats that might land a little sideways or strange quirks to that amazing art style that take a second to get used, is a manga that uses shonen storytelling to create an extremely unique environment that I’ve never truly seen explored to this capacity. And I eagerly await whatever happens next and what new piece of technology Senku MacGyvers together from the things they’ve already created and the small things they find soon enough.

#anime #manga #dr stone #review #taffys take #manga review #first time posting #sentinels of the multiverse #kinda #sorry sotm guys but since this is taffyman it can kinda go there

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loopy-atla-fanfic · 7 years ago

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Samsara - Chapter 6

Rating: T

Characters: Mai, Zuko, Ty Lee, Azula, Iroh

Story Warnings: Ableism, Suicidal Thoughts

Written for Maiko Week 2017

EPOCH 6

"Come on, Mai. It's time to embrace the day."

Embrace the day, huh? That sounded like as good a start to General Iroh's surrender as any. After all, fighting off Ty Lee's bizarre enthusiasm for life was one of the longest struggles of Mai's existence, and at best that war had reached a stalemate, so why not surrender and reallocate the national war budget towards infrastructure projects?

Ugh, hopefully this wouldn't be as boring as that metaphor.

But then, that was her choice, wasn't it?

When Mai felt the first bounce at the foot of her bed, she opened her eyes, sat up, got to her feet, and proceeded to make a launching motion with her legs that took advantage of the compression capabilities of the mattress to add extra force to her upward propulsion with the expectation that when the downward acceleration of gravity returned her to her starting position, the mattress's compression factor would be able to translate most of her momentum back into another upward motion.

In other words, Mai bounced.

She did it exactly in time with Ty Lee, so that they were able to hold each other's gaze as they went up and down.

Ty Lee seemed to have forgotten how her face worked for a while, staring blankly as her loose hair went up and down around her, but eventually she broke out into a grin. "Wow, someone's perky this morning. Did you have a good time with Zuko?"

Mai considered the question for the first time in an eon as she lazily executed a backflip. "I got to spend time with Zuko, even if he was upset. Spending time with him is a never a bad thing."

Ty Lee nodded. "That's the kind of thinking that might make marriage bearable." She put a little more oomph into the next bounce. Mai did the same-

-and then they both smacked their heads into the ceiling with simultaneous clunks.

Mai managed to hiss twenty-seven different swear words before she crashed down on the mattress, while Ty Lee limited herself to an, "Owie." But as soon as the blinding pain in her skull cleared, Mai actually felt like laughing. Instead of suppressing it, she surrendered to it.

That was definitely more fun than trying to kill Katara, even with the possible concussion. Especially with the possible concussion.

Ty Lee was laughing, too.

Forty-six minutes later, Ty Lee was still giggling about it, but Mai put on her 'I am very serious about this so don't execute me for treasonous levels of laziness' face. They walked into the throne room and found Azula posing in her armor beside the tactical map on its fancy carved stand that looked like a dragon barfing up an attempt to swallow a gerbil-jay.

Mai bowed low. "Good morning, Azula. You're looking very regal today." It was the most natural thing she could think to say.

The princess eyed her, perhaps wary of flattery as a cover for treason, or suspicious that someone Mai paying someone a compliment was some kind of a signal for the end of the world. Azula might have even been considering the worst case scenario of all- that Mai was making her into the target of a joke.

Whatever Azula thought, she must have decided that even a joke posed no (immediate) physical danger. "I'm pleased that you noticed. Now, you and Ty Lee will take command of 'Operation: Springback' here in the Capital Temple. You will be my coiled spring, hiding within the temple, and attack only when rebel forces enter the grounds in significant number. The Earth King's original plan called out our temple as a possible fallback point, but if they try, they will once again find that I have cut off their every chance to survive. Are you clear on your mission?"

Mai nodded. "I am. You've done an excellent job communicating the intent and making sure that we've been reminded of the details."

Beside her, Ty Lee bounced on the balls of her feet. "That's right! Your briefings are brief and informative, and barely any briefings are brief at all. That's kind of weird but shows what a great princess you are!"

Wow, way to lay it on thick. But then, Ty Lee's specialty was thickness, especially in the skull area.

No. Offensive thoughts weren't very surrender-like, were they? Offenses were the opposite of surrender. Bad Mai. Don't think to yourself about how stupid your best friend is.

Huh.

Ty Lee really was her best friend, wasn't she? Certainly, Ty Lee was the only she hadn't even tried to kill so far. That probably qualified.

Azula, for her part, was taking all the compliments entirely at face value, judging from her sharpness of her little smile and the blaze in her eyes. (Not a literal blaze, though, which usually indicated anger and an affinity for the color blue.) "Excellent! Be sure to stop by the Royal Kitchens before you go, and get something to eat from the buffet. The rations being distributed to the soldiers are rather plain."

It was as Mai was happily raiding the basket of sweetrolls that another good idea for Surrendering occurred to her. "Hey, let's take this with us."

Ty Lee paused in the middle of trying to drink a cup of jasmine tea and a cup of oolong tea at the same time. "Wow, you're really hungry."

"No, I- uh-" Mai's voice faltered, and she found that she was actually afraid to say the next part, afraid to reveal a desire to do something nice for someone else for no gain. That was the type of thing that could get you killed around here, or at least banished with half of your face stinging due to the lack of skin covering it. But Mai didn't have to worry about that kind of thing, did she? Not anymore. "Azula said the rations were plain. I thought the soldiers at the temple would like a sweetroll to go with them."

Ty Lee gaped. Then she started clapping and jumping up and down, in the process nearly giving her clothes a jasmine-and-oolong soaking. "I love it! You're in such a good mood today! Whatever Zuko is giving you, I need to try some!"

Mai smirked. "Watch your wording. I don't share my boyfriend. Not that way."

Ty Lee laughed as they absconded with the sweetrolls.

Mai was still smirking when they arrived at the temple courtyard, but she pushed it off her face as a burly army guy trotted over on cue.

"My Ladies, Colonel Lee reporting! I've successfully evacuated the Fire Sages, and my soldiers are stationed throughout the first floor of the main temple building. I have an elite force ready to spill out into the courtyard at a moment's notice, and my subordinates have been given a plan to rapidly deploy continuing waves as required. Naturally, we've saved some space for you two right with that first wave."

Mai nodded. "Well done, Colonel. Here, have a sweetroll."

"Ooh! Thank you, my lady."

The soldiers inside the temple were equally receptive to the idea of a breakfast treat. As Mai handed out the rolls, she made a point of asking each soldier his or her name. She doubted she'd remember them all, but working on learning them would make the repetitions a bit more interesting. Besides, she was well aware that not learning names was the best defense against connecting with people, and Surrender was all about lowering defenses, right?

She hoped this wouldn't end up hurting her.

But then, Zuko had already taken care of that. She had nothing to lose.

How liberating.

The new Unofficial Official Sweetroll Redistribution Program took up a good chunk of the morning, and Mai made sure to preserve one last roll in time to go back out to the courtyard and find Colonel Lee talking with their metal-legged runner. He waved when he saw her. "Ah, my lady! The invaders have landed at the harbor and our forces have engaged!"

Mai nodded. "Everything's going to plan, then. Is this the runner who brought the news?"

"Private Fan, my lady!" The girl straightened to attention with the usual clang of metal on stone. "It is an honor to meet you."

"Thanks. Here, would you like a sweetroll? I have an extra after sharing."

Private Fan smiled as she took it, but rather than biting into it, she tucked it into a pouch on her belt. "You have my gratitude, my lady. I probably won't get a chance to eat much as the invasion pushes inward. I'll save this for later."

"Good." As long as everyone was in a pleasant mood, Mai decided to risk satisfying something she'd been curious about. "I see that you wear a prosthetic. Doesn't that make it more difficult to do your duties?"

"No, my lady." Private Fan's face was clear of any expressions of offense, distaste, anger, or even carefully sculpted blankness. "I was serving in the colonies, and my leg was crushed in an engagement with rebels. I was very fortunate that the Army gave me a replacement and transferred me to serve as a Caldera Guard. I took walks through the city here to help me get used to the prosthetic, and I've learned all the streets and shortcuts. I volunteered to be a runner today to use that knowledge to help my homeland."

Huh. Apparently, there was more to service than just physical capability. For someone who had risen to the top based on a self-taught ability to put sharp metal where enemies didn't want it, that was news. "Well, good job. Be sure to let us know when the action is about to start."

Fan bowed, ran off, and then it was back to waiting.

Mai didn't go out on any excursions this time, instead finding enough to occupy her in the temple. The soldiers, their moods warmed by the free sweetrolls, were a bit more conversational than usual, and soon they were regaling Mai and Ty Lee with stories of exciting battles and particularly clueless commanding officers. Mai had to admit that some of the latter stories were actually kind of funny, and she would have lost track of time if not for the regular reports from Private Fan.

Mai noticed, each time, that the pouch with the sweetroll was still bulging.

Then came the boring part, where they all had to wait for a battle that wouldn't happen. The only thing worse than dreading something was dreading nothing, and sitting around while the sounds of fleeing invaders echoed through the temple walls was a whole lot of nothing. Mai listened carefully this time, to see if she could pick out the voices of Water Tribe Guy With The Black Sword, Toph, Katara, or the Avatar, but there was nothing.

How odd to actually know people on the other side of the war.

Then the other runner arrived, the one who wasn't Private Fan, with the news of the invasion being over and the invaders being captured and blah, blah, blah.

"Let's go," Mai said to Ty Lee. "I want to get home."

But as they walked, Ty Lee looked at the path they were taking, and had an unusually perceptive moment. "This isn't the way to your house."

Mai kept her face blank. "I'm taking the scenic route."

"We have a scenic route?"

"Sure, it goes by the park."

"But the park has walls around it."

"And those are some fantastically sexy walls."

Ty Lee laughed, but Mai couldn't enjoy it. She spotted a dark stain on the path ahead, as well as the cracks in the street around it where a large boulder must have landed.

And over by the park wall, something small had been left lying in shadow. Mai went over and picked it up.

It was a sweetroll with one bite taken out of it.

Well, that wouldn't do.

Mai had done something nice for perhaps the first time in her life, and she was not going to let it be incomplete.

"I'll be back," Mai said to Ty Lee just after news had arrived at the temple that the invaders had broken through the harbor gate and were making their way to the Caldera. "I have to go to the bathroom. I might be a while."

Ty Lee made a face. "That's what you get for eating so many sweetrolls."

In a way, it was true.

But Mai wasn't going to the bathroom.

She snuck out of the temple, silently and sneakily made her way down to the park, and picked out a large, lush, particularly shady tree in which to hide. One of the higher branches afforded a look over the wall, and Mai crouched in the shadows of the leaves as she watched the street.

When Private Fan came running up the road, Mai launched herself over the wall, came to a rolling landing in front of Fan, and held up a hand. "Stop!"

Private Fan skidded to a halt.

Behind Mai, a large boulder thudded to a landing that some might have labeled a close call, but she just thought of it as the natural result of being very good at eyeballing trajectories.

"Okay," she said. "You can go now. Enjoy your sweetroll."

Private Fan blinked. "You- how-"

But Mai was already leaving, heading back to the temple to once again play the part of someone who didn't have supernatural knowledge of the day's proceedings.

In retrospect, if she hadn't been so intent on making a dramatic exit, she might have been able to pick up some clues about where Private Fan was going to get run over by a tank.

"Come on, Mai. It's time to embrace the day! Hey, that rhymed."

Mai groaned. There had been no evidence that Private Fan hadn't been able to enjoy her sweetroll before having her life ended by an Earth Kingdom war machine, and so no real reason why Mai had to go to the trouble to prevent it.

But it was Mai's first inclination, probably just because she was a perfectionist when it came to things she actually attempted. After all, she knew herself, and knew that she couldn't actually care about Fan.

But resisting that inclination was the opposite of Surrender, so that was that.

She needed information.

Mai should have realized the problem with her plan. Yes, she needed a way to observe Private Fan without actually tailing the woman all day. Of course, the rim of the Caldera offered many excellent spots for watching the city. It was natural, then, to head up there after saving Fan from the boulder to watch what happened next.

But she had forgotten that Katara would be coming down into the city at the same time.

Somehow, despite the odds against such a coincidental meeting, Mai wound up running into the Waterbender right at the edge where civilization met rocky volcano slope.

"You!" Katara tensed and summoned water from the pouches on her back.

Mai dropped to the ground, lying flat and raising her hands above her head. "I surrender!"

Please, please let this work. Having to save Private Fan while wearing one of Ty Lee's swimsuits would be the final indignity.

Katara moved-

-Mai tensed and waited for the feeling of ice poking into her skull-

-and water splashed across Mai's back before freezing and pinning her to the street.

Oh, good.

Katara eased her wounded warrior companion to the ground and stomped over. "What are you doing?"

Mai sighed. "Trying to save someone I know from getting killed. I'm going to miss it, now."

Katara laughed. "Like you Fire Nation monsters care about anyone."

"I'm trying something new."

"-That's not what I was expecting you to say."

Mai rolled her eyes. "What do you want to hear from me? That I do care about stuff? That I have a best friend I'm constantly cruel to because I'm a jerk? That I still really like my boyfriend even though he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore and I broke up with him because he doesn't want people to get hurt? That I started giving away sweetrolls because I didn't want to go crazy but it turns out to be a fun way to spend my mornings?"

Katara took a step back. "Um-"

"Ugh, just finish it already. We're just wasting time."

"Um-"

Mai lowered her head and pointed to where her back hair-bun was tied. "Go ahead, give me the icicle right here. Make it nice and cold."

"Um-"

"Seriously, we're wasting time, here. Hurry it up." Mai waited for the end to come, but it didn't. Instead, the ice on her back warmed and turned to water, soaking her briefly before the water then flew out of her clothes and into the air.

Mai looked up.

Katara was streaming the water back into the skin pouches with some intricate hand motions. "You should go. We're going to take down the Fire Lord. If you stay away from the fighting, you won't get hurt."

Mai blinked. "Why?"

Katara's lip twisted in what might have been the beginnings of a smile, or could have been a pained grimace. "You seem like you're having a bad day, and you let my brother and Toph go back in Ba Sing Se. This makes us even."

Katara went back to the injured Water Tribe man and helped him back into a standing position, leaning on her shoulders. They started making their way down the road-

"Wait," Mai said.

Katara turned and looked back.

Mai sighed. "It's a trap. The Fire Lord is hiding in an underground bunker maze that will keep your friends running around until the eclipse is over." She remembered what happened the last time she warned Katara of this, and continued, "Even if you start trying to pull your army out now, you won't get away before Azula's airships launch and drop bombs on your weird underwater boats. I don't know what to tell you to do, but maybe that information will help you."

Katara and her compatriot were staring.

Mai turned and ran. If she was lucky, she still might be able to see something about Fan.

In this case, she wasn't lucky, but she did learn something new.

Given enough time, an army of Earthbenders can work together to create a tunnel into the ground that will eventually let them flee far enough for most to escape into the countryside of the Capital Island.

Huh.

So it turned out that General Iroh made his escape during the Eclipse.

Mai walked into Iroh's funky-smelling cell an hour before the eclipse, tugging her sleeves back into place. Behind her, the passages of Capital Prison Tower echoed with the frustrated noises of the guard staff, all of whom apparantly shared a strong aversion to being pinned to walls with knives. What a strange coincidence.

From within a cage built into the far wall, Iroh looked up at her.

Mai said, "I'm reliving the same day over and over, just like you did at Ba Sing Se. We've spoken about it before, but right now I need some specific advice."

Iroh was silent for a long moment. "I see. And you are? You seem familiar-"

"Mai. I'm one of Azula's friends."

"T-"

"No, the other one. I'm also dating Zuko, or will be until I return home after all the action today and find the note he left me breaking it off so that he can join the Avatar."

"W-"

"This has nothing to do with Zuko. I kind of accidentally discovered that I have the chance to keep a lot of enemy invaders from being captured today when they fall into Azula's trap, and for some reason I'm considering it, but that means leaving them free to do whatever here in the Fire Nation and that's wrong, right?"

Iroh stroked his beard. "You are torn between loyalty to your people, and your basic decency as a person."

Mai couldn't stop herself anymore. She surrendered, dropping to her knees in front of the cage and leaning her forehead against the bars. "I don't get it! I don't have a basic decency! I don't even know how to borrow one! That's why I've never been able to stop Zuko from leaving. He cares about saving the world and wants to go save it, and I couldn't give an elephant-rat's fat backside about anyone but myself and the handful of people I tolerate!"

Iroh broke out into a smile that was as bright as the sun. "Zuko has come to his senses? And I missed it? Hn, truly, the world sometimes seems as if it has a sense of humor. And you love Zuko, eh?"

Mai leaned back from the bars and frowned. "Well, love is a strong word, and just because he's throwing it around-"

"Zuko has a good heart, even when he cannot hear it. That is the great tragedy of the Fire Nation: we are an honorable people, but this war had turned even the greatest of us against our natural, good instincts. I am especially sorry for your generation. You have inherited a poisoned legacy that has only become sharper and more deadly to everyone. And Zuko, especially, has been forced to grapple with this legacy in ways that have nearly destroyed him."

Mai shuddered. "Yeah, I don't mind how he looks, but to know that he was hurt like that- well, that's the part that turns my stomach. Not his scar."

Iroh smiled. "I think perhaps you resemble him more than you realized, in ways beyond the physical. Both of you have to find your way to true selves."

Mai deflated, allowing herself to fall and slump against the sticky stone wall. (Ew.) "So if I care so much, what am I supposed to do about it? I can't be a good little servant to opposite sides of a battle at the same time."

"No, you cannot. But I was intending to leave this prison today, and to help with my travel arrangements, some of my- hm, let's call them my friends, yes? I have friends nearby who might be able to help. If you could get word to me, and then I let them know of the opportunity to do some more good by helping the Avatar's invasion force-"

Mai nodded, and made herself stand up. (Her robes clung to the wall until she yanked them away, and she resolved to go home to change and burn this whole outfit. True, she could just wait for it to be restored 'tomorrow,' but burning it would be an extra reassurance.) "I think perhaps something could be arranged."

"Until tomorrow, then."

"Until tomorrow."

Something was arranged. Specifically, Mai sent a note at the earliest possible opportunity. Then it was just a matter of passing the warning on to Katara again.

Mai had to admit, she wasn't exactly thrilled how this part always consisted of getting her underwear frozen. "It's a trap," she explained from her mandatory position sprawled in the street. "The Fire Lord is hiding in an underground bunker maze that will keep your friends running around until the eclipse is over. Even if you try to pull your army out now, you won't get away before Azula's airships launch and drop bombs on your weird underwater boats. Have your Earthbenders work together to make a tunnel out of the volcano on the northern side, and some friends of General Iroh will be waiting to help everyone find shelter."

Katara, still supporting her wounded compatriot, narrowed her eyes. "That sounds pretty convenient."

Mai sighed. "Okay, you'll believe that I'm trying to save my friend, but not something this big. I supposed that's fair. Who's your wounded buddy there?"

The man nodded. "I am Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe. Katara is my daughter. The young man you apparantly helped in Ba Sing Se is my son."

Mai considered that. "How did you get hurt?"

When Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe assaulted one of the battlement towers bordering the Capital Harbor, he was not alone. Oh, he thought he was alone, climbing in through the ballista port in a sneaky bid to snip a little off the top of the long odds, but the truth was that he had backup.

Self-appointed backup, but Mai had a bad habit of appointing herself. Her mother would be scandalized.

And so Hakoda jumped in, started fighting the soldiers manning the tower, and when an unnoticed little coward dropped one of the explosive charges meant to be mounted on the ballista bolts, Mai was there to catch it.

Then she smashed an elbow into the soldiers face to drop him to the ground.

Hakoda whirled and waved a club at her in a vaguely threatening manner. "Who are you?"

Mai gave that flirty, shy smile Ty Lee had taught her, and was very careful not to drop the explosives. "Your new best friend."

It was a fairly neat job, if Mai was allowed to say so herself. Too bad, when the invading army retreated to the positions she had specified, that none of Iroh's friends were there to help. The earliest opportunity to send Iroh a note, it seemed, did not prove as early, or by extension as opportune, as desired.

And so Mai wound up watching as Azula's airship fleet scattered, the individual crafts chasing after the failed invaders who were retreating across the countryside, where they would do who-knows-what (but-I-can-imagine-a-lot-of-bad-things) to any Fire Nation citizens they encountered.

Just like the first time she tipped off Katara.

Mai sighed. "I can't get a note here early enough."

Iroh paced across his cell. The movement somehow made the place smell even worse. Apparantly, baths were not considered part of a prisoner's rights in the Fire Nation. Perhaps Mai would bring a perfumed cloth tomorrow.

"I suppose we will have to make a direct connection, then," Iroh eventually said. "I can give you the names of my friends, as well as a set of passcodes you'll have to include with your note."

"Passcodes?"

"For example, you should start each note with the phrase, 'I still cling to the old ways, and so can always find a friend.' Also, you will need to include a White Lotus Pai Sho tile-"

"Ah, cloak'n'dagger stuff." Mai snorted. "You boys and your games."

"Yes, but we have such fun with them," Iroh chuckled.

Mai wrote a set of strategic letters even before she hit the bathroom in the morning, all in accordance with Iroh's instructions. All, that is, aside from the troublesome little condition of including a certain piece from the most boring game ever devised by humanity.

"White Lotus pieces," Mai muttered, hurrying out of the bedroom.

Ty Lee called out, "What?"

But Mai was too busy to answer.

Ah, the Fire Palace had a game room! It took an inordinate number of tries to discover this, but in Mai's defense, it wasn't common to for entire rooms to be hidden by a coating of dust.

Okay, she had the letters and all the authentication.

Now how to get them distributed?

Flirting might also work, but Mai judged that this was a moment for the Azula Glare, and so imagined a puma-shark as she approached her destination and then did her best impression of the creature's glower.

The guard at the door swallowed audibly.

Ah, good old Azula Glare.

Mai stalked right up to the guard and looked down on him despite being a good three inches shorter then him. "Is this Civilian Bunker number three?"

"Uh, yes, my lady, but-"

"But you're not allowed to open it until you get word that it is safe to do so. Except I'm here on a special mission from Princess Azula, and I need a girl named Jiao to be released to my custody. So you're going to open the door, and I'm not going to tell the Princess that you got in my way. By happy coinidence, that will also mean that she won't tell the Fire Lord about your insubordination, so you might actually live to enjoy your dinner. I think that summarizes the situation nicely, don't you?"

The guard swallowed again.

Then he unlocked the door.

As soon as it was open, Mai was assaulted by the sound of a woman wailing and screeching to be let out. The woman in question was being held back by the interior guards, and in their collective hysterics, they had all apparantly missed that the door had in fact been opened.

So Mai said, "Hey."

They all quieted and stilled. Some of the other crowded civilians in the bunker looked over curiously.

Mai pointed at the woman- Jiao, her old classmate- and motioned. "We're leaving. Hurry it up."

There was a moment of situational inertia, and then the guards backed away, and Mai grabbed Jiao and started dragging her along. They were out of the bunker and traveling up the secret tunnel that would take them to the surface when Jiao finally spoke up. "I- I'm allowed to leave?"

Mai reached into her belt and pulled out a bound stack of letters with White Lotus tiles tied to them. "If you promise to deliver these, without reading them, then I will forget to return you to the bunker. You can seek shelter in the Capital Temple. There will be soldiers there. Tell them Lady Mai sent you, and they will take you in and protect you, but there won't be any warfare there. The invasion will bypass it completely."

Jiao didn't speak again until they passed through the secret door and into the sunlight. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it. We're helping each other."

Okay, get up, bounce on the bed with Ty Lee, pilfer Pai Sho tiles, write letters, finally hit the bathroom, get dressed quickly, be briefly briefed by Azula, send Ty Lee to steal the sweetrolls, rescue Jiao and pass on the letters, meet up with Ty Lee to pass out the sweetrolls, sneak out to save Hakoda, run back to meet Katara, pass on the warning, get backed up by a grateful Hakoda...

Well, now that the enemy was all sorted out, it was time to get back to helping her own side of the war.

As she watched the progression of the battle, she spotted a stray boulder arc over the park, towards a figure that was running through the streets-

Private Fan.

Somehow, this had all started with trying to save the runner, and that still wasn't accomplished yet.

Mai had to admit that it was all very interesting, though.

This time, the invaders went underground, and weren't seen again.

So, they were either eaten by dragon spirits, or Iroh's friends had arranged for a more subtle escape.

Good enough. Mai had more work to do.

Mai shoved Private Fan out of the way just a moment before the Earthbender-made wall exploded and a segmented Earth tank plowed through. Fan stumbled backwards just far enough to avoid injury, while Mai didn't quite make it far enough and even a quick roll left her sacrificing part of her sleeve to the tank's wheels.

Ha!

Finally did it!

Then they were surrounded by two dozen soldiers in green and really dumb-looking hemisphere hats. "Surrender, Fire Nation dogs! Your Firebending has abandoned you!"

Mai glared at him. "Not everyone from the Fire Nation is a Firebender. I'm offended at your assumption."

Private Fan hissed, "I will not surrender when my homeland is at stake! For the Fire Lord!"

Oh, for Sozin's sake-

Two dozen against one turned out to be really terrible odds.

Two dozen against two- when one of those people was covered in knives- was a little better. Unfortunately, it didn't prove to be entirely compatible with convincing Katara not to put an icicle in Mai's head.

"...so you're the famed General who cracked the Outer Wall of the Impenetrable City," Mai finished. "I'm tired of figuring this all out on my own. Tell me what I can do."

Iroh smiled. "That is only fair, I think. And, happily, I have an answer. You're too focused on individual moments, but trying to turn aside a river is much easier at the source than at the foot of the highlands."

Mai sighed. "No metaphors, please. They're really just for entertainment purposes only."

"Ah, you and Zuko truly are well-suited. He does not understand much of what I advise, either."

She had to smile at that. "He misses you, though. I don't know if he realizes, but he does. He's been angry at himself for what he did at Ba Sing Se, and now that he's sorted his mind out- or gone crazy, depending who you ask- he wants to help the Avatar save the world, and then make you Fire Lord."

"What?!" Iroh snapped to his feet. "He said that?!"

"Not in this iteration, but yeah, he has."

Iroh turned to stare up through the top of the cage, to the open window just above the bars. "I miss him, too."

Mai considered that.

"Zuko,

"I know you're leaving. I know what you have to do.

"And I understand.

"Deal with your father, and follow the Avatar. But I think you should take the time to stop on the Isle of the Black Cliffs, at the top of the cliffs themselves, just before sunset. You will find something there that is very important to you.

"I'd advise you to stay safe, but I know you won't. I trust you'll survive anyway.

"See you later. -Mai"

She put the note on the pillow at the foot of her bed, right where Zuko would find it.

"General Iroh,

"I am Mai, one of Azula's friends. No, the other one. I'm reliving the same day over and over, just like you did at Ba Sing Se. We have been consulting on this matter.

"After your escape, I need you and your weird Pai Sho 'friends' to wait on the Isle of the Black Cliffs until sunset. I think you'll find it a rewarding little break."

She folded it carefully so that none of the words would be visible, put it in an envelope, and wrote instructions on it that it was to be delivered to General Iroh unopened. Then she placed it in one of the notes that claustrophobic Jiao would be delivering to Iroh's partners in treason.

Once Mai got Iroh to explain his stupid river metaphor, it turned out to be pretty good advice. Private Fan couldn't get killed in the fighting if there wasn't any fighting.

"New orders from Princess Azula," Mai told one of the Fire Army commanders pretending to be hapless Home Guard defenders. "Don't bother with attacking the invaders when they enter into the city. Pull back to the palace like you're making a last stand, and then 'discover' that your Firebending doesn't work and surrender."

The commander, to his credit, didn't ask if Mai was crazy. Instead, he put in more polite military-speak, saying, "I'm not clear on the purpose behind this change in strategy, given our mission parameters."

Mai kept her face blank. "It has to do with psychology. Princess Azula has been reading books again." Then she winked.

The commander gave a slow nod. "Books. I see."

It didn't turn out to be much of a war. Sure, there was plenty of fighting down by the harbor, but there was little Mai could do about that if she was going to set up the rest of her day and save Hakoda.

But once that was over, it was like that brief period, all those years ago, when Azula had been obsessed with arranging dominos into complicated standing arrangements, and then tipping one so that it bumped the next in line, and so on, so that all of them fell in a beautiful cascade. (That had lasted until the Fire Lord asked the about the usefulness of childish playthings.) Mai could watch over the city, and see conflict fade away. The Fire Nation forces fell back as the moon passed in front of the sun, while Katara hurried her allies into a retreat that became a disappearing act. Iroh escaped, Zuko escaped, and presumably they'd meet out beyond the Capital.

And once she got back to the temple-

"You missed the big moment," Ty Lee said as Mai walked back into the foyer.

"Yeah, well, sweetrolls apparantly are very bad for my stomach. Did I miss my chance to repel evil foreign invaders from my beloved homeland?"

"Nah, it just went quiet, and then Private Fan came by and said everyone escaped. I bet Azula is going to be really mad."

Mai thought of that her first experience with the Day of Black Sun, when she went back to the palace in terror that Zuko had gotten himself killed. Azula had not been in a mood that could, by any stretch of the imagination, be confused with 'good.' In fact, it could even be called murderous.

"More than just mad," was what Mai finally said. "Hey, can I tell you something in confidence?"

"I've never seen you not confident, even when you insist that there's no such thing as auras-"

"I mean I want you to keep a secret."

"Oh." Ty Lee grew serious. "I can do that."

Mai kept her voice low. "Zuko left to join the Avatar." She couldn't help but picture how Azula reacted, that time when Mai gave Zuko up, and the violence that had followed. Violence Mai had started. "Azula is not going to react well. I think- I think that if you have a way out of the Capital, you should use it. Go back to the circus. You know Azula isn't going to accept the blame for that if there's any other option. And you and I might end up being her only options."

Ty Lee was silent for a long moment. "What about you?"

Mai snorted. "I don't have anything to worry about. Let's just say I have the best protection imaginable."

"Ooh, are you going with Zuko?"

"What?" Mai blinked. "What good would that do?"

"Oh, I thought- if you know what's happening, that you're helping him." Ty Lee leaned forward and put her hands on Mai's shoulders. "Is that why you've been so nice today? You finally found a way to be happy?"

"No, I meant-"

But did it matter what Mai really meant?

Was Ty Lee really wrong?

It was hard, fitting in the theft of a war balloon with everything else.

But on this one point, Mai decided not to surrender.

Mai brought the war balloon down safely- both practice and not falling asleep while flying turned out to be equal components to a successful flight- on the Isle of the Black Cliffs, a short distance from where Zuko and Iroh were hugging. It seemed to be a very nice hug, which for Zuko was a major accomplishment, but Mai hardly considered herself an expert. Perhaps she could ask Ty Lee about the criteria, one of these days.

Now that Mai was here, she wasn't sure what she wanted to say.

She was spared having to figure it out when Iroh led Zuko over to her. "And this young lady has had a very busy day, too, from what I have heard."

Mai blinked. "I did? Or, you heard?"

"Indeed, my dear. My Pai Sho friends have been very informative about all the things you have been arranging. But you'll probably want to tell Zuko about them, yourself." He winked just a bit too broadly. "Now, I have business to attend to, business that will take me to the Earth Kingdom. Zuko, I have every confidence that you will succeed in your quest, and then we can meet again as we talked about."

Zuko nodded and said, "Yes, Uncle. And- and thank you. For forgiving me."

Iroh reached out and put his hands on Zuko's shoulders. "You have earned it. I am very proud of you, Zuko. And I know we will meet again soon."

"Uncle-"

The sun was well into setting when the goodbyes were finally finished, and then Iroh went to join the other White Lotus guys at their eelhounds. They continued on with their journey as Zuko finally turned to face her. "Mai."

"Zuko." She nodded.

"I- I just can't believe everything you've done. It's- it's amazing."

Mai shrugged. "Practice makes perfect."

His gaze turned questioning, but he must have decided to let it go. "I had no idea you felt like I did. You always seemed so- you- you didn't seem to care like I did. About the world. Or honor. Or anything, really."

Mai sighed. How was she going to explain this? At least, how could she explain it without twelve hours and Iroh's help to verify all the weirder elements?

But, really, there was a simple core to the answer that she could put into words: "You cared, and I care about you. That was the start, really. I can go into all the details when we have a few days to kill."

Zuko nodded. "I need to get going if I'm going to keep up with the Avatar. I saw the sky bison fly away once the rest of the invaders were safely hidden by Uncle Iroh's friends. I need to help them. I need to get the Avatar started on learning Firebending. We don't have much time until my father tries to destroy the Earth Kingdom, and we all need to be ready."

"I'm sure you'll do it. You accomplish anything you set your mind to, even if you do go about it in pretty inefficient ways, sometimes."

He smiled. "Maybe you can help me with that. You must be pretty efficient to do all that you've done today."

Help him? "Zuko, do you- I- I'm not coming with you."

He lost his smile instantly. "You aren't? But- why?"

Mai opened her mouth to answer-

-but didn't have one to give. Why shouldn't she come? When dawn came, she'd just wake up in the Capital again. What was keeping her from spending more time with Zuko?

"You know," she said, reaching out to put her arms around him, "maybe I will go with you. For efficiency's sake, of course."

"Of course."

This time, he didn't pull away.

This time, when they kissed, it wasn't a way of saying goodbye.

They took Zuko's war balloon, and sailed towards the moon.

This, truly, had been the best Day of Black Sun yet.

TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW

"Come on, Mai. It's time to embrace the day."

And so it started again, with a chipper cutesy voice and a call to action.

#maikoweek2017 #zumai #avatar mai #zuko #26 HOURS LATE ARGGHHH

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alreadyhosted-blog · 7 years ago

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How to understand the financial levers in your business

Haje Jan Kamps Contributor

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Haje Jan Kamps is the director of portfolio at Bolt, a venture capital firm focused on hardware startups and enabling technologies. He was also a staff writer for TechCrunch.

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How can an electric scooter ride-sharing company like Bird possibly make money?

If you live in a select number of cities in the U.S., it's hard not to see electric scooters appearing on sidewalks all over the place. Electric scooter ride-sharing services are also remarkably cheap: $1 to start a ride and another $0.15 per minute after that. But electric scooters aren't cheap, and the logistics of a shared network are off-the-charts complicated.

As someone working in venture capital for hardware startups, the above question is obviously rather prescient.

How does a company like this possibly make money?

Here's a closer look at the basic unit economics of Bird, the electric scooter ride-sharing company based in Santa Monica, Calif. There'll be a super simple model and test scenarios that show how critical it is to understand and manipulate the key levers of any startup - in fact, it can determine whether a business sinks or swims.

Building a Scooter

Two young people in love, gazing adoringly at a pair of electric kick-scooters. Because that's totally a normal thing to be doing.

It looks like Bird is using the Mi Electric Scooter as the base of their platform. The Mi's recommended retail price is $499, but it's probably fair to assume that Bird gets a bulk discount and can buy the scooters at around $300 apiece.

On top of the base cost of the scooters, Bird needs modules to turn the scooters into sharing economy units. That doesn't have to cost a lot of money. A Particle 3G asset tracker in a box, plus some custom code to deal with the scooter's power management, is all that's needed, so let's call that $80 per unit. That takes the total cost per finished scooter to $380; plus, we'll toss in $20 for final assembly.

My back-of-the-envelope calculation puts Bird's road-ready scooter at $400 per unit.

Deploying a scooter

Scooter startup Scoot operates electric scooters that are more like motorcycles than electrified Razer kick-scooters.

One of the biggest problems electric scooter companies must solve is distributed charging. Scoot solved this problem by building a massive network of charging stations, distributed around San Francisco - a big infrastructure push, but necessary, given the robust profile of the scooters. Unlike Scoot's wheels, which need to be returned to a charging station for charging, Bird scooters can be easily picked up and taken inside a user's apartment or office, creating an instant and nearly infinite distributed charging network called “available wall sockets.”

This completely changes the charging game in Bird's favor, so much so that Bird offers people $5 per charged scooter. This creates an elegant user experience and is a sign that it's a key lever in their financial model.

A tale of two financial models

A lot of assumptions go into building a financial model. This one came together over a few beers on the weekend and is an example of the kind of “quick and dirty” math all founders should do as they pressure test ideas. You can follow along in this spreadsheet, and if you want to experiment with the numbers, you can duplicate the sheet and plug in your own numbers.

For both models, we'll assume the following:

We'll be playing with the average lifetime of a scooter, the average number of rides customers take per day, and some metrics around charging, to see how that effects gross margin.

Model 1: Uh-oh, this looks like trouble.

For the first model, let's look at these dynamics:

Average lifetime rides per scooter - 300

Average rides per scooter per day - 5

Average ride length - 20 minutes

Percent of consumer charges: 50%

If those assumptions are right, it takes 220 rides (or 44 days) to reach break-even on the scooter itself.

After 400 rides (when a scooter is written off), the company has generated $147 of profit, at a relatively meagre 10.3% profit margin.

Suffice to say: That doesn't look like a particularly sustainable business.

Model 2: A more optimistic outlook

However, you don't have to change the assumptions much for it to be a much more attractive business.

What if Bird was able to extend the life of a given scooter, decrease the average ride length but increase the average rides per day, and push more of the charging burden to consumers?

Let's look at these dynamics:

Average lifetime rides per scooter - 500

Average rides per scooter per day - 7

Average ride length - 20 minutes

Percent of customer charges - 75%

A very different story. Note here that Bird did not reduce the hard costs of charging a scooter (it's still $5 for a consumer to charge and $20 for Bird to charge), but they did find a way to encourage customers to charge for them, reducing the overall charging cost.

Changing these four variables means that it only takes 165 rides (24 days) to break even, and the lifetime profit of a scooter is $813 - or a gross margin of 41%.

Financial models 1 and 2 side by side, for ease of comparing.

So, do these unit economics make sense?

Investors certainly seem to think so. In February, Bird raised a $15m Series A, and only a month later, the company raised a $100m Series B. A company like Bird would be struggling to raise money on a 10.3% profit margin (as in Model 1), but if the numbers under the hood are closer to Model 2, it's easy to understand how Bird starts to look like a rather attractive business.

Isolate variables to find your levers

In the case of Bird, you might be surprised to learn that three levers dramatically affect the finance model: average ride length, cost of charging, and usable life per scooter. Isolate variables and play with the numbers to figure out which ones are key levers.

Taking Model 2 above as a starting point, let's explore by manipulating one set of variables at the time:

Ride length

Ride length has some impact on gross margin, but not as much as you'd think.

Usable life / Longevity

The durability of the scooters has quite a bit of impact, especially if the scooters fail early.

Cost of charging

The cost to charge a scooter has a huge impact on margins, so perhaps that's a good place to focus.

Pulling the levers: SuperScooters

Once you know your levers, it's fun to pull them a bit. If we were to optimize Bird to be as profitable as possible, it might be tempting to try to influence people to ride longer. But how? People's commutes are probably relatively fixed, and you're unlikely to be able to get them to change their commuting route. As we saw in an earlier example, though, the cost of charging has a huge impact on the overall business. What if we could find a better way to solve that?

Model 3 - SuperScooters

Say there was a different scooter available on the market- a SuperScooter - with a swappable battery pack that clocks in at a hefty $1,000 MSRP.

The scooter has a higher up-front cost, but it's more robust. Instead of a 500-ride lifespan, it has a 1,000-ride lifespan. The replaceable battery pack enables the Bird Service Crew to quickly replace scooter batteries out of charging racks in the back of the vans they're already driving around town to redistribute scooters.

Let's say that reduces Bird's “recharging” cost to $3 per scooter per day, even cheaper than the consumer charge in Models 1 and 2, totally eliminating the need for consumers to charge the scooters at all.

In addition, let's say Bird invents their own asset tracker that they can build for $30 per unit, rather than $80 off the shelf, and their manufacturer agrees to install it at the factory, taking the $20 in-house final assembly cost to zero.

By implementing the changes above, you end up with $2,467 profit per scooter, break-even at 34 days, and a gross margin of 62%. In other words: If such a scooter were available, it'd be a no-brainer: You'd want to replace the entire fleet as quickly as you could.

Comparing all three models shows that optimizing for longer scooter usable life and cheaper charging costs (Model 3) would have an extraordinary impact on the gross margin per scooter deployed.

Build your model. Know your levers.

Obviously, I have grossly simplified the financial model here - if you were to model out the entire business of Bird, you would need to look at customer acquisition costs, customer lifetime value, churn, R&D costs of the elusive SuperScooter, and so on and so forth. Models get complicated quickly, but they also allow you to explore the impacts of changes you might make before you make them, which is invaluable.

Whatever your business, build a business model that includes all of your assumptions - and build the model so you can pressure-test variables and find your levers. Once you've identified them, build MVPs to test those assumptions in more detail. It's really important to experiment early and get some good data on what works (and what doesn't), before you start ramping up and pouring lots of money into marketing and execution. Some changes can have exponential effects - for better or for worse.

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watsonhealthproject · 7 years ago

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December in the Southern Hemisphere

Merry Christmas from Buenos Aires, Argentina! The last month has been absolutely glorious. Details below <3

Getting Here

Getting to Buenos Aires was a 24+ hour journey that involved 3 different flights and uncomfortably long long layovers. Walking out of the airport in BA was the best feeling because it meant I was that much closer to my bed.

The flatness of the land around me as we drove down the highway for the first time blew my mind. For all of August - December 1, I was constantly surrounded by mountains and to suddenly step out of that was like “omg.” The flatness was welcome though. I am more accustomed to “flatness.” It feels more like home to me than the mountains.

Getting Settled:

My apartment is amazing. I have written it a million times before but once again, the physical space I call home is very important to me because having a place that I feel comfortable and at peace in at the end of the day is invaluable. I spend most of my time socializing and while I love it, it can also be exhausting. The best feeling is getting home, turning up some music, and cooking dinner all by myself (as weird as it sounds and as strange as it feels to type it.) Small things that add to my happiness: a powerful AC for the 90 degree summer weather, an oven, cable TV, and strong water pressure, all for the first time since leaving the US. These are tiny details that I feel perfectly fine without but I also can’t deny that having them is a benefit that I enjoy.

The neighborhood I am in is also really great. I live beyond the city center in a working class neighborhood where things are more affordable, there aren’t many tourists, and life is a lot more calm (relatively). I am at two major intersections so I have easy access to the rest of the city with many bus options. Everything I may need on a regular basis is within walking distance (i.e. laundry, supermarket, take-out, entertainment, etc).

Much like Quito, Buenos Aires is a massive city with a million and one things happening at all times. The public transportation system is extensive and complicated at first glance but manageable. I am proud to say that I have yet to get lost on a bus. One of the things that has contributed to this is that you have to tell the driver where you are going when you get on the bus so that they can charge you appropriately. This means that it is basically impossible to get on the wrong bus because if they don’t stop where you are going, they will tell you so and let you off. They also have a metrocard equivalent called a “SUBE” card which is rechargeable almost anywhere.

There are a lot of things about Buenos Aires that make me think of New York. For example, the grid-like nature of the city blocks, the large avenues, the public transportation system, and the liveliness of the city after dark. However, one very different detail that I love is the way that green spaces are incorporated into the city. BA has done such a good job at making the city feel so big and refreshing despite it being a major urban center. Incredibly tall trees line avenues, in every community there is at least one green plaza, and there are some huge parks near downtown.

Constructing a Meaningful Schedule:

I have been more busy in BA that I have been in my entire Watson year so far. My schedule is jam packed and when I am not doing something Watson related, I am studying for the MCAT and out there being a tourist. Here are the activities that fill my days:

Hospital De Los Niños:

A lovely doctor I met in Ecuador connected me to a doctor here in Argentina and as a result, I am able to spend time in a major public pediatric hospital 4 mornings a week. I am rotating exclusively in respiratory endoscopy and pulmonology. This is an ideal place because as I have mentioned in previous posts, my Watson question has evolved to concern chronic care management among socially vulnerable patient populations. Respiratory diseases such as cystic fibrosis, are life-long medical battles that often require a lot of hospital intervention, follow-up, and care on the part of parents. Some of the questions that have already come up:

How do people find and pay for 24-hour caregivers for their children?

How do parents manage work when there child is hospitalized for months at a time?

How do parents manage living at the hospital for months at a time?

How do parents make sense of their roles as not only parents, but also as medical experts (and often interventionists) with respect to the conditions their child has?

How do children make sense of their disease and cope with it?

What happens when insurance won’t cover a necessary respiratory device that a child needs before they are able to get discharged?

What are the emotional battles a parent and child must overcome with respect to dealing with a chronic progressive medical condition?

Manos Abiertas:

This is a foundation that I found online that has a lot of social programs throughout Argentina. I reached out to them with the desire to serve in the capacity of a volunteer. They got back to me and requested an interview. For whatever reason, it never occurred to me that this was a serious interview and as a result, I was extremely unprepared and felt disappointed in myself for not representing myself as well as I know I can. I am usually good with interviews, even if they are impromptu. However, I learned that an interview in spanish is VERY different from one in english. I did not have the words I wanted readily available nor the confidence that english usually affords me.

Somehow, they decided to let me move on to the next interview, one which I was EXTENSIVELY prepared for and that I think made up for my first because starting next week, I will be a volunteer at one of the organization’s palliative care homes! I will be helping out in the kitchen on Thursday afternoons and working as an “acompañante” on Friday afternoons. As an acompañante, I will spend time with the residents. For those of you who may not be familiar with the concept, palliative care is when curative treatments are no longer available or an option and therefore, patients are treated with the intention of alleviating pain and helping them enjoy their last days. I am really excited to work with this organization because even though it may sound somber, their work is all about helping people die in peace and with dignity. The patients they serve are coming from the worst of social circumstances and the opportunity to have a warm bed, a hand to hold, and the support of round-the-clock staff allows for a patient to feel loved during what may be one of the most difficult times in their lives.

In a lot of ways, it is an honor to have the opportunity to do this job. I am really looking forward to it!

Tzedeká:

This is another organization that I found through a google search and reached out to because I was interested in what they were doing. I have mentioned before that one of the biggest surprises of my Watson has been the realization that access to medication is such a massive problem everywhere. That said, this organization interested me because their health arm focuses on collecting and redistributing essential medications, at no cost, to those who need it most. They have groups of volunteers who are trained to classify and sort medication at their centers. I am planning on helping in this capacity. I was supposed to start last week but a scheduling conflict made it impossible. I will hopefully get started next week though. Updates on that to come. I am excited for this position because it will allow me, albeit in a small way, to contribute to work that helps close what I will call the “medication gap.” (whether or not that is an actual academic term I do not know)

Dance:

I came to Buenos Aires with the explicit desire to find another dance company where I could meet people, destress, and express myself. I arrived on Saturday and was dancing on Sunday. I “hit the ground running” with respect to this topic. I missed dancing in Guatemala. I had a plan for where I wanted to dance but the travel time ended up being too much and instead, I chose to stick to a company that is a 15 minute bus ride away. Classes run late but the proximity of the studio allows me to take full advantage while still being able to get home quickly and safely. The good news is that it is a great space and the people are genuine and welcoming. The bad news is that the rhythms I love most are offered at times that are very inconvenient for me. As a result, I don’t get to dance as often as I would like. Nonetheless, the sense of community, the chance to let go of some energy, and the joy that comes with dancing has helped ground me here in BA.

MCAT Prep Progress and Medical School Things:

There is not a single day that I don’t ask myself if I still want to be a doctor and each day, I seem to find a new reason why the answer to that is yes. This has really propelled my MCAT studying because as much as I hate physics, for example, I get to live and see what I am working towards each day, and that allows me to proceed with a strong resolve. These last two weeks have been dedicated to figuring out what kind of study structure is realistic and works given my schedule and I think I found one. Additionally, I have found a handful of places where I can get stuff done between commitments. I took a diagnostic test and have a LONG way to go in order to reach my percentile goal and that is somewhat intimidating. However, I just keep trying to remind myself that I make things happen. I want this more than anything so I will work to make it happen: it is who I am and how I operate.

I am very conscious of the Medical School Application process and am getting ready to reach out to potential recommenders and starting to think about what I want to write about in my personal statement. I can’t help but feel like this is the most important personal statement I have ever written and if it actually is, I don’t know. All I know is that the pressure is real! I don’t have a clue what I will write but I am confident I will figure it out.

Notable Moments:

- Going out to a club alone and making new friends who I now talk to daily

- Watching a baby be delivered for the first time in my life (!!!)

- Feeling invincible because I am embracing my sexuality and feel proud of who I am, maybe for the first time.

- Witnessing a coin get taken out of a child’s esophagus and getting to keep the x-ray as a reminder.

- Looking at a chest x-ray and actually understanding what I am looking at and successfully identifying what was wrong.

- The very humbling experience of being present while a mom broke down after her baby had an invasive procedure done.

- Getting new glasses for the first time in like SEVEN years (underestimate for sure).

The Joys of Being a Tourist:

BA is massive with a million places to visit and lots to do. I have not even come close to doing all that I want but knowing that there is so much more helps keep me motivated and curious and feeling good. It is amazing how the city could simultaneously be an architectural wonder, a nature-filled paradise, and a coastal beauty.

The Challenge and Beauty of Spending the Holidays Far Away:

On December 23rd I found myself scrolling through snapchat and seeing people’s stories about going home really got to me. While it wasn’t the first time I felt a nudge of homesickness, it was the first time since leaving that I really wanted to go home. I didn’t cry but I came close, also for the first time since leaving. I decided to go outside, got a frap, did some quick MCAT review, and then walked around town. The crowds in the neighborhood were abnormal but last minute christmas shopping brings everyone out of their normal evening routine. The sense of liveliness that filled the streets helped lift my spirit and somehow, helped me feel less alone.

On Christmas Eve I woke up feeling a lot better and more committed to finding the beauty in spending the holidays with new friends and new families. I spent the first half of the day bumming around binge watching gossip girl. I spoke to my family later in the afternoon and got to hear about their christmas prep. Listening to my siblings fuss about what the wrapped boxes may or may not have held made me so happy because it was comforting to see how some things just don’t change. I felt energized by our conversation and blasted music as I got ready to head out.

One of the doctors I work with picked me up and we headed out to her friends house, where her family was gathered. I was worried about feeling like an outsider and my presence creating awkwardness. However, to my surprise, I felt welcome and comfortable. I got to play with two beautiful dogs, eat delicious food, teach bachata, and most importantly, laugh a ton.

When I got home, I couldn’t help but feel so profoundly grateful for the people that have filled my Watson days with love, joy, and unforgettable memories. It is a true privilege to step so far into the unknown and be constantly reminded of beauty and power of the human spirit that connects each of us.

Things I’m Looking Forward To:

- I am in the final stages of the interview process for a job in San Francisco for next year. I am incredibly excited about the work the organization does, the role I could play, and the broad impact of the position. Cross your fingers that all ends well. I will keep you updated!

- I can’t believe how quickly time is passing but I am definitely excited for all the adventures and experiences that 2018 will bring. Believe it or not, I am close to the halfway mark of my Watson! How that happened? I have no idea.

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