#my mind is running around screaming a lot ahhhhhhhhhh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-pen-and-the-stethoscope · 3 years

Text

So while Six of Crows has been on my to read list for a while now when I saw that Shadow and Bone was coming to Netflix and realized they were all part of the same little universe I was like *rolls up sleeves* K guess it’s time to read five books in one month to prepare for this new series drop. (special shout out to @darklesmylove because it’s mostly your blog posts that convinced me I had to read this series...I give you this as a gift...)

And now I present to you (in the order which I read them) the events in the Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows books that made me go ABSOLUTELY FERAL (wow there’s a lot more of these than I thought there were).

- “The problem with wanting,” he whispered, his mouth trailing along my jaw until it hovered over my lips, “is that it makes us weak.” (unfortunately the last time I was seduced by the Darkling - NEVER AGAIN BAD SIR! But this was fucking hot)

- THE. FIGHT. OVER. THE. STAG. (Just...Alina not killing it, the Darkling is here, now he’s going to kill it. NOW ALINA IS IN FRONT OF THE STAG SAVING IT. NOW SHE WANTS MAL TO SACRIFICE HER. NOW THE COLLAR IS AROUND HER NECK AND NOW SHE’S UNDER HIS POWER AHHHHH) Bonus: “Shhhh. Quiet now, or I will let Ivan kill him. Slowly.”

- When Alina figures out the dream and TAKES THE POWER BACK!!! (yaaaaasss queen!)

- When the Darkling finds Alina and Mal in Cofton and that whole fight scene and her getting bit and then I had to WAIT UNTIL THE REST OF THE BOOKS CAME IN THE MAIL

- “From what I know of the Ice Court, whoever stole my DeKappel is exactly who I need for this job.” “Then you’d be better off hiring him. Or her.” “Indeed. But I’ll have to settle for you.” (I’m 50 pages in and in love with Kaz Bekker, someone help me)

- “Not just yet, Inej.” The rasp of stone on stone. Her eyes flew open. Kaz. (ugh my cold cold heart is awake and beats only for them!)

- Because I’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days. (literally like......)

- When Jordie and Kaz get tricked. (I mean all of Kaz’s back story but that was...ugh..........)

- It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

- When Nina runs into the guards and the alarm goes off and I realize that I’m an idiot and OBVIOUSLY THINGS WERE GOING TO GO WRONG.

- WHEN INEJ TOUCHES KAZ’S FACE. His eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated. She could see it took every last bit of his terrible will for him to remain still beneath her touch. And yet, he did not pull away. She knew it was the best he could offer. It was not enough.

- He slammed his fist against the window. “Do not speak my name.” Then he smiled, a smile as cold and unforgiving as the northern sea. “Welcome to the Ice Court, Nina Zenik. Now our debt is paid.” (like FUCK MATTHIAS GOT ME TOO. WHAT A GOOD ACT!)

- I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath. It was the vow of the druskelle to Fjerda. And now it was Matthias’ promise to her. (OMGGGGGG)

- “This is going to sting a bit,” said the druskelle holding the whip. His voice was rasping, familiar. His hands were gloved. “But if we live, you’ll thank me later.” His hood slid off, and Kaz Brekker looked back at them.

- The sun was out for once, and Inej had turned her face to it. Her eyes were shut, her oil-black lashes fanned over her cheeks. The harbor wind had lifted her dark hair, and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure that there was magic in this world. (YEAH OKAY. AND THIS IS HIS LAST THOUGHT BEFORE DROWNING.)

- WHEN THEY STEAL THE TANK. THE TANK. AND THEN DRIVE IT THROUGH THE FUCKING TOWN.

- Nina on parem.

- “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.” (SCREEAAAAMS. BANGS HAND AGAINST BOOK. DIES.)

- “Kaz knew the instant he made his mistake...in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej.” (asdlfkasgkjasglk;sdfjl)

- I’m going to get my money, Kaz vowed. And I’m going to get my girl. (YEAH BITCH!)

- When Alina first sees the Darkling while they are traveling the fold (I froze, I read it like four times, I couldn’t believe what was happening)

- When Mal suggests they go to that stupid party and then Alina actually agrees (I literally was like...well something bad is going to happen and I hate it here)

- When the Darkling shows up after Alina and Mal kiss. “Another otkazat’sya, Alina?” the Darkling mocked. (sdflkajd)

- “I can’t decide if you’re an idiot, or an idiot.” (ugh Nikolai, marry me)

- two pages later: “You’re a spectacular actor,” I said drily. “Do you think so?” he asked. Then he leaned in and whispered, “I’m doing ‘humble’ right now.” (FUCK ME)

- “I want to kiss you,” Nikolai said. “But I won’t. Not until you’re thinking of me instead of trying to forget him.” (Am I the only one who found this cute??? Why did Alina get upset??? Do I have Nikolai-colored goggles on??? Maybe...)

- When the Darkling came to Alina in her sleep and then PRETENDED TO BE MAL SO HE COULD HAVE HIS WAY WITH HER?!?!?!?!?! (ahhhhhhhhhh) “I missed you too, Alina.” That voice. Cool and smooth as glass. (AHHHHH)

- Nikolai stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the parquet floor. “When did you lift the blockades? How long have the roads been open?” (LSDAKLFSDLFDKASLDKLSKLKLL)

- “Not bad looking?” said another voice. “He’s damnably handsome.” Luchenko scowled. “Since when - “ “Brave in battle, smart as a whip.” Now the voice seemed to be coming from above us. Luchenko craned his neck, peering into the trees. “An excellent dancer,” said the voice. “Oh, and an even better shot.” (And then I damn near died.)

- There’s a whole three pages (that I will not re-type here) after they arrive at the Spinning Wheel of Nikolai just being *chef’s kiss* flawless. Some great lines include: “Everyone needs a hobby.” “I thought yours was preening.” “Two hobbies.” “Should I be offended that he doesn’t want to dine with us? I set an excellent table, and I rarely drool.” “What a filthy mind you have. I was referring to puzzles and the perusal of edifying texts.” “Last chance to run.”

- “Alina, I’ll be back to fetch you for dinner, but should you grow restless, do feel free to run screaming from the room or take a dagger to her. Whatever seems most fitting at the time.” (asldjkasl;dkfs;lkd NIKOLAI)

- Okay gunna skip ahead - you can assume any time Nikolai said anything I screamed.

- Nikolia’s second proposal (THE EMERALD!!! JUST HOW HE PUTS IT ON TOP OF THE WALL)

- Nikolai’s third proposal. Nikolai’s skin was warm, his grip gentle. I’d wondered if I would ever feel something so simple again or if the power in me would just keep jumping and crackling. (THIS is why he is perfect for her - no jolt of electricity, just warmth and comfort!!!)

- SERGEI!!!!

- When Nikolai gets fucking taken over by a nichevo’ya (I HATE EVERYONE)

- When Baghra sacrifices herself

- When we finally FINALLY find out what makes Mal so special (I mean....his tracking was OTHERWORLDLY I can’t believe people weren’t more fucking freaked out by him)

- “The Darkling marched on Keramzin.” (Literally screamed: “MY HEART HURTS.” I was crying. I nearly threw the book down. “BUT THE CHILDREN!” I say with my fists in the air. I am become a blade.)

- Nikolai visiting Alina while he is the monster and trying to make himself better (ahhhhh tears!!! THE EMERALD!!!) The words died on my lips. Nikolai turned my palm over and slid the ring onto my finger. (FUUUUCK. PAAAAIN.)

- When Nikolai comes back and FIGHTS FOR THEM IN THE FOLD!!!! HE MAY BE A MONSTER BUT HE IS NOT THE DARKLING’S MONSTER, BITCH!!

- “Please,” I sobbed. “Bring him back to me.” (lkadsflkj this was actually devastating even though I’m not a huge Mal fan)

- “We need more light,” he said. A choked laugh escaped me. I held up my hands, pleading with the light and with any Saint who had ever lived. it was no good. (UGHHHH. MORE PAIN.)

- Tamar sobbed. Toyla swore. And there it was again: the thready, miraculous sound of Mal drawing breath. (and also the first time I breathed for an entire chapter!)

- “Alina,” he said and kissed the scar on my palm, “I remember everything.” (Literally the last like twenty pages of this book I just gave up and was like actually Mal is adorable and I need to protect him at all costs.)

- “Really I just wanted to look at the words.” (ughhhhh)

- Once a man arrived with a fleet of toy boats that the children launched on the creek in a miniature regatta. The teachers noted that the stranger was young and handsome, with golden hair and hazel eyes, but most definitely off. He stayed late to dinner and never once removed his gloves. (NIKOLAI SIGHTING IN THE EPILOGUE MY HEART GOES ON)

- When Van Eck thinks Kaz is coming to get Inej and then he tells Inej and then she is WILLING HIM to not show up and then it is revealed he wasn’t there all along (BOOM BITCH THAT’S HOW KAZ BREKKER FUCKING WORKS.)

- “Those were my mother’s favorite flower.”

- “Why the net, Kaz?” I couldn’t bear to watch you fall. (POETRY OKAY?)

- Jesper and Wylan going to see Wylan’s mother and just fucking everything about that chapter.

- When Inej almost FALLS INTO THE FUCKING SILO AND IT’S THE END OF THE GD CHAPTER

- “Pick up the pace,” Kaz said, eyeing his watch. “If I spill a single drop of this, it will burn straight through the floor onto my father’s dinner guests.” “Take your time.”

- “We’ll fight our way out together,” Inej whispered. Nina glanced from Inej to Kaz and saw they both wore the same expression. Nina new that look. It came after the shipwreck, when the tide moved against you and the sky had gone dar. It was the first sight of land, the hope of shelter and even salvation that might await you on a distant shore. (AHHHHHH)

- Wylan’s first thought was that this boy had the most perfectly shaped lips he’d ever seen. His second was that his father had sent someone new to kill him. (Wylan you are so adorable it’s adorable)

- Inej was moving before she thought of it. She couldn’t just watch him die, she wouldn’t. They had him down now, heavy boots kicking and stomping at his body. her knives were in her hands. She’d kill them all. She’d pile the bodies to the rafters for the stadwatch to find. But in that moment, through the wide slats in the banister landing, she saw his eyes were open. His gaze found hers. He’d known she was there all along. Of course he had. He always kew how to find her. He age the barest shake of his bloodied head. (THESE TWO!!)

- “My leg! My leg!” “I recommend a cane,” Kaz said. (cackling)

- When Sturmhond (aka Nikolai ***swoons***) showed up in Crooked Kingdom. (What actually happened: me reading a description of a “fox-like” man with Genya and Zoya and screaming and saying to myself “OMG WHEN I TURN THE PAGE IT WILL CONFIRM THAT NIKOLAI IS IN THE BUILDING I CAN’T” (did I mention I’m in love with him??? already??? k))

- When Jesper and Wylan FINALLY kiss FOR REAL (this was a big chapter for me) This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire. it was the spin of Makker’s Wheel. Jesper felt the pounding of his heart - or was it Wylan’s? - like a stampede in his chest, and the only thought in his head was a happy, startled, Oh.

- CHAPTER 33 - just everything, everything about the reveals in this chapter. The money being funneled to the Shu, not being able to trace even the RANSOM NOTE back to Kaz. WYLAN SHOWING UP!!!! “ARE YOU SURE THEY WERE PEKKA’S MEN?” !!!!!!!!

- “Do something,” Matthias growled at Kaz. “This is about to turn ugly.” Kaz’s face was as impassive as always. “Do you think so?” (bahahahahaha)

- Nina’s just complete glee over the chaos she creates!!! “She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.”

- Jesper using his fucking power!!!!!!

- She stared up at him. He was going to miss that look of surprise. (HE’S GOING TO LET HER GO. HE KNOWS HE IS GOING TO LET HER GO.)

- KAZ’S PLAN BECOMING CLEAR IN IT’S BRILLIANCE AS EACH CHAPTER GOES BY.

- Inej frowned. “I thought you and Nina chose four outbreak sites on the Staves.” Kaz straightened his cuffs. “I also had her stop at the Menagerie.” She smiled then, her eyes red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again. (AHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

- “A sedative,” said the medik. “Is that safe for a pregnant woman?” “For me.” (This is just FLAWLESS in its depiction of people who don’t do OB care regularly.)

- Matthias saw the anger there, the rage. He knew it well. But he was still surprised when he heard the shot. (NOOOOOOOO!!!)

- “Has she at least done it before?” said Kaz. “For this purpose?” asked Sturmhond. “I’ve seen her do it twice. It worked splendidly. Once.” (NIKOLAI I BEG YOU!)

- When Matthias DIES?!??! (I’M SORRY WHO LET THIS HAPPEN??)

- “You will meet him again in the next life,” said Inej. “But only if you suffer this now.”

- Wylan getting all of his father’s money because KAZ HAS BEEN PLANNING THIS ALL ALONG??!

- Jesper leaned in and said, quietly enough that no one else could hear, “I can read to him.” (alksdflk;jasfl;jkd that was hot)

- “Well hopefully the medik will be here to fix my ribs soon,” he said as he headed back into the parlor. “Yeah?” “Yes,” said Wylan, glancing briefly over his shoulder, his cheeks now red as cherries. “I’d like to make a down payment.” (OMG WYLAN?!?!?! IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?!?! IS THIS ALLOWED?!?!)

- At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone. “Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered. “He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.” (TEARS.)

- She felt his knuckles slide against hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm was pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine. (I gasped so loud i literally woke my cat up from a deep sleep.)

- “Wait,” he said. The burn of his voice was rougher than usual. “Is my tie straight?” Inej laughed, her hood falling back from her hair. “That’s the laugh,” he murmured. (THAT’S THE LAUGH. THAT’S THE LAUGH. AHHHHH)

Okay done. Gunna go stare at the ceiling until tomorrow night/whenever I finally get King of Scars and Rule of Wolves in the mail (BECAUSE YOU KNOW MY SORRY ASS IS DYING AT THE THOUGHT OF TWO BOOKS ALL ABOUT NIKOLAI)

18 notes · View notes

roninhunt0987 · 3 years

Text

M.E.G.A Chronicles 3 Special: Suzuki unwell

By: Roninhunt0987

this is another special not just for ya'll to read but this is also a get well soon fic for Nekorockstarninja as she has told me earlier today that she was not feeling so I taken the liberty to make a get well soon gift for Nekorockstarninja so yea

X3 enjoy the Hilarity folks

-Kato/Prower residence-

Suzuki: -training extra hard and barely got any rest as she is unaware she is not feeling well-

Jared: -walks in with Leo-

Leo: Sis you been training all day come back inside

Suzuki: o-okay just- -wobbles a lil as she walks and starts to fall over- Jared: -reacts quickly and catches her and feels a bit of heat come from her and feels her head- Suzuki how long were ya in this state

Suzuki: I dunno.... I dunno really....

Raph: -realizes that his cold got onto Suzuki when he was getting better last week- oh shell... oh man... did i-

Leo: -looks to Raph- Raph Raph: I... I

Jared: Raph... its okay... alright ya didn't know

Raph: -breathes in and counts to 5 and the breathes out counts to 5 again- okay just get her inside

-later inside- Suzuki: -wet rag on her forehead as she wakes up from passing out- uggh did I pass out

Raph: uhhh....you did but- eh heh I may of given ya my cold.... ^^; my bad

Suzuki: .w.;;;; Raph.... I am so gonna hurt you when I get better

Jared: Suzuki he didn't know okay so go easy on him

Suzuki: okay... sorry raph

Raph: its fine okay just uhh.... Jared: .w. and guess who is gonna nurse her back to health while were helping

Raph: O_o ya kidding me

Jared: ^^; ya message from ya dad Master Splinter.... heh... .w.

Raph: darn it... ugh okay okay sigh... -in his mind: well raph just bite the bullet and deal with it....-

-moments later-

Raph: -trying to make chicken soup but starts get a lil frustrated- Kimiko: Raph... is everything okay Raph: -smiles widely- yes everything is fine

Kimiko: ^^; raph then why is ya hands shaking

Raph: sigh.... you're good at making chicken soup right?? can you... teach me

Kimiko: =3 I can help yes

Merrick: -walks in- hey Heard Suzuki got sick is everything alright?? Raph: I passed my cold into her while she and I had an argument and I feel like a moron doing that

Merrick: ahh yea Mikey mentioned you were a drama queen when you were sick to the bone

Raph: .w. how?? Merrick: .w. he told me he recorded it all on camera while you couldn't do anything

Raph: MIKEY!! Mikey: O_o whoops gotta go -runs outside-

Raph: -chases him-

Kimiko: ^^; eh heh

-moments later- Raph: -got the ingrediants for the soup correctly with kimiko helping-

Leo: -patching mikey up- .,w. well donnie did warn ya of raph were to find out ya recorded him being miserable you gonna get hurt

Donnie: I did yes... .w. so what did we learn

Mikey: -groans- never record anyone sick and miserable

Donnie: .w. exactly

Merrick: -anime sweatdrop- sigh

Suzuki: .w. and you better not record my misery mikey cuz ya know I hit harder than raph right

Mikey: O_o yes I know

-2 hours later-

Suzuki: -eating the soup- ^^ Raph: -sighs in relief thanks to kimiko teaching him- hey... about that argument we had the other day when I was sick.... ya sorry I wasn't paying attention at my condition and I got ya sick

Suzuki: its alright Raph

Raph: right uhm just relax and rest okay

Suzuki: alright then

-later that night-

Raph: -looks over to her to make sure she's okay and such-

Merrick: -walks on over- Raph Raph: hu?? oh hey uh... whats up??

Merrick: shouldn't ya be asleep -notices- ahhh I see... you been making sure she's alright

Raph: ya.... pendence from... okay ya notice why suzuki have her hair covered on her eye...

Merrick: its because when both of you were kids ya blinded one of her eyes...

Raph: how did you-

Merrick: Suzuki told me a year ago... she told me if ya brought up that incident well she did tell you were gonna bring it up

Raph: sigh yea... I had the feeling... I was a huge hot head back when I was a kid... and since that incident I been keeping it to myself for a while now... specially the hell we been through as we got older,,, like when Suzuki got married to Appalo.... and when she had her kids and me being the tough uncle.... sigh the thing is we all have our own regrets.... do ya have any regrets??? Merrick: as a matter of fact.... I do... when eggman was still around as I got older I wanted revenge on eggman for what he did to me when I was 6... yet so many times in times I wanted to kill but my instincts said no and let him live... because I knew that someone called first dibs... that would be the ex-stealth assassin now head bounty hunter razor the hedgefox.... he rescued my twin brother from getting robotized well during the op of it anyways because he was working with the first sniper bridgade squadreon.... Seraph the ex-medic now doctor of all hospitals was part of that op... I thank them all for it.... but at the end when eggman been killed I was at peace... so yea..

Raph: whys that on the part of not killing eggman?? Merrick: tribal instincts thats why I was born tribal got me wondering if ya gonna notice the tribal tattoos on me so yea

Raph: I see...

Merrick: well on the bright side she should be a lot better by morning... my grandma's special herbs works wonders ya know... so don't worry and get some rest okay

Raph: alright then

-next day-

Suzuki: -yawns as she gets up from the couch as she is a lot better and walks to the kitchen-

Raph: -reading a news paper-

Suzuki: -walks on in-

Leo: morning sis

Donnie: -has coffee and notices as he has the look of shock on his face anime style- O_O Mikey and Leo: O_O Raph: .w. what ever heard of bed hair befo- -looks and has the same look- O_O

Merrick and Jared: what the-

Suzuki: what?? Raph: O_O uhm.... may wanna look at a mirror or something

Suzuki: thats silly why do I need to look into the mir- -looks at the reflection of the fridge- O_o ror....

-outside the house-

Birds: -flying around and etc-

Suzuki: -screams from inside the house- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Birds: -flies off in the panic-

Suzuki: WHO THE F**K DID THIS!!! WHO DREW ON MY FACE!!!!!

SP Vector: -sneaking off as he was snooping around-

Raph: .w. gee maybe perhaps a certain blockheaded version of Vector from Sonic Paradox of that dang video he starred in ring any bells

Suzuki: -angry anime face while random anime flames in the room is shown anime style- SP VECTOR YOU SON OF A-

SP Vector: O_O OH NO!!! -outside the house- House: -starts shaking around anime style of someone getting beaten up-

SP Vector: -from inside the house- AHHHHHHHHHH!!!! Suzuki: -beating SP Vector up and etc- ARRRRGH!!!! -moments later-

SP Vector: -in a full body cast-

Appalo: =w= sigh you're an imbecile... geeze.. -walks off-

SP Vector: .w. I hate mondays

Donnie: -watching some tv shows- .w. uhh dude its tuesday

SP Vector: WHATEVER!! Scene: -does a small fart noise blacking out-

TFS Nappa: .w. the end

-XD END XD-

-Get well soon Nekorockstarninja-

-RH0987 PRODUCTIONS 2021-

@otakuneko-lotus

6 notes · View notes

heartofsnark · 4 years

Text

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy.

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source. A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say. Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

“Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head, her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it. He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her. They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio. Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area. Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress. There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it.

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag.

“And I was hunting him.”

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand.

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.”

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry.

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her.

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.”

“Wow, that’s not comforting.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason.

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else.

“You got somewhere to be?”

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

“Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.”

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them.

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it.

“You the conservationists?”

“Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?”

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.”

“Friendly advice?”

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.”

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-”

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.”

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.”

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.”

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves, the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner, asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #john seed #jacob seed #this is love #dahlia hale #joseph seed #if you ever think im like smart or competent i want you to know that everytime i post a chapter i doubt my ability to count #like i know last chapter was chapter 7 but am I reeeeallly on chapter 8 is that reaaaaalllly how numbers work

12 notes · View notes

thewhutnow · 4 years

Text

Okay so wrote a fanfic for some reason...and keep in mind that this was before I knew about dim and green and before I knew about tines brother:

He didn’t want to go to his cousins place, why couldn’t he come to their? Wouldn’t it be better if he came over to their house?

(At least he would get some homemade food instead of ordering and this meant that he had had to leave his guitar classes with Saifah for a week.)

And after that he had to visit four more cousins and two family friends.

How would he be able to do this, Shia, why did he agree to this again?

...right because he wouldn’t let his sister go to all of them alone.

Trust Zol to want to visit all of them

Two weeks before the charity concert

And he didn’t want that.

But he knew he had to go or else his parents would nag at him for months.

So he went…with his sister. Not his parents.

Yes, the people who wanted him to go won’t go themselves.

Whatever, he just had to survive for a week and then he would be free to do whatever he wanted for a month.

A week that’s it, and he would be with his favorite cousin too, so that was a plus, wasn’t it?

He looked over to where Zol had been sitting; she was again writing that stupid BL fiction of hers.

Like as if he was ever gonna like Saifah, they both hated each other...maybe… he didn’t know what they were anymore.

Saifah had tried to kiss him, but he was just making fun of him, right? And it didn’t mean anything.

He was just making fun of him, that’s all it was, nothing else.

He groaned ‘Saifah has some sort of weird power’ he thought ‘how else would he be able to take over my thoughts all the time?’

It had nothing to do with how his stomach felt fluttery whenever Saifah’s hand would, even, lightly touch him.

He needed advice, and he knew exactly where he would get it from.

Tine had had lots of girlfriend’s right? He would know what to do. He would know when someone was serious or not, he had to.

Zon didn’t know what else he would do if Tine didn’t know what to do.

He glanced over to his grinning sister, would he have to ask Zol for advice?

He shuddered, no whatever happens he is never gonna go to her for advice. She would probably freak out because she would get more things that she would write in her fiction.

‘I’ll just get some sleep’ he thought, no use fretting over something that was not real right?

So he slept through the whole ride to his cousin’s place. He knew Tine would give him some good advice so he wasn’t worried.

Zol shook him awake; they had reached where Tine’s dorm was.

His parents had told him that Tine was gonna pick both of them up when they reached.

He grabbed his sister’s hand, he didn’t want her to get lost and end up something bad happen to her.

He called his cousin.

“Ai’Tine where are you we have already reached” Zon looked around

“I'm here I'm here!” Zon heard Tine behind him

“P’Tine!” Zol hugged her cousin

“Hello, Zon, Zol” Tine said laughing

“So how was the ride here? Zon didn’t bother you did he?” Tine asked Zol

“No he didn’t and it was fine, I got a lot of time to finish my fiction” Zol said

“Hello I'm here to” Zon said smiling

“How can I ever forget my favorite cousin, come here” Tine hugged Zon

“Okay let’s go, my dorm is just beside here so you don’t need to walk all that much” Tine took Zol’s bag and motioned them to follow him

“So how are auntie and uncle?” Tine asked them

“They are fine, they wanted to come but they had an emergency meeting” Zol answered

Right the emergency meeting that had made him miss his classes with Saifah, how would they ever do the charity concert if he didn’t practice? He didn’t even know the cords all that well; they would just have to wing it. He would embarrass Saifah so much, that Saifah would not even want to look at him.

Wait, why did it matter if Saifah didn’t look at him?

Why did his heart ache at that though?

“Shia...” he had to know what kind of stupid power Saifah had, why did his mind go wandering to him again? Stupid brain, not working properly

“Ai’ Zon where did you go?” Tine looked worried

“Ahh… nowhere” he shook his head

“Be careful and pay attention to where you're walking, there’s a lot of holes on the road here”

“Oka-”

“Ai’Tine!!” he heard someone call

He turned around just in time to see a guy running towards them

“Shia… follow me and run, fast” and Tine ran

Zon didn’t know Tine could run that fast.

Maybe in those 3 months he went to track team, or maybe he has been running from that dude for a long time.

But whatever, he would ask Tine when they reached a safer place.

They ran until they were safe inside Tine’s room.

And he saw another guy, he was strumming a guitar. The guy looked up and a smirked when he heard Tine enter the room, the smirk quickly turned to confusion when he saw the two of them

Tine locked his room and panted.

“P’Tine! What was that!? Why was the dude running after you?” Zol exploded

Zon waved at the confused man.

“Tine what’s going on?” the man stood with the guitar in his hand

“Oh? Ai’wat what are you doing here?” Tine panted

“Didn’t we schedule the lessons at this time today?” Sarawat said

“What...right yes we did… any ways you both this is Sarawat and you these two are my cousins, Zon and Zol” Tine dropped Zol’s bag on his desk and went to lie down his bed, still panting

“Who was that dude we were running away from and why?” Zol demanded

Sarawat gave Tine a bottle of water to drink from.

Tine slowly drank the water and shook his head.

All while Sarawat was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Sarawat shook out of his stupor and frowned.

“Green was following you again?” he took the bottle back from Tine

“Yes, why can’t he just leave me alone already?” Tine whined

“Whose green and why is he following you” Zon was very protective of people he was close with.

“He is just some guy, who likes me, but I don’t like him, and he won’t leave me alone no matter what I say” Tine continued to whine

“Why don’t you just accept him then? Won’t it be better than running away all the time?” Zol’s Fangirl heart was gonna explode.

Zon shook his head at Zol, no doubt that she was gonna add them in her story.

He looked at his cousin and his friend, noticing how Sarawat was annoyed at the thought and how tine was glancing at him.

“Well his boyfriend won’t like it if he goes on a date with some other guy now would he?” Sarawat glowered at the thought, and pulled Tine closer to him by grabbing his waist.

“Ai’ Saraleo what are you doing?” tin e tried to get out of Sarawat’s hold

“I'm holding what’s mine” Sarawat grabbed him more closely.

Well looks like Zol did get something for her to write about.

Glancing at her, Zon winced as he noticed her mouthing to herself.

“Is she okay?” Tine asked hesitatingly

“It’s normal” Zon sighed and shook his head

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” Zol screamed

“This is all normal don’t worry about her” Zon rolled his eyes.

“Uh… why exactly is that normal?” Tine asked, still wrapped by Sarawat

“The fiction she writes is about…” he hesitated “umm…it’s about BL”

“Okay…okay…” Tine blinked

“Why were you hesitating?” Sarawat asked suspiciously

“Nothing, it’s nothing” Zon rubbed his hands together.

“So… how did you both meet? Ohh and how did you start dating?” Zol asked, recovered from her Fangirl attack, and ready with a notepad and pen in her hand

“Well… he asked me to be his fake boyfriend, and that time I liked him, so I agreed and started flirting with him, but him being an idiot, understand any of my advances and…” Sarawat started

Listening to their story, Zon realized that this was a lot like what Saifah was doing, but Saifah was actually teasing him and not…flirting with him.

He would know if someone was doing that, he was not an idiot.

Even if he was, it wouldn’t be something that serious right? Yeah it wasn’t that serious, Saifah was just messing with him that is all.

“I heard that you both are going to visit everyone?” Tine questioned, now sitting in Sarawat’s lap.

“Yes, she wanted to see if they would allow her to write about their story” Zon answered and took out his phone.

Should he ask Tine? But he wouldn’t know, Tine himself was very oblivious, he wouldn’t know.

Maybe Sarawat, yeah he’ll ask him

Zol was in the washroom, this was the perfect time to ask.

“Sarawat can I ask you a question?”

“Sure” Sarawat wrapped his hands around Tine’s waist

“Why not me?” Tine pouted

“From the story…you're pretty oblivious,,, so…”

“What are you guys talking about?” Zol came back

Shia, he missed his chance

“Nothing” Zon shook his head from behind Zol and put a finger on his lips

“Okay? Why are you acting so suspicious?” Zol narrowed her eyes

“I'm not now leave me alone” Zon shooed her away

“Okay okay I’ll leave you alone” Zol took her laptop and went outside to sit on the balcony.

Should he ask now? …..no….he’s not gonna risk it

He took out his phone, texting Saifah to see if he was online, he wasn’t.

Why was his stomach feeling so weird? He really should have it checked out.

It probably had something to do with Saifah, his stomach felt weird whenever he thought about him.

Him and his sister left to then hotel they were gonna stay the night at.

The morning came, him still thinking about everything then they left to the train station, they had to visit Tine’s brother too

“Who are you gonna go visit next?” Tine asked as he hugged them both goodbye

“Hm? Oh we’re gonna visit your brother”

“Be careful, he found himself a very protective husband, you’ll have to take care of Zol or else she’ll faint” Tine warned

“Uh, I know and don’t worry I’ll take care of her”

“Bye bye! I’ll see you at the next family reunion!” Tine waved at them, knowing he didn’t want to know how Zon already knew

“Bye bye phee!” Zol waved back

“Bye” Zon said and stepped on the train

#why r u the series #2gether #tine x sarawat #sarawtine #saifah #zon #saifahzon #why r u zol #fanfiction #this is stupid #zon is confused #takes place before their performance #zol needs to get her priorities right

9 notes · View notes

welcometothepenumbra · 6 years

Text

JUNO STEEL AND THE PROMISED LAND (PART TWO)

SOUND: RAIN. TRAIN ARRIVES, CREAKS TO A STOP. DOOR CLANKS OPEN.

CONDUCTOR: Ah, good evening, Traveler. And welcome… to The Penumbra. Take your seat, please, take your seat.

MUSIC: STARTS.

SOUND: DOOR CLANKS SHUT.

The junction lies just ahead, Traveler. If you’ll allow me just a moment.

SOUND: TRAIN WHISTLE.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next stop? Hyperion City.

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING.

Somewhere down here lies the Free Dome, a promised paradise built by the greatest geniuses of the past. It is a patient place which has waited hundreds of years to be found, but that wait ends today.

Two P.I.s, the mayor, and a gangster-for-hire are on their way to this hidden treasure now. They know where it is; they know how to get there; but the Free Dome has waited hundreds of years to prepare for these visitors, and nobody knows what it will do when they find it.

SOUND: TRAIN BRAKES. DOOR CLANKS OPEN, RAIN.

Our next stop: Juno Steel and the Promised Land.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

***

JUNO: What the hell…? Why’s it so goddamn dar—?

Where am I, even?

SOUND: ECHOING FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING.

Heels, is that– Pilot? Theia, night-vision mode.

…Theia?

Don’t try anything, Pereyra! I’m armed and you’re out of your element!

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS STOP.

PETER NUREYEV: Oh, Juno. I know we’ve grown apart, but far enough to shoot me? (CHUCKLES) No, I don’t think so.

SOUND: MATCH LIGHTS.

JUNO: Nureyev?!

NUREYEV: Hm? “Nuh-ray-yev”? No, I don’t think I recall that name. I move between monikers so quickly – it’s difficult to remember them all.

JUNO: But… it’s you. It’s you, right? Peter Nureyev.

NUREYEV: I remember a heist about, let’s say, a decade into my career. A bank job. I’d done everything necessary to get myself into their system as an armored hauler driver named Leon Prince, and all that was left was the hand-off. Drive to the bank, show the paperwork, then drive away with all their money – they do the thieving for me. And it worked swimmingly, until the man in charge of the transfer looked at the paperwork, looked at me, and said, “Leon Prince! It’s been years! Don’t you remember me? From back in Guan Yu?”

JUNO: What? Why– why does… damn it, that sounds familiar, too.

NUREYEV: It seemed I had used the same alias eight years previous, on the other side of the galaxy… and I had completely forgotten both the name and the man I’d used as an alibi, apparently. It took so long to shake him, too. Ugh. I tell you, Juno, banks are more trouble than they’re worth. And they hardly keep anything on hand anyway.

JUNO: You didn’t rob that bank. That case… I-I solved that case. Three years ago. That’s why it seemed familiar.

NUREYEV: As familiar as I look, yes? And yet I don’t recall ever meeting you before.

JUNO: You just said my name.

NUREYEV: I said a name. It was someone I thought you resembled, but… you couldn’t possibly be him. You’re just… a has-been. A cyclops that thinks he’s a private eye.

JUNO: The hell are you talking about?

Whatever. Get your yuks out now, Nureyev—

NUREYEV: Who?

JUNO: —because I’m not gonna be a has-been for much longer, you hear me? I’m about to bust the mayor of this goddamn city, and once I get the stuff they’re after, life’s never gonna be the same again. Nobody’s ever gonna get hurt the way Pilot’s trying to hurt them. I’m onto big things, Nureyev. It’s all gonna be worth it.

NUREYEV: It certainly seems that way. Just as you seem to be Juno Steel. And yet.

JUNO: Damn it, stop talking in riddles! I am Juno Steel!

NUREYEV: No. You aren’t. I saw something in Juno Steel. Something impressive. And being that I myself am quite impressive that makes him impressive, too. But you? (CHUCKLES) You’re a dog.

JUNO: What?!

NUREYEV: No. Even less dignified than that. A dog allows a collar only onto his neck, but you? You’ve fashioned yours in your brain, and the leash runs out your eye.

JUNO: Stop it, Nureyev…

NUREYEV: I’m not certain how much clearer I can be about this. I am not Peter Nureyev.

JUNO: Of course you are! Knock it off!

NUREYEV: Juno, where are you?

JUNO: The… subway. That pod, on the way to the Free Dome. Trying to bag Pilot and the Piranha.

NUREYEV: And who is with you?

JUNO: You, obviously…

Strong. I-I came down with… where the hell’s Alessandra?

This isn’t the pod, is it? And it’s not the Free Dome, either. This is just…

NUREYEV: A dream.

JUNO: A… dream…

Nureyev, I feel like I messed up. I can’t decide. I-I just keep thinking about that night, and there was this second in the doorway, and it lasted so long I feel like part of me’s still there, and—

NUREYEV: This is all very sweet, dear detective, but we both know this isn’t the time.

JUNO: I… I-I—

NUREYEV: Shh.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. KISSING.

And this, I think, is where we part.

JUNO: Nureyev, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I just keep hurting people one after the other and I just have to think it’s all for something, y’know? It’s all gonna be worth it, and I feel like I just keep digging myself deeper because the last time I got in this bad that’s when you—

NUREYEV: Shh. Listen! Pull yourself together. You’re about to step into that big, mean world and you have to match its meanness if you want to survive.

JUNO: Yeah… Yeah, sure, yeah.

NUREYEV: I’ve only two suggestions before you go. And I want you to listen carefully, now.

First: in Polaris Park, nothing is as it seems.

JUNO: But I’m not in Polaris—

NUREYEV: And second: mind the cake on your way down.

JUNO: What?

SOUND: RUSTLE, GRUNTS, STUMBLING FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Whooaaoooooaaaaaaaaaa—

NUREYEV: Farewell, Juno! And happy birthday!

VOICE 4: (OVERLAPPING WITH NUREYEV) Happy birthday, little monsters.

Just remember, Benzaiten, if you want to get mad at anyone, Ma’s not where you should start. Some kids get to celebrate their birthdays. And what do we celebrate instead?

That’s right. We celebrate the day Juno ruined everything. The day he just… handed our lives away because someone said ‘please.’ And why’d he do it? (CHUCKLES) ‘Cause your twin brother’s about as smart as a sack of bricks that got hit over the head with another sack of bricks.

PIRANHA: (DISTANT, OVERLAPPING WITH ABOVE) You don’t shut him up, Big-Eyes, and I’ll pop a hole in his mouth won’t ever close.

VOICE 4 (SARAH STEEL): And we never… let him… forget it.

STRONG: (DISTANT, OVERLAPPING WITH ABOVE) Steel!

SOUND: DISTANT SLAP.

Steel, come on… (GRUNTS)

SOUND: DISTANT SLAP.

Juno!

JUNO: Ahhhhhhhhhh!

SOUND: SLAP. ELEVATOR MUSIC CUTS IN.

PIRANHA: That’s more like it. Can barely hear the game with all this goddamn screaming…

PEREYRA: Don’t you have any manners, P.I.? So much noise when we’re all locked in this little tube.

STRONG: You’re the one with the gun on him.

PEREYRA: Then it sounds like he’d really better listen to me, doesn’t it? (CHUCKLES)

Doesn’t anyone wear a watch anymore? What time is it?

STRONG: For the fourth time, I do. It’s two AM.

PEREYRA: Two AM… so we’ve been down here… That can’t be right. Your watch is off.

STRONG: This is a thermonuclear timepiece, Solar Military issue. This wouldn’t go off if you wore it into a black hole, Mx. Mayor. And I should know. I’ve done it.

PEREYRA: Two AM! It’s election day up there and I’m in some mobile coffin a hundred miles underground?

PIRANHA: For someone pissing and moaning about noise you sure are makin’ a lot of it, Pilot.

PEREYRA: (SIGHS) Whatever. I’ll still take the win. I gave them the Pereyra School for Future Pilots; I gave them the Sparkhouse Stadium; I gave them jobs and parks and a police force worth a damn, and who knows how much else. I’ll win. And meanwhile… bigger and better things. But don’t think you’re off the hook, buddy. You got us into this. You get to fix it.

PIRANHA: I did? You were just as antsy to get down here—

PEREYRA: Shut up. I don’t care. Shut. Up. (SIGHS) I just. Need you. To fix this. Now. Hmm?

PIRANHA: (SIGHS) Well, P.I.? You’ve been pretty quiet since you woke up from that little nappy. Gets a gal to wondering what’s rolling around in that thick skull of yours, see?

JUNO (NARRATOR): What’s rolling around in my skull, huh?

A lot, honestly. It’s had a lot of time to roll. (SIGHS)

MUSIC: STARTS.

Three days. It had been three days since we got on that stupid pod heading towards the Free Dome, and the doors sealed us in here tight as sardines in a binder. Because Erin Marshall D’Arc, the founder of the Free Dome? Her whole thing about safety? Turns out she meant it. We found that out within the first five minutes of our ride, three days ago, when her message said this:

SOUND: STATIC.

ERIN (FROM SPEAKER): For your safety, the pod doors will not open again until we arrive at the Free Dome. This patch of subterranean desert is a common breeding ground for undercrows, and until we find a way to redirect them peacefully, the only way to guarantee your survival is to cover you from all sides at all times and filter your air supply for their microscopic spawn.

In rare cases, subterranean radiation can cause underground brainswell, and so the music you’re hearing has been scientifically engineered to calm your nerves. It cannot be changed. Regular meals will be served that should cover all of your nutritional needs. We care about your health, neighbor. Thank you.

SOUND: STATIC ENDS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The “regular meals” looked like a mummy’s instant breakfast, ancient, all mold and sand and dust. Luckily for Pilot, the Piranha, and I, Strong came prepared for everything. As she proved within seconds of opening our first century-old meal, when she took four rations out of that big backpack of hers.

SOUND: UNZIPPING.

PIRANHA: Look at you, Big-Eyes. Got an answer for everything.

STRONG: Yeah, well, in general I’d really rather not die. I have enough food in here for two people, two weeks.

MUSIC: ENDS.

PEREYRA: Two weeks! (LAUGHING) Hope all that back strain’s worth it to you, buddy. We’re not gonna be down here two weeks.

(CHEWING) Hey, that’s actually not bad. Hand me another.

STRONG: We’ll have to stretch them out. These aren’t snacks, they’re—

PEREYRA: We’re not going to be down here for two weeks.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

So why don’t you just give me another?

JUNO: Just give them another, Alessandra. They’re not gonna listen.

STRONG: …Fine.

SOUND: RUSTLING.

PILOT: What service! You want one?

PIRANHA: I think I’ll wait.

PEREYRA: Suit yourself. (CHEWING)

JUNO (NARRATOR): Strong watched the two of them warily – the Piranha tapping on a little radio in her ear, Pilot tapping a heel to D’Arc’s awful music. They were too far away for her to reach before the lasers started flying, so instead she leaned over to me and whispered:

STRONG: Undercrows have been extinct for three hundred years.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I was about to whisper something back. Something like, “thanks for the bird fact,” or, “what?” when Pilot spat crumbs across the pod at us.

PEREYRA: (GARBLED) Hey now, hey now… (SWALLOWS) No need for secrets. Why don’t you tell the whole class what you two troublemakers are thinking about, hm?

STRONG: I was just telling him that I have some first aid supplies in here, too. I’d like to bandage the burn on his hand so it doesn’t get infected.

PEREYRA: Hmm.

STRONG: He’s no use to you if he’s dead.

PIRANHA: That ain’t true. If he’s dead you can cut him up into pieces easy, no struggle, and then use them on pressure plates or something—

STRONG: Let me rephrase that: the only reason I’m not coming over there and breaking both of your necks right now is that he’s too hurt to outrun your laser. So if he dies, I’m no use to you, and then you’ve lost your insurance.

PEREYRA: (CHUCKLES) I like the confidence. I really do.

You. Go bandage him.

PIRANHA: Me?!

PEREYRA: She’ll tell you how to do it. And I don’t like them next to one another. So from now on, I think you two… spread out a little. And I’d better not see any more whispering. No secrets from the State, alright? (CHUCKLES)

JUNO (NARRATOR): Strong didn’t get another chance to tell me what she meant. And so that’s been stuck in my head ever since: why the hell did we care how long ago undercrows died off?

Extinct predators. Spoiled food. The Theia shorting out on me again. A pod that had been moving for three days when you could drive across Mars in two. The Free Domers. Long-dead voices on the intercom.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BUZZES & BLIPS.

VOICE 1 (FROM SPEAKER): You have to listen. I don’t have time, can’t figure out how to delete these. I’m no good at this – not like them. Please, go away, just go—

SOUND: BUZZING ENDS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): My name’s Juno Steel. I’m a private eye, and right now I’m… uhhh, pretty confused, honestly?

But, any-anyway, back to where we were: 2 AM. Election day. The Piranha was bored and looking for a chew toy and there I was, ready for chomping.

PIRANHA: Shy, huh? You a little scared, P.I.? Maybe someone oughta hold your hand through this tough time, see?

JUNO: (PAINED GROAN)

PIRANHA: (CACKLES)

STRONG: Ugh… We’ll have to disinfect and reapply… again.

JUNO: I just woke up! You can’t give a lady three seconds to collect himself?

PEREYRA: Some of us don’t get to sleep. Some of us have been awake for three days, babysitting a couple nosy P.I.s who don’t know how to mind their own business.

PIRANHA: Every one of my watches has been twice as long as yours, Pilot. You’ve slept nearly six hours a night.

PEREYRA: I said some of us. I never said it was me.

PIRANHA: You lousy—!

SOUND: JINGLE PLAYS.

PEREYRA: Shhh!

(LAUGHING) That’s it! Another Free Domer message! We must be there!

SOUND: STATIC.

ERIN (FROM SPEAKER): Thank you for your patience, my new neighbors. We’ve built this pod with the greatest technology available to us, and we hope you’ve been impressed by the speed of your travel. You are nearly halfway across the surface of Mars!

PIRANHA: My car coulda lapped this stupid planet twice by now.

PEREYRA: Shh!

ERIN (FROM SPEAKER): The Free Dome is close, now. Once you pass through the hive of Death millipedes you’ll be safe to get out. In just two short hours—

PEREYRA: Two hours!

ERIN (FROM SPEAKER): —we’ll arrive, and you’ll be home at last.

SOUND: JINGLE AGAIN.

PEREYRA: Come on… come on, Pilot, two hours is nothing… You’ve waited forty years for this, you’re about to get there, you know you’re about to get there…

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP. STATIC.

STRONG: What’s that?

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): Yeah, sorry, Ma. But no. Grab onto something, neighbors. Or don’t.

SOUND: LOUD WHOOSHING & SCRAPING.

JUNO, STRONG, PEREYRA, PIRANHA: Whoa!

SOUND: BOOM.

MARSHALL: This is where you get off. Now start walking.

SOUND: STATIC ENDS. PNEUMATIC HISS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): The doors opened for the first time in three days, and… well, the place on the other side was pretty much where you’d assume something called a “Death millipede” lived.

It was an old underground tunnel, the walls pocked and spongy, stalactites dripping with something thick and silvery. People had built things down here, signs and lights and tracks, but the radiation had clearly done damage even this deep below the surface. Fixtures corroded. Tracks like time had taken a blowtorch to ‘em.

For just a second I had an image I couldn’t shake of… myself, looking like one of those signs; melting and shapeless and burnt. I tried to shake it out, but it was sticky. Just like whatever the hell was clinging to those stalactites.

JUNO: (MOANS)

PIRANHA: Alright, you heard spooky voice number two. And if you see one of them Death millipedes D’Arc was talking about, you tell me, see? Been meaning to get some new decorations for the pad, and a monster head’s my kinda style.

STRONG: Good luck with that. Death millipedes have been extinct for two hundred years.

JUNO (NARRATOR): Strong pointed two sharp eyes at mine. That was supposed to mean something, but… I didn’t know what.

PEREYRA: D’Arc must have driven them out. Some people are born to do the impossible, like build a legendary city, or kill a species of deathless insects, or discover a legendary city and win an election on the same day. For example.

PIRANHA: You two, go ahead. I want a buffer just in case some big bug decides to grab a snack, see?

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO: Wow, it’s dark down here. Does that map you stole say anything about this?

PEREYRA: It’s a straight hallway. You don’t need a map.

JUNO: Yeah, but if it says “here there be nuclear dragons” on it that’s info that might be helpful.

PIRANHA: It was a map of the subway system, and now we’re way the hell away from the subway system. Guess you’ll just have to be careful.

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP. STATIC.

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): So, you’re probably wondering why I stopped you out in these irradiated badlands, with all the oogidies and the boogidies waiting to getcha. I’ve got three answers for that. Answer one: it’s none of your business. Two: my testing materials have got to last a long time, forever probably, and it’ll help wear and tear if less of you make it to them. Three: it’s still none of your goddamn business.

Anyway, the tests. Listen, I know I’m pretty hard on the old lady, and that’s not one hundred percent fair. The whole Free Dome idea was hers, and so was the tech. She was pretty smart, for an idiot. But the management? Your whole thing is that the world’s a train wreck, so you open up a new city and just let anybody who wants walk in?

That’s not a new world. That’s not utopia. That’s the old one, all over again. Just smaller. So you’ve got to be choosy. And that’s what these tests are for, alright? Making sure we let the right ones in. Only the best, the brightest, the smartest for paradise. And everyone else rots in the belly of some undercrow.

So turn back if you want. I’m not going to go easy on you. Marshall out.

SOUND: STATIC ENDS.

STRONG: Extinct for three hundred years.

PIRANHA: You just said two hundred.

PEREYRA: Why should I care how long ago a bunch of subterranean chickens died? You heard him. We’re going the right way. Now find his testing facility.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It was just a few minutes ahead of us: the Free Domer Testing Facility, a big lumpy bulge on top of two thin, rusty legs, like a bad wisdom tooth rotting in the gums of Mars.

Marshall D’Arc had some words for us as soon as we stepped inside.

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP. STATIC.

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): Alright, there’s gonna be… three tests. Three seems like a good number. That’s usually how this goes, right? And this is how they’re gonna go: first—

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP.

—one’s a test to see how generous you are.

JUNO: What the hell?

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): You want in? You gotta have a sense of charity. Not like that weasel Malvin, I swear if you’re listening to this, Mal, I’m gonna tear your—

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP.

—and second—

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP.

(GARBLED) —what is this, second? Uh, Test of Faith, how about that? (CHEWING) Listen to whatever I say. Somebody’s got to. Somebody should.

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP.

—and third—

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP.

—not third, this is first, even before the first first one, which was a test of, I don’t know, how smart you are, which you already passed ‘cause you got here. Or whatever.

SOUND: PAUSE. INTERCOM BLIP.

—that’s probably got you quaking in your boots now, doesn’t it? Thought you could just walk in and own the place, huh? Well nothin’s free, chump, so prove you’re great enough for the greatest city in the galaxy. Marshall out.

SOUND: STATIC ENDS.

STRONG: What.

PEREYRA: I… I can’t believe it. We’re here! (LAUGHS) The secret laboratory of the Free Domers… we’re here. I found it. Little Pilot Pereyra, flying around with their head in the clouds, grew up and found… this.

Now move it. I’ve waited too long for this already.

PIRANHA: You heard the elected official, ladies. Move it.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): We started in a reception hall that didn’t look prepared to receive anybody. There were portrait frames on the walls, but most of them were empty, and the ones that weren’t just showed family photos. A mom and her son – the D’Arcs, probably. The kid all grown up, moody, wild-eyed. The only full portrait in the room had the face scratched out – and they didn’t look like Erin or Marshall.

There was a lot in here that didn’t line up, is my point. I wanted to compare notes with Strong about it, but… we weren’t exactly about to get a private moment.

JUNO: So, uh… what was up with that weird recording from before? Didn’t sound like interference to me. Practically sounded… I don’t know, like different people.

STRONG: Yes, it’s definitely not as simple as the stories make it out to be.

PEREYRA: (SNORTS) Incredible. We’re here, and you’re still trying to disprove this place?

STRONG: Sounds like someone’s sensitive. Don’t you care that this testing center looks… unfinished?

PEREYRA: See, this is what I mean. Do you hear this, buddy?

PIRANHA: Huh? No, wasn’t payin’ attention. Tryin’ to catch the big game on my radio. What?

PEREYRA: (SIGHS) Nevermind. I’ve known people like you two my entire life. People who will do mental backflips just to throw out the evidence right in front of them.

STRONG: (SIGHS) And what is right in front of us, Mx. Pereyra?

PEREYRA: If you actually thought about it, you’d realize it would be more concerning if this testing center were perfect and polished. How about that? If the D’Arcs spent all their time on the tests, they couldn’t have spent that time on the Dome tech. If this place is a little broken down, you know what that shows? Priorities.

STRONG: That’s assuming there is Dome tech.

PEREYRA: Of course there’s—!

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP. STATIC.

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): Alright, you made it. Test of Charity. We’re gonna come out swinging with this one, alright? You’re gonna get a little gift if you complete it. Besides not dying, followed by a lifetime in paradise, I mean. I know. Marshall’s so generous with you.

So what’s it? Let’s find out. Show me what’s behind door number the-only-door-here! Dramatic reveal!

SOUND: HISS, LOW RUMBLE. STATIC ENDS.

JUNO, STRONG, PEREYRA: Whoaaaaaah.

PIRANHA: Huh.

JUNO (NARRATOR): It was… a Dome. Basically.

A shimmering circle of plasma hovering high above, the surface twisting and wiggling in the air. Like, uh… a-a Dome.

You never go a day on Mars without seeing that shining plasma. Sure, you can drive across the planet, but even with a radiation-shielded car, those trips have to be fast. And if you go to look at the sky you can’t do it for more than a few hours before things start gettin’… bad. Like, hallucinate-and-then-fry-your-skin-off kind of bad.

So that means every morning, whether you’re in Hyperion, or Olympus Mons, or Valles Marineris, when you look outside you see a Dome all around you. Sometimes just a tint on the blue and the clouds, but always there. It becomes the sky to you. And seeing one here, so far underground… it was like seeing a bubble of sky where sky didn’t belong.

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP. STATIC.

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): This is it. The Dome tech Mom cooked up. Not the whole thing, obviously, just a free sample, but… still. Something worth fighting for, don’t you think? So let’s see how bad you want it. Marshall out.

SOUND: STATIC ENDS.

PEREYRA: Out of my way.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

PIRANHA: Ey, uh, Pilot? Didn’t we bring these two along to go ahead for us?

PEREYRA: This monitor has something written on it in their code. Give me the codex.

PIRANHA: Hey, you asked for it…

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

PEREYRA: “Press here to begin… the Test of Charity.”

SOUND: BEEP. RUMBLING, GEAR WHIRRING.

JUNO: Huh. I guess it did say “chairity.”

STRONG: Yeah, that’s what they said.

JUNO: No, I mean, chair–ity. ‘Cause– ‘cause it’s just a chair. Whatever.

PEREYRA: The monitor says something else now…

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

“Anyone who wishes to enter the Free Dome must be generous, and give more of themselves than they can afford. So sit upon this Chair of Charity and give to us from your blood. Get it? Chair-ity. Like a chair.”

JUNO: Aw, it was funnier when I said it.

PIRANHA: Those are IVs in the armrests… Wonder how much I could get one of these things for…

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

PEREYRA: “If your gift is adequate, you will be given the Dome. If not… you get nothing. Marshall out.”

Keep your gun on them. I’m taking the test.

PIRANHA: What?! Pilot, this is the whole reason we brought them along, ain’t it?

STRONG: I’m not complaining.

JUNO: Yeah, I am good over here.

PEREYRA: If a test is all that’s left between me and the Dome tech, I’m taking the test. So just– just watch them. I’m strapping in.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS. BUCKLES CLICK. DRILL WHIRRING.

(PAINED HISS) There. It’s in.

PIRANHA: What’s the monitor say now?

SOUND: ELECTRONIC BEEPS.

PEREYRA: There’s a keypad, and above that… “Select how much blood you will give.”

STRONG: Standard donation is about three hundred fifty milliliters.

What? I give a lot of blood.

PEREYRA: I know that. You think I’ve been mayor this long without showing up to a few blood drives and pretending to donate? This isn’t asking in milliliters. It’s asking in liters.

STRONG: It wants you to give a liter of blood?

JUNO: Ugh.

PIRANHA: Eh, probably more.

JUNO: Ughhh.

PEREYRA: How do you figure?

PIRANHA: Well depending on size, an adult human body’s got somewhere between four-point-five and six-point-squat liters of blood in it, see? That’s just an average, though – met a lady once who claimed to have ten, but I’m pretty sure she was full of it. Lookin’ at you, Pilot, I’m guessing you’ve got… enh, five-point-six, maybe five-point-seven liters in you. You can lose about thirty-five percent of that before you croak – forty if you’re quick – so that means they could reasonably be lookin’ for anywhere up to, eh, let’s say two liters or so.

What? I take a lot of blood.

JUNO: Ughhhh. (GAGGING)

PEREYRA: There’s a pretty big difference between three hundred fifty milliliters and two liters.

PIRANHA: Yeah, well, I ain’t the one who got in the chair.

PEREYRA: (SIGHS) Okay, it must be all here for a reason… the old Verificationist streams always talked about how only the smartest would find the Free Dome… This is a riddle. Which means the clues are nearby. He didn’t want to let in anyone who wasn’t smart enough.

JUNO: Ah, right, the old “chair-that-steals-your-blood” chestnut.

PEREYRA: I still have my gun on you, P.I. Take this seriously. So start examining the machine. Tell me what you see, and—

SOUND: ALARM BEEPS.

STRONG: What’s that?

JUNO: Uh, Pilot? The machine is, uh…

SOUND: WHIRRS. BUBBLING.

PEREYRA: It’s… activated! But, I didn’t start it!

(GRUNTS) Don’t just stand there! Do something!

PIRANHA: Gimme a second.

PEREYRA: For what?

PIRANHA: I told you, I’m listening to the big game and it just got pretty dramatic, see?

PEREYRA: It’s already taken a fourth of a liter!

PIRANHA: I wanna hear the score!

SOUND: BLASTER SHOT. GLASS SHATTERS.

Whoa!

PEREYRA: Now.

PIRANHA: Alright, alright, sheesh…

Hey, you. Use that, uh, what’s it called, Spectrum cybernetic and scan this trap. And do it now, unless you wanna get ventilated.

JUNO: What?

How’d you know about my eye?

PIRANHA: Last time I beat you you only had one. Now you got two. I always got good marks in math.

JUNO: You didn’t just say cybernetic. You said ‘Spectrum.’ That’s the brand.

PEREYRA: I’m sure when you lose as many pieces of face as she has, you learn a lot about prosthetics. Just do it! And if you give me the wrong information, P.I., I’ll make you spill enough blood for all four of us. Do you understand?

JUNO: Sounds like I don’t have a choice either way.

THEIA: Scanning electromagnetic frequencies.

SOUND: ELECTRONIC HUM.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I’d done something like this before in the Fortezza, when I was scanning down the Proctor’s test. But this one looked a little more… sophisticated.

The tubing that came out of that thing was like a spider web, crisscrossed and twisted into a pattern so complex I could barely follow it. I tried to trace the line from Pilot’s wrist down into the chair, the floor, and lost it. From their wrist to the chair, and lost it. My head was killing me.

PEREYRA: I’ve already lost half a liter, P.I. Hurry it up!

JUNO (NARRATOR): Then it hit me: the tubing was complicated, but the stuff inside it? Not so much.

SOUND: HAPPY THEIA BEEP.

THEIA: Request received. Activating heat scanner.

JUNO (NARRATOR): And then I saw it: Pilot’s blood, flowing down the piping into the floor below. It had already begun to collect inside a canister down there – and that was my clue. The canister was small, already half-filled. And if I strained, I swore I could just barely make out the writing on the side.

PEREYRA: One liter! Move it, P.I.!

JUNO: It holds one-point-five liters! The thing can only hold one-point-five liters, Pilot, so stop it there!

PEREYRA: Finally.

SOUND: BEEPS.

(PANTING)

PIRANHA: You alright, Pereyra?

PEREYRA: I’m fine. Of course I’m fine. They wouldn’t kill me. I’ve been studying them since I was in training heels. I know what they want. I’m who they’re waiting for. (PANTING) Now come on, Dome. Come to Pilot.

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP. STATIC.

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): ENNNNNNH! Too stingy, neighbor! Now get out.

SOUND: WHIRR. THUD.

PEREYRA: Oof!

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): (CACKLING) I hear it only takes a few months for blood to regenerate. Why not stick around and try again then? Marshall out.

SOUND: STATIC ENDS.

PIRANHA: Big-Eyes.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

Bandage their arm. Now, see?

STRONG: Uh… right.

PEREYRA: You. P.I.

JUNO: Hey, listen, I told you exactly what I—

PEREYRA: You think you can stop me, don’t you? You think one dirty trick is gonna stop Pilot Pereyra from getting to the Free Dome. From getting what I’ve been working at for forty. Years.

(SPITS) What do you know about real work? You got picked up by Ramses O’Flaherty! I could choke you with all the silver spoons you’ve got crammed in your mouth!

JUNO: What?! Wait, h-how did you know—

STRONG: You’ve been working for who?

PEREYRA: Of course I know who you work for. I know everyone who gets in my way. I don’t care who you are, but I know you work for Ramses, and that makes you a threat. But I’ve dealt with bigger fish than you. I’ve been doing it since I was ten years old, the first time I caught one of those Verificationist streams. A dream, they called it. Kid’s stuff. But I knew. I knew a city that could take everything from you in a second couldn’t be all there was. That there had to be something better.

STRONG: That’s… sweet?

PEREYRA: And I knew I was going to find that best place, and I was going to sell it to the highest bidder, and nobody could ever take anything from me ever again.

STRONG: Less sweet.

JUNO: Listen, Pilot, I’m not gonna say I’m on your side, ‘cause I’m definitely, like, the opposite of that, but it’s not like I had anything—

PEREYRA: Have you been listening to a word I’ve said? You got in my way. Now I use you. Squeeze every last drop I can get out of you. And then… you die on Pilot’s time.

(CHUCKLES) You. Put him in the chair.

JUNO: What?

PIRANHA: (LAUGHS) Now you’re talkin’ my language! C’mere, P.I.—

STRONG: You don’t touch him or I’ll—

PEREYRA: Or you’ll nothing.

SOUND: GUN COCKING.

You’re gonna keep bandaging me, and that’s all you’re gonna do, unless you want the inside of your skull to know what a laser feels like.

What are you waiting for? I want you to strap him in and tell that thing to take as much blood as it wants. Take all of it. Take more.

PIRANHA: You heard the mayor. Let’s strap you in, eh? (GRUNTS)

JUNO: Oof!

SOUND: WHIRRING. BUTTON CLICKS.

PIRANHA: There we go.

JUNO: Let me go, damn it! Let me… wow, you’re strong.

PEREYRA: Stop squirming or I kill her, and it’ll be all your fault. (CHUCKLES) And I know you can’t stand that thought, can you? That’s why you’re working for Ramses. Idealist suckers always run in packs. (LAUGHS)

PIRANHA: (BIG, LONG LAUGH)

PEREYRA: (CLEARS THROAT) Buddy.

Buddy! It wasn’t that funny!

PIRANHA: Oh, I think you’re sellin’ yourself short, Pilot.

PEREYRA: Just activate the chair, already.

PIRANHA: You got it!

Lessee, here… howsabout a little exam, see?

SOUND: DRILL WHIRRING.

Let’s call it… Biology 101.

JUNO: What…? Wh-what did you say?

PIRANHA: How many liters of blood does the human body got? Is the answer A, one liter…

SOUND: BEEP. ALARM BEEPS.

JUNO: Aghh! Knock it off. What are you trying to pull?

SOUND: BUBBLING.

PIRANHA: B, two liters…

SOUND: BEEP.

STRONG: (GROWLS)

JUNO: Agghhh!

PIRANHA: C, two point five liters…

SOUND: BEEPS.

JUNO: (PAINED GROANS)

PEREYRA: That’s more like it.

PIRANHA: Or D…

SOUND: BEEPS.

…all of the above.

JUNO: (PAINED GROANS)

STRONG: God damn it, this is cruel!

PIRANHA: I know.

JUNO (NARRATOR): You know… I’ve had plenty of times when I wanted to go out exactly like this. Fighting some big evil, burning up in a blaze of glory. Hell, I’d tried to pull it seven months ago, even if it didn’t take. So I was used to the feeling that was supposed to come next.

Resignation. The thought that, hell, what’s it matter? You can’t know you’re dead if you’re dead. You can’t know the world’s gone to hell, either. You can’t tell anything, and there’s peace in that.

But not this time. This time I didn’t hear that voice telling me it’d all be easier if I just let it happen. Instead I got pissed.

THEIA: Scanning potential escape routes.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I was mad. Real mad, mad at the Piranha, at Pilot, at Marshall D’Arc, at Peter Nureyev, at death itself. And I wasn’t gonna die this angry. I wasn’t.

The Piranha knew something she wasn’t telling me, and she was loving it, and I couldn’t die until I knew what it was. Strong was stuck with these two maniacs, and I couldn’t die until we’d done our work together. Ramses was still up there, campaigning his old heart out, and I couldn’t die until I saw the city he’d build. And Sarah Steel was in her coffin and in my blood, and I couldn’t die until I proved to everyone that I was better than her.

MUSIC: STARTS.

THEIA: Caution: blood loss detected at. Critical levels. Recommended course of action: give up.

JUNO: What?

THEIA: —control. Temporarily. To the Theia Spectrum.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I was woozy. The world was going gray. I strained against the armrests, looked everywhere I could for some kind of way out, but… I was stuck.

THEIA: User permissions needed to enact escape protocol with highest chance of success. Do I have your permission. User Juno Steel?

JUNO: (QUIETLY) You’ve got whatever permissions you want. Just don’t let me die!

PIRANHA: Muttering to himself! Blood leaves the brain first, see?

THEIA: Permissions received. Enacting escape protocol. For your safety, user muscular control has been. Temporarily deactivated.

SOUND: POWERING DOWN.

JUNO (NARRATOR): There was an electric pulse, spreading from my eye socket, and suddenly, I couldn’t move.

I was breathing, my heart was beating, I could still feel everything. But my arms and legs were locked in place, stiff as wood.

SOUND: HEARTBEAT.

THEIA: Increasing blood flow to source of blood loss. Accelerating heart rate. Do not. Relax.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I felt like I was spinning into a whirlpool, getting flushed down some great celestial toilet. I strained as hard as I could, but I couldn’t fight my own muscles. I was frozen from the inside out. My vision began to fade.

PEREYRA: Goodnight, buddy. You’re a real hero. (CHUCKLES)

THEIA: Do not. Relax. I repeat. Do not. Relax.

JUNO (NARRATOR): I didn’t want to die. I still had things to do. I’d hurt too many people and I hadn’t done enough good to justify it yet. I didn’t want to die.

And then, somewhere in the distance, I heard this:

SOUND: DING. HEARTBEAT STOPS.

PEREYRA: What?

SOUND: INTERCOM BLIP. STATIC.

MARSHALL (FROM SPEAKER): Congratulations. You’re a very generous idiot. Here’s the Dome… and here’s your blood back, weirdo.

Just do me a favor: if you feel like you’re gonna bite the big one, show yourself out, alright? We’re already behind schedule without cleaning up your carcass. Marshall out.

SOUND: STATIC ENDS. BUBBLING.

PEREYRA: Just where do you think you’re going?

MUSIC: ENDS.

STRONG: To check if he’s alive. The human body wasn’t exactly built for high-speed dialysis.

PEREYRA: You can check in a minute. Help me up.

STRONG: He just lost nearly half his blood.

PEREYRA: Help me up now or I’ll make it stay lost.

STRONG: …Fine.

PEREYRA: Good. Now bring me to him. I want that.

SOUND: FOOTSTEPS.

JUNO (NARRATOR): My head swam. I felt the machine pumping warmth into me. I felt another pulse from my eye socket.

SOUND: HAPPY THEIA BEEP.

THEIA: User muscle control. Reactivated. Thank you for using the Theia Spectrum.

PEREYRA: That’s more like it. I think this day is finally turning around. (CHUCKLES) The Dome… it’s in my hands. I always knew it would be one day. And now… (LAUGHS)

JUNO (NARRATOR): Strong pulled out her bandages and leaned in to me. When the machine finished recycling my blood, she started wrapping cloth around my arm – and when she leaned in close enough, she whispered:

STRONG: (QUIETLY) I’m proud of you, Steel.

JUNO: Why?

STRONG: You didn’t die. You didn’t let go. And that’s the hardest thing there is.

Nice work, P.I.

JUNO: (MOANS)

STRONG: What was that?

JUNO: Undercrows… why?

STRONG: Shh. We probably only have a second before they catch on.

MUSIC: STARTS.

Each of the D’Arcs said they saw something that was extinct before they were born. I don’t hold much stock in signs that say “Beware of Dinosaur,” either.

JUNO: But… why?

STRONG: You know what being under all this radioactive sand too long does to you? Drives you crazy. Makes you see things.

JUNO: But the Dome’s real… Pilot’s got it.

STRONG: Pilot’s got something.

But… nothing down here’s been that easy. And I don’t know, Juno. If they were hallucinating these extinct predators… how long were they down here for? And what else did they hallucinate?

JUNO (NARRATOR): I looked over her shoulder at Pilot, glowing like a demigod in the light of that Dome. And suddenly I got it stuck in my head again: “In Polaris Park, nothing is as it seems.”

That thought made my skin crawl. Because every person Juno Steel has ever been, the P.I., the cop, the punk who asked too many questions, they’ve always been about figuring out what things really are: pulling off the mask and seeing the face underneath. But here, this lost city beneath the sands, this secret tech, this runaway mayor and their gangster – I felt like I’d been pulling off masks for months and I still didn’t know if I was at the face yet.

Just got to keep pulling, I thought. We were close, now, close to what had to be the end… and I was going to see the truth of this mystery if it killed me.

MUSIC: ENDS.

***

SOUND: TRAIN MOVING, MUSIC.

CONDUCTOR: If you’ve enjoyed this tale, please consider donating to The Penumbra on Patreon. Our artists work tirelessly to bring you these stories, and if you have the means, we hope you will support our efforts. Every dollar helps. You can find that page at patreon.com/thepenumbrapodcast. If you support us on Patreon at the $10 level or higher, you’ll receive access to commentary tracks like this one, from actors Joshua Ilon, Kat Buckingham, and Simon Moody, and co-creator Sophie Kaner:

SOUND: TRAIN STOPS, DOOR SLIDES OPEN, