#my buddies in the sinister six have already seen these

[sharks-r0ck]

jean paul valley appreciation post ok

alr thanks

[fijiangecko]

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 5 - The Point of No Return

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Read it on AO3 here

A/N: updating every two weeks-ish depending on school

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The car ride is silent the rest of the way back, tension thick and unsettling as the wind blows through the shattered back windshield. Iwaizumi takes the back roads to avoid police and mafia members, and it finally sets in that things aren’t going to be the same for you again. Everything you’ve built up over the past four and a half years is slipping through your fingers like wet sand. 

And you’re the one adding water to the mix.

All of the friends you’ve made; Bokuto, Akaashi, Kenma, Sawamura, Sugawara, Asahi, Noya, Tanaka and not to mention all of the little interns and secretaries you’ve learned to love. Takeda and Ukai, the two who helped you out of a dark place, unbeknownst to them, but desperate enough to give you a chance. 

Then there’s Kuroo, who’s sitting in the backseat right now. You don’t dare to look behind you to take a glance. You can’t imagine how he must feel. Betrayed. You both had grown to rely on one another and now he’s learning that you aren’t who you say you are. Just a liar disguised as someone who wants to help. While thinking, you absentmindedly push your cuticles back and stare straight ahead at the road. You trust that Oikawa and Iwa are looking out enough for you to clock out and realize the mess you’ve made, not only for yourself but for them as well.

Tendou didn’t seem to care about them, though. And he didn’t call them out by name so they can still get out of this. You stop messing with your hands and purse your lips. But that doesn’t explain how the three of us all worked together back there. Kuroo’s not dumb. He’ll figure it out.

You start to pick at your skin once more.

Numbness feels like pin pricks across your body as you sit and stare into the blank night. Time flies out of the window and what feels like seconds later the soft rumbling of the engine comes to a halt. You blink and take in the building in front of you.

A confused expression covers your face as you turn to Iwaizumi, silently asking why you’re here, why you’re home. He doesn’t answer, instead getting up and out of the seat. Oikawa follows him, each putting on their coats as a shield from the night air. Kuroo and yourself remain in the vehicle, wondering what the next step is.

With a heavy heart, you step out of the car and brace yourself for the cold blast. Hajime passes you the keys, fingers lingering on yours in a silent plea. You shake it off and proceed to the front door, listening for any sign that a certain someone was following behind. Light footsteps make your heart beat faster, keys slightly shaking as you force them into the lock.

“I think we’re gonna head back…” Hajime’s voice is soft as he leans in next to your ear, hot breath making shivers run down your spine. You turn to look at him, and nod.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Oikawa places his hand on your shoulder, worry crossing his face.

Kuroo stands behind everyone, watching the two crowd you as you stand meekly beside them. He doesn’t want to believe that you could have been, or are a part of any of these killings, but his gut is telling him that there’s more. That these two are involved as well, and that this is far from being over.

With one last nod, they back off and let you open your door. The two men flash a glance at Kuroo but quickly hurry off into the night. Slowly, as if there are chains wrap around his ankles, Kuroo places one foot in front of the other and walks closer into the apartment.

You’ve already taken off your shoes and shed your coat as well as your purse. You feel absolutely drained from the anticipation of this conversation. Kuroo felt the same force draining his energy as he removes his shoes and heads to the same table you were all working at just earlier that day.

The chair screeches against the floor when he yanks it from it’s position with a bit too much force. Your hands lay flat on the cool countertop and the thousand yard stare takes over your eyes, thoughts flying in and out of your headspace. Too much information and consideration to handle at once, you just let everything relax and let out a long, deep sigh.

“So…” His voice is gruff, low and drawn out as he stares at the wood grain on the table.

You snap out of your trance and turn your body, hips leaning against the granite. “So-” your voice shakes ever so slightly, but you continue, “-what do you want to know?” Arms fold around your chest in a form of both protection and comfort. His eyes meet yours for a split second when he tries to sneak a peek, but he returns to tracing the aged wood with his eyes.

It takes him a few moments to collect his thoughts. To be fair, the question you just asked was a loaded one, and you are putting him on the spot. “Y/N… I really don’t even know where to start.” His eyes shut and he tries to rub the tiredness out of them. He figures going for the lowest hanging fruit first would make it easier to get details. “Are you…still a member?”

“No, god no.” You take a seat directly in front of him, but still he refuses to look at you. Your fingers weave together and sit on top of the wood, softly squeezing. “I haven’t been for a long time.”

After a few moments of silence, you elaborate. “I left them about six months before Takeda and Ukai asked me to join them. I haven’t had any contact with the mafia since I’ve left and I never intended for anyone to find out.”

“You weren’t gonna tell me?” His golden eyes throw you into a haze when they meet your own. He looks hurt, even more betrayed if that was possible.

“No.” You take your time in responding, hoping that somewhere deep inside of him, Kuroo could find it in himself to understand you.. “It would’ve been safer for everyone if they didn’t know.”

“I thought you trusted me?” His voice cracked, as if he was crying out to you. The question shatters your heart, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and assure him. “I mean, it seems like Oikawa and Iwaizumi already know since they aren’t here.”

“I do trust you.” The response is immediate. His eyes tell you that he doesn’t fully believe you, and once more you have to explain. “And they know some things about my past but nothing like this, I told them we could talk tomorrow but I wanted to speak with you first.” 

He chews on the inside of his cheek. “It was safer when no one knew, and now that you’ve been seen with me we’re all in danger.”

“Do you think that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself? Or that the other two are incompetent of using their gifts?” The volume and conviction in his voice grows with each syllable. Disappointment quickly turns into agitation as his eyebrows twitch and mouth twists further into a frown.

“No, Kuroo, it’s just that-”

“Just what?!” You clench your jaw at the outburst. “You pretended for years to be one of us and not once did you think you would’ve been more trusted if you told us?!”

His fists flex on the tabletop, his knuckles turning white. He refuses to break eye contact and you sit there for a few seconds, realizing that this is not what you wanted to happen. You knew he would be angry, anyone in their right mind would be, but after working together for so long, you thought things might have been a little more civil. “Like I said, it was safer when no one kne-”

“Like hell Y/N!” Kuroo stands up and slams those clenched fists down. The booming from his fist pairs nicely with the sound of the chair toppling over, but you don’t flinch. Your thousand yard stare returns when it hits you that no matter what you say, he isn’t going to hear you out. “You just wanted to protect yourself from the Port Mafia and nothing else! The fact that your two ‘buddies’ already knew more than me is suspicious as fuck too!”

It’s not his fault. Pressure builds at your temples and your eyes hurt, the slow pulsating of your heartbeat grows louder and louder. You bring one hand up to rub your temples and take a few deep breaths. I would react the same.

“...you’re right...” It’s the only response you can think of. The only thing that can end this conversation as soon as possible. 

Kuroo’s face falls, his own little glimpse of hope shattered by those two words. He was thinking that this was somehow a misunderstanding. Maybe you had run into these guys before? Or maybe you knew them from your childhood? But your unwillingness to look at him paired with the confirmation of his accusation makes his stomach churn. “I trusted you!” His voice is much louder than the pounding in your head, and the message is clear. “I mean, what the fuck?! Were you just using us as a shield for the time being? Until they eventually found you?!”

Now he’s just shouting anything that comes to his head. His perception of you twisted into something sinister. Kuroo didn’t want to think about any of the good memories; the countless nights you spent at the office working on cases, teasing Kenma at the bars, having drinking contests with Bokuto, celebrating birthdays and agency anniversaries. All of them are tainted now, “knowing” that you were hiding something so huge and unforgiving from him.

On the other end of the table, you sit and in silence. Each word from him is like a stab to the back, each digging further into your body. This is it. They’re going to hunt him down if I leave and Oikawa and Iwaizumi are suspects. Everything I’ve worked so hard for. Down the drain.

He takes your silence as confirmation. “Fuck this. Fuck you.” 

With those final words, he starts to gather his belongings. You finally blink after what feels like hours and watch him. His movements stutter every now and then, telling you that he isn’t in full control of his emotions or motions. 

Right before he yanks the front door open, you stand at the end of the hall and speak ever so softly, weary of Kuroo’s response. “Please don’t tell the others…”

He fully stops his actions and head turns, holding a scornful gaze. “Don’t come back to the agency.” The threat is accentuated by the slam of the door which shakes the apartment.

Pin pricks wrack your body, a shiver runs down your spine and you sit there, numb. One of the only people you really cared for in this new life hates you now and deep down you know that this is the point of no return. The door has been locked behind you by a man with red hair and wants to ruin what you have.

Tendou knows. This thought finally crosses your mind. The Port Mafia knows that I’m alive and here in Yokohama. If that Miya boy remembers anything about you, then he might know about Oikawa and Iwaizumi. And even though Tendou doesn’t know who Kuroo is, he’s going to hunt him down now that you moved to protect him during the fight.

You stand in that hallway for hours, just thinking over your options and the thousands of possibilities that each decision would have. You only want to do what’s right. You have to fix the mess you’ve created. On its own, your body follows a procedure you’ve only done once before and you don’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Cold air settles low over the dimly lit streets, the soft rays of the morning sun warming whatever they touched. For all of the other members of the ADA, it was just another work day as they entered the office group by group. Hajime and Tooru enter roughly on time, nervousness bubbling in the pits of their stomachs as they watch the door carefully, waiting for their black haired friend to enter the office.

Normally, the work day starts around eight for preliminary paperwork and meetings, especially if you’re assigned to a big case. The clock now reads eight forty-five. Each time the hand moves, Oikawa feels like hurling. Neither you or Kuroo have shown up, and the interns have tried calling you both, but to no avail. 

Three minutes pass when the front door squeaks. The damn thing has been needing oil for months now, but Iwaizumi thanks whatever God there is that lets him know someone is here. He doesn’t turn immediately, knowing it would make him more of a suspect. Heavy footsteps tell him that it’s a man that has walked in, and much to his relief Kuroo is walking to his desk. Heavy bags fall under his eyes, dark circles enhancing the tired look adorning his face. 

“Hey Kuroo!” Bokuto, boisterous as ever, slaps his shoulder with a bright smile. When the feeling isn’t returned, his grin falters.

Kuroo continues to his desk and sits down with a huff, turning on his computer and minding his own damn business. Last night was awful, as he had gotten no sleep from his consistent tossing and turning from your conversation. He tried tea, warm milk, pills and all forms of home remedy but everything left a bad taste in his mouth. Something in the back of his keeps telling him that there’s more to your story.

“Um, sorry to bug you, Mr. Kuroo,” Hinata, one of the newest interns, stands next to the desk. “Have you heard from Y/N at all?” Whatever he was working on came to a halt, pen pushing hard into the paper.

Across the room, Iwaizumi and Oikawa listen closely to the encounter, having already told Hinata that they aren’t able to get a hold of you at all and that they assumed you would be arriving with Kuroo.

“No.” The pen scribbles once again.

Hinata continues to stand there, awkwardly looking around since his main task this morning was to make sure all reports from yesterday's investigation got submitted, and if you weren’t there then he wouldn’t be able to do anything. He swallows. “Would you happen to know where she is?”

“No.” Any idle chit chatter stops, and everyone turns to the scene. Hinata’s eyes go wide, and he quickly apologizes before scurrying off. The other detectives glare at Kuroo, wondering what his problem is. After his outburst, Kuroo looks directly at Oikawa and Iwaizumi, as if to threaten them, silently saying that he knows.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Sawamura, ever the mediator, walks over to the group of desks and takes a seat in your chair.

“Not in the mood today.”

“I think we can all tell.” Sawamura smiles, trying his best to lighten the atmosphere. Everyone figures something finally happened between you two (since it was fairly obvious that something was growing) and it didn’t go down great. “Hinata’s just trying to make sure he can get his job done for the day, so don’t be too hard on him. If anything, all of us are wondering where Y/N is since she’s never late unless it’s an emergency.”

“Well, she is in the middle of something, but apparently none of us are good enough for her to tell us.” Each word stings the ears of the peeping toms across the pond. Kuroo did not take the news well, each of the men think and they start to text one another.

Kuroo’s statement left a large majority of the agency confused, Kenma, Sugawara, Asahi, Tanaka, Nishinoya and the interns keep an ear out for whatever’s happening. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi continue to text one another, coming to the conclusion that they should go to your apartment and check on how you’re doing all things considered, but they sit and wait for the right moment to escape the tense situation.

Sawamura continues to push, not knowing about the cracks in the dam he’s forming. “You think she’s doing okay? I mean, she doesn’t talk about family all that much but if she’s missing work then something pretty bad probably happened.”

“I mean, Y/N’s pretty reasonable about work,” Sugawara pipes up. “If she was going through something then surely she must’ve told Takeda and Ukai.”

“You’d be surprised what she’s capable of hiding. I severely doubt that either of them know what’s up with her.” With Kuroo’s heavy insinuation that there’s something going on, and this makes everyone’s hearts skip a beat.

“What are you all talking about?” Disturbed by the ruckus, Ukai opens the door to his office and a plume of smoke leaves his lips. Annoyance lays heavy on his tone and he looks at the group that has gathered around Kuroo’s desk. The lit cigarette in his hand fills the agency with a sour smell, one that none of the crew is particularly fond of but it’s their boss. What can they say?

“Y/N hasn’t shown up yet,” Sugawara takes initiative. “And apparently Kuroo knows something that we don’t.” Rather than taking the depressing outlook, he quirks his brow and smiles jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood and clear the air.

The two that are out of the conversation start to gather their things, unbeknownst to them that Kuroo is keeping tabs on what they’ve been doing. He saw them texting and he figures they were planning to check up on you since you all are working on a case together, but his agitation grows larger with each person that enters the conversation.

Even though you did ask him not to tell anyone - to hell with your requests. You didn’t bother to let anyone in for years on this little secret, and at this point everyone deserves to know or they’ll just keep bothering him until he lets it out.

“Oh yeah?” Ukai prods as Iwa and Oikawa stand up and head for the door.

“Yeah. She lied to you all for years.” His voice is crisp and clear. Any sound that was present before stopped immediately, including the footsteps of your companions. They stop dead in their tracks, Oikawa’s hand on the door handle and they wait. “I don’t think she’ll be coming back.”

“The hell you talkin’ about, kid?” Ukai’s hand raises to his face, and he takes a long drag before slowly letting smoke pass through his lips as he looks across the room.

“Y/N was a member of the Port Mafia and you let her under your roof, let you work next to you. She lied to all of us.”

It feels like the world stopped. 

Everyone stops breathing collectively, skepticism clouding their minds. Y/N? She wouldn’t…. She wouldn’t have done that… would she?

Each detective and every intern takes a moment to think over the crazy accusation that Kuroo is throwing out there, seemingly without any evidence. Kenma, even though he was the closest with Kuroo, looks uneasy as he imagines you working with those bastards. Bokuto and Akaashi, each at their respective desks, face the accuser and furrow their brows. You four had so many memories, so many nights out laughing together.

Sugawara, Asahi and Sawamura all share a look. They’ve known you since the creation of the agency, and have only known you to be helpful in times of need. Not once had it crossed any of their minds that you could have ever worked alongside the mafia. You were just selfless and smart.

“Y/N… an ex-mafia member?” Thinking out loud, Ukai stares Kuroo down. He’s taking this as a sort of personal attack. Ukai was the one who sought you out and asked you to start this agency with Takeda and the three others. He saw something different in you, a natural sort of gift apart from the supernatural stuff you got going on. Ukai saw that you just wanted to help and in those days you struggled to communicate with the others. You closed yourself off for a long time, and his personal project for months was just to make you comfortable. And now Kuroo is saying that you used to work for people who killed and stole from those that you now help.

This better be a sick joke.

“Yeah, Oikawa and Iwaizumi could tell you all about it.” If this is a game of chess, that would’ve been a checkmate. “We ran into some mafia members last night and they started to talk with Y/N.” His eyes shift to Oikawas, whose hand is still on the door. “Right, guys?”

Knuckles turning white, Oikawa doesn’t dare to turn around and face a room full of prying eyes. Iwaizumis hands turn into fists, his jaw clenches and his shoulders tense. Everyone’s breaths hitch in their throats as they wait for any sort of confirmation.

They’re met with silence

Kuroo huffs, as if he’s won. The reality of the situation settles heavily on everyone’s shoulders and it drags their hearts down to the floor. Whoever they knew, whatever version of Y/N they thought they knew was just a phony. A constructed personality that you put up just to cover that you were part of a group that would murder and steal from people. 

As soon as everyone’s hearts shatter, Oikawa finally turns the handle on the door and walks out. He’s aware that people are still watching him, but the scenario has changed drastically in the last five minutes and the only thing on his mind is only on making sure that: one, you’re okay and two, that the mafia hasn’t already found your house.

The pair practically run to the station ignoring the curses from strangers that they bump into and shove past as they squeeze onto the next train.

Back in the office, no one dares to move an inch after the door slams shut. Ukai lets the cigarette sit loosely on his lips, almost falling out when he tries to speak.

“Listen,” his voice is shaking, “I’m sure this is just some sort of misunderstanding-”

“Not when she told me herself.” Kuroo refuses to let them be fooled anymore. He can’t bear to just let all of friends think that they know someone that they don’t. It’s not fair to them. These people have done nothing to deserve being led through the dark. Y/N had no right to hide this information and the fact she didn’t want anyone to know is unnerving.

“Why would she ever have been with them?” Ukai can’t take this shit. He won’t take this kind of slander. In the back of his mind, he’s always known that you had a story to tell, but he was never one to force things out of people. This was on a different level, but nonetheless he wasn’t just going to let Kuroo, one of your closer associates in the agency, try and give you hell for something that may or may not be true.

“I didn’t get that part, but none of us know anything about her from before she joined the agency if I’m not mistaken. She lied to all of us.” Kuroo’s conviction never faltered, not once did he stutter while speaking nor did he shy away from eye contact.

In the depths of his heart, locked under thousands of doors he has a yearning, wanting to understand why. Why didn’t you tell him? Why were you with them? Too bad all of the locks to get there were met with anger and irrationality. His emotions misguide him in this moment, and all he sees is red. It felt like he had been stabbed a million times over; he thought your relationship was going somewhere, that the trust you had built up was going to be worth something.

Everything’s shattered now.

“What if she changed? What if she just wanted to help people?” Ukai marches over to his desk and stares down. A challenge to what was previously a beat down.

“Why didn’t she just tell us? What was so hard about telling us so that we could help her?” Kuroo stands to look down on Ukai. “Huh!?” 

Both of the men have snarl’s etched into their faces. Both trying their best to understand how this all happened.

“He’s got a point, Ukai.” Sawamura speaks softly, grasping Ukai’s shoulder as if to tell him to back down. “We don’t know anything about Y/N.”

“So now you’re piling in?!” Ukai’s gaze shifts to Daichi’s. How could he? Being one of the original members alongside you, Ukai thought he would at least try and understand your point of view.

“I’m just saying that he’s making some decent points, and Kuroo hasn’t done me wrong yet. Y/N is a great detective, but none of us know anything about her.”

“Hey guys, what’s with all the ruckus?” The small figure of Takeda stands in the hallway, right outside of his office while he fidgets with his hands.

“Kuroo’s accusing Y/N of being an ex mafia member,” Ukai spits.

Eyes wide, Takeda glances around the office, taking note of who’s in the room. “Where is she?”

“No one knows. Iwaizumi and Oikawa just left.” Daichi doesn’t want to instigate further, only telling his boss what has happened.

“Well at least those two have decent heads on them. Instead of wondering and making accusations why don’t you all go ask her yourself.” This rarely happens. Takeda is usually optimistic and reasonable, but on rare occasions his face goes rigid and he loses his happy aura. “Kuroo’s words may be true, but aren’t you all detectives? Isn’t it your job to investigate accusations and figure out if they’re true or not?”

Everyone in the room knows he’s right, and they don’t dare try and talk back. Kuroo returns to his seat and watches as everyone wonders what to do next.

“If you aren’t going to go ask her yourself or are waiting for Iwaizumi and Oikawa to return please get back to work. We’ve lost valuable time and I’m sure this will all blow over soon.” The smile that crosses Takeda’s lips is forced, but it calms the overall anxiety trapped within the walls of the agency. “Ukai and Kuroo, would you mind meeting me in my office?”

The small chit chatter returns and blends with the sound of the A.C. unit as the three men walk down the hallway. It feels like it stretches with each step, and the tension rises as the blonde and black haired men both hold the anticipation of being scolded in their chests.

Never one to raise his voice, Takeda calmly sits them down and explains his disappointment. He expresses that he does not care what happened the previous night or if you truly were a member of the Port Mafia.

“Y/N is an adult, and she has a right to tell certain people certain things. It was highly immature and disrespectful of you to go around telling everyone her own business. Plus, that knowledge has serious implications, and if she told you then that means she trusted you a great deal considering none of us have ever heard such a thing.” Kuroo can’t tell what Takeda’s eyes hold as he speaks, but he knows that several of those doors unlocked with his small speech. “You still have a job to do. I expect you to work this out with her, Iwaizumi and Oikawa as well as finish the case the four of you were assigned.”

Takeda dismisses Kuroo without any more guidance, and he returns to his desk. Bokuto and Akaashi keep to themselves, almost afraid of what would happen if they asked or even looked at Kuroo. Your desk, which is directly in front of him, sits there. 

Empty

You never really bothered to decorate it with much. There were a few pens you really liked, Kuroo always noting the brand and buying you some for Christmas, but not much else. Well, besides the one picture propped up against the mug of pens. The one picture of everyone at the agency during the last Christmas party. Everyone’s faces slightly red from spending the night drinking, but big and bright smiles adorning everyone's features.

More doors unlock at the memory.

Running in work pants was never Iwaizumi’s favorite thing to do. He always favored a good pair of basketball shorts and a tank top for his runs, but today he didn’t have a choice. As soon as the chime for doors played over the subway speakers, he hit Oikawa on the shoulder and they both sprintined up the stairs, out onto the streets of Yokohama.

The morning breeze swept across the streets. You preferred living on the outskirts of the city, but not quite in the suburbs. The closest train station was about a twenty minute walk, and an eleven minute run if you were Tooru and Hajime.

The minute Kuroo started to spout the mafia rumors, their anxiety skyrocketed. Sure they trusted you, but they had no idea just how much you told him: like how they were ex-members just like you.

They assumed not, because Kuroo never lumped you in with them, but it still was concerning that he was just telling everyone your biggest secret like it was nothing. 

Both men have shed their jackets, choosing to carry them and flip their ties over their shoulders as they run. Pedestrians and drivers yelled at them as they crossed streets with red lights, but they didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

You weren’t responding to anyone’s messages and this was right after you not only told someone about your past, but right after you “reconnected” with an old friend after years. The last response either of them has gotten from you was a simple “yeah” after Tooru had asked if everything went okay.

After this morning, they knew that was a fucking lie.

Your apartment complex wasn’t gated, and the first thing they notice is the lack of your car in the parking lot. The next thing that catches their eyes is the metal barrel that was used for trash that had smoke coming from it.

The two slow their pace and approach the bin carefully, but when Hajime looks past the rim he recognizes some of your clothes, among other things like scraps of paper. Tooru looks to your apartment, and nudges Hajime with urgency. Looking at his partner, Hajime slowly turns to wherever Toory is facing.

“Fuck…” The door to your apartment is wide open, and from outside they can see it’s been torn to shreds. Furniture flipped over, lamps and light fixtures smashed and no lights.

A gaping hole replaces their stomachs, and for the first time in a long while neither of them has any clue what to do.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Twelve

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains a brief scene of attempted sexual assault. Stay safe!]

Mark twenty-eight nuclear warheads .

  Backhand squinted down at the paper, up at Ingram and then back at the paper. "Oh, is that all?" She asked sarcastically. "What, you don't want me to grab milk and eggs while I'm out?"

  " Easy , smartass." Proctor Ingram laughed. "We know the general location. All we need is for you to sweep the area, get rid of hostiles and secure the payload. Simple!"

  "Yeah? Where's the general location then?" Backhand challenged.

  Ingram spread the map out on the desk, tapping the area circled in the lower left hand corner. "It's a military site, Prescott I think? One of our scribes was able to triangulate it using the documents you and Danse scooped from that veteran housing development."

  "In the Glowing Sea." Backhand groaned. "I had kind of hoped to never need to go back out there." I'd better start getting some damn perks for all the legwork I'm doing , she thought uncharitably.

  " Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die ." Ingram quoted at her, laughing again when Vega grumbled under her breath. "C'mon Vega, you're like the Brotherhood's poster child for Commonwealth recruitment. Where's your Ad Victoriam spirit? You have to spearhead this, if only for the eventual publicity."

  "Ah, the press ." Backhand retorted. "Who's my backup, then?"

  "Your sponsor, obviously! Though I'm guessing after this you'll be welcomed into the fold for real." Ingram mused, her expression thoughtful. "Danse seemed better when I saw him last. I think the time off the Prydwen has really done him some good."

  Vega tried to hide her flush of pride, quickly asking, "Other than the lack of big boomers, how is Prime looking?"

  "Pretty good, I'd say! It was a real stroke of luck that you got us Madison back, even if working with her makes me want to set my pubes on fire." Ingram answered frankly. "We're both too stubborn to function well together, but sometimes we can shut up and actually get shit done. Those are the times I believe we might have a shot here."

  "Your confidence is overwhelming." Backhand said dryly. 

  The other woman gave her a lopsided grin. "I've seen too many ops go south to put all my eggs in one scientist's basket, Vega. At least we'll have the numbers of the Minutemen on our side in case Prime can't get off the ground."

  "Has Quinlan had any luck getting that information unscrambled? My buddy hit a dead end pretty early on with the encryption, and he's dying to know whether he actually helped or whether it's all junk data." 

  Truthfully Sturges had gotten much further than either of them had expected (the fact that he knew there was data on the tape at all was a miracle), but Ingram didn't exactly have to know that. The older woman's sigh didn't sound overly promising though.

  "Nothing yet. He and his scribes have been working as close to around the clock as they can get without disrupting Cade across the way. It's always a process in close quarters." The proctor hummed. "With any luck, maybe a few more days?"

  "I'll keep my fingers crossed." Backhand promised. "I know it'll probably all be considered confidential information, but still."

  …

  "No."

  " Excuse me, Paladin?" Arthur snarled.

  Danse stood by the door to the elder's quarters, his posture perfect. "I said no, Elder Maxson." He repeated. "I will not be engaging with you any longer." 

  "Dare I ask what has brought about this insubordination? " The younger man queried.

  Danse stood firm. "This is not insubordination, Elder Maxson. You have exploited me long enough and I refuse to let you continue."

  "I'll have you exiled, Paladin." Maxson threatened. "One word from me and your status goes up in smoke. We are on the brink of war with the Institute and you wish to weaken our ranks? You're a good soldier, Danse. Don't make me send you away."

  Danse shook his head. His hands, clasped at the small of his back, trembled nervously until he clenched them into fists. "I'm sorry, Elder Maxson, but I refuse to allow you to manipulate or abuse me any further." 

  "Are you disobeying a direct order from your elder, Danse?" 

  "I am simply-"

  A knock on the door to Maxson's quarters interrupted whatever Danse had intended to say, and a split second later Knight Vega poked her head around the door. "Apologies, Elder Maxson." The woman said with a salute. "I was unaware that you two were having a discussion. Paladin, we are departing in ten minutes."

  Arthur jerked his head to the side to indicate that Elizabeth should leave. " Get out , Vega." He barked. 

  She hesitated and Danse closed his eyes in defeat, knowing that he was screwed the second she departed.

  He heard the door close and Arthur was abruptly on him, one hand gripping the paladin's throat to force Danse's head against the wall as he tore at the zipper of the other man's jumpsuit. "You are going to fuck me, Danse, so I suggest you warm up to the idea." Maxson hissed against his ear.

  Danse felt nauseous, dirty as Arthur pawed at him. Say no, damn it! What's wrong with you?

  The only warning either man got was a barely-audible knock on the door before Paladin Brandis barged in. Arthur whirled on the older man, murder in his eyes for the barest second. " Brandis! " Maxson roared. "How many-"

  "I have sixteen new aspirants seeking to rise to knight or scribe, Elder Maxson!" Brandis waved a sheaf of papers at the younger man. "I also have seven squires who believe they are ready for evaluation to ascend to aspirant. Oh, was I interrupting something?" He remarked, blinking in a befuddled manner at the clearly-furious elder.

  Maxson stared back at the older paladin, his chest heaving. "Don't think for one goddamn second that I don't know exactly what you're up to, you old fool!" Arthur's blue eyes were fairly crackling with rage. 

  "Me? The only thing I'm up to is trying to get this paperwork taken care of." Brandis protested blandly. "You're so suspicious , Maxson. It won't do you any favors." Brandis seemed to finally notice Danse standing there slackjawed and the older paladin began to scold, "zip up your uniform, Danse! We're a military , not a frathouse!" His eyebrows raised, all but begging Danse to take the opening and flee.

  Danse gulped and floundered to apologize, zipping up his suit. He caught the barest glimpse of Maxson's thunderous glare before he turned tail and bolted. The cowardice burned at him, but really, what else could he do?

  He shouldered past Vega lurking just outside the door, and stormed down the catwalk to the grease pit without a word.

  Their aerial approach to the Glowing Sea was silent and riddled with turbulence. Danse could identify the territory of the area from a fair distance away, the way the radiation tinged the sky to a sinister yellowed bruise a sure indication.

  Waypoint Echo was precariously positioned on the very edge of the Glowing Sea. Danse felt a fair amount of trepidation as he and Knight Vega approached the area after they disembarked the vertibird. He had never ventured into the Glowing Sea, but he supposed there was no time like the present.

  He was glad to at least find a familiar face, although Haylen didn't appear happy to see him and Vega. The scribe looked tense, wary. Danse supposed he could understand that; the post was much less than favorably placed. They were only just outside the heavy haze of radiation, and the radstorms weren't inclined to remain stationary for too long. To say nothing of the deadly creatures that tended to emerge from the area and wander north. Waypoint Echo was not a hospitable assignment by any stretch of the imagination. 

  His scribe had never searched for the easy jobs. Danse felt a wave of pride for the woman he had sponsored back when she was nothing but an initiate. Haylen had rolled with the punches and become an admirable scribe, a loyal friend and an incredible asset to any team she joined. "Scribe Haylen!" He greeted her warmly with a salute. "Ad Victoriam. Another day, another assignment."

  "Paladin Danse," Haylen addressed him through gritted teeth, oddly not returning his salute. "Can I get a word with you before you depart? It's urgent." She was already grabbing his arm before he even nodded, the scribe leading him away from the camp. Knight Vega was listening intently while the other field scribe briefed her on their current situation and any observations they might have made.

  "Scribe Haylen, is something amiss?" The paladin asked, a little concerned once Haylen had moved him out of earshot of the encampment. 

  The petite woman whirled on him, looking more furious than Danse had ever seen her. " How could you not tell me?" She hissed. 

  Danse stared at her, bewildered. "I...what do you mean, Haylen?"

  "Don't play dumb with me, Danse! Quinlan got the list decoded. He knows . Maxson knows. Hell, maybe even Vega knows! Maybe she's leading you into a trap right now." Haylen took hold of his gauntlet once more. "Danse, you have to run ."

  "Haylen, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." Danse replied, thoroughly puzzled. What would Quinlan decoding the Institute information have to do with him?  

  Haylen's fingernails scraped at the worn red-orange paint denoting his rank as she gripped down even tighter. "Danse, you...do you really not…" she appeared to be trying to ask something, but couldn't seem to amass the words.

  "Take your time. Get your mind straight." Danse said kindly. "Whatever it is, I'll hear you out."

  She sobbed suddenly, her small frame rattled by the outburst. "Oh Danse , I'm so sorry." She whispered.

  …

  Backhand lingered on the edge of the camp, half-watching Haylen appear to argue with the paladin about something. Trouble in paradise? she wondered, turning the distress pulser for their endeavor over in her hands before she tucked it away in her satchel. 

  "Man, I guess whatever Rhys passed along to her earlier really has her in a twist." One of the other scribes commented. "I dunno' if I've ever seen her this heated."

  Danse thundered back towards the camp, leaving Haylen to call his name plaintively. "Ready to continue our mission, soldier?" He gritted the words out at Backhand. 

  Backhand raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of mood, but then recalled what she had interrupted earlier that morning and reasoned that he had more than every right to be a little testy. The woman simply nodded and fell into step behind him. "See you guys soon!" She said to the soldiers occupying Echo, waving in farewell. Haylen didn't wave back, the scribe looking wholly dejected. 

  Was she crying?

  "Hey Danse, is Haylen alright? She seemed upset." Backhand inquired after they had been walking for several minutes.

  "We had a discussion." was all Danse said in reply. His tone didn't exactly encourage further questioning, so Backhand decided that she should probably, maybe , just this once, not attempt to converse.

  "Sorry, didn't mean to pry." She mumbled. 

  "I'm certain you didn't. But we can't afford to be distracted on this mission." Danse instructed firmly. "There's too much at stake, Knight Vega."

  "Oh, absolutely!" Backhand agreed. 

  "I need you to take point during this engagement, as you're the one who knows where we're going." Danse paused, letting her come up alongside him. "We can't lose sight of what's important. If we do, the Institute has already won." 

  The paladin, in spite of his words, seemed out of sorts. Spacey , even. His grip on his rifle was uncharacteristically slack, especially considering how hostile their environment was. 

  Backhand was reminded of his behavior during their search for Brandis and she said as much, prodding the paladin to respond. "I'm fine. Just...thinking," he muttered. "I apologize, I'm not very good at following my own orders. I lecture you on distraction while also being distracted."

  "After this campaign is over, I vote for a little R and R. The proverbial run ashore. Sound good to you?" Backhand asked, tilting her head.

  Danse cleared his throat. "I wish I had your optimism." He said plainly. "Once the Institute hears we have these munitions, assuming the bombs are even here in the first place, it will be all-out war. I'm not so foolish to think they'll surrender or melt back into the shadows under the threat of our superior firepower. They will demand a live test." The paladin gestured vaguely around him at the blasted landscape. "I know for a fact that Maxson won't stop until the Institute is nothing but a fractured husk. The idea that there are innocent people down there, good people who will be slaughtered with the bad…" He shook his head. 

  "It's sobering." Backhand murmured in agreement, not sure why she was surprised by the paladin's display of humanity. She had been in and out of the Institute over the last few weeks, building a rapport with the various scientists and synths and also passing along pertinent information to the Brotherhood. All the while Shaun pressured her to take over his position, " before I am gone, Mother. " She hadn't known that Danse was actually listening to her field reports.

  "It's grotesque entrapment. People who wanted a better life, people who wanted to help the world, people who thought they were helping." Danse sounded disgusted and strangely upset. "Bodies snatched in the middle of the night, or lured in by the lie of bettering mankind!" He had turned to her as he ranted, his pauldrons rising and falling rapidly from the force of his body against the frame of his armor. "He's your son , Vega, how could he--"

  "He's not my son anymore." Backhand cut him off, stung by his heated words. "The man who leads the Institute may be related to me through biology, but he is not my son, Paladin Danse." She heaved a sigh, looking away. "I guess he really never was, in a way. His father...his father told me he wanted children. Once I got pregnant, though, it was like the reality of it became too much for him." Her laugh was a sad noise, mirthless and hollow. "And if he thought it was too much, imagine how I felt. I didn't really have a lot of agency in the matter, I just wanted to make him happy and when I realized that not even that could make him happy, I kind of lost it. Hence the divorce and stuff. I loved that baby more than anything in the world, but I know that I wasn't a great mom. I was in way over my head. Scared. Terrified . Alone. And then...then he was taken from me. Just like that."

  "Knight Vega, I...forgive my outburst, please. I didn't mean to imply that any of this is your fault." Danse mumbled. "I simply...I-I mean, I see you, the way you interact with the people of the Commonwealth, and I can't wrap my head around the fact that someone even tangentially related to you could be capable of such...heinous machinations."

  "I'm a byproduct of the Great War, Paladin Danse." Backhand smiled thinly. "A relic from times of pretend plenty. The Institute raised Shaun, shaped him into their perfect leader. He doesn't understand the struggles of the real world. He can't understand the ugliness of war, not like how someone who lived through it can." 

  "You would think the perfect leader would want what's best for his troops." Danse remarked.

  "He's dying , Danse. The only reason he thawed me out again is because he's dying, and the Institute wanted me to take over." Backhand confided, scoffing a little. "Can you even believe that shit? His board of directors really thought my altruistic, bleeding-heart ass would take over their body-snatching extravaganza. Hell, they seem confused every time I tell them to fuck off."

  "You turned them down?" 

  The bewilderment in his tone caught Backhand by surprise. " Yeah , Danse. Obviously."

  "The promise of returning the Commonwealth to its former glory wasn't enough to sway you?" The paladin queried, his voice laden with that rare sarcasm he employed. 

  Backhand chuckled wryly. "Did you forget the part where I've seen the Commonwealth at the peak of that former glory? It wasn't better. It was just a little less irradiated." She thumped her pauldron against his own after a moment. "Hey, I'm with you, okay? No matter what happens, we'll get through this and enjoy that sweet off-time." She promised. "I know you can't see, but I'm definitely smiling under here."

  "I can tell." Danse lapsed into contemplative silence, and Backhand wished she could see his expression. Something, anything to clue her in as to what he was thinking about. 

  They passed a crashed plane, the trail of wreckage from it extending well past Backhand's limited field of view. Danse tuned into its distress signal like a reflex, and Backhand half-listened to the mayday broadcast of Skylanes one-six-six-five. 

  "... left engine failure, we're out fifteen three at this time …"

  The plane had been coming in the day the bombs dropped. Due to its location in the Glowing Sea, Backhand could only assume no one had survived. She almost wanted to ask Danse to turn off the broadcast, but the signal quickly petered back out into static as they carefully descended the ridge past the plane.

  The shattered remains of sparse buildings jutted from the caustic ground like the incisors of a gargantuan beast, offering a semblance of shelter only to roving feral ghouls or ambitious mole rats.

  It was a man-made hellscape, awe inspiring in its grim misery, and Backhand felt like she understood Danse's taciturn mood a bit better now.

  Abruptly, a towering monolith was brought into sharp contrast against the green sky by a sullen flash of lightning. Backhand swallowed, unnerved by the stark stone structure that loomed up out of the wan light like a dark pyramid to a forgotten, terrible deity.

  She tried to shake off her fanciful thoughts, scolding herself for being so easily influenced. This wasn't some silly story, some maniac rumination on the subject of doomed expeditions and places where man shouldn't go. This was just one more thing that humanity had built.

  "And here we are." She announced needlessly. "You ready?"

  "My power armor is within nominal parameters, so I would say I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Danse replied simply. 

  Working together, they muscled the double doors open and cautiously made their way into the pyramid-like structure. Backhand grimaced at the bank vault-esque door that greeted them, raising an eyebrow and cocking her helmet at Danse. "I'll bet...fifty caps that I can just give this a spin and it'll bust wide open." She said confidently, resting a gauntlet on the handle.

  "Nice try, Vega." The paladin replied, his tone dry and humorless. "Don't forget we have a job to do."

  Vega grumbled to herself and spun the handle, watching the ancient tumblers creak and separate before the door slowly swung inwards. "Bingo." She breathed, stepping gingerly out onto the old catwalk. "Shit, it looks like ArcJet in here."

  "Remarkably similar." Danse agreed. "Be very cautious about what you shoot in here, we don't know what will explode. And remember to check your corners. I don't want to lose you to something we don't see." 

  Backhand swallowed hard, saluting while inclining her head to indicate that she received and returned the order. "Ad Victoriam, Paladin Danse."

  "Ad Victoriam, Knight Vega." 

  Silence hanging heavy in the air, Vega plodded down the rickety stairs of the catwalk. She briefly debated just hopping the railing and taking the plunge, but ultimately decided against it. The stiff gusts of wind from the door had stirred the centuries of dust into a thick haze, and warning lights still spiraled in amber circles, casting disorienting shadows over everything.

  "It would appear that this facility was converted into a launching silo as well." Danse commented, gesturing at the large gantry-like structure that took up the majority of space in the middle of the pyramid. 

  Down, down, down they went, past multiple security doors. Feral ghouls rose to greet them, some still clad in the tattered remains of army fatigues. 

  "I've had nightmares like this." Backhand admitted during a brief moment of reprieve while she painstakingly tapped away at the keys of a terminal. "Sergeant Cathan and the rest of my squadron turn into ferals and I have to put them down." Danse's heavy gauntlet landed on her pauldron, squeezed once, and then departed. "I know it's dumb to be worried about. They've been dead for…" Vega trailed off, finally getting the double blast doors open and turning off the weakly buzzing alarm in the same stroke. " That's it." She said in relief. 

  Danse took point during this secondary half of the expedition, the paladin staying unusually quiet. Backhand chalked it up to him focusing more on his targets, lest a stray laser hit one of the caged warheads. 

  Down into the bowels of Prescott they trudged, soldiering onwards through tunnels made tight by the bulk of their power armor. The headlamp on Danse's new helmet illuminated the cramped, half-collapsed areas as he scanned from three to nine and back again.

  "Left up here." Backhand broke the silence, directing him through a hole in the wall to circumvent a rubble-filled dead end and then overtaking him when he paused to check his rifle. "We should still be able to pick up the tunnel around this junk."

  "Affirmative." Danse replied shortly. "I would advise that we not attempt to clear any debris. We don't know what will collapse on us."

  Vega grimaced, "good point. That's why you're the paladin." Oddly, he made a scoffing sound, but she dismissed it as him being sarcastic again.

  When the tunnel finally opened up into an enormous room, Vega breathed a little easier. Ahead of them loomed a massive set of red double doors, tarnished with age but still holding strong. What appeared to be a control room was situated over the doors, and Backhand quickly spotted the stairs that would lead her upwards.

  The body sprawled across the top of the stairs gave her pause, however. It wasn't a feral ghoul, but a Child Of Atom. Backhand glanced up to the door to the control room, then back down at the body. 

  Up. Down. Up again.

  And she continued over the body, one massive gauntlet knocking comically gentle on the door.

  "Enter." Intoned a voice from inside the room. Behind her, she heard Danse's rifle hum as he primed it.

  " Easy , cowboy. Let me see if I can get this settled peacefully." Backhand whispered. She had no idea whether Danse had heard her or not, but she prayed he had as she set sabaton into the room. 

  The Children Of Atom had always been a ragged-looking bunch, their lives dedicated to the pursuit of " the Glow " and worship of what they called " the Great Divide ". This man was no exception, though the room was also occupied by a turret and assaultron. Two things no one wanted to deal with in close quarters.

  "Halt, stranger. You stand upon Atom's sacred ground." The religious fanatic announced grandly. "Speak your business or be divided where you stand."

  Backhand mused over her reply for a moment, finally stating, "we seek the Glow of Atom, my uh, brother ."

  " You? " The man scoffed, "you, who slaughtered Atom's most faithful as you stormed this compound?"

  "We sought to release them to Atom's embrace. Return them to the universe to be...divided anew. After all, matter cannot be created or destroyed, only repurposed," Vega replied smoothly, "as dictated by the Law of Conservation of Mass, writ by his most holy eminence Antoine Lavoisier." 

  "Ah, I see you are a scholar of the sacred texts as well!" The man remarked, a smile crossing his stern features. "Forgive my ignorance, sister. When I saw your armor, I feared that you came to destroy this holy ground." Backhand blinked behind her helmet. That had been strictly high school science bullshit, but she would take the victory. "I assume you wish to bask in Atom's Glow then, as one of his faithful?"

  "We seek to spread Atom's glory via the use of these munitions." Backhand explained. "Our organization requires these vehicles to distribute Atom's might. Please, permit us to utilize them."

  "You will put them to good use? That is all we can ask for!" The Child Of Atom's eyes filled with tears of what Vega could only assume was gratitude. "I had thought we would stand guard over this holy ground for all of time. Please, take this and prepare to enter His inner sanctum." He took her gauntlet and pressed a scrap of paper into it, gesturing at the worn-looking terminal on the table beside the sputtering turret. "Follow the brilliance of the Glow, and it shall lead you to the relics. May Atom's radiance warm your soul." He breathed, those teary blue eyes focused on the visor of her helm. 

  Vega inclined her head respectfully, praying that Danse would stand aside and let the man depart without a fight. Clearly she needn't have worried; the paladin obligingly shifted the bulk of his armor out of the way so the religious zealot could leave the room peacefully. 

  "' His most holy eminence' ?" Danse repeated, his tone wry. "You certainly have a gift, Knight Vega." 

  Backhand grinned under her helmet, reading the password off the scrap of paper and then carefully punching it into the terminal. "What can I say? A little diplomacy and a healthy sprinkling of mumbo-jumbo goes a long way." With a simple keystroke, the massive doors creaked open. The woman bowed as best as she could in her armor. "Shall we?" 

  Danse appeared to have returned to his silence, simply nodding and walking back out of the room.

  What's gotten into him? Backhand wondered.

Part Thirteen

[moviesrotbrains]

DANIEL ISN’T REAL... but I’m so very glad this film exists.

After dealing with increasing anxiety and fearing a grip on reality, a college freshman turns to his childhood imaginary friend for comfort and confidence boosting… only to realize that his much cooler and carefree pretend buddy has an unsettling violent darkness about him. Could Daniel possibly be something more than a figment of his imagination?

DANIEL ISN’T REAL is an utterly surreal fever dream, channeling the best in cosmic horror, body horror, and psychological horror while also taking a bold look at deeper issues. It comes from Elijah Wood’s SpectreVision imprint, the same company that gave us such gems as MANDY, A GIRL WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT, and COLOR OUT OF SPACE...  and this one’s right up there with those modern classics. And you can watch it now on SHUDDER!

Full review and some seriously kickass poster art below:

Directed by Adam Egypt Mortimer (and based on Brian DeLeeuw’s book, In This Way I Was Saved), DANIEL ISN’T REAL is a wonderfully fantastical ride through fucked up subject matter. It tackles mental illness, trauma, dual nature, identity, male toxicity, and empathy… with a good amount of Lovecraftian madness and trippy, yet terrifically disgusting Cronenberg-esque visuals thrown in for good measure.

It’s an engaging story too, about a young man, Luke, overwhelmed with life as his mother’s mental health condition worsens. He’s dealing with that on top of everything else college kids go through, lack of confidence, anxiety, etc. There’s also a fear of his own sanity. He keeps hallucinating and blanking out. His therapist suggests that maybe he should try to tap into that creativity he had as a child, where he’d regularly play for hours on end with his imaginary friend, “Daniel”. Only things got very weird and unsettling the last time he played pretend with his fictional playmate.

Once Daniel re-enters his life, things start to change. Luke’s mother issues get better. Luke suddenly feels more confident in life. Luke is finally doing well with girls. Luke’s getting creative again with photography... and all of his problems seem to go away… Only Daniel seems to want more credit and recognition. And Daniel seems to be getting angrier. And that’s when things get really fucking messed up.

This film is wonderfully acted by a mix of up-and-comers and veterans of the scene. Luke is played by Miles Robbins (HALLOWEEN 2018) and gives that immediate likeable and kind, yet also meek, portrayal that perfectly conveys what kind of a person that Luke is. There’s a lot of range in emotion in this performance, from hurt and confused to confident, to something else entirely. I always get a kick at seeing an actor completely flip their performance and style midway and totally embody something else, and this film has that and more.

Contrasting that likability and meekness is Daniel (played by Patrick Schwarzenegger, SCREAM QUEENS), the titular imaginary friend who’s pure Freudian Id. He’s cool, slick, charismatic, and always knows the right thing that Luke should say, or do, to get ahead. He’s helpful… when he wants to be… but he also has a lot of darkness. A scary darkness that seems to stem from… something else. Patrick excels when he taps into this dark alias. He’s evil as fuck. There’s a sinister glee in his manner. Epitome of “Chaotic Evil”. He’s such a great asshole. He really kicks it into gear when the audience fully know what we’re dealing with… 

Yet even then, nothing is over explained. And that’s the beauty of this film. There is no expository dialogue or wasted scene. Everything is laid out there and the actors just bring it. This film lives in a world of it’s own and the audience is a passenger for the unholy ride. It’s a very slick flick full of world building and the kind of outstanding performances that really make everything shine.

Rounding out the supporting cast is Luke’s troubled mother (veteran Mary Stuart Masterson, who powerfully played a similar and memorable role in BENNY & JUNE), Sasha Lane (HELLBOY) as the love interest, artist, and really, the heart and soul of the film, and Hannah Marks (DIRK GENTLY) as the other girl faced with Luke’s dark side. again, all perfectly played and perfectly cast, giving a much needed balance in this heavy film.

And it’s a very heavy film. The story was a deeply personal one for Mortimer (as he explained to us in 2019, when he brought the film to the Montreal FANTASIA film fest). The director drew from his own experiences from his youth, when a friend was similarly dealing with mental health issues. Mortimer had to help him, because his friend was “falling off the rails”, with no one around really helping him out, “not friends or professionals”. He talked of his friend’s life being in ruins, and how it just “spiraled off into mania”. 

That experience deeply impacted Mortimer. It was from this that Mortimer wanted to make a film about empathy and compassion for people going through severe mental illness issues. While Luke’s troubles stem from something more, the parallels are still there to people in real life going through non-otherworldy issues. The overall sense of helplessness, and a desire to be understood and taken seriously, is still there, and still a universal theme. Especially right now.

This film also tackles a lot more than just matters of wellness. Mortimer also wanted the film to deal with the “increasing danger” young men are in these days. “The Dangers they face and the danger many are to themselves”. 

Mortimer talked about them, “Living in a world where men have been driven insane by society. A society where many men are both the product and the villain of it.” A lot of this is seen on film when Luke battles for control with Daniel. Daniel representing that alpha and that Id. Luke grasping for control and trying to be that voice of compassion and reason. It’s a wonderful character study that is only heightened by the horror elements that come into play.

And yes, it’s an absolute horror fan’s delight and it’s visually stunning to boot, mixing psychological & psychedelic horror together. It felt like I was watching HELLRAISER again for the first time, but if that film was shoved in a blender with FIGHT CLUB, JACOB’S LADDER, and copious amounts of mind altering drugs. But comparing it to anything else does no justice to the wholly original eye-gasmic feast set before us. I keep saying this, but it truly is an utterly wonderful surreal fever dream. It’s so very layered and out there. 

It’s refreshing to see new films like this come about with something to say and looking as great as it does. Yes, this film looks very different from most things that are currently out there, with it’s violet texture throughout, and otherworldly feel. Mortimer, who came from a music video background, wanted his second feature to have a distinct look to it, saying that the “violet hue throughout had a very futuristic and contemporary colour about it”. He wanted to create the feeling of a manic episode, and overwhelm the viewer with colours and density. 

And he totally does. It’s such a beautiful looking film, and one you’ll definitely go back to just to soak in the wonderful hypnotic visuals. Much like MANDY, from the year before, DANIEL is a cinematic treat for your eyeballs.

And there’s also some deeply messed up visuals that mix in with that beauty. The FX on a whole are amazingly bizarre. There are visuals that are so jaw-droppingly good that you’ll permanently have them etched in your brain. It’s the kind of film where you’re watching and you immediately want to rewind and see that scene again.

From faces being merged into each other in a pink tentacled mess of VIDEODROME-esque flesh, to other visages literally being mangled like putty! Pure body terror. People crawling into other people’s mouths– I could go on, but I don’t want to spoil it. It’s icky and wonderful all at once.

And I can’t go on about the FX without mentioning the nightmarish and hellish creature design by Martin Astles (who also worked on the brutal and classic nightmare fuel that is EVENT HORIZON). The creature FX are so fucking out there, each very distinct and very memorable. The kind of things that if you confronted them in real life you’d be quick to claw them out your own eyes. 

One beast looks like a hellish death beast with a fleshy castle for a head-- an absolute architectural artifice. Mortimer said they attempted to convey that a whole universe was in its face, and it existed outside space and time. Another Face looking like piercing bullets poking through the flesh and protruding from his cheeks, like a moment frozen in time. They’re all so freakishly creative and disturbing. I can’t even describe them right. I’m not sure I want to, but they’re seared into my mind. Body Horror and Cosmic Horror at their best.

In addition to the visuals, this film also brings it on the sound design and score front. It’s got an incredible score by Warp Records act Clark. It contains synthy goodness along with manipulations of actual orchestral pieces. And it was Clark’s first time working on a film score, something Mortimer preferred. 

He wanted someone that wasn’t used to working on horror films, or films in general, so they’d throw everything they had into it from the get go. Mortimer told Clark to make it sound like Bernard Herrmann got stuck in some horrible industrial accident. A relentless sonic assault that tries to capture that same feel that Clint Mansell did with REQUIEM FOR A DREAM. The results are a superb original work of music that completely enhances and already spectacular looking film.

I was a fan of Mortimer’s SOME KIND OF HATE when I caught it six years ago at FANTASIA FEST, but DANIEL is an entirely different beast and next level filmmaking. He’s easily grown as a filmmaker and I’m totally on board to see more. I can’t wait to see what he tackles next, because DANIEL was easily one of my top Fantasia picks for 2019.

DANIEL ISN’T REAL is one of those dark films that will most likely be seen as a cult classic in a few years, right up there with DONNIE DARKO and movies of a similar ilk. It’s full of so much imagination and gusto, all while tackling important issues and core themes. All that and it remains highly watchable and engaging. It’ll satisfy any horror junkie while also winning over fans of thought provoking art. Daniel isn’t real, but I’m glad it exists.

-Theo Radomski, Movies Rot Brains 

Seriously how fucking awesome are these posters?  Why can’t more horror films hire the people that made these posters? Why can’t film in general hire these people to make better promo art? 

This article was previously seen on Mobtreal.com

[that-shamrock-vibe]

Movie Review: Spider-Man Far From Home (Spoilers)

Spoiler Warning: I am posting this review the weekend after the movie’s release in the U.K, so if you haven’t yet seen the movie do not read on until you do because there are some rather juicy spoilers here.

MCU Ad Campaign:

This is why I feel Kevin Feige needs to have full control over Spider-Man because he is a master of teasing us with enough in the trailers to get us excited for the movie.

Even with Avengers: Endgame which kept so much secret in the trailers built up that hype and anticipation, okay yes it was the culmination of 11 years of movies and the second part of what was one of the greatest cinematic cliffhangers in history, but even so there were so many theories and speculation about what could happen that it obviously helped with that juggernaut release.

But the issue with Spider-Man: Far From Home is the trailers and promotion just made the movie seem like your average superhero flick. It was necessarily the case of The Amazing Spider-Man 2 or Suicide Squad where so much was shown in the trailer that wasn’t in the final movie, but there wasn’t enough to speculate on or build up the hype unless you’re already a comic-book fan and want to see another Spider-Man movie and know that in the comics Mysterio is a villain so want to see what happens with him here.

I’d say the introduction of the multiverse may have been what both Feige and Pascal thought could be a key plot point to draw in the hype, but that was proven just to be a facade. It was only really mentioned in that scene that everyone has seen in the trailers and there was never a time in the trailers where I thought “Yes that is what everyone will talk about”.

With Thor: Ragnarok for example, it was penned as a fun 80s style buddy movie and that is what the trailers showed, but then you add in Hela and that shot of her destroying Mjolnir as well as the “He’s a friend from work” scene and that’s what made it one of the most watched trailers of all time.

I said in my non-spoiler review that I fear for this movie’s performance if we are to base mainstream audience interest on watching the trailers, I still feel that even though the two times I have now seen the movie the theatres have been relatively full.

Characters:

Spider-Man:

As I said in my non-spoiler, Tom Holland continues to prove why he was such a perfect casting choice for Peter Parker/Spider-Man. Not only does he still look like a teenager so you believe he should still be at school, he has so much charisma and charm that you can’t not like the guy.

I loved when he was at Aunt May’s support centre and was, as May said, a little stiff but it was believable.

Let’s face it, this is a guy who is still a teenager, he is still dealing with the average student problems like fancying a girl and possibly getting good grades, although at Midtown it’s a wonder any of them can get good grades with those teachers, we’ll get to them. But also Peter is dealing with the added stress not only of being Spider-Man but the aftershock of what happened in Endgame both in terms of “The Blip” and Tony’s death.

It was interesting to me that they were kind of going down the Iron Man 3 route of Peter having PTSD from “The Blip” but that quickly turned simply into either guilt or grief over Tony’s sacrifice and the responsibility everyone is now putting on his shoulders. With great power comes great responsibility, that saying is echoed throughout this movie in particular.

I also really like the Spidey suits in the movie, because there were so many it was like a Spidey fashion show at one point.

I loved the fact he kept the Iron Spider suit and especially seeing it pixelating in that container was really cool. Also the upgraded suit he was given which is a mainstay of the character at this point.

Then there’s the return of the original Spidey sweatsuit during one of Mysterio’s illusions which was a nice little nod and a reference to the Emperor’s New Clothes with who the world has built him up to be compared to how he feels on the inside.

Also, his new red and black suit that he created in the Stark Industries jet was a fantastic sequence. Not only was it crystal clear that they were trying to make Peter resemble Tony in that scene, but it was done so effortlessly and it was really fun once again to see someone play with the Holo chamber.

But in terms of my negatives, because I do have negatives for all these characters, I cannot believe he was that stupid that he gave away EDITH to Mysterio, not because Mysterio was an obvious bad guy because he wasn’t, but because EDITH was such a useful device and Peter apparently doesn’t have KAREN anymore so he needs some form of AI assistant.

I did however really enjoy the onscreen partnership of Jake Gyllenhaal and Tom Holland, you can tell off-screen the two really got on and it resonates on screen.

There was also a really stupid moment when he’s facing Hydro-Man and he wears that mask to try concealing his identity from his classmates, despite the fact that he is wearing the same clothes his classmates know he is wearing so why didn’t anyone attempt to put 2 + 2 together. I mean it’s implied MJ may have but who knows.

With the Elementals as well, as much as I think they are brilliant antagonists visually, and of course in this instance weren’t real but may still exist, I don’t see how Spider-Man can combat any of them because his synthetic webbing would have no effect on water, fire, sand or air. It was obviously Mysterio’s perfect plan to make himself the hero, but the fact no one thought to question that Spider-Man was less use than Black Widow would have been in that fight really bugged me.

I did like him trying to court MJ, I thought his six-step plan was well thought out and the rivalry between him and Brad over MJ was also refreshing to see in a superhero movie.

We’ll talk about the post-credits scene further down but that ending scene before the credits of him doing Spidey’s traditional scout of the city was a great way to end the movie. The main reason I love playing the Spider-Man games is simply to swing through the city and will gladly spend a lot of time doing it just to explore. Also if that’s not the Oscorp building he swung through than it’s the biggest misdirect in a Marvel movie.

Mysterio:

By far my favourite Jake Gyllenhaal role, I have never been a massive fan of his as he and his sister have simply been actors I gloss over. But Mysterio was a very comical villain for me in terms of looks yet Gyllenhaal manages to make the suit and the fishbowl look awesome.

I loved how he was so committed to his role as a parallel world superhero, you honestly believed he was a good guy right up until the moment when the illusion fades.

Speaking of illusions, these are potentially the best use of visual effects I have seen since Doctor Strange. I haven’t seen the movie in 3D but I was almost tempted to the second time just to experience the splender of how the visuals looked. They were literally effects ripped from the comics, everything came together and it was magic.

When he was revealed as a villain and that epic reveal scene of his and his crews master plan, including throwbacks to Captain America: Civil War and the first Iron Man was jaw-dropping. I really appreciate both Feige and  Peter Billingsley who was the actor playing the former Stark Industries scientist turned Beck’s henchman for making it seem like this was the plan overall all those years back. I doubt very much that Feige planned it from Civil War let alone 2008.

However, the ending for Mysterio is where my negatives come in. Not only did Beck turn into a raging child running out of ideas but also the fact they killed him off is something I really can’t get my head around. Vulture, Shocker and Scorpion are all alive and if they want to build a Sinister Six then surely this Mysterio is a likeable candidate, yet now he’s dead. It just reminds me of the likes of Hela and these one-movie villains with so much more potential.

Nick Fury:

I love Samuel L. Jackson, I know I sang his praises during Captain Marvel but he’s just as great here.

I loved the running theme of Peter ghosting him by sending him to voicemail, then eventually when Fury and Peter do meet and there’s the constant interruptions of staff and students that makes him turn and say “If one more person touches that door you and I will be attending another funeral” it was so great and only could be said by Nick Fury.

However, and I’ll get into the reasons more in my post-credits discussion, but with the reveal at the end that the Fury we have seen throughout the movie is in fact Talos the Skrull, there are tells throughout the movie that indicate that which I can’t tell as to if they’re deliberate or accidental.

For instance, during Spider-Man’s first meeting with Mysterio, Fury says “He’s from Earth, just not yours” so why didn’t he say “ours”? Also when he said that appearances can be deceiving I bet that was also a tell that he was the shapeshifting alien.

For that reason, it is hard for me to say that I enjoyed Fury in this movie because the real Nick Fury is only in one small scene at the end of the movie. But Samuel L. Jackson still delivers. Also “bitch please you’ve been to space!” never gets old.

MJ:

Commiserations to Zendaya for not getting Ariel, but at least now she is the girlfriend of Spider-Man so yay. 

I really love Zendaya in this role, I think she brings a much needed grounded modern realism to the role that I feel is needed for the younger female audience of today.

I loved it when she revealed that she always knew Peter was Spider-Man but when he eventually confirmed it she said “Really, because I was only 67% sure”. They really played up the character’s awkwardness and vulnerabilities in this movie which explain why she is such an outcast and how she just seemed to float on by in the first movie.

My one negative is where the character goes now, I think that scene after she found out Peter was Spider-Man was definitely her weakest because she just seemed like a very mopey love interest. But then she’ll have kick-ass scenes like knocking out a drone with a mace.

The ending with her swinging around with Peter was already shown in set photos but it was hilarious to see the final thing, I loved how she kept saying she wouldn’t look down and then kept looking down. Then when they landed and her hair had seemingly grown in weight was very funny.

Happy Hogan:

I am so happy for Jan Favreau being a mainstay in the MCU, you would think that after RDJ left that his entourage would also leave. However, now that Happy is seemingly Spider-Man’s support staff it gives him more reason to be around.

I will say this though, everything you see of Happy in the trailers you pretty much see in the movie itself, with some extended scenes. There are a couple more funnier scenes added in but other than that you’ve seen pretty much everything he does in the movie.

As I said, I loved the recurring gag of “ghosting” Nick Fury, it was interesting in the first instance because I swear up until now Happy and Fury have not actually met before, but now Tony is dead I guess they have some association with each other.

His relationship with Aunt May in the movie was a very sweet and understated coupling in the movie. I actually do see the two of them together and it would be great going forward if they remained in a relationship just to give them both something to do other than support Peter Parker.

It was such a great moment when Peter started designing his suit on the plane and Happy was watching in awe. He saw what the audience was meant to see which was Peter acting like Tony Stark.

I have also enjoyed his progression from Tony’s bodyguard to Spider-Man’s right-hand man. Not only did he come and save Peter from the Netherlands, but also he saved Peter’s school friends and put himself in danger in the process.

I really hope Happy continues to be a part of the MCU, even if it is in the Spider-Man movies but also branching out elsewhere.

Brad:

Hudson from Neighbours is in this movie. For anyone that doesn’t know what I’m on about there was a minor-recurring character a few years ago who was a gay competitive swimmer who became romantically involved with a main character at the time but also got into trouble with the police, this was him and I am so glad to see him still working.

I am unsure if the character was part of the first movie, but I am happy to see him here as he was a great example of how The Blip affected Midtown High.

He did present himself as a bit of a douche but also he did start off simply as a decent guy, it was just that he let his competitiveness for wanting to be with MJ and screwing over Peter get the better of him.

This did cause problems for me as the movie progressed, not only did he become the whistle blower that no one listened to and simply came across as a bitter individual, but also there was never really any resolve to his story after the outburst of questioning why Peter was always disappearing.

Aunt May:

Marisa Tomei continues to be a great and innovative Aunt May. I’m still unsure about having a younger and somewhat hotter Aunt rather than the sweet old lady we are used to but I still say Sally Field in The Amazing Spider-Man movies was my favourite of the bunch.

I am really happy that she set up her charitable rehoming shelter as she has done in the comics and the latest Spider-Man game. Her delivery of when she “blipped back” into existence and the new tenants of her apartment thought she was a ghost or a mistress was hilarious.

I do think May was a bit harsh to Happy, I don’t think she led him on but she clearly invited him to her office and you don’t do that if there’s not something there more than just a summer fling.

I am a fan of the fact that May now knows of Peter being Spider-Man and supporting him in his endeavours, as well as using him to boost support for her homeless campaign.

Maria Hill:

Much like Fury, it is hard to say how well Maria did in this movie because she spent the entire movie as a Skrull. However in terms of Cobie Smulders performance, I am glad she got more screen time than she has done recently.

Although she didn’t have many lines, she had a lot to do action wise. I loved in the climactic battle when she went to the roof with that bazooka because both she and Fury had anticipated Mysterio’s drone being sent to assassinate the two.

Ned:

If I found Ned annoying in Spider-Man: Homecoming, I found him unbearable in this one. Not only are the negative qualities of him from the first movie back in force here, but that added story of Ned and Betty getting into a relationship was simply pointless and made Ned even more unlikeable if possible.

First of all, I don’t care how he defends himself, Ned got a girlfriend and then blew Peter off despite not only being adamant in wanting the two guys to be American bachelors in Europe but also in supposedly being Spider-Man’s “guy in the chair”.

Also, Brad’s jealousy over Peter was understandable and actually good for the movie, Ned being jealous of MJ after she found out about Peter being Spider-Man was just pathetic. Not only because that is the point when he actually tries to help Spider-Man but also because MJ didn’t really need him, no one did.

Teachers:

With the teachers in the movie, I will say I miss Selenis Leyva as physics teacher Monica Warren from the first movie. Not only because her being Latina fit in rather well with the Queens neighbourhood, but also because it was some gender diversity in the ranks.

Here we have the Caucasian Harrington and Mr. Dell who I believe was created for the movie after J.B. Smoove was involved in the Audi commercial with Tom Holland to promote the first movie.

I do agree with Dell about there being no science on the science field trip and this is also why I’d prefer Monica Warren to be there over Harrington, Harrington is a crap teacher. Not only did he not plan ahead with the trip but also his incompetence nearly got a bus-load of students killed. Bearing in mind he was also the teacher responsible during the Washington incident.

Students:

Aside from the students already mentioned, the other students involved in the movie are Betty Brandt, Flash Thompson and Jason Ionello. I thought on the whole the students of Midtown High still continue to be a great and modernly accurate portrayal of Queens in the present day, but also they proved themselves necessary to the movie rather than just clutter in the way.

Post-Credits:

Alright so we have two very juicy post-credits scenes that not only shape the next Spider-Man movie but also the future of the MCU.

The first scene picks up directly where the movie ended and has Peter return MJ to the ground before taking off for some superheroism. However he is then stopped by a breaking news bulletin which was set up by Mysterio and delivered by William Ginter Riva showing a doctored version of events in the climactic battle where apparently Spider-Man was the one orchestrating the drone strike and Mysterio was the hero who Spider-Man killed.

The bulletin then cut to none other than J. Jonah Jameson, returning to the live-action Spider-Man movies portrayed by the one and only J.K. Simmons. My audience cheered at this point because not only is it about time Jameson returned to the movies but to have J.K. reprise the role he is probably most notable for is a delight.

Although here, the Daily Bugle seems to be an online media outlet rather than a newspaper company but for the modern day it works rather well.

However, believing that Peter will one day get a job at the Daily Bugle seems very slim with the reveal that Mysterio identified Spider-Man as Peter Parker, meaning the world now knows Spider-Man’s identity. I want to see the fallout now.

The end-credits scene shows Fury and Hill in a car before shapeshifting into Talos and his wife Soren from Captain Marvel. Talos reports to the real Nick Fury who is in front of the most fake green-screen imaginable as it is revealed he is actually on some form of space-station crewed by Skrulls.

This could be a myriad of things, but my favourite theory is that this is the start of S.W.O.R.D. to become Fury’s new organization after S.H.I.E.L.D.

Overall I rate the movie an 8/10, I’m not going to say it’s a perfect movie but it is a brilliant movie and definitely the movie needed to follow up after Avengers: Endgame.

So that’s my review of Spider-Man: Far From Home, what did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Marvel Movie Reviews as well as other Movie Reviews and posts.

[keezree]

He’s All the Rage! Ch:6

((heads up if you’re reading this in public, this chapter gets a little zesty :v))  Sitting in the silent library, watching the dust particles float in the air as they were caught in the light filtering through the windows, you began to feel very drowsy.

You couldn't recall how long you had been going over the gems with Ripto but it felt like hours. After looking at each gem, inspecting it visually, he would hold it in his hand as if weighing something in it. “ I'm seeing how it reacts to my own magic.” He explained, seeing your curious stare. You nodded in understanding. Picking up a gem yourself, you would feel something within it but only for a flash. These gems had magic in them but it was very faint. “How do I check them properly if it is your magic that they need to be matched with?” He tossed his current gem aside to a steadily increasing pile and selected another one. “ Just feel for ones that seem powerful. I'll take it from there.” You nodded and continued on assisting. While there was some amount of power within the gems, none of them really stood out to you. One or two of them caught Ripto's eye but after a closer inspection he huffed and threw it down into the pile. Soon the discarded lump of gems had grown larger than the ones to be processed and Ripto took a large, back popping stretch. A group of gem cutter riptocs arrived with a fresh new pile, removing the useless ones. The two of you once more began your inspection of the pile. It was tedious work but kind of fun. Like peeling potatoes but only with magic rocks. Curiously, as you inspected more and more gems you began to feel like you had over exerted yourself. Fatigue began to creep in. Before you knew it your head had slowly lowered itself on the table and sleep overcame you. Meanwhile, a search was underway... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- In Shady Oasis, one of the Autumn Plains sub-worlds, a tall tree sporting vibrant red berries began shaking. The winged hippos that resided there jumped in alarm at the sudden appearance of an orange, spotted, feline head popping out of the green foliage with a berry in his mouth. He took a big chomp out of it. “Not here either...” He jumped down and took off to another portal, leaving the hippos to watch his departure in confusion. In Glimmer, a sub-world of Summer Forest, Elora looked about scratching her head. “Where could they have gone to?” Winter Tundra's sub-world of Robotica Farms hummed with activity for a moment and then a dishevelled Professor came flying out. He landed with a thud in front of the glowing portal. “Oh! They aren't there either...” He stood rubbing at his backside, deciding that was the last time he ever visited a farm. The three of them collected in the fields of Autumn Plains. They all looked disheartened and weary. “Any sign of the human Professor?” Elora sighed as she saw the lab coat wearing mole approach. He simply shook his head and looked down at the ground in defeat. “I haven't seen them either. But I did get a healthy lunch in.” Hunter stood thoughtfully with his hand on his hip. Elora shook her head disapprovingly. “We're supposed to be looking for the human Hunter! Not food!” Hunter held his hands in front of him, defending himself from Elora's scolding. “Well I was hungry! You can't have a search party on an empty stomach!” The three of them stood in thought for a moment when a small purple and orange blur charged up to them from the direction of Skelos Badlands. “Spyro!” Elora greeted the purple dragon. “Anything?” The horned fire breather shook his head. “Nothing. I don't get it, where could they be?” Hunter snapped his fingers suddenly. “I got it! Maybe they went back home? With all the trouble Ripto has been causing, they probably thought it was safer to just get out of here. That's what I'd do if I were them” “There's no way we could take a look in the human world to see if they are there, could we Professor?” Elora suggested, turning to the short scientist. He scratched at his head with his pencil, sorting through his thoughts. “Hrmmm...We'll, I have an idea. It just might work...” He removed the pencil from his scalp and continued scratching at the ever present clipboard in his hand. “Yes, that just might do it!” “Do what?” Elora said impatiently, imploring him to reveal his thoughts. “If I can match the magic frequencies of the human, I may be able to pinpoint their location and open the Super Portal. However once open, we can't linger there, if that is where they truly are. The human world is far too dangerous for creatures like us. Our magic wouldn't survive there long.” Hunter scratched at his chin. “What? Why wouldn't we survive there? I'm sure Spyro could handle any threat.” The Professor shook his head. “Hunter, humans drain magic, remember?” Elora gestured towards the feline fellow. “What's in their world anyway? There aren't any dragons?” Spyro peered up at his bipedal companions while a blue Sparx fluttered about his head. “No, there isn't anything but humans and fodder creatures there Spyro. I'm still unsure as to why Home World humans have such a leeching effect on magical energies but they do.” The Professor began walking towards the inter-world platforms. “Just one human here isn't all that much of a problem. In any case, we need to find them and make sure they're okay.” Spyro nodded. “Got it, I'll loop around here again and meet you all in Winter Tundra.” “Alright, see you later Spyro.” Elora waved then ran to catch up with Hunter and the Professor. Spyro took a look around. His nose sniffed at the air looking for your scent. “They've gotta be around here somewhere Sparx. It smells like they just came through.” Sparx did a little spin around in the air and buzzed in his tiny voice, pointing towards the blank space in the small archway your portal once rested. “Hrmm...” Spyro trotted over and knelt down, whiffing at the ground there. Your scent was faded and in no way recent. “They must not have gone home then. But where could they be?” Raising his nose to the air, he thought he caught wind of you and began galloping over to the interworld portals. “Maybe they passed onto Winter Tundra and the others found them.”   Spyro neared the platforms by the bottom of the castles ladders when he heard a soft laugh from above. He halted and turned his gaze upwards. The thin smile of Moneybags peered down at him. “Looking for something or perhaps, someone, my dear boy?” Spyro cocked his head at Moneybags and his eyes looked to Sparx then back to the dapper bear. “Why, you got some info?” Moneybags responded by lifting his gem bag up and shaking it slightly, clinking the gems together therein. “What a piece of work...” Spyro reared his head back in annoyance. “Ugh, fine. Come down here and I'll give you some gems.” His shoulders sunk in defeat as Moneybags descended the ladders. He held the bag open to Spyro who nodded at Sparx. Sparx retrieved some gems and placed them in the bag. He returned to Spyro's side and faced Moneybags, waiting for him to divulge his secrets. The bear looked into the bag then up to the sky in thought with a discerning look scrawled on his face. He hefted the bag in his hands and shook it once more, encouraging more gems from Spyro. Spyro lowered his head, shaking it in disbelief. Raising it halfway he turned to his dragonfly companion once more. “Go ahead Sparx. It's for a good cause.” Sparx planted more gems in the bag and then pointed from his eyes to Moneybags in an 'I'm watching you' fashion. Moneybags weighed his jewel sack in his hand and seemed satisfied. He then turned to the two winged friends. “My sources tell me that a certain human was seen entering the super portal a few nights ago.” Spyro jumped up on all fours. “So they did go home! That's good to know. Let's hurry and tell the Professor Sparx.” He turned to climb the platform when Moneybags tutted at him. “Let me finish my dear scaly friend!” Spyro walked back over, claws ticking against the cobblestone floor. “When they departed Winter Tundra, they were not alone.” The smug bear smiled, inspecting his claws. “Oh yeah? Who were they with? And don't say that it's gonna cost extra or I'll have Elora get after you.” Moneybags grasped at his gem bag like it was his child and cleared his throat. “No! No, that won't be necessary. Alright, alright Spyro. When I saw the human leave through the portal, they were accompanied by none other than a certain sinister sorcerer and his two reptilian lackeys.” Spyro shook his head. “What? No! I know I torched those guys. How could they still be alive?” He turned to Sparx who gave a little six legged shrug. Moneybags raised one hand in a 'who knows' gesture and for fear of losing his newly found precious gems began climbing back up into the castle. “Believe what you want my dear boy. I'm simply telling you what I heard through the grapevine. Cheerio.” Spyro watched as the bear left his view. “This can't be good. If Ripto somehow survived and kidnapped the human, who knows what could happen. Let's go buddy.” He and Sparx ascended the platform and disappeared into the next home world. Upon his arrival, the others who were already waiting greeted him. “Hey again Spyro. We're trying to open the portal but the Professor can't seem to find the switch.” Elora crossed her arms. “We're thinking maybe Hunter might have had something to do with it but he won't fess up.” she glared at him from over her shoulder. He raised his hands and shook them. “Don't look at me, I swear I haven't done anything with it!” “That's what I've come to tell you guys about! I just met Moneybags in Autumn Plains. He said he thought he saw ____ leave through the portal- With Ripto!” Hunter gasped and Elora took on a skeptical look. “And you're just gonna believe what Moneybags said? Spyro, Ripto is dead. You took care of him remember?” Spyro nodded. “I know, I know Elora. But what if Moneybags was telling the truth?” The Professor shook his head, troubled. “Oh...If that really was the case then that would be terrible news. Ripto kidnapping our poor friend. They know nothing of magic. How could they possibly defend themselves?” “Well! We'll just have to go and save them then! Won't we?” Spyro stood tall, stretching his wings. Elora laughed and motioned for Spyro to calm down. “First let's see if they are actually there Spyro. Maybe Moneybags was just pulling your leg. He...He didn't make you pay for him to tell you that did he?” Spyro looked away to his side. “Uhm...” Elora placed her palm over her face and gave a sigh. “Well, if we're going to open this portal to Ripto's home world, I'm going to need to make a new set of controls. It won't be easy, the materials I used were very specific, reacting to the magic of the portal and reassigning where it reached out to.”  The Professor approached Spyro. “If you can go to perhaps Fracture Hills or Magma Cone and collect some of the spirit particles of the Earth Shapers, I might be able to use them to fashion a new switch. Their spirits may have enough earth magic in them to get the results I need.” “Got it, I'll head on over to Magma Cone then.” He jumped on all fours, wagging his tail. “Alright Spyro, me and Hunter will check out Fracture Hills. I've got a few friends there that can help us collect the particles. This should take no time.” Elora grabbed onto Hunter before he could run away. The Professor nodded while scribbling on his clipboard. “I'll wait her for you four to return. I'm going to stay and inspect the portal to look for any sort of tampering. I might be able to see the portals history, to check the locations of where it had been opened to previously. It may keep some sort of energy records. If Ripto's world was reopened, then we'd know for sure of ____'s fate.” The group split and began their collection, leaving the Professor to scratch away on his paper. --------------------------------------------------------------------- When you stirred awake, sunlight no longer stretched its beams down through the window. The dark night sky took its place and blinking the sleep from your eyes you saw that candles had been lit here and there around the library. You brought your face up off the table, your cheek felt smushed and cold from being against the surface for so long. You rubbed at your eyes and when the room finally swam back into your vision, you were surprised to see a smiling Ripto, watching you from across the table. “Sleep well?” His face was propped up in his hands, knuckles curled under his chin as he leaned forwards on his elbows. “Sorry, how long was I out?” You looked around the room for a clock or something but couldn't find one. “Not long. I've finished with the gems.” You felt bad for falling asleep, having to make him do all the work. Why had you passed out? It was probably the exhaustion of everything that had happened thus far. Your gaze was drawn to the large pile next to the table. So many gems! “Thanks for letting me rest. Do you usually have to go through so many in order to find a decent one?” Ripto shook his head, frowning. “No, not usually.” He picked one of the gems back up from the pile. “Something is wrong with them.” He hefted it in his hand. “ They feel different and I can't quite put my finger on it. Bah! No matter.” He tossed it back with the rest and it landed with a light, feathery, clink of glass. “Could it be that you're tired also?” You asked, reaching across the table to take his clawed hand. He nodded, eyebrows raised, allowing for the possibility. “Well, what's say we leave this be for now and get something to eat?” It had been a while since the fruit and bread you had munched on earlier, so you nodded vigorously. You both stood, leaving the gem pile and making your way to the dining hall. When you arrived a few of Ripto's servants took notice of you and immediately went to work. You were impressed by how quickly his staff got into action at preparing his meal. He trotted up to the lone chair that sat at the long table. The dried dead roses that sat atop the mantelpiece had been replaced and in their place fresh ones stood beautiful and vibrantly crimson against the lilac walls. Your wish for a chair for yourself was granted when you felt one of the riptocs push it in behind you, buckling your knees so you involuntarily sat down in it Dishware and cutlery was laid out for you to use yourself as well as a napkin draped over your lap. This was a little much. You were so used to making your own meals and just eating whatever was in your fridge. Yet now here you sat at a luxurious table, waiting for who knows what kind of fancy meal. Your chair was a ways away from Ripto's along the side of the banquet table. Wanting to be closer you started scooting your chair up to his. He looked to you frowning, as the squeak of the chairs legs against the floor sang out into the room. “Maybe I'll just er...” You stood and picked up the chair, moving it beside him. You gathered your plates and things and brought them also. “I hope this is okay.” You said to Ripto as you plopped down in your chair. “I want to be near you.” He gave a soft smile and nodded. “Of course. I don't mind.” You carefully reached your hand under the table grasped at his. You felt him squeeze your hand back as he smiled over the table to you. Shortly after, a few servants piled into the room carrying dishes of vegetables, fish and various other extravagant meals. It smelled absolutely divine. “Please, enjoy!” Ripto gestured to the food set before you. You began awkwardly picking at the dishes, once more feeling unfit for something like this. Ah well, you weren't one to waste food. You became a bit more eager to eat once you placed your forkful of food in your mouth. It tasted incredible! “Are you thirsty? Can I offer you something? Water? Wine? Er...Milk?” You could really go for something warm. Coffee or tea perhaps. You made your request and no sooner had you asked, with the snap of his clawed fingers your desired beverage was procured and set before you. Cupping the warm cup in your hands, you breathed in the aroma. You took a sip and felt it warm you from your stomach. Ahhh, that was much better. You felt your brain come back to life and the two of you finished your meal in silence. When you were both done, the plates were gathered and taken away to be cleaned. “Are you going back to look at more gems?” You asked as Ripto stood from his chair. He hummed thoughtfully. “I'd been thinking about it. Perhaps you are right thought. I haven't had a good nights sleep since that purple demon had shown up. Now that I'm home in my own bed, it shouldn't be a problem resting.” Exiting the dinging hall, Ripto made to head upstairs to his room. When he began climbing the steps, he noticed you weren't following. He turned to look down at you, one hand resting on the banister that followed up the side of the steps. “ Aren't you coming?” You weren't tired, having just woken from your table nap and you were also curious about outside of the castle. Being cooped up in that musty library made you crave fresh air. “ I was thinking I'd go out and explore. I want to see your land.” He seemed a little dissapointed but nodded in understanding. “Very well. I'll go lie down a bit. Er-Take Crush along with you. He'll keep an eye on you while you're out there. It's dark after all and you don't know your way around. Agreeing to take along the blueberry boy escort you reassured him you'd be safe and watched as he completed the journey up the carpeted stairs. After inquiring as to Crush's whereabouts from one of the servants, you were pointed to the gardens outside. The moon shone overhead, painting the dark green grass with its soft glow. Trees stood out as shadows in the dark night, their leaves rustling softly. Crush was napping under the moonlight, curled up in a flowerbed, squishing it. You were pretty sure he shouldn't have been resting where he was but you weren't going to reprimand him for it. You were worried about waking him, not wanting to disturb his sleep when you saw him stir. “Hey, you awake bud?” You whispered loud enough that should he be awake he'd hear you. Crush answered your question by turning his head to look for the voices owner. “It's me. Ripto told me to take you along on my walk. If you don't want to that's cool. I'm not going far.” Crush yawned and stood up stretching. You noticed he still had his giant wings that you had granted him with your wand. How long before Ripto makes you change them back, you wondered. The blue lad ambled up to you, apparently happy to come along for the walk. You reached for your wand, safely tucked in your tunic. It glistened in the pale moonlight. Maybe you could practice some spells while you were out here. You and Crush toured the garden, looking around. It was very pretty, lots of roses and other flowers lie there. The petals were curled up in slumber, waiting for the sun to come wake them again. Behind the garden you saw the dark looming shadow of the castle against the night sky, lights were slowly being extinguished as the residents turned in for the night. The flowers gave you an idea. Returning to the spot Crush had been lying, you wondered if you could freshen them up a bit. You once more focused your magic on the plants and imagined them growing back, straight up and full. Crush observed you from behind, curious as to what you were doing. Extending your wand, you took aim at the crumpled vegetation and imagined your magic flowing out into the world, guiding the flowers back to life. The wand fizzled and sparked but nothing happened. “Huh, what th-” An awful crack sounded in the air and the blast that rocketed out of your wand shot you straight back into Crush, knocking him off his feet. You lie there winded, staring up at the starry sky. “HOLY SHIT!” You peeled yourself off the ground and looked to see if Crush was alright. He stood shaking his head giving you a confused and angry look. “Sorry! I...I'm not sure what happened. Maybe it got damaged somehow.” Lifting the wand to inspect it in the moonlight, you saw nothing. Maybe you should check once you get inside under the better lighting. For now you decided it was best if you stopped your practice. You looked to the flowers to see just what sort of damage had been done but they were fine. Better than fine. The roses stood full and proud, the shrub seemed a bit bigger than the others around it but other than that it looked perfectly normal. Once more you found yourself feeling terribly exhausted. Maybe it was the sudden launching of yourself into Crush or the calm night air or the delicious meal in your stomach. Either way you decided to call it a night. Bidding Crush goodnight, you returned to the castle and ascended the steps. You reached the top and made it to the door leading to Ripto's bedroom. Should you maybe just go sleep on a couch or something? You didn't want to assume it was okay to just barge in or disturb Ripto in case he was sleeping. A riptoc servant in fine clothes approached you. “Ah there you are, here.” They handed you a night robe and some soft slippers, they bore the familiar gold 'R.' “My Lord said to give these to you when you returned.” You took the soft clothes and looked about confused. “Erm...” You wanted to ask where it was you were to sleep but the servant mistook your silence as a demand. “Oh! The door!” They flailed and turned the knob for you. “ My apologies oh great one! Please get some rest.” You entered the dark room, awkwardly thanking the riptoc as they closed the door behind you. Somewhere within you could hear the soft sounds of Ripto's breathing. It was slow and peaceful. He must have been asleep. Changing into your sleeping robe in the dark, you kept an eye on his small frame. He hadn't noticed you enter, still peacefully asleep. You had considered curling up in the chair that was in front of the fireplace but then thought he might take offence to it. You could almost hear him. “What's wrong with my bed? It perfectly comfy!” Or perhaps he'd think it was him that you were avoiding. Though, he knew you tended to take the more polite route of things and would catch on to your considerate intentions. You took a few tentative steps, trying to be quiet, towards the chair. Stopping halfway when you heard him sigh in his sleep. Aw, what the heck. Why not, you thought. You turned to crawl into the bed beside him. Folding the blankets back carefully and sliding yourself up on the bed. You settled, getting ready to pull the blankets over you when the sudden pressure on the bed alerted him. He shot up looking around. “Shh! It's just me.” You placed a hand on his back, reassuring him. Realizing who had suddenly joined him he relaxed a bit, snuggling back into the blankets. He looked so cozy and inviting that you scooted over and gently wrapped your arms around him. Ripto looked up at you from under his big blanket and you felt as his arm untangled itself from the covers and snaked its way around you, bringing you in closer. You gave him a peck on the forehead and nuzzled in closer, bringing your head against his. He returned the smooch and the two of you settled in for the night, cozy, soft, safe and warm. While it was peaceful here however, outside it was much less so. Under the gaze of the silvery moon, beneath its own blanket made of stars, something stirred in the garden... _________________________ Softly rolling over you stretched your arms, breathing in deeply. You blinked up at the ceiling from your plush, nimbus like bed. Not recognizing it for a second you panicked. This was the first time you had actually slept since arriving in the dragon realms, momentarily forgetting your situation. You started to sit up, confusion masking your half lidded bleary eyes when a familiar voice grounded you. “Well, hello there.” You looked for the voice amongst the pile of blanket mountains and used your hand to push them out of your view. Ripto popped into view across the sheets and you smiled lazily at him. “Mrrnin.” You greeted him. “How you feelin this morning?” You mumbled, remembering how fatigued he was last night. He gestured with his hand. “Rested but I still feel sort of funny. A bit drained. I'm sure it'll go away once I'm more awake.” You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and rolled over to face him properly. He was watching you, his head propped up on his arm. You felt his eyes trail over you, enjoying the scene. You giggled bashfully and pulled the blankets up past your face. “No come back.” He chucked softly, reaching out and tugging the blanket back down. In the soft morning light you watched each other from across the white ocean of sheets. You could hear the sounds of the busy castle around you, muted behind the solid walls. The light creeping in through the window danced on Ripto's soft cheeks just so, making them look extra soft and kissable. In the intimate silence, you reached over and motioned for him. “C'mere.” You whispered. The easy look on his face turned into a cautious one as he looked about. Was he nervous? You were a bit. Yet you wanted him close. He tensely scooted over, under your outstretched arm. You wrapped him in close, pressing your chest and stomach against his. Ripto folded his arms around your back, placing his palms just above your backside. Smirking down at him, you reached for his hand and slid it down onto your buttocks. “Oh, how erm...How forward.” While unsure, he clearly seemed to enjoy your tampering with his hand placement as evidenced by the twisting smile marking his face. “Is that alright?” You whispered down to him, kissing from his forehead down to his nose. He simply nodded his reply and gave your butt a tentative squeeze. You giggled and leaning in, claimed his mouth with yours in a deep kiss. You felt his nose huff out a breath against your face.

Wanting to feel more of his form, you trailed your hands down his back and then, flicked at the bottom of his shirt with your fingers, asking permission, tucking them in and under. When he didn't protest, you cupped his back, letting your hands smooth over his leathery but soft skin. He sighed at your warm touch, leaning into you. Letting himself relax a bit more, he moved his hands upwards and gently began exploring your form also. You felt as his hands tickled your sides, moving along your waist, up to your shoulders, then down your front, caressing your chest and stomach, savouring the feel of every arch and curve of your body. His claws trailed along, sharp but not painful. His touch sent a thrill through you and you parted from the kiss just barely, breathing out a huff of passion. Through heavy lids he gazed up at you, his cat like eyes dilated. Stretching your leg out, you wrapped it up and around his top leg and nudged it in between yours in one motion. When you did this, his hands trailed down to your hips gripping them tightly. You in turn moved your hands to his backside pulling him firm against your hips. He hummed into your lips, his voice pulling from deep in his throat. It was such an enticing sound that you licked your tongue out, tasting along his lower lip. You felt his hot breath against it and then found your tongue matched against his as it darted out, flicking against yours with its bifurcated tip. It offered such a delightful sensation, feeling both individual tips of it touch upon yours. You let out a light, lustful giggle and once more claimed his mouth, half straddling him, you pushed him slightly onto his back. His hand reached up suddenly and pushed at your shoulders a bit. Worrying it was a protest you retreated slightly, allowing him some space. “Are we...Are we doing this?” He breathed out. Leaning in you planted a few soft kisses along his neck and gently whispered in his ear as your mouth neared it. “If you'd like, then yes.” His gaze lingered on your eyes and then your lips, mulling over some thought. When he made his decision, he gave you his answer by reaching up and pulling your mouth back down onto his. You rocked your hips into his and drew out another guttural hum, as you stretched him out on his back. Revelling in the bulge you felt press against your lower stomach. Peering down at his flushed, needy eyes, you let him tug at your night robe, pulling it up and over your head. He smiled and chuckled victoriously at the sight of your bare form before him. He leaned in and placed his lips along your shoulder and down your chest. On occasion, you could feel his teeth scrape against your flesh. They were sharp like his claws but they didn't hurt. You desperately wanted him to sink his teeth into you, chomping down on your neck. His hot breath and wet tongue trailed up and down your neck as he gripped at your back with his claws. You wanted to make your request when you heard a soft knock on the door. Either Ripto ignored it or didn't hear it and continued placing kisses along your chin. Another knock sounded off, louder this time. “Oh for...Why are they bothering me at a time like this?” He hissed, leaning back into the pillows and scrunching his eyes in frustration. “Your grace? Please it's an emergency!” A voice called out from the other side of the door. Ripto sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Maybe we should check it out.” You offered, propping yourself up on your elbows. He let out a sigh from deep in his core and flung his arms to the side against the mattress in defeat. “Oh...Fiiiine.” He grumbled, extracting himself from underneath you. “Don't worry, Its not like I'm going anywhere. We can check out what's wrong, sort it out and then come back here and, well...” You gave a cheeky wink, letting him fill in the sentence himself. He smirked at you from the middle of the room as he donned his day clothes. You grinned to yourself as you saw small wet beads,  seeping through the front of his pants. You really must have got him hot and bothered. Thinking you should probably get dressed too, you climbed out of the tangle of blankets. “You're grace-” “I'm coming!” Ripto shouted to the riptoc in the hall. “ Hmm...not yet.” You teased. He tsk'd at you but there was no frown on his face. Once clothed, Ripto flung open the door, startling the servant on the other side. “WHAT?!” He bellowed in their face. The servant cowered under Ripto's glare. “Well you see sir, there's something funny happening in the garden.” Ripto cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at the help. “Funny how?” The riptoc flailed, taking a step back from Ripto's glare. “I think you should see it for yourself boss.” With a shake of his head Ripto exited the room. You followed suit, closing the door behind you. As you passed the riptoc, he gave you a funny look. “Sorry to disturb your slumber.” He said with a slight laugh in his voice. Descending the stairs you passed more saurian servants, all of them tittered when your presence passed by. You wanted to question it but waited until you had exited the front door with Ripto. “I don't get it, why are they all laughing at me?” Ripto turned, a sly smile twisting his face into an awful sort of glee. “It's your scent.” You balked. “What?” Ripto let out a breathy laugh. “Your scent.” He repeated, leaning into your neck and breathing you in. “You just reek of lust.” You felt a frown take hold of your face as embarrassment welled up in your chest. “Oh, I'm...I'm sorry er.” You faltered. Aw jeez. You had forgotten that everyone here had a more sensitive nose than you. Ripto pulled you in closer and kissed at your neck. “No, no! Don't be sorry.” His face turned up and he met your eyes with his. “It's absolutely wonderful.” The toothy smile that split his face made you want to cover yours. You continued on, wondering what could possibly have been such an issue to call Ripto and you away from your...activities. You didn't even have to get to the garden itself to figure it out. “The rosebush!” You cried. Standing there, stretching up in a huge mesh of tangled thorns, the rosebush from the night before now looked nightmare-esque. “What? You know something about this?” Ripto eyed you suspiciously. You gave him a nod and then explained what had happened the night before. He listened carefully and then asked to see your wand. You procured it from your tunic and handed it to him. “There's nothing odd about it. Just a fairy wand.” He handed it back to you. “Show me what you did. What spell did you use?” You demonstrated your spell again on another nearby plant. Once more, you heard the air splitting crack of magic as it burst out towards the flowers. You fell back on your behind in the recoil of the blast. “What in the world was that?” He eyed you incredulously. You stood, brushing yourself off. “I dunno. It just started happening last night.” You felt tired again, as if you had used up all of your energy in that one blast. Ripto looked you up and down but this time with a look of confusion in his eyes. “Just how powerful are you?” Shrugging you shook your head. “I'm not sure. I'm actually pretty new at magic. I don't even know how I do it.” You explained to Ripto as he listened intently. “I just sort of, reach out into the world and take magic into myself. Then I use it to do whatever spell I need at the time.” He blinked at you in confusion. “Wait, you absorb magic directly from the world?” Your shoulders shrunk down, feeling worried now. “Is that not normal?” Ripto's face was now wearing an unreadable expression. Sort of a mix of suspicion and disbelief. “____. If I could channel magic from the world itself, I wouldn't be looking for a new gem for my scepter.” Realization crept onto his face. “Of course...” You cocked your head curiously. “What is it?” “Of course there was nothing in the gems. That's why they felt so devoid of magic. You must have been draining them of it.” Draining them of it... Something stirred in your memory. “It’s true yes that humans aren’t normally allowed here. Some live here, but not like the ones from the Human Home World. They are greedy and drain magic from places like ours. No magic exists there anymore. Not the kind we’re used to anyway.” “I think I know why I absorb magic.” Ripto neared you cautiously. “What have you been hiding from me?” He demanded, though there was no force in his voice. With a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, you explained to Ripto that you were from the human world. You told him of just how you had arrived, recounting your arrival and what the Professor had told you about Human World humans versus Dragon Realm humans. “So you're saying you steal magic from things around you?” He mused thoughtfully. “Not intentionally. I'd very much like to not do that.” You fidgeted, worried he was upset. “That's why my gems seemed so useless. That's why I've been feeling so weakened lately. You've been taking my magic from me!” He looked like he was going to get worked up, his fists balled tightly. “I'm sorry. Is there a way to block it? To stop it from happening?” You wanted to reassure him but was afraid he wouldn't believe you. Ripto stood, one hip jutting out while his arm folded around himself, propping up his elbow as he scratched at his chin. “I may have a solution.” The two of you wandered back up to the castle and into his study. Once there, he dove into various drawers and cupboards, pulling out a couple of rings. Every time he found a ring, he'd approach you and lift your hand, trying to see if the ring matched your finger size. Carelessly tossing ill fitting rings back over his shoulder to wherever in the room. Finally, he found one that fit you and he set to work. Brushing the clutter off of his desk, he placed the ring and produced his scepter. It was missing it's crystal still. Thanks to me, you thought regretfully. From a chest on the floor, he brought forth the gems you had thought were magicless. Placing them around the ring on the table, he prepared a spell. “There should be just enough charge left in all of these gems combined to help me bind this ring.” Twirling his scepter, he charged his magic through it and cast a beam at the ring and gems. They all lifted in the buzzing air as the gems turned into light and shot into the ring. Once the ring had absorbed them all, it plunk down on the table. Ripto retrieved it and placed it on your hand. “I've put a binding spell on the ring. It should keep your magic self contained and prevent you from taking anymore magic from the world or my gems.” You bowed your head with guilt. “I'm sorry.” Ripto stood facing you, his arms crossed, “I wish you had told me sooner.” “I didn't think it was this bad. I hadn't realized what I had been doing.” Every time you touched the gems last night, you must have sucked their magic into yourself, storing insane amounts of energy within you and causing those amped up spells to explode. Perhaps you had been doing the same to Ripto, draining his magic with your touch. You both stood in the silent study, worry weighing down on you. Was he mad? Hopefully you hadn't botched things with him. He did take the liberty of making you the ring to help keep your magic from leeching more off of the world. So if he was angry with you, it wasn't enough to merit his usual aggressive demeanour. You couldn't take the weight of the silence anymore and so you spoke. “Are you upset?” He looked up at you from underneath his furrowed brows. They softened a bit as he eyed you. “...No. But no more secrets!” His clawed hand pointed his demand at you. Relief washed over you, but you didn't relax just yet. You'd believe he wasn't upset when you saw it, you thought. He was an awfully suspicious fellow and you were afraid he was going to put his guard back up against you. “Now that I'm bound, maybe we can finally find you a crystal for your scepter.” You offered. Ripto nodded. “Sure. After breakfast. All this excitement so early in the morning has got me working up an appetite.” He made to walk past you but you reached out to him. While he said he wasn't upset, you wanted proof yourself. Bringing him closer to you, you embraced him with a kiss. He melded into you, taking in your affection. Once more you apologized. “I truly am sorry I was stealing the magic from you and your gems.” Ripto chuckled and kissed you once more. “You just want all of me don't you? My magic, my body...” You laughed softly, glad to see him smile at you again. “So what if I do? What if I want to keep you all to myself? And in return you can have all of me.” Ripto mulled your offer over in his head, smiling and nodding at the prospect. “Sounds like a fair trade. Alright then. Consider that binding ring to be an engagement one as well.” You blinked, unsure if you were processing what he was saying correctly. “...Wut?” He turned to smile at you from the door, propping his hands on the frame either side of him. “You wanted all of me didn't you? Well, that ring now means you're mine. You're stuck with me forever now.” You stared on, mouth agape in a stupid kinda smile. “You mean...like...marriage?” He gave you a smirking wink and took a step back, pleased with the effect of his words on you, and slowly started strutting casually down the hall so you could catch up. Well! There's your proof that he's not upset, you thought.

[jackblankhsh]

A Blood Red Reindeer Knows -- Part 7:  Under the Krampus Mark

Death has a weird way of making people immortal.  The flesh may been six feet under, but the legend is a star in the sky.  People tell tales about Krampus the way they swap bogeyman stories.  The worst part about the stories is that they're all true.  Like the time Krampus forced a candy-maker to eat her own caramel-coated hand.  

 Still, Krampus died ages ago.  Back in the day he and Big Red ran the whole show.  Then Big Red decided he didn't care to share.  Krampus took two copper rounds to the back of the head.  They say his skull is still up on the wall in Big Red's office.  

 Standing outside the building with the Krampus mark I can't help admiring the artist.  It's almost a kind of Rorschach striking a primal chord.  A tribal inspired mess of jagged lines clustered into the semblance of a goat skull -- there's an occult quality to it I doubt is by accident.  In a way, it's the perfect street tag:  marking property, and saying go away in one symbol.  

 The building itself is nothing exceptional.  The Krampus mark is the only thing setting it apart.  Otherwise, I can't see anything other than a brownstone two-flat.

 A goose in rags shuffles by shaking a tin can, "Help a honker out."

 I flash a few bucks, and ask, "What do you know about that place?"

 The goose squints at the money.  Licking his bill he shakes his head, "Horrible spot.  I stay away from there."

 I deposit a c-note in the cup -- courtesy of Black Jack -- then ask, "Why's that?"

 Scratching a wing the goose says, "Weird folks go in and out of there all the time.  I don't know who, but I know trouble when I see it."

 Slipping another bill in I ask, "Anybody in there now?"

 Shaking his head the goose says, "Nope, and I pay attention.  I'd choke on a stone before talking to any of them."

 Thanking him I watch the goose waddle away. He pauses at one point to gander at the place before glancing back at me.  Before I can be sure what look he's giving me, he turns away.  The cup rattles, and he calls out, "Help a honker out," though the street is empty.  

 The building resides on the corner.  Windows on all sides make it unlikely to come at the place without being seen. However, I remember a few tricks from my youth.  

 After walking up the block I climb an apartment building's fire escape.  Up on the rooftop -- click, click, click -- I head back towards the Krampus mark.  I used to do this as a kid back when I thought I might be a flier.  Even when those dreams died I kept running along roofs, only then I did it to break in.  Either way, the skills still remained.

 Back at the Krampus building I find an attic window.  Taking a chance I break the glass.  After waiting a minute there's no sign of anyone coming to investigate, so I go inside.

 The only light is a column from the street stabbing in through the window.  At a glance the attic is empty, though I can see a few boxes piled in corners.  It takes a while to find an exit.  The door isn't locked, and I worry I'm wasting my good luck on mediocre wins.

 The second floor isn't much better than the attic.  The rooms are mostly empty except for one.  A set of mismatched chairs around a scarred table.  Spotting letters on the table I use my lighter to read a few pages. However, everything is in gibberish. I'm sure it's a code, but without a key there's no chance of me reading it on my own.  That doesn't stop me from pocketing a page before going downstairs.

 The first floor finally looks like someone lives here.  There are rugs, plenty of furniture, and lamps, though I don't dare turn any on.  The street provides enough light down here.  Yet, I don't see anything worth noticing.  

 Moving towards the back takes me into a kitchen.  The fridge is empty, so are all the drawers.  However, there's a butcher knife in the sink.  Knowing better than to touch it, I flick my lighter to life. The blade is still bloody.  

 A low moan drifts through the house.  My blood chills a degree or two, and I snap the lighter shut.  Waiting in the darkness I start regretting not snatching a gun back at Black Jack's.  It's not like the corpses need them anymore.  I consider grabbing the blade.  However, hearing the moan again I realize it isn't something sinister. Someone is in trouble.

 Following the noise to a door I open it revealing a wooden staircase.  The steps disappear into a dark basement.  Flipping a light switch beside the door brings an illumination my lighter could beat.  

 Each step groans and crackles as if it's about to break.  The moaning gets louder the deeper I go.  Finally I reach the bottom.

 The basement is nothing more than bare brick walls.  The Krampus mark adorns every one.  A few scattered bulbs dangle from wires.  The only furniture is a metal chair, and it's already occupied.  The occupant is a blindfolded elf.  He's tied to it with packaging ribbon.  Stripped to the waist it's easy to see why he's moaning, also how the knife got bloody.  

 His torso is covered in slashes.  His arms and face aren't doing well either.  The tips of his ears are missing.  Someone's been working him over slowly.  Having been on the verge of this nightmare, I can appreciate the situation.

 As I hurry over, he flinches at the sound of my hooves.

 Shuddering he says, "Please!  No more!"

 I say, "Don't worry buddy.  I'm not here to hurt you."

 "Who're you?" he asks in a quivering voice.

 "Not a fan of this lemme tell ya."  

 I pull off the blindfold. He blinks, the dim light blinding.

 He says, "We've gotta hurry.  They could be back any minute."

 Immediately I go to work on the ribbon.  Along the way I ask questions.  He says his name is Elfonso.  He works for urban planning.  

 "They used to ask me questions about the city.  I told everything I know, but then."  He starts to cry.

 So I tell him, "Everything's going to be okay."

 I hate the fact it feels like a lie.

 Elfonso says, "What's going on?"

 I say, "Hate to tell ya, but I was hoping you know."

 He shakes his head. The ribbons finally give way.  His sigh of relief -- I've heard less joyful orgasms.

 Elfonso says, "I don't know who these people are, but I'm sure they're insane.  Look what they did to me."

 Up close the wreckage is even worse.  He's a trail of canyons.  Poor guy is bound to be scarred for life.  

 Helping him to his feet I have to ask, "Why'd they do it?"

 "It was like some initiation thing.  The one in the mask would say, 'Prove you're one of us.'  Then they'd give the knife to someone and..." he trails off, but I don't press him.  I can guess the details.  

 So again I lie, "It's going to be okay.  You're getting out of here."

 Sure enough that's the cue for the sound of a door closing upstairs.  Elfonso sucks in a breath.  I get the feeling a scream is coming, so slap a hand over his mouth.  

 The only way out is the stairs.  Worse, it doesn't take a genius to realize there's nowhere to hide down here.  The best of our bad options is to get under the stairs, though I doubt it would take a blind fool long to find us there. Since it's better than nothing, hand over his mouth, I drag us there.  I can feel Elfonso shivering in my arms, sweat is already pouring out of him.

 Footsteps above.  I can't be sure how many, but more than one.

 A gravelly voice says, "Basement 's open."

 Another voice responds, but down here I can't hear it.  

 Boots thud, and the steps groan.  Elfonso starts to wriggle.  His sweaty body is hard to hold onto.  The boots continue to slowly descend.  Elfonso struggles more.

 I whisper, "Hold still."

 The boots reach the bottom of the stairs.  It's a pig dressed in black.  He looks like a walking tank.  His eyes go straight to the empty chair.  

 Elfonso jerks to one side, and pops out of my arms.  He launches himself forward, snatching a chunk of brick off the floor.  Next thing I know Elfonso is literally screaming through the air, swinging the brick.  The blow strikes the pig in the head.  Elfonso doesn't hesitate, though, he keeps hammering away with that chunk.  The swine goes down, and Elfonso follows him.  Using both hands he pounds way until piggy's head is nothing but a pulpy mess.  

 Breathing heavily Elfonso grins, "I'm --"

 Whatever might've come out his mouth gets cut off by a bullet.  His head wipes to one side, while a spray of red and brains splatters the wall.  Elfonso collapses into a heap.  The whole moment lasts the blink of an eye -- so sudden I'm not even aware it happens.

 Someone starts coming down the stairs.  The creaking plants a thought in my head.  The plan that forms doesn't inspire a lot of hope.  Yet, I'll take anything.  

 I wait, hands ready, as whoever it is descends.  When their feet touch the step above me I grab the plank, and pull down as hard as I can. The wood snaps.  The step bursts apart.  Whoever is above, their webbed foot punches through.  They don't fall through, but trip enough to go tumbling down the stairs.  

The second I hear a body falling I move. Quick as I can I dart out from under the stairs.  The person hits the bottom just as I'm coming around.  Jumping over their body I go up three steps at a time.  

 No fool, I go out the nearby backdoor.  I'm three blocks away before my body protests enough for me to slow.  When I stop I realize I've been running in a blind panic.

 I don't know what's going on, and I'm definitely in over my head.

[violetsystems]

#personal

The mood indoors lately is a lot more calming than it was maybe a year ago.  A lot of that has to do with me growing through all of this.  I’ve been left to myself for the most part which I think is for the best.  I haven’t really had anyone to brag about the positives to other than writing here.  I’ve been working on setting up the apartment to be a little more energy efficient.  This sometimes has adverse reactions like when I fuck up and shut off processor game boost on my computer and try to do a stream.  I’m pretty sure the BIOS reset itself.  If there’s one thing I’ve become more conscious of the last year it’s how much I use of everything.  Last summer I dived head into a catastrophic situation by ruthlessly creating normality for myself.  I made a monthly budget.  I kept myself cash forward and away from credit.  I analyzed what I spent and why.  I navigated an unprecedented situation almost effortlessly according to some people.  But I can assure you with great confidence a lot of people in real life weren’t actually there.  Which is why I’m extremely skeptical when people from your past magically show up at your doorstep.  Whatever the reason.  However believable or wishful thinking it is in these times that we can just pick up where we left off.  I have the unfortunate habit of keeping tabs on everything.  It’s what got me through a year of total uncertainty.  And one thing for me is certain.  Serendipity and synchronicity may exist in my life still.  But for the most part I’ve seen the same old tricks evolve slowly over time.  Last Saturday I went out to check the mail.  Coincidence or not, someone I knew from years ago was fixing my neighbor’s bike.  Within the first seconds of saying hi, the person was already hurling stuff at me that they shouldn’t have known about.  How I lost my job at the school he attended a year ago.  A job he kept mentioning I applied for at a video game company where his friend works last November.  How he’s been buddy buddy with the neighbor who just moved in.  How serendipitous for this all to happen in America after a year of what I’ve been through?  It’s been more than a year if you want my post mortem on a dead issue.  I projected as best as I could.  That I had applied for the company but was focusing on other opportunities outside the city.  I had an envelope in my hand the entire time I had been waiting for.  Information about my health insurance from my old employer.  I went in and set it on the table and remembered a book on the shelf I had on loan from the very same person out front.  I grabbed it instinctively as if to settle all debt and contact.  Went back out front and returned it to him with out much commentary.  The next day I blocked that person following me on twitch.  Insane I know.  I only have two or three followers.  Most bots.  It’s like I’m shooting myself in the foot in the face of opportunity.  I also reported it.  Which makes me the asshole for shutting people out of my life who were never invited back into it in the first place.  I know how all this works by now and I will be gaslighted into the stage of history.  I think our confidence gets tricked often when we refuse to accept a sinking status quo.  We’re made to feel guilty through isolation.  Why am I so mean?  I brought this all on myself.  The last year.  I reached out to an entire network of those people I worked with and serviced on LinkedIn a year ago.  That network of people fell silent apparently scared to go on record talking to me on a digitally monitored platform.  Why now?  The shitty irony of the situation was the mail in my hand.  I opened the envelope after I returned the book I never read.  Something about ayahuasca and a cosmic serpent.  The envelope was more revealing.  My health insurance was officially covered for the next three months due to a subsidy.  There were also three months from April to June I had been paying where I owed nothing.  So it’s pretty much covered through the end of the year.  That is if I don’t find a job immediately like the video game company everybody from the past I keep holding at bay just happens to be friends with.  The same token I post an article about led wireless light security on a professional website and people from Shenzhen I don't even know visit my profile.  Which do I really want to connect to at this point?  The past or the future.  

That past largely has gotten it all wrong.  If it got it right I would not be sitting here bathed in crimson light at my kitchen table listening to 0pn at six thirty in the morning.  It wouldn’t show up to my doorstep unannounced leaving me to question the motives after a year of exile.  I get that it is the summer.  This city can be a blessing or a curse.  It’s an easy city to disappear in.  Affordable at times but often extremely bitter towards people who go their own way.  It judges everything around it based on a meat and potatoes Midwestern mentality.  Sophistication and creativity is stifled unless it’s part of a broader narrative that the city and the rich people who own it can leverage.  There really isn’t a place for you unless someone has their say and can roast you.  The negging is tribal and it punishes people who don’t offer up their entire life story for public record.  When you do offer up your side of events, it’s buried.  Like a zombie I rise from the grave to remind people weekly that I have no power in changing any of this.  I’m stuck in between the worst of everything and the best right around the corner.  I’ve been around the world and yet nobody wants to hear about it unless they can explain it for you.  People take words out of your mouth and insert themselves back into your life without any thought.  It’s like the city, state and communal shit pile of neighbors and acquaintances owns your future.  If you try to do it alone, they’ll let you know.  Societal pressure is on all sides.  If they can’t corral you in with politics, they’ll isolate you until you break down and plead for help.  A year later, the only real help I focus on is monetary.  I shudder to think staying another year here alone and yet it seems completely hopeless and futile to hope for anything else.  A large reason I want to put the past behind me is how utterly fucking irresponsible and worthless it is.  People think they know who you are because they spoke to you when you were drunk.  And since you don’t drink or get invited to anything social, people feel the need to engineer entrapment on your doorstep when you are beholden to the importance of the mail.  It’s not like my mail ever comes on time.  I’m looking at the fourth package in a few month that needs to be redelivered because it never made it to my doorstep.  I have not just given up on things getting better here.  I have taken evasive action and shut down pretty much everyone and everything that savored the opportunity to ghost me.  There is no excuse.  Not even a pandemic.  No real alibi to leave someone to rot after twenty years of service.  They forgot.  I don’t forget.  I’m constantly reminded that I’m lucky to even have a resume that points to how overqualified I am for everything.  Apparently getting a job isn’t about skill or experience.  It’s about who you know.  And I’m supposed to throw my arms open to the universe and thank the heavens that some pseudo commie spy has an in for me at the video game company for less than I’m worth.  That’s the real story.  I’m worth more than that.  You don’t just spend a year ignoring me and suddenly create a situation where my confidence is pressured into letting these people back in.  That is the very definition of entrapment to me.  So much so that it hurts to think about how close to home I feel unsafe.  I literally walk out my door and I cannot avoid people trying to crowbar their way back into my good graces.  That’s not normal.  None of this has been normal.  And so I react the way I do.  I block people.  I say no.  I isolate what’s working and what isn’t.  And it sucks.  The feelings of guilt that were orchestrated for the very purpose of sowing doubt in yourself and your decisions.  Men mostly trying to assert their authority and their freedom to dictate and pick apart your life.  It’s fucking foul what happened on Saturday.  And the foulest part of it is that I would be gaslighted for even questioning the timing.

So I don’t.  That’s the biggest trap of all this.  Me reacting.  Me getting even outside of writing.  I don’t really want to connect to my past at all.  I know how much baggage it is.  I know how much of my life got thrown away because I didn’t turn out as weak as people thought I’d be.  I know that moving forward is painful because letting go is hard.  And yet I don’t really have much information that would lead me to trust the people who have been absent from my life.  It’s bullshit.  And it’s harder still to realize that I have to feel awkward because I feel unsafe.  I’m the one who has had to tiptoe around all of this.  I do it well.  Obviously there’s things in my life that are welcome.  Things that inspire me without being overbearing.  Friends that keep in touch without any sinister connections or agendas.  People who keep tabs on me without acting like the secret police.  It’s such a tumultuous and unprecedented time!  Let’s celebrate it by reconnecting to the same old bullshit.  Let’s all make the same fucking mistakes.  Let’s pretend it never happened.  I’m fine with that.  Just leave me alone.  There is nothing worth reconnecting at this point that isn’t already strapped in for the ride.  There is nothing really for me to become other than gainfully employed in a job that I like.  At current that is working for myself.  I wish it were more lucrative and sustainable.  But folding back into the fray after being left alone for so long is a dead end.  I’ve pushed myself further than I ever would have in the past.  I’ve become another person entirely.  I know when I’m off putting.  I know when I have no reason to smile it away.  And I know I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with this much vitriol for a city that just wants to pretend it’s my own problem.  You get burnt by these slime for years and people don’t want to believe it’s true.  It couldn’t happen here.  It couldn’t be that bad.  That guy is just blowing it all out of proportion.  Forget the fact he’s travelled half the world alone.  Forget all the things we ignore that he’s done while we weren’t watching.  We know him best.  We’ve watched him his entire life.  If that were really true, what has anyone really learned?  I’m in pain?  Yes.  I hurt so deeply from all of this that I’d rather just forget it and move on.  But there is nowhere to go.  Everyone has their say or I stay invisible.  And what is there to offer?  In this city apparently nothing.  I can’t find a job unless I go get drunk with the bros at the bar or the noise show?  I’m supposed to take a pay cut when I already worked for a non profit.  If you ask me I want none of this.  I want better things for myself.  And I’m not going to sell myself short because I’m scared it will pass me by.  Look at the last year.  How much shit just pretended I was dead to the world?  That was apparently my fault.  Every time I’m faced with that accusation by the peanut gallery on the street causes me emotional pain.  The real truth is that it was never worth my time.  And I learned that a long time ago.  A year ago to be exact.  I was meant for better things.  And unfortunately the way things are, you have to take charge.  Of your life and your destiny.  Sometimes you have to say no.  Sometimes saying nothing at all is the biggest fuck you.  I know how it feels.  Nobody said anything substantial to me for about a year now.  Maybe that’s why a simple like in my dash means far more to me than a fake setup and an offer I can’t refuse.  This isn’t The Godfather.  This is the departed.  And I’m already far removed from what this city thought it could trick me back into.  That’s the baggage that doesn’t deserve to be brought into the future.  So don’t worry about me holding up the flight.  All I have is my carry on and a clean slate.  We can fly anywhere.  If I stay around here alone they’re going to clip my wings for good eventually.   It’ll be made to look like an accident.  Just like the entire last year.  And they’ll keep doing it because nobody calls them out for being wrong.  <3 Tim

[snowedinpodcast]

Transcript below the cut! 

Let’s Walk: Spirit Butterflies [Transcript]

[Content Warning: ghost stories, vaguely unsettling imagery like shadowy figures and death-inducing charms: no bodily or mental harm)]

「今日も雨 あの日と今を/空と空でつなぎたいの」

(Translation: Today it’s also raining; even now I want to connect that person’s sky to mine)

Let’s talk ghost stories, dudes. I’ve got a couple from mom, from her time growing up in Japan, and … they make me feel a kind of way. They remind me how … my agnostic ass does enjoy some chthonic, earthy spiritualism. 

I guess a quick prelude is in order before we get into the, into the meat of things. I don’t tie myself to any one faith or another. My dad is a Zen Buddhist. My mom is … casually Shinto? There aren’t any strict religious traditions that we really do in regards to either of my parents’ choice of faith. We do Christmas kind of superficially, for the presents and for the fun of it, not so much for the Biblical significance … so that’s my background. 

What I do like is places and objects that feel like they have a kind of agency—some sort of presence that is beyond my understanding, as a human. I don’t need to know if it’s the case or not, I don’t even know if I’d be able to know if it was the case or not, I just like feeling that way. I like liminal spaces, places where the normal bustling activity you expect is gone, and so everything feels alien and strange: like an overpass at two in the morning. There’s still some cars—which feels strange, ‘cause it’s two in the morning, where could you people possibly be going?—and yet, there’s so few cars compared to what you’re used to in the daytime that … you can hear the individual hums of each car as they go by. And it’s intimacy is what it is, you’re too close to something you’re not normally close to or aware of in that way. I like that. I like intimacy with places and with objects. I like picking up a skeleton key in an antique store and feeling the heft of it … and then looking at the price tag and seeing that it’s $4.00 and I am absolutely too cheap to pay that for a single key, no matter how pretty it is!

I do like thrifted clothes, though and that’s also part of it: I like the story that this object has, I like that it’s outlasted me already and it will probably outlast me if I take good care of it. And again, it’s not about knowing, I don’t need to know who owned it previously, I just like the wondering, I just like reaching out into this nebulous life-before-me … and sitting with it. Life outside of me. Life beyond me. 

So that’s the part of ghost stories that I like so much. And—I guess maybe ghost stories isn’t entirely fair. That’s what I like about … about unexplained, natural moments. Chthonic earth magic! Yeah, let’s just call it chthonic earth magic, sounds good. It’s kinda redundant because “chthonic” means of the earth, so. Apparently, also, “occult” really just means of nature: magic that is tied into naturalness. Occult has gained a connotation with the demonic and the sinister but it includes more than just that. 

‘Kay, I think it’s story time. I’m going to give you … three stories. Two are short, one is long. 

First story: My mom’s mom, her grandma—no! Her mom, my grandma—Obaasan—told her that if you notice a shadowy shape behind a tree, behind a building, lingering around you, you should think, inside your head, that you and this shape are of different worlds and there is nothing you can do to help it … and you leave it alone. This didn’t really hit that hard for my mom until the day in elementary school or middle school when she was out at recess, out in the schoolyard, and she did sense a shadowy humanoid figure ... and she took her mom’s advice and didn’t interact with it. [Sigh].

I can’t say I’ve had any experiences like that, but there is a little stone lantern sculpture thing that we have in our front yard. It has a hole that runs right through the center of the main lantern part. It almost looks like a little house, actually, ‘cause there’s a cylindrical piece that is the main body of the lantern and then a heavy, straw-triangle-hat-shaped stone piece that fits into that cylindrical body—so I always called it “the spirit house.” And I remember one summer I just left bundles of flowers in that hole through the middle because it just felt like a nice thing to do for whatever creature was living in it—‘cause I guess I just felt like a thing might be living in it and it’d be nice to give it things? And this freaked my mom out. She didn’t like that at all. She said not to look through the hole, don’t try to interact with the thing, stop leaving it gifts. Of course, I kept doing it, and nothing happened to me, but I remember … I remember feeling distinctly, one day, that there wasn’t a thing there anymore. And so I stopped giving it flowers. Or maybe I just got tired of it, who knows, but yeah. Yeah! 

Occult stuff doesn’t happen to me, I really wish it would. Come mess with me, demons, I invite you. I may live to regret that … that invitation. 

Second story. My mom was hanging out with a bunch of friends from school, they went to one of the friend's houses and played hide and seek, played card games, Karuta, what kids do. And at some point they noticed there was one more child than originally gathered at the house. My mom took into account the advice of her mom and she didn’t point this out, she just waited it out, continued to play with her friends and this new mystery child who no one could quite identify. And then at the end of the, the playdate, when everyone went home, there was the right amount of children in the house … same number as before. 

Third story. This was prompted by me telling my mom about the drive home from seeing Wonder Woman at a drive-in theatre a state away. I took on the driving, uh, two of my friends—we’ll call them H and K—came along. Um, because we still live in pandemic times, we all wore masks, and we kept our gathering to a small number, just the three of us, so. So it was obviously not the safest but it was, it was within covid19 safety regulations and it’d been a while since any of us had hung out, so … you do what you do. You make do. And it was really fun. It was great. They served food at the venue so we didn't have to worry too much about bringing snacks. We’d all seen Wonder Woman before, so we got to make snide comments and jokes and gush about how hot the characters were the whole time [laugh]. It was, it was just, it was so exciting. We also talked about Greek mythology—my buddy H is big into that stuff, and Ares plays a significant role in this film, so y’know. Good times. 

On that drive home, I was on a main road and got six or seven or eight green lights in a row. It was unusual. It wasn’t … occult-y … but it was unusual, and by the third light that remained green as I sailed beneath it with my friends beside me … I started bowing my head a little bit as we came up to the next light, and the next light, and the next. They kept letting me through, so it felt ritualistic. But not dangerous, it felt … interesting. When I finally hit a red light it was just as I was in the lane to make a left turn into a major highway, so it felt like the natural end of that road. I was moving from one path to another, and so I would’ve had to slow down or stop anyway. 

When I told my mom about this, she told me about the trips in the taxi to and from the summer house where her extended family members gathered. These weren’t fun trips for her, there was a bunch of drama [laugh] on my mom’s side of the family. Drama is putting it pretty lightly, um … her mother was married to the first son of the family and so there were pretty heavy expectations put on her and she was expected to do a bunch of maternal caretaking for free and to not complain about it. And she was looked down upon by other members of the family. Not entirely sure why—maybe it was because my grandma’s family’s status wasn’t the same as the status of the family of the guy she married, but, either way, from what I understand, there was significant mistreatment and emotional abuse and it wasn’t a good time. 

My mom had a sense of that, the other cousins kind of singled her and her older sister out. The, the patriarch of the family, I think her grandfather, would pick a child and question them at mealtimes and my mom did not like that pressure. He was a difficult man to read and she just didn’t know what he wanted and she ... [sigh] it was a source of stress for her, she wasn’t a fan. So she remembers these trips as unhappy. She remembers knowing she’d have to eat boiling hot noodles in the sweltering, humid summers of Japan because noodles were the family patriarch’s favorite dish. Just general unpleasantries. 

At least twice—maybe more?—on the drives to this summer house, the taxi driver would seem to be lost. It was like the path turned into a loop. More time than it should’ve taken to reach the summer house would go by. And then my mom would notice that her older sister was squeezing her hand. She would look over, and her older sister would tell her, quietly, that she’d seen the same tree multiple times. This struck my mom as kinda strange ‘cause she would look out the window and just see a blur of trunks, no singular tree discernible amongst the swath of them, but her sister said what she said and eventually the taxi driver would pull over and get out of the car to do some small activity. Maybe go have a smoke, maybe circle the car a little bit and mutter. Then they would get back in the car, get back on the road, and the path would sort itself out. They’d get to the house late and the taxi driver would offer a reduced rate to make up for the trouble. 

My mom says she doesn’t remember where she’d heard this, but this is what she told me about this phenomenon: when you find yourself on a path that turns into a loop, you may see an inn. That inn will have a door, and behind that door will be a long hallway that doesn’t have anybody in it. You should not pull over into the parking lot of this inn, you should not knock on the door—not for food, not for water, not for directions, not for anything—and you should definitely not go in. What you’re supposed to do is find a place to stop, to break the cycle, to get off the road. Take a little break, exit your vehicle if you have to, don’t stray far. Then get back in and you will find the path takes you where it’s supposed to take you. 

I asked her what deity or creature is responsible for this driving diversion and she says she doesn’t know. It’s all very mysterious. Chthf—[laughs]. Chthonic earth magic really be that way. 

So yeah. Now that we’re on the ghost topic, the spiritualism topic, I did think of something. I wish more occult-y stuff happened to me, that would be exciting, make me a believer, why don’t you—again, making invitations I may live to regret [laughs]. But there is something I take notice of every so often. It hasn’t happened for a long time, but, especially back when I was in Japanese school—which I did from kindergarten … no, from preschool, up through … no, from kindergarten up through the end of middle school, I’m pretty sure—we would have field day at least once a year. Granted, Japanese school was a four-hour session every Saturday, it wasn’t after school every day for me, but it was an occurrence, and I wasn’t always a fan of it because why do I have to have an extra day of school when my friends get to have two days of weekend? So there were ups and downs and there were times I was grateful for it and times I was less grateful for it … and overall that shakes out to a net positive, I guess; thanks parents, thanks for pushing me. I’m glad I have a basic third-grader’s amount of Japanese vocabulary and sentence structure. That’s all I retained but it’s better than nothing. 

Anyway, we had field day every year, I remember being in the indoor gym—this is important—being in the indoor gym, digging through my backpack, pushed up against all the other backpacks at the side of the gymnasium, and seeing a flicker of something out of the corner of my eye? It moved the way a butterfly does, a sort of uncertain hover, very quick and noncommittal. I don’t remember what color it was. I think it might’ve been gray. But I couldn’t look at it because someone called my name—one of my friends—and I looked over at them and they were telling me it’s time to line up to go do one of the, one of the sports day activities. Tie your hitai-ate around your head already—tie the strip of cloth that’s red on one side, white on the other, the two colors of the Japanese flag and the two teams that you could be placed on to either one of for field day activities—and, uh, get your butt over here already, man. [Note: The term for this cloth is actually “hachimaki”; “hitai-ate” refers to a forehead-tie from the Naruto manga and anime. My bad!]

I looked back where I thought I saw a flutter, obviously nothing was there, and I went and did field day. This happened also at an outdoor field day. Some years before or after, again, I was sitting somewhere, on the grass I think, on the hilly part of the courtyard, and I remember seeing a flutter and I think, this time, it was white … I’ve seen grey flutters, black flutters, and white flutters. I think most often white … probably because it’s light shifting from a door that moves, but you know, who knows. But yeah, I remember telling my mom about these too; I tend to, whenever anything vaguely interesting that is possibly of a spiritual nature happens, and I think she was puzzled about them? She didn’t seem to be concerned, she didn’t seem to be thrilled. 

But yeah. Yeah. There is a very tenuous thread that weaves my whole life together and it is various shades of spirit butterflies, I guess. If that’s really so, the universe is in good hands. Good paws … good feet? Good wings? 

[ Hi, I’m here to break the no-edits rule that this podcast promised you [laughs]. I have one more thought to add to this meditation. When I was 10 years old, maybe, on a trip to Japan to the Inari shrine, specifically, I was “called” into the woods—supposedly—by the Inari god. The fox god. The Trickster god. That is how my mom remembers this, that is how she told it to my grandma, who was as concerned as my mom was. 

I don’t remember it this way. I remember seeing a path in the bamboo shoots and just thinking it was cool and trodden on but not as much as the main path … so I should follow it. See where it goes. Why not? The wind whistled past me as I was running down, and then I heard my mom yell, and I guess she seemed farther away than I thought I had managed to get by that point. But I turned around, and I went back to her, and she was upset. 

Having talked to her about this more over the years, she’s since revealed that there’s supposedly a cart that sells dark talismans off the beaten path of the Inari shrine. Normally, at most shrines, you will be able to purchase various talismans for good health, for success, for … good romance, for positive studying results. But then this other cart, which is harder to get too and off to the side, sells bad luck totems and wishes for death upon individuals of your choosing … talismans of that nature. So when I thought I was running down any old little path, my mom thought I was being called to the dark cart. [Laugh]. So I guess, in retrospect, I see why that was troubling to her. 

Another thing about the Inari shrine is that you can buy little pieces of paper that are cut in the shape of a fox and they tell you … your fortune, pretty much? Yeah. You don’t get to see what it says until you’ve bought one, obviously, there’s a container full of them, you pay, you pick one out. And we did them, my mom got ... I think middle luck, or something? I think my dad might’ve gotten bad luck, or one step above bad luck. But I got big luck … I got the, the best option they have in there, and that struck my mom as strange because apparently Inari-san doesn’t really favor anyone? Or if they do, their favor is fickle, because they’re a trickster god. They just, they just like watching things burn. They don’t have loyalties ... to people. We’re just little dolls to them that they can maneuver for fun. ]

Alright, well, this has been fun. Thank you for that. Always good to talk to you. I’ll catch you on the next. 

[woozletania]

Living with Rocket 3 (GOTG slice of life, some violence, trauma)

Author’s note: “Drax of all people leads an intervention to force Rocket to have something done about his botched cybernetic implants, and the crew meets someone from the raccoon's dark past.

Coranth on SoFurry gave me the idea of a story where Rocket gets his cybernetics fixed but since it's a Rocket story, of course there's a lot of unnecessary drama before it's all done.”            

Living with Rocket 3 By Strega

It wasn't Peter, for a change, that convinced Rocket to do something the little raccoon didn't want to do. It was Drax and, to everyone's surprise (maybe even hers), Gamora.

They were collecting a bounty on a particularly violent group of renegade Kree when it started. As usual Drax waded into melee with Gamora while Peter and Rocket picked off stragglers from a distance. The last few Kree charged Drax and the Destroyer, being all but invulnerable, went after them with his knives. Rocket used the giant as cover and as the two sides closed he shot two of the three dead.

But the last one had a surprise in store and rather than shoot Drax he dropped his weapon and pressed a control on his wrist.  Rocket knew all about traps and bombs and instantly dived behind some rubble, not quite fast enough to avoid the edge of the searing blast wave as the Kree exploded.  Drax was thrown fifty feet but shook off a hit that would have likely killed any of the other Guardians. Rocket on the other hand climbed to his feet with parts of his fur on fire and his back smoldering and beat out the last sparks as the others approached to make sure he was all right.

Rocket's tail was a sad shadow of its usual fluffy self, little more than a fleshy whip covered in shriveled fur, but he came out of it more or less unscathed save for a nick in one ear, some minor cuts and having his armored backplate shredded. He waved away the suggestion that he needed first aid and darted from Kree body to Kree body on all fours, scanning them for further traps and liberating various weapons and bits of tech. His damaged armor kept catching on things and so engrossed was he in his work that he stripped it off and cast it aside.  

It was the first time Drax and Gamora had seen him naked from the waist up, as he normally wore a light ship-shirt even when sleeping, and Drax's eyes went wide at the sight. The heat had penetrated the raccoon's armor and scorched some of what little fur he had there, but the few small burns and blisters were nothing compared to the horrific scars and protruding cybernetic implants.

"Rocket, your back," Drax said, and Gamora just shook her head.  Rocket's back was better than it had been a few months before, with less signs of infection and fewer areas of reddened, inflamed flesh, but it was still an ugly sight.

"What?" The raccoon looked up, his hands still disassembling a Kree energy rifle.  "Oh yeah, right.  Didn't mean to make you look at that." He glanced around, so engrossed in his task he'd forgotten for a moment where he left his vest, only to find Drax holding it inside-out so that everyone could see the blood and fluids staining the padding where it had stuck to Rocket's back.  Some of the stains were new and some months-old, dating back to him getting the new outfit after Xandar.

Gamora knew cybernetics well, being the second most augmented Guardian. Her implants were top-end and barely showed, though.  "Rocket, that looks bad. You have to get someone to look at it."

Rocket turned to face them in an all too familiar defensive reaction, covering up his injuries and denying everything.  "It's fine. Been that way forever."

"It's not that bad, guys.  I've been putting antibiotics on it a few times a week." Peter was to instantly regret taking Rocket's side.

"You knew about this?!" Gamora snapped at him.  "Why didn't you say something?  I've seen neater work on homemade Ravager cybernetics!"

"Hey! If I could get at it I'd fix it myself," Rocket growled.  "And it's my business." He yanked a bloody and far too large shirt off a Kree Drax had eviscerated and draped it over himself.  "There. Problem solved."

It wasn't, of course, and Drax was the one who wouldn't let it drop. Since Rocket's emotional breakdown a few months back the giant had come to regard the little raccoon almost as his own child. Between Mantis's empathic therapy and the strong support of his friends Rocket had healed a great deal in a short time, but occasionally the night terrors still came on him and he'd taken to leaving his little padded bed by the end of Drax's bunk and synchronizing his sleep to that of the giant.  When Drax, once a parent and easily woken by small sounds, heard the raccoon whine in his sleep or claw at his bed a great hand would come down off the bunk and stroke Rocket's fur until he relaxed.

Everyone had petted a sleeping Rocket (and lately, when he was awake too) and suddenly there was a sinister significance to how he always turned when petted, even when asleep, so a hand did not stray onto his upper back. It either hurt to be touched there or, just as bad, he didn't want them to feel how mangled he was.

And so later, when Rocket was sitting stiffly on a bunk so Peter could treat the burns and apply universal antibiotics to his back, Drax and Gamora appeared in the doorway to the little cabin.

"Rocket," Drax said firmly, "You need to let someone look at that. Gamora says there's a cover missing off one of those bolts.  It's not healthy to leave it that way."

Rocket's ears went back as they always did when he was confronted about something he didn't want to talk about. Six months before he'd have laughed it off or told Drax where to stick it. Six months ago he hadn't had a family, though, and Drax and Peter  were the closest things to father figures he'd ever had.  Just the same, he balked.

"It's fine," he mumbled. His furry little hands found the medical kit Peter had brought and unconsciously began to sort the contents. "Don't like doctors."

"If it stays that way, sooner or later that bolt is going to pull back into your skin and get stuck," Gamora said. It was only around the scars that you truly got to see how extensively Rocket was modified.  Besides the bolts and apparatus protruding from his skin there was a visible bulge where some sort of cross brace changed the whole shape of his chest. Between that and the bolts atop what were probably artificial collarbones the marks where they had turned a four-legged animal into a biped were all too evident. That left out whatever other scars hid under his fur. Even his hands had bolts and screws that sometimes showed.

"Happens," Rocket mumbled.  He had sorted the contents of the kit by size and was absently taking a pair of surgical scissors apart.  "I just flex my arm until it pops back out."

"Man, that has to hurt," Peter said.  "You gotta stop that from happening."

Rocket's ears went down and his fangs came out as he dropped the scissors.  "I told ya," he snarled. "Everything hurts!  I've got it covered, okay? I don't like doctors. Don't like needles.  I can live with it."

Peter shook his head and stuck a smart bandage on one of the stubborn areas around the big implant on Rocket's back that never seemed to heal. The raccoon's body was still trying to reject some part of the cybernetics and at the same time Rocket's enhanced immune system kept trying to heal it. The raccoon's pain tolerance was incredible yet he still winced sometimes when Peter worked on his back but what could you do? It was his body.

You could be as stubborn as he was. "No," said Drax, the voice rumbling up out of his barrel chest.  "You won't 'live with it.' We're going to find a doctor, a cyberneticist, and we're going to have him look at it.  And if he does the tiniest thing that worries me, I will break every bone in his body."

"And if he somehow gets away," Gamora said, "Then he will have to deal with me."

The already tense raccoon went rigid on the bunk and Peter put his hand on Rocket's shoulder from behind.  "I'll be there too, buddy. You won't be alone."

Rocket looked down at little Groot, who had sensed the tension and was rubbing the raccoon's nearly furless tail. The stiffness slowly went out of his little body.

"All right," he said softly.  "Just as long as you're there." It was an admission of frailty they'd never heard before from the raccoon. He didn't want to be alone. Not any more.

Naturally Rocket immediately and conveniently forgot about the agreement but a day layer he found Drax clumsily typing in searches for cyberneticists with his thick fingers. With a long-suffering sigh Rocket elbowed him out of the way.

"No," he said at once.  "Not on that planet.  Or that one.  No, not that guy. Only works on things with tentacles.  No, not him..."

"Sounds like you've done some research yourself," Peter said over his shoulder.

"Shut up." Rocket flipped through a dozen more doctors, then began typing in searches so fast they could hardly make out the words on the floating screen. It was no surprise he was as good with computers as any other technology. It was only when dealing with people that he stumbled.

Five minutes later he found something he liked. The face of a blond human or human-like alien hovered on the screen as Rocket did increasingly elaborate searches about him. Finally the rapid-fire clatter of claws on keys stopped and the little raccoon took a deep breath.

"Okay," he said, and pointed a claw at the screen.  "Him."

"Foster, Paul," Peter read.  "That's an Earth name!"

"You aren't the only one from that rock out here," Rocket said. "Buncha races have been there, taking specimens, people. Slaves, whatever.  This guy was one of a dozen or so got picked up and used as researchers. Some of them were forced, some did it 'cos it paid well. They couldn't go back to Earth, there's a treaty. You can take from low tech worlds but you can't bring back, right? That's why you had to do all that paperwork just to go back there for music. Watchers brokered that treaty, long time ago."

"Watchers," Drax said. "-The- Watchers?"

"Yeah, them," Rocket said. "They gave some planet tech a few billion years back and the guys they gave it to promptly blew themselves up. That's why they are Watchers now. 'Bout all they do is watch and act as mediators these days."

He typed briefly, waited.  "Okay. Got an appointment tomorrow at his office on Gumwalt, southern continent, Spire City.  It's only ten jumps, so we can head there after we get some sleep."

"That was quick," Peter said, but Rocket didn't reply. He just made his way to his little round bed to curl up, and if Drax noticed how many times he had to pet the sleeping raccoon to calm him down that night, he said nothing.

Most of a day, a few jumps and a maglev train ride later the Guardians, minus Mantis and Groot, sat impatiently waiting for the doctor to arrive. The mismatched foursome were the only ones in the office aside from a pink-skinned nurse, or maybe she was just a receptionist. Rocket sat, ears down and his little hand on Drax's forearm, not reacting even when a voice came out of the intercom.

"Only one appointment this morning I see, Cleva," said the voice. "Animal Uplift with cybernetics problems?"

The receptionist nodded to thin air.  "Yes doctor.  I don't know the species, but he's mammalian."

"That's not a lot to go on," said the doctor conversationally as came through the door. The raccoon didn't look up but everyone else saw the blood drain from the man's face and heard his smart pad hit the floor as he saw Rocket.

"No," he whispered, backing toward the door. Gamora was on her feet in an instant but the raccoon's hand darted out to grab her wrist.

"I'm not here to hurt you," the little raccoon said, still not looking up. "You can go if you want, we won't stop you, but I really need your help."

Drax and Peter shared looks but Gamora split her attention between the doctor, who was deciding whether or not to run, and the receptionist, who had her hand out of sight on what must be a panic button. Eventually the doctor relaxed.

"It's all right, Cleva," he said. Color had begun to return to his face.  "We're old friends. Go prep examining room one, please. And clear my schedule for the rest of the day."

A moment later the doctor sat himself on a nearby chair and studied Rocket with a mixture of wonder and barely repressed fear.  "You talk better now," he said.

Rocket let out a harsh little laugh.  "Kinda necessary, doc."

"I heard you were working with a, well, a tree," the doctor said, looking at the Guardians one after another.  "And you had something to do with stopping Ronan, along with these 'Guardians'. And in stopping whatever that was that happened a few months back. That biological attack all over the galaxy. Seems like you made a name for yourself."

The doctor fiddled with his recovered smart pad, looking uncomfortable. "You're so much more than I thought you'd ever be."

"So much more than what you started with?" Rocket looked up at last, and Peter was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"89P13, " said the man, and then paused.  "Rocket. You know I didn't agree with what we did. Uplift, yes, I can live with doing that. But the rest...." he fiddled with the pad, and Peter could see scans of Rocket flicking by, skeletal structures, cybernetics.   Some of the images showed the little raccoon, partially shaved, restrained, cut open. One showed a plastic gag in his mouth and his wide-open eyes as someone, visible only as hands, worked on an arm - probably more of a foreleg at that point - that had been physically ripped from his body. Only a few tendons still  connected arm and torso and someone else was trying to staunch the bleeding from the stump. "I tried to get them to not do it that way."

Rocket's emotional moment had passed quickly. "That's why you are still alive, Doc." He said it matter-of-factly, and Foster could only nod.

"The examining room is ready, doctor," said the nurse, and the little group rose and went in, Rocket shuffling awkwardly along with Drax's hand on one shoulder and Peter's on the other. They were just there for support, not to push him onward, and a little furry hand came up to rest on each of theirs as they stepped into a room packed full of examining tables, autodocs and full-body scanners. Doctor Foster gestured for Rocket to undress and Drax spoke up.

"Doctor," he said.  "Before we start.  You had something to do with all this," he gestured at the scars exposed as Rocket shucked out of his tunic.  "I think he trusts you.  But if you hurt our friend -"

"It's all right, Drax," Rocket mumbled.  "It was a long time ago. It's all over now."

The breath hissed out of the doctor as he saw Rocket's back. "Oh god.  They were supposed to graft over that. But then..." he shook his head. "Step into the scanner, please."

It was a long and painful visit for everyone, not so much physically, for the doctor used a nerve deadener on each part of Rocket he worked on, but simply because it was discomfiting to watch the little raccoon sit there, quite conscious, and let himself be cut open. He refused anesthesia even when Doctor Foster and the nurse flayed open his chest to repair a damaged cross-brace on his ribs. He could see it all happening and he lay there eerily calm save for the grip he kept on Peter and Drax's hands.

At least, he seemed calm until you saw his heart rate spike on the monitor every time the doctor approached and felt how his grip tightened. Or saw how many times the nurse had to deaden nerves to relax the muscle-cracking tension in his limbs so they could make another cut. This was the nightmare that woke him screaming and only the presence of his friends kept him from coming up off the operating table with a scalpel in his hand or collapsing into shrieking terror.

"Man, you have to let them put you under, " Peter said an hour or so in, but Rocket just shook his head and clung all the more tightly to his hand. If they hadn't deactivated most of his cybernetics in the first few minutes Rocket's desperate grasp would have cracked the bones in Peter's hand. Every so often Drax would gently pet the raccoon's nape and he'd relax a little, at least until the doctor approached once more.

Mantis had volunteered to come along and soothe his fears during the meeting but Rocket had turned that offer down too. He needed to be awake and in control for this, he'd said. The next time he was unconscious and unaware in an operating room would be the day they put him in a box.

Somehow the doctor kept his own composure despite Gamora watching him like a hawk, ready to kill him in an instant if he did anything she questioned. In a room full of dangerous people all too ready to use lethal force to protect their friend he and the nurse worked quickly, professionally, and made no mistakes.

Bit by bit he went over the little raccoon's body, tweaking servos, replacing some, tightening connections. Only now did the Guardians learn how extensive Rocket's cybernetic systems were.  Every limb, even his neck and jaws, practically every bone had an associated servo or brace, and the doctor knew where each was before he picked up a scalpel. Rocket had come to perhaps the one man in the galaxy who know how he ticked.

Later they would learn he'd kept all his old files on Rocket and updated them as technology improved, to be ready just in case Rocket came by not to kill him but for help. Or perhaps as a bargaining chip if it was the former. It amounted to the same thing.

Unlike Peter he was able to do more than smear antibiotic or stick smart bandages on Rocket's back and when he was done  the bolts were smooth and polished, the skin around them still reddened but much healthier. He even had a device that regrew most of the fur around them, leaving just a half-inch ring of exposed skin around each implant. He used the same device to repair most of the fur he'd shaved off over the course of the day and the raccoon's threadbare tail. When it was finally over  Rocket stepped out of the shower, the last traces of blood rinsed from his fur, he stood and stretched, twisting his arms, flexing his knees.

"Hadn't realized how screwed up I was," he said, and went through a series of small motions to to test his joints. "Thanks doc, that's a lot better."

"Before you ask," the doctor said, his voice thick with emotion, "This is all on the house.  Not because you could hurt me.  You could have done that years ago. Because I'm proud of you, Rocket. You're more than I ever thought you'd be, not because of us, but despite us. I'm so sorry it was like that. It should have been better, back then. Better for you, better for us."

Rocket nodded wordlessly as he turned away.

"Rocket," the doctor said, and the raccoon paused.  "Come back anytime. You're always welcome."

Rocket stood frozen, then turned to face the doctor. He took the man's hand in his little furry ones for a moment, then spoke. "I'm sorry about your friends. I wish... I wish it'd been different too."

Rocket didn't say another word all the way back to the Milano, just occasionally flexing his fingers or bending a joint wonderingly. He'd never said a word about it, but it was obvious now he'd been in constant pain. Exhausted by the operation, he spent the last hour of the trip curled up in a ball between Peter and Drax. Fellow passengers in the car glanced in amusement at the sleeping "pet" and one approached with his hand outstretched but the frosty glare from all three of Rocket's companions and the way hands slid easily toward weapons at the merest hint of a threat to their friend chased him away long before he touched fur.

When they reached the ship he went straight to his locker and brought back a pouch. At his gesture the whole crew gathered, there around the common room table.  Groot sat on his knee and Mantis put her hand on his shoulder as he opened it.

First to come out was an animal collar, crudely cut through, bearing the legend 89P13. He slid that to the side and unfolded a bit of the old-style plastic news scrip still used on a few worlds.

HALFWORLD RESEARCH CENTER DESTROYED BY REACTOR EXPLOSION, read the headline. 'Sole survivor fled when alarm sounded, authorities baffled.'

There was more, but Rocket folded it and set it aside. Next out of the pouch was a ID badge on a lanyard, then another, another, three more. One had a bullet hole, others were stained with old blood. One was scored by cuts from some blade and so saturated with blood the plastic was permanently discolored.

"Randolph", he said, and held up the badge.  PROJECT DIRECTOR, it said below the name. "Ernst." That was the cut-up badge, blazoned CHIEF SURGEON. "Tschu." PROGRAMMER. "Osterman," CYBERNETICIST. "Chang," "Kinkaid," SURGEONS.

He shuffled the badges, then lay one atop another until only the first letter of each name showed.  ROCKET.

"Could have got Foster too," he said so softly they strained to hear. "But  he wasn't so bad. Told him to run. Then I blew the place. By then," he looked down at the badges.  "I had all the letters I needed."  His surprisingly expressive muzzled face twisted as he remembered, then slowly relaxed. "All this time, I was sorry I could only kill them once. That I couldn't make them suffer more. They were just things to hate. Now...if they were still out there, somewhere, I think I could live with that. As long as they weren't still doing what they did, I could leave them be."

Drax put his huge hand on the raccoon's where it lay atop the badges. "Eventually you have to stop living for hate, and just live." Drax had learned hard lessons during his own monomaniacal pursuit of vengeance.

Slowly, deliberately, Rocket gathered up the badges, the collar, the news scrip. There was a sense of formality to it as he let go of the long remembered pain, the hatred. "I don't need letters any more," he said. "Or a number." he slid the collar into the pouch with the rest. "I have a name." He paused. "And a family."

Peter put his hand on Rocket's shoulder and they watched, silent, as he dropped the pouch into the Milano's incinerator.  And somehow, that night, despite the endless horror of that day's operation and for the first time anyone could remember, Rocket slept the whole night through without a single nightmare.

[renaroo]

My Perspective on This Idiocy

I have a hate-fascination with Nick Spencer. I’ve read his comic Bedlam and thought it was just about the best comic he was capable of writing because creator-owned Image publications tend to be quite a bit of insight into the creator. 

Now if you don’t know about Bedlam it’s a comic where a maniacal, Joker-esque villain known as Madder Red terrorized a city until he seemingly died in a final fight with his heroic adversary. In truth he was captured by some mysterious organization that “reformed” him through questionable means. And suddenly he is working along with the police force to try and stop other villainous maniacs while constantly being on edge with whether or not his reform actually worked. 

An inherently evil man, secretly reformed, infiltrating the side of justice he once worked against, in order to maintain law and order. The sort of thing which had it happened with a Red Skull or a Joker people would (rightfully) lost their shit because the moral event horizons for the characters are so far removed from the concept of reformation in reality we wouldn’t be able to accept it. 

I read Bedlam at the time and was fascinated by a dark inversion of what the only “end point” for undeniable evil in a comic book world could be, but I was also in my very light, very short “dark and gritty” phase of being an 18 year old life long comic reader. 

What I’m getting at is that since then I care a lot more about the motivations of why people choose to write such stories and frame them the way they do than I did when I was younger. 

My next hate-fascination with Nick Spencer wasn’t other indie titles like Morning Glories (which I missed the boat on) or his run on Ant-Man (which I skipped because I haven’t had a huge relationship with the character), but with his involvement with the “Superior Spider-Man” storyline Dan Slott was penning, Spencer writing Superior Foes of Spider-Man. If you don’t remember, that was a storyline where Doc Ock was dying so he switched brains with Peter Parker and left Parker to die in his old body but decided to be a pompous asshole version of Spider-Man and outdo his predecessor culminating in an issue where he dates Mary Jane briefly so that Slott could continue to fuck with MJ fans and have an issue where the cover had MJ in her underwear. Classy. 

Spencer obviously didn’t have a lot to do with this main storyline (though the current parallels tells me a lot about the values Marvel puts in maintaining the concept of what superheroes even are), but he wrote the ancillary book that was allotted by a lot of fans and critics that turned the Sinister Six into a Suicide Squad/Secret Six-like morally questionable-to-bankrupt protagonists whose exploits you come to hate yourself for cheering on as gleefully as you do, especially in the face of inevitable defeat.

Humanizing and giving voice to the side of the people comics have traditionally used as hatable enemies easy to root against. 

The next bout of hate-fascination I’ve had is with this tire fire that has been his run with Captain America and what we’ve seen as the moral collapsing of the entirety of the Marvel Universe. A world where the Nazis were supposed to win WWII and the Allies decided that the MU as we’ve known it, as crafted by Jack Kirby, Joe Simon, Stan Lee, Steve Ditko, and many others (mostly Jewish creators), was actually a FALSE reality crafted by the Allies after-the-fact where they made sure to defeat Hitler, but allowed the Holocaust to happen. A fact that REALLY can’t be overlooked considering what a vital role it plays in Magneto’s life and his descendants’ lives, not to mention the parallels of the struggles of the X-Men in general. 

You can follow the entirety of what has been the Spencer disaster in great articles like this Polygon summary and the same author’s rundown of yesterday’s issue.

But, apparently, people still don’t get it because everything’s cyclical and comics will return to normal by the end of the summer yatta yatta let’s ignore that three months ago there were actual Neo-Nazis including Tila Tequila holding a party in DC where leaked footage shows hate speeches and actual Nazi saluting to “Hail Trump” and the fact that a high level Marvel executive is now a paid member of the Trump White House that also has Steve Bannon and Stephen Miller. 

Let’s instead look at what this says about Nick Spencer as a writer. The man is a professed Liberal, a huge Hillary supporter apparently during her campaign, and also a man baby who takes offense to everything on Twitter Dan Slott-style, and apparently has an inability to reflect upon his own body of work and see the trends that are glaringly obvious to me just through this short overview. 

Nick Spencer is a white, male neo-Liberal suffering from a morbid fascination with the macabre fascism and atrocities of reality, who is just being ‘real’ and ‘edgy’ by making drawn out portrayals of these ideologies, and saying “implications and moral grandstanding be damned” because (for reasons that he pretends to be oblivious to) this sort of villainous humanizing and morality postulating world where “Social Justice” terms can be hurled by careless, strawmen “actual bad guys” and Black characters who suffer racist abuses in- and out-of-universe apologize to their white friend  sells to the white, male 18-35 demographic. 

Is Nick Spencer a neo-Nazi or support the real world fascism he uses in his stories? I don’t know, I don’t really care. 

But I know why he’s using it to sell comics, and I find that fact unforgivable both for him and for Marvel. And for him to act like he’s being attacked for “simply writing good, controversial stories” while he and his buddies claim that the REAL PROBLEMS at Marvel right now are diversity and that damn DC putting out content people are gravitating toward instead of shitty comics where Captain America and the whole world are actually Nazis the whole time, shows me where convictions of his sort really lie. 

You can stamp your “I’m With Her” stickers all over your forehead and lambast Trump tweets all day, Nick Spencer, but like most white, male neo-Liberals I have met in my life it doesn’t really make a difference because your nose is still stuck up the assholes of the people you actually relate to because other communities you “champion” for are harder to understand and more complex to portray the humanizing elements of compared to moral quanderies of “punching that guy who kinda looks like me and had a life like mine just because he has a stupid haircut and talks about the symbolism of Peppe the Frog while proclaiming the superiority of the White Race makes us just as bad as Hitler, guys”. 

Yeah, it’s easier. Just like it’s easier to say you’re pro-Diversity, pro-Women, pro-LGBTQA+, pro-Progressive ideals to avoid being called out or questioned, but much harder to write with a conscience perspective for those groups while playing to your actual target audience. 

So my hate-fascination with Nick Spencer has come full circle. He’s ironically hit his own moral event horizon. And he’ll possibly make himself and Marvel lots of money while doing so. But it won’t be from the demographics that are actually growing in America and worldwide. It’ll be from the one that’s been shrinking for 20 years now and, historically, already lost this war once. 

Not that Nick Spencer’s current Nazi fever dream likes to admit that they actually lost it. 

I’m going to declare my hate-fascination with Spencer over. Not because I think his career is over, not because I don’t think he’ll make some other big waves with some other stupidity (probably on twitter) later. But because he’s finally reached the apex of this little journey in his writing career. And it’s boringly average white fanboy fare in the big picture of comics. 

Characters and comics are immortal, writers and artists are temporary, but the shame of this douchebaggery is hopefully going to be immortal. 

It will be for as long as I’m blogging, at least. 

[halfkryptn]

* BREAKING APART IN POINTS : BENDIS EDITION !

Comics: Man of Steel (2018) and Superman (2018). Other materials mentioned may be Super Sons (2017) and Adventure of Super Sons (2018).

A few warnings, that: (1) Beware of spoilers, if you’re interested in reading any of the comics above. If not, yeah my dude, go crazy. (2) This might not make sense since I’m pretty sure I’m rambling and have no specific idea on what truly I am doing ever with my entire life. Hopefully, once the current issues end (which, at this point, idk if I’ll honestly be following), there’s a more thorough and proper grasp on how my interpretation might go from there written much better.

Until then, have my thoughts sized up in point forms based on the garbage — I mean, material — that I’ve been given. Enjoy.

I’m just gonna go straight to the point.

Summary:

In Superman (2018), we discover that Clark’s alone. And he’s fighting. And there’s a lot of thoughts he’s processing about his journey and moral dilemmas etc. We found out in the first page that Jon and Lois are on a space trip with Jor-El, Clark’s birth father.

That’s all explained back in Man of Steel (2018) which, as I’ve read, was, fortunately for Bender, wasn’t that far off from how Tomasi has written Jon. There’s that softness in him that’s still there, and humours that only ten-year-olds and very Jon Kent-like that he executed, so I’m at least applauding Bendis for sticking to the interpretation of Jon we all knew so well.

Positive:

In all of that lack of butchering on Jon’s character from Man of Steel (2018), I do appreciate Bendis properly further pick apart Jon’s insecurities, especially after the whole solar flare thing and the prophecy that alternate version of Tim Drake brought.

I also cannot help but to appreciate how thoroughly well Bendis wrote on the reactions from both Lois and Clark at Jon’s sudden outburst regarding his insecurity, as well. Clark, especially, gave Jon excellent advises.

Here are the dialogues:

Jon discussing the prophecy.

Jon: Then why do I grow up to kill million of people?! Lois: What? Clark: What is this? Jon, frantically: There is another reality, okay? And I have seen it! Where -- where I grew up to be Superman, okay?! And then —— oh yeah, I kill millions of people with my out-of-control solar flare power!! That happens!

Clark giving the advice.

Clark: We can’t worry about all the different realities and timelines. I told you, it’s all just —— you have to focus on what is in here. And what you put out there. You worry about you. Not the other you or the other other you. ...or the guy that looks like you but he has a big goatee so we know he’s really the evil you. Jon: That guy’s actually funny... Clark: Those boys are just other boys. Just like Damian is a different boy. And just like you can’t be responsible for everything Damian does, you can’t be responsible for all of those other boys do too. Be your own self, and you are doing it, buddy. Every day. We’re so proud of you.

Jon opening up about his insecurity.

Jon: They rejected me. Clark: Who? Jon: The Titans. Lois: The Titans of--? Jon: The Teen Titans. The— The Gold Standard of the Superhero Team Dynamics.  Clark, whispering: Well, Justice League is really the Gold-- Jon: They said I wasn’t good enough! They said “Come back in a few years”! Clark: So? You will. Jon: But they rejected me because there’s something wrong with me!

So, yeah, Jon has never truly felt comfortable in his skin. Of course, there’s a lot to unpack from these dialogues and Jon’s journey so far as Superboy and what it all means, but we’re not going into details about that today. Point from these was: that it was in-character.

In fact, I was actually disappointed when this issue regarding Jon being rejected and the prophecy being told wasn’t previously addressed or addressed more, and when it was confronted out like these? It was actually refreshing to read.

Moving on, Jor-El offered to let Jon travel with him to find out who he is or whatever (I really couldn’t care less) and Lois decided that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. So she went along, and both Jon and her promised they’d be back once the Summer ends.

Ok. This is an important detail: Jor-El and the Kents stroke a deal to return before school starts. We continue.

Negative.

It starts getting wonky from there. The series leap back to Superman (2018), present time I assume, and Clark’s having these flashbacks of his perfect family when they were with him. Oh, and did I mention? He lost the only communication device that he had to connect with Lois and Jon.

We’re revealed in a flashback on an incident where Jon was complaining about school. Okay, let’s stop it right here. No.

There’s been several canon materials all throughout the Super Sons issues on how Jon likes school. Maybe, yeah, he’s not fond of the schoolwork. Typical. But he’s participated in school activities, he was engaging with his teachers, he was sociable to the point of being generally likeable all around that he was invited to a pool party.

Moving forward, Clark’s in this adventure of going through obstacles to save Earth while longing for his family, when, while deep in his thoughts about finding his father, he was approached by his son. Yup, Jon Kent.

But not any Jon Kent: an older version of him. His shoulders are broad, his face lost its baby fat, and he grew in into his much larger and sculpted form as he hovers and tells his Dad not to worry.

It has also been pointed out in leaked covers that Jon may be portrayed as sinister and... a killer.

Continuity Error.

Now not only we have small details that work against one another regarding Jon’s personality ( *refer to my argument on how Jon likes school above ) , I’m also caught confused by this interstellar bullshit they’re trying to pull and, understandably, could relate to many angry fans.

It doesn’t make sense and it isn’t fair. Admittedly, the flow of the story was still salvageable and Jon’s willingness to be separated from his father to properly get a hold of who he is, isn’t, yet, something to haul my pitchforks up for. Jon had even voiced out his concern about being brought back before school starts, and now we blasted by this appearance of him skipping about, oh, six to seven years of his life?

Not only that, we were robbed of Jon’s lovely growth and characterisation that Tomasi has carefully built. 

Think about it: wouldn’t Jon have demanded to return? Not only he had schools, obligations he knew he can’t afford to miss as Superboy and Jon Kent, but he’s a person who loves the people he knew and he was whole-heartedly devoted to Earth, which he had called his home a few times throughout his featured appearances because, guess what, Earth is the only fucking home he knows. 

And he made a promise to come home to his father. He made a promise to stand by Damian’s side, which, I think, at this point in his life, was a vow he’s taken to heart (since the vow involved his dad doubting Damian which, I think, he won’t stand for). He has family and friends that he adores like Kara, Kathy, Maya, Georgia etc. He wouldn’t abandon the people he cares for just like that. And even if he was somehow heavily influenced by Jor-El, wouldn’t Lois be raising her voice once the she figured out the communicator wasn’t working?

Let’s not even get into the fact that, with Adventures of Super Sons (2018) existing simultaneously with this issue, both of these stories clashes with each canon materials.

In Bendis’ interpretation, Jon went on and grew up in out-of-space directly after the events of the solar-flare and the rejection during Summer. Meanwhile Tomasi continues to write Jon having multiple adventures with Damian in the exact same season. You guessed it: Summer. The season Jon supposedly isn’t on Earth at all. 

Then again, of course, one can argue that maybe this isn’t the same summer when they’ve hinted Jon outgrowing his Superboy clothes. But consider: Why would Jon still be hung up on the same worry from when he was a ten-year-old, if this had happened when he was eleven? Or Twelve? If he’d been older, I bet this is a worry he would’ve blurted out sooner than to let it simmer till he’s eleven or twelve.

Tomasi also hinted that the adventures didn’t stop between the son of Batman and son of Superman, and that Jon and Damian actually grows up together.

So, yeah. Continuity error. Clashes of plot. Whatever you call it, it’s here.

In Conclusion.

There’s still so many issues of the current series that I, admittedly, haven’t gone through since it’s yet to be published. So, I don’t know. Maybe Bendis will shock me into accepting his canon, or maybe I’ll continue to live in a make-believe world where Jon was never abducted by his grandfather and, instead, works his issues out with the people who’re already there.

please don’t reblog !!

[muskycat]

Chapter Five

Frisk took a breath between laughter as snails returned to their starting position. After a first somewhat uneven race, (if you changed something for a burning snail), the next one had better handled her emotion and hadn't saturated the poor animal. Neither had they won but a second position wasn’t so bad. It had been about ten well-reversed coins, though she would have to wait to buy more donuts for the spiders. Fortunately, some of the monsters from the ruins gave her a couple of coins for her time when she treated them well. They were very friendly.

"Oh, well, he has not won. But it has been so close that ... Take it.”

“What?” Frisk looked at the thirty coins the ghost held out to him, “But I havn’t won. And the prize was ten.”

"I don’t want him to feel bad." Frisk watched as the snail looked at them, “He has been so close ... if he loses it will be a hard blow to his self-esteem.”

"Oh, I understand" Frisk looked at the snail and signaled victory, “Good job, buddy.”

After a short stay and with her new song dedicated in the old music player, it was time to leave again towards the Ruins. She needed to get some sleep if she wanted to dissemble in the morning with Toriel.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Said Napstablook.

“Don't worry, I've come this far, right? I’ll know to return.”

Frisk lied him, in fact she was dreading the moment when she was to go back into the woods. She knew that the presence wasn’t entirely gone, if he had stopped chasing her it had been because of the unexpected appearance of Papyrus. Yes, she also had him to return. It was a good point.

"Okay." Napstablook seemed convinced by the girl's words, “But be careful, Frisk. Not all monsters like humans. I'll come to see you tomorrow, okay? In the same old place.”

"Of course, I'll be there.”

Frisk said goodbye and, with the new coins well stored in his purse, began her route, on the way home. Napstablook wanted to return the farewell but he remembered that he had no hands.

"I hope so, Frisk. Please.”

**

The girl left the village behind, heading for Snowdin. She wanted to call Papyrus already, although one part was pitiful to wake him up. She remembered the way to the snowy town so she thought of doing it when she was near his house, to give him a few more minutes of sleep. She didn’t expect this mysterious being to follow her there. No?

"Don’t think paranoid things, Frisk," she told herself,” Or you'll start to believe that someone follows you.”

She looked back, again this feeling of being watched. No, it must be her imagination, Frisk kept walking, past the bridge surrounded by Echo flowers. Flowey had told her about them, how many in the underground, when he said something to them, confused him with one of these. Frisk approached one, these flowers used to repeat the last thing they heard.

"Howdy," she said.

"Howdy" the flower repeated.

"He he ... it's like listening to Flowey. But faceless. Well, I just made it terrifying.

"It's not the scariest thing you'll ever see today, human."

A magic spear pierced the air, destroying the flower within inches of it. Frisk screamed, jumping back and looking in the direction from where that had come from. There she saw a monster, a lady fish with red hair and a fierce look, dressed in an armor that made her invincible in Frisk's eyes. The girl wanted to say something but her inside told her that it wasn’t going to do any good.

"The king began a plan to free us all. Seven human souls are what he needs to go out and declare war to you.” Undyne summoned another spear, which she raised. Her mouth had a sinister smile, full of sharp teeth, “It's already six ... there's one left.”

"I ... I don’t want to fight.” Frisk screamed as she threw her weapon again, this time brushing her cheek, making a few drops of blood slide down her, “Please. Can’t we be friends?”

Frisk forced a smile and extended her arms in friendship. Undyne stood still, from all that could happen this was what she least expected. She reminded her of an old friend ... although her attitude of forgiveness wasn’t the only thing that awakened memories.

"Why do you wear that symbol in your clothes?" She said, looking at Frisk's T-shirt. It impossible not to recognize the symbol of the royal family in it. But what did it do in the clothes of the human?, “ No! You must die!”

Dozens of spears accompanied the one that Undyne had in his hand again and all exited at the same time in the direction of Frisk, that had to move quickly to avoid them. Even so, several of its tips brushed against her, one ripped the right half, causing a wound that burned. Frisk fell to the ground, luckily there were no more spears left, at least until Undyne reloaded her attack.

“Why?” Frisk turned to Undyne, pained, “Why are you hurting me? I haven’t done anything to you.”

Undyne hesitated for a second. For God's sake, she was just an innocent and frightened girl. But she couldn’t afford pity. For Alphys, for Asgore ... everyone needed her.

"You carry the hopes of all the monsters, some that are fading like the flame of a candle." I can’t let their hearts stop beating at once. No ... I can’t allow it. I don’t like fighting defenseless people, but I can’t waste time. I‘m sorry.

There no way to talk to that fish, Frisk acted without thinking, near the water where she was there was a muddy area. The girl took a piece of mud, as big as she could and threw it into Undyne's face. Luck smiled at her that time, blinding the leader of the Royal Guard. Frisk took the bewilderment to get up and run, before she realized. As she turned to Snowdin, she picked up her phone and looked for the number in the phone book.

"Nyeh!" Listening to his friend's voice gave her a hint of happiness and hope, “Frisk? I was not asleep, really ...”

"Papy!” Cried the girl, “Help me, someone wants to kill me.”

“What? Did you caught that weirdo? I told you to wait for me, the forest is very dangerous and ...”

"No, I'm at Waterfall and not the same. She is a fish, she wears armor and ...”

"Undyne?" Frisk thought he heard something falling, then a few quick steps, “Oh, my God, she's gone crazy ... Frisk come to my house, I'll try to reach you. Follow the same path I took you.”

"Run, please, I do not know how long I'm going to go.”

She was about to lose her cell because of a spear, Undyne was approaching. Frisk had to hang up and try to run faster. But she wasn’t a skilful athlete, unlike Undyne.

She didn’t know how much she was running when her injured foot failed again. It couldn’t be, she was so close to Snowdin that it made her angry. Frisk tried to get up but Undyne was too close to run.

"You are mine, human." Undyne prepared her spear and jumped, preparing to throw it against his chest, “This is over. NGAHHH!”

Frisk closed her eyes, waiting for the final blow. She should have listened to Flowey and not risk her. But now it was late. Frisk heard the sound of the spear flying toward it, approaching ... until another sharp blow stopped it all.

“Papyrus!” Undressing his name from Undyne's mouth, Frisk dared to open his eyes. In front of her, protecting her with his body was his savior, stopping the advance of the warrior. To one side she saw the broken spear, next to a pair of bones. Surely that was Papy's attack, Frisk thought.

"Are you all right, Frisk?" Asked the skeleton, casting a brief glance as he tried to catch the air. She nodded, unable to say anything, then Papyrus returned to the impressed Undyne, “You can’t go around attacking anyone you meet on the way, Undyne!”

"But ... Papyrus."

"You almost hurt my friend!"

"Friend? You can not be friends with her. She's a human!”

"Human? Oh, my God, Undyne, you see humans everywhere. She lives here, in the underground.”

"Papy." Frisk cut off his conversation, pulling on his scarf, having managed to get up. He turned, waiting, “Undyne's right”.

“What?” He shouted, exaggeratingly, “You say you ... Can’t you be my friend?”

“No, not that! I'm your friend and I want to stay that way! I mean I live in the ruins with my mother but I ... I'm human. She welcomed me when I fell seven years ago, just today. It's my birthday, "She said with a slight smile. She feared that this information would break the only friendship she had made after leaving the ruins.

"I can’t believe you didn’t tell me."

"I'm sorry, Papy ... I ... I thought it didn’t matter.”

“What it does not matter?” Papyrus suddenly lifted her over his head, again with his smile, “Birthdays are very important.”

“Uh? I ... I thought ... If I’m human ...”

"When  I saw you were a monster I didn’t know ... although I had the vague feeling that I had seen you before ... and to know what you are. But I don’t care. Human or monster, you're my friend and I'm not going to let them do anything to you.”

Papyrus put her down again, glad to have recovered Frisk's smile. A strong feeling filled him inside, something he hadn’t felt for some time. He couldn’t surrender or allow himself to be frightened by anyone, even if it was her old friend. The same who had called him useless, telling him that he would never enter the Royal Guard, which was only to waste her time. That day had lost its spirit, had surrendered. All his dreams, his illusions ... he thought he saw the bitter side of life, the one that his brother did no more than hide. But he wasn’t going to let himself be beaten by it. No, Frisk needed him, so, though terrified, he stood in front of Undyne with his arms in pitcher and full of magic.

"Do you hear me, Undyne? It's your last chance, come home and nothing will happen. Frisk is coming with me.”

“Huh?” Undyne stood still, that didn’t look like the Papyrus she knew, “Papyrus, you know how important it is that soul. We do not have to fight, give me the human. If you do ... yes, you can enter the Royal Guard. You have shown your courage and loyalty! Just ... get out and let me do my job.”

"No," said the skeleton, wavering, “I don’t want to enter to the Royal Guard at the expense of my integrity, Undyne. If you don’t give me another choice…” Papyrus had his head down, clenching his fists as he fought against himself, against his fear, “I'll face you.”

"Like you said?"

"I'll face you!" Papyrus looked up, determined. Meanwhile, a bone emerged from the magic, which he took in his hand, ready to fight, “Even if my bones tremble, I won’t give up. I give everything for the people that matter to me even if they don’t value it.”

Undyne didn’t know what to do. What she was least planning to do that day was fight against Papyrus, nor did she want to do it. He had been his friend, she respected him ... and if she gave him the slightest scratch, she was going to have a bad time. But Undyne couldn’t let go the human.

“Okay, If you want this…Wait, What the hell?”

Before she could do anything, Undyne was surrounded by blue bones, in a whirlwind impossible to flank. It wouldn’t last long, she know about Papyrus attacks. Frisk didn’t know about this, nor did she have more time to do so when Papyrus picked her up quickly and started running towards Snowdin carrying her.

"I'm sorry, Frisk, but I'm not strong enough to face Undyne. I'm going to take you to the safest place in the underground ... yes, there Undyne won’t do anything to you. Nyeh heh heh!”

"I hope it's not far. Papy, I'm going to pukeeee!”

She was going to die, if it weren’t for the spears, she would be killed by the madness of the skeleton. When some blood was flowing in her brain, she wondered what that safe place would be. Her surprise increases when Frisk see herself in front of the already familiar house of the brothers.

“But what…”

"Come in, Frisk, Here Sans and I will protect you. Well, that will be if those lazybones wake up.”

"It's late, it’s normal that he's asleep."

"You don’t know him, come on.

Frisk entered the house next to Papyrus. The lights were off so she couldn’t see anything, just the shadow of the TV, an old couch and little else, were very austere. The girl heard strange noises in the house.

"Papy? What is that?”

"What?"

“That noise.”

“Huh? Oh. "Papyrus looked, resigned, “Don’t worry, It’s a snore. Let's go to my room.”

"But it's very strong."

"I said we're going to my room!" Papyrus pushed the girl into the room. Before he followed her, Papyrus glared at his brother's room, “Even asleep you embarrass me, Sans.”

“... Zzzzz ...”

“I hate you.”

Papyrus closed the door behind him to mitigate the noise, Frisk had already forgotten about it, looking the little figures on his desk.

“Who's this?” she asked Papyrus, pointing to a figure of a robot with a human form and distilling glamor.

“Don’t you know Mettaton?” He said, more surprised when the girl shook her head, “But he's the biggest star on television. This is his second body, two years ago he changed his rectangular shape for this.”

"Toriel doesn’t have a television" Frisk said, “We like books. Like these.”

"Toriel? That was the name of the queen, Alphys told me. What a coincidence that your mother is called the same. Do you want to know what my favorite book is?”

Papyrus pulled out his copy of "Peek a boo with fluffy bunny" that caught the girl's attention.

“Oh, I love Fluffy bunny but I haven’t read this.”

“What? Is there more?”

"Yes, I have the second part, but not the first. I always wanted to read it.”

"This can not be possible," Papyrus said, looking worried about something, which also worried Frisk, who watched him expectantly, “You haven’t tasted my food, it's your birthday and we haven’t celebrated it and you haven’t read the first volume of our favorite book! It's fate, Frisk: I must protect you until you get everything important in your life. Yes, fate put you on my way in the woods.”

"And he made you my escort." Frisk lunged to embrace Papyrus, “Well, the Great Papyrus takes care of me, how lucky I am.”

"Nyeh?" Frisk had already hugged her so she don’t see the face of the skeleton. That she had used that adjective ... he couldn’t believe that Frisk had seen him with such good eyes, just like himself before that.

He had no time to react when loud knocks on the front door made the whole house shake.

"Papyrus!" Open me, damn it! NGAHH! PAPYRUUUUUSS!”

"It's Undyne," said the skeleton, making sure his door was locked tight, “I didn’t expect her to find us so fast. How did she know I was here?”

"What do we do now?" Frisk asked.

"Undyne is very stubborn. She will come in and fight with you. Hmmm ... maybe there is a safer place than this, where she won’t hurt you. Frisk, you must go home.

"To the ruins?"

"She can’t cross the door. Undyne hasn’t done anything to you these years because you were there. I stop her enough so that when she comes back to chase you,  you're home.”

"But ... in the forest ... that voice.”

"It's true, I forgot it. Wait, I have an idea." Papyrus summoned one of his bones and handed it to Frisk, “You're not disarmed, if it appears, you hit him and run home. Understood?”

"Yes." Frisk gave Papyrus the last farewell hug, “Thanks for being my friend. As soon as everything calms down, I'm going to call you.”

"And I'll take you a plate of my spaghetti." The noises of the door grew louder, she open it soon. For more trouble, his brother had awakened, ready to open it. And Undyne hadn’t given him time to inform Sans of the situation, “Quick you have to go! But the door isn’t the best option. I know, from here she won’t see you.”

"Through the window?" But Papy, is very high.

“Don't Worry, trust me. Nyeehhh ...”

"... Aaahhhh." Frisk flew out the window of Papyrus's room, toward the ground. Before she landed Frisk felt an energy that was trying to dampen her fall ... and he did it for a couple of seconds, before stamping it to the ground.

I was wrong. I have not used my blue attack for a long time. Oops.

- ... You could have said it before, Papyrus. Auch.

[lpdwillwrite4coffee]

CHILDREN OF LILITH CHAPTER SIX

Waking up early in someone else’s home was always awkward for Nikki. Should she wait until a more reasonable hour before moving around, or should she take ‘make yourself at home’ to heart and start brewing coffee? Because she could really use a cup, or twenty.

After staring at the ceiling for fifteen minutes, Nikki detangled her legs from the comforter and sat up. Decorum be damned, she really had to pee. As quietly as she could, she finished in the bathroom and closed the door, making her way downstairs. She paused halfway when she heard clinking dishes and someone humming… Kanye West?

Nikki tiptoed the rest of the way and stopped at the corner of the banister. Boz stood at the sink, bobbing his head and occasionally singing a line or two of lyrics. His bright yellow tee shirt and jeans weren’t a surprise to her given what he’d worn the previous day. What Nikki hadn’t expected were the faded blue bunny slippers.

She cleared her throat. “Ah, good morning.”

Boz twisted, soapy dinner plate in his hand. “Oh hey, you’re up!” He smiled. “How’d you sleep? You didn’t have any nightmares did you?” He wagged his eyebrows at her.

“Nope. My dreams were completely Dracula free.”

Boz nodded. “What about the Wolfman?”

“No Wolfman.”

“Aliens?”

Nikki shook her head and Boz shrugged. He started to turn back to the sink, then stopped and pointed at her.

“Joan Rivers?”

Nikki huffed out a laugh. “Do you have nightmares about Joan Rivers often?”

“More than I can count.” His shudder was comical.

Nikki sat down at the table, facing Boz. “You might want to see a therapist about that.”

The floor creaked, announcing Griffin from around the corner of the other hallway. Still dressed in his clothes from the night before, he shuffled as if his joints ached and his hand was pressed into his low back.

“See a therapist about what?” He asked, eyeing Boz.

“Uh, nothing,” Boz said, wiping the plate down.

Griffin squinted at him. “You didn’t tell her about Joan Rivers did you?”

“She’s a scary lady,” Boz exclaimed. “It’s her face… It just doesn’t move.”

“I know, I know,” he said, patting him on the shoulder as he passed.

Griffin turned, smiling at Nikki. “Morning,” he said, voice still rough from sleep. “How did you-”

“She didn’t have any nightmares,” Boz called over his shoulder. “I already asked.”

“Good job Boz. Gold star.”

“I slept fine,” Nikki answered. “How about you? Was the couch okay?”

“Yeah, you know, once I got the pillows squished the right way it was fine.”

The way his mouth curved up was almost shy, and it made something nudge behind Nikki’s ribs.

“You guys want coffee?” Boz asked, already pulling the carafe out and pouring a cup.

Nikki nodded. “It smells strong, is it strong?”

“The strongest,” Boz said, beaming as he handed her the mug.

She sighed over the cup’s rim. “God bless you.”

Boz filled another for Griffin and passed it over. “There you go buddy.”

Griffin thanked him and lowered himself into the chair he’d taken the night before. He leaned back stiffly, and Nikki sipped her coffee, trying not to look concerned. She watched Boz continue washing dishes while he hummed. Hips Don’t Lie came on next and he nearly dropped the bowl in his hand, leaping to turn up the volume.

“I thought you were into electronica this month,” Griffin commented from behind his mug.

Boz nodded, doing some sort of salsa step over to the cabinet. “Yeah, but who doesn’t love Shakira?”

“Communists,” Griffin said plainly.

“Exactly.” Boz spun and wiggled his hips, sufficiently shaking his groove thing as he soaped up another plate.

Nikki leaned across the table. “Does he do that a lot?” She whispered to Griffin.

“You mean dance?” He looked over his shoulder. “All the time. I blame it on all the caffeine he drinks.”

Nikki smiled. “I like it.”

Griffin twisted in his seat. “Hey Boz, you’re gonna want to turn that down…”

Boz stalled, with his hip thrust out, and made a noise of agreement. “Oh, right, don’t wanna wake up the dragon.”

“I don’t appreciate being called that.” Lisa glared at him, coming around the banister.

Boz jerked. “Whoa! You totally just ninja-ed your way in here.” He threw his hands up. “Like, Whaacha!”

Lisa padded barefoot over to the counter, reaching for the coffee pot and a mug simultaneously. “Can it, Bruce Lee. Who taught you your dance moves, your grandmother?”

Boz stared, face blank. “Hey did you get attacked by birds in your sleep? ‘Cause you’ve got like a half made nest-thing growing out of the back of your head.”

She scrunched her face and pinched the back of his arm.

“Ow!” He yelped, clutching his bicep and scowling at her. “Troll,” he muttered.

“Karma’s a bitch,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you changed your name.”

All he got in response was a foul gesture and Boz cackled.

“And that?” Nikki asked Griffin, motioning to the other two.

“Since day one,” he whispered.

Nikki nodded, straightening to say good morning to Lisa, who smiled and slumped into her chair, cradling her coffee against her chest.

Unexpected silence filled the room, save for the radio, and Nikki looked around at the others. Everyone had tensed- even Boz had stopped dancing- and no one seemed comfortable. She assumed she knew the cause, and cleared her throat.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You guys can ask.”

Griffin frowned. “Ask what?”

“How I’m dealing with all of… this,” she said, waving her hand. “You know, the Vampire stuff.”

“Oh.” He stared at her. “So… how are you handling it?”

“Honestly?” She shrugged. “Better than I expected. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pretty freaked, but… It’s not like I can unlearn everything right?”

Griffin’s eyes didn’t waver from hers and Nikki felt something ghost across her scalp.

“Well…” Boz murmured. “You’re doing better than I did when I found out.”

Lisa snorted. “A toddler would have done better than you.”

Boz pointed at her. “You wanna go for round two?” He raised his fists like a boxer.

“Bring it, Tyson,” she taunted.

He jabbed the air with a couple of quick punches. “You first, Holyfield.”

Griffin blinked, ducking his head. “All of this… it can take a while to get used to,” he said to Nikki. He offered a hesitant smile. “If ever.”

“I’m just glad you guys know what the hell’s going on.”

“Well, mostly know what’s going on,” he corrected.

She smirked over her coffee. “Still better than nothing.”

Griffin nodded, rolling his shoulders. For a moment it seemed as if he was avoiding her gaze- avoiding looking at her entirely- but then his eyes met hers again.

“How about some breakfast?” Griffin stood up, going to the stove.

“Oh, you don’t have to cook for me,” Nikki said. “Cereal’s fine.”

“Trust me,” Boz told her. “If he wants to cook, there’s no convincing him otherwise. Plus his French toast is the best in the city.”

Griffin snorted. “I think that’s a bit of an over statement.” He pulled out several skillets, setting them on burners.

“It’s not,” Boz stage-whispered to her. His eyebrows popped to his hairline when he saw what was being hauled out of the cabinet and tossed his towel on the counter. “Oh man, he’s bringing out Big Mama. Alright buddy, kitchen’s yours,” he announced, walking past the table and down the hallway.

Nikki arched an eyebrow and glanced at Lisa. “Big Mama?”

“His favorite frying pan.”

“Oh.”

Boz returned holding a laptop and spiral notebook, with pencils jammed behind his ears and two caught between his teeth. He set everything down in front of his chair and began arranging it in a very particular order.

“Are you a student?” Nikki asked. The only times she’d seen anything similar was in the library at NYU.

“Huh? Oh, no, definitely not.” Boz shook his head, opening his laptop. “This is more work slash hobby.”

“Slash hazard,” Lisa added from behind her coffee cup.

“Hey, that was one time,” he said, pointing at her.

Nikki frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand…”

Griffin turned away from the eggs he was scrambling and caught her eye. “Boz is good with computers,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘good’ in a way that made it sound both impressive and sinister.

“Good, how?”

“As in, he’s on the FBI’s watch list,” Lisa said, casting a judgmental glance at Boz.

“Well…” Boz drawled. “Not anymore.”

“Because you hacked into the Bureau and changed their records.”

“I had to,” he exclaimed.

“Wait,” Nikki interjected. “You’re a wanted criminal?”

“Wanted, yes,” he said. “The criminal part is up for debate.”

Griffin angled away from the stove and stared at his friend. “Boz, you just admitted to hacking into the FBI’s database. That alone makes you a criminal.”

“Okay, but I’m not a hacker for hire…” Boz winced at the accusatory expression on Griffin’s face and added, “Anymore. Now I use my powers for good instead of monetary gain.” He started typing and muttered, “Unfortunately, a clear conscience doesn’t help pay the bills…

“Oh… that reminds me,” Lisa started, going to refill her mug.

Boz dropped his head down on the table with a thump. “Not again,” he groaned.

“Yesterday was my third strike,” she said. “They gave me the axe.

“Great. So I guess we’re going with luck of the draw this time around?”

Boz got up and went to the cabinet above the coffee maker, taking a worn Mets cap from the top shelf. He sat back down, scribbling on a clean sheet of paper from his notebook and tore it into slips. Folding them, he tossed them into the hat and shook it.

“Alright ladies and gents,” he said. “Time to test your luck.”

“Who pulled last time?” Griffin asked.

“Boz, but he cheated,” Lisa said, going back to her seat.

“I did not,” he countered. “You’re just bitter ‘cause I pulled your name.”

“Fine, then I’ll do it,” she said, reaching for the cap.

Boz yanked it back. “How about we get someone who isn’t biased against me,” he said, looking to Nikki.

“Sure. What do I do?”

“Close your eyes, reach in, and pull out one name. Whoever’s name it is, they have to go job hunting.” Boz explained. “We would play rock- paper- scissors, but someone has a bit of an advantage,” he said, eyeing Griffin, who was trying to hide his smirk.

Nikki smiled. “Okay, here it goes.” She placed one hand over her eyes and reached into the hat, pinching the first piece she felt. She read the name aloud. “Boz.”

“Ha!” Lisa crowed.

“What?” Boz gaped. “Let me see that!” He took the paper from her and sighed. “Fine, I’ll go drop off my resume at the twelve nearest Starbucks and see how it goes.”

Nikki finished her coffee and said, “You could add Rush to your list too. They’ll probably be looking for someone new since after today I’m pretty sure I’m fired.”

Both Boz and Lisa faltered, looking at her in sympathy, and Nikki shook her head.

“Oh, no I didn’t mean it like that,” she assured them. “It’s okay. I worked there for six months which is way longer than anyone should ever work for Mister Johnson.” She stood, moving towards the coffee maker. “It was really my time to leave. I should get back to bartending. People tip better for alcohol than they do for their morning coffee.”

“I was a bartender too,” Lisa said. “Where’d you work?”

“A club over in the East Village, but it burned down a few months ago, so I had to take the job at Rush.”

Nikki was certain everyone stopped breathing. The air around her pressurized uncomfortably.

Boz shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry, did you say it burned down?”

Nikki swallowed before answering. “Um, yeah. The owner said it was an accident. Faulty wiring or something like that.” She glanced over at Griffin, but he stood motionless with his back to her. “There was a rumor it might have been an insurance scam though. The owner wasn’t really good with his money.”

“So it was arson?” Lisa asked.

“It could have been. But the papers never said anything about it, so…”

Boz relaxed his shoulders but his eyes were still wary. “That, uh… that sucks about the place burning down.”

Nikki nodded. “I’m just glad no one got hurt.”

Right as she said the words, Boz’s gaze flicked to Griffin. It took less than a millisecond but Nikki saw the movement. Immediately her throat went dry. Half-formed questioned started clawing up from her diaphragm, desperate to be flung into the expanse. The first one, starting with a garbled what, was cut in half when Griffin turned off the burners and Nikki clamped her jaw shut.

“Food’s ready,” he said, sliding portions of scrambled eggs and French toast onto plates.

Boz hopped up and grabbed utensils from a nearby drawer while Griffin distributed the food. He carried Nikki’s plate over to where she stood at the counter.

“I hope you like it,” he said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Nikki struggled with her words, her brain catching up to the present. “Uh, thank- thank you.”

Griffin nodded, saying “Sure,” before downing the rest of his coffee in a huge gulp.

Then Nikki noticed what was missing. “Wait, where’s your food?”

“I’m not hungry,” he said. “I’m gonna go take a shower before we head back to your place.” He started towards the stairs, but she stopped him.

“And what then?” She asked. “Do we have a plan?”

Griffin’s hand tightened on the railing. “I have a friend who might know something,” he said. “But first I’ll take you home so you can pack a bag. You’ll stay with us until we figure everything out.”

Nikki arched an eyebrow. “I’m guessing that’s your ‘don’t argue with me’ voice?”

“Uhh huh,” Lisa and Boz muttered together.

Nikki hummed, lips tight as she stared at Griffin. “Alright then, I guess I’m bunking here.”

Griffin jerked his head. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He glanced at his friends before disappearing up the stairs.

She heard the door shut and sat down with her food, eating quietly. Damn, it really was the best French toast she’d ever had.

Around a large mouthful, Boz said to Lisa, “I got a call from Queens. They need help with a pack about the size of the one yesterday. Feel up for another rumble?”

“I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m picking up ammunition with Nikos and Otto.”

“You taking the van?”

“I drew the short straw,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m convinced Otto cheated.”

“Of course you are.”

“Are you gonna head to Queens?” Lisa asked over her coffee cup.

“Might as well,” he said. “They sounded pretty desperate. I’ll finish up here and catch the train out.”

Lisa, who had practically been inhaling her food, scraped the last bits from her plate and stood up. “You call me the minute you’re done, okay? I wanna know you’re still alive.”

“Yes, mom,” Boz teased. As a reward he was splashed in the face with dishwater. “Ah, you got me in the eye,” he said, digging his knuckle into the crease.

“Serves you right.”

Lisa poured another cup of coffee and leaned back against the counter, staring at a spot on the floor. When Boz was finished he made his way over and set his dishes down.

She edged closer, whispering from behind her mug. “He’s not eating again.”

“He hasn’t been doing it for long,” Boz murmured, rinsing his plate. “I don’t think we should worry yet.”

“He didn’t eat anything yesterday, and he didn’t have breakfast today…” Lisa frowned at her coffee. “At the very least he’s going to run out of energy.”

“He says it helps with the-” Boz gestured to his temple. “Besides, he’s in a better mood today than he’s been in weeks. I think we should leave him be.”

“What about-”

“I really don’t think he’ll wanna talk about that.”

Lisa didn’t say anything else, but the crease between her brows didn’t fade.

Nikki finished her breakfast, and stood cautiously. “I’m just going to get my things from upstairs,” she said, heading for the stairs.

Hearing Lisa and Boz talk about Griffin made something twist inside Nikki. It didn’t have a name, but it was enough to almost ruin her appetite. She scowled at the floor as she climbed the last few steps, trying to will the sensation away.

The bathroom door was shut and she heard the shower running, so she continued to her borrowed room, pushing open the door without knocking.

Griffin stood by the bed, stripped from the waist up, and Nikki gasped. Thank God he still had his jeans on…

“I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. “I heard the shower and I thought-”

“No, it’s okay,” he told her hurriedly. “I was just getting a change of clothes while I let the water warm up.”

When he turned, Nikki had a clear view of several jagged scars that ran down his shoulder blade like long claw marks. Further down on his abdomen, right above where the waistband of his jeans hit his hips, was a vicious red wound that curved from the front plane of his stomach almost completely around his right side to his back. It was raised and discolored compared to his others, the skin around it pinched and inflamed, as if it hadn’t healed properly. The other smaller marks on his chest and arms couldn’t compare to the horror on his side.

Panic and concern boiled in her chest. Someone had tried to gut him…

“How did-” Nikki started.

Griffin cleared his throat. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Picking up the rest of his clothes, he lowered his gaze to the floor as he strode past her into the hallway. She watched as he turned into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

It wasn’t until Nikki reached for her purse that she realized her hands were balled into tight fists and her teeth were on edge.

* * *

“Lisa, I thought you bought more dish detergent,” Boz said from where he was crouched by the open cabinet.

“I did,” she said. “I put it with the other cleaner.”

“Well I can’t find it,” Boz grunted, reaching further into the dark. He moved a bottle of oven cleaner and tipped over something glass.

Feeling around the back, he pulled it from the corner it had rolled into, and read the label.

Boz’s heart sank.

Ah Griff, he thought, staring at the empty whiskey bottle. Why do you do this?

“Did you find it?” Lisa asked, making Boz jerk.

“Uh, yeah.”

He considered throwing it away, but he was all too aware of the ramifications. Not for him, but for Griffin.

It wasn’t the first empty bottle he’d found hidden, and he didn’t see it being the last.

He placed the bottle back in the shadows, turning the label away from him.

I’ve got you, buddy.

Boz stood up, shutting the cabinet door, just as Nikki came downstairs.

“So, this friend Griffin mentioned,” she started, sitting back in her seat. “Who is he?”

“She,” Lisa corrected. “Her name’s Mary.”

“She’s a Seer,” Boz answered.

Lisa tilted her head. “And a gossip.”

“And pretty intimidating for someone so…” He motioned with his hand like he was estimating her height. “Small.”

“Fair warning though,” Lisa said. “She doesn’t always come through for us. Mary can be a little… difficult.”

Nikki’s brows knitted together. “Does Griffin trust her?”

Boz shrugged. “I think he understands her. They don’t particularly like each other, but they have an interesting history.”

Nikki bit the inside of her lip, nodding. She was starting to realize Griffin’s friends weren’t keen on full disclosure, at least not without him around, and while she appreciated the loyalty sentiment she wasn’t a fan of vague explanations.

The only thing she was going to get from them was another cup of coffee. Which she took.

* * *

Griffin stood in front of the mirror, staring down at the reflection of his side. He dragged his fingertips over the warped skin, rising and falling with every ridge and dimple.

She was worried, he thought, dumbfounded. Worried for me… because of this.

When Nikki had walked in on him, he knew she’d seen his scar. He’d felt her reaction as it blasted across the room like a hot gust of wind. He’d expected an emotional jumble of disgust and curiosity, not the overwhelming concern that made his breath catch in his throat.

He was a stranger to her. How could she feel so strongly about seeing the after effects of a wound that, for all she knew was his fault?

It was my fault. He tore his eyes away from the mirror and finished undressing as he stepped towards the shower.

But Griffin’s mind was stuck on a loop, trying to work out the complexities of the woman downstairs. Most people found him unnerving, intimidating- he’d figured it was their instincts telling them something was off, that he wasn’t exactly like them, and he couldn’t blame them for it. Even Boz and Lisa had needed time to adjust.

Not Nikki.

Every so often he sensed uncertainty, but she wasn’t frightened by him. In fact, it was as if she wanted to prove the opposite. Like it was important to her that Griffin didn’t question whether or not she was comfortable. He had yet to decide if that was stubbornness on her part, or something more genuine.

He argued with himself for the duration of his very short shower. He told himself Nikki was putting on a brave face, hiding anything that might be considered a weakness, but Griffin knew what deception felt like, knew the emotions that wove themselves into a lie, and not a single one had emanated from her. The idea of her truly caring, however, made Griffin itch beneath his skin.

Shutting the water off, he grabbed for his towel and made quick work of drying and getting dressed. He was thankful the mirror was still fogged over as he pulled a black henley tee shirt over his head. He didn’t want to see his scar a second time.

He fastened his belt as he strode out of the bathroom, boots heavy on the stairs.

“You ready to go?” He asked, going to the front door.

Nikki stood saying, “Yeah,” and slinging her purse over her shoulder.

Griffin adjusted his holster before tugging his arms through his coat sleeves. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Boz and Lisa’s somber expressions.

“We’ll be back soon,” he said, hoping that would put them at ease. It didn’t.

Boz nodded, sad brown eyes locking on his. “Be careful, Griff.”

“I will,” he muttered, turning to open the door for Nikki.

When they were outside, with the door shut behind them, Nikki stared up at Griffin intently.

“They worry about you,” she said.

“Yeah,” he sighed.

“Does that mean I should be worried too?”

Griffin looked down, feeling the weight of her gaze on him. He shook his head.

“Don’t waste your energy.”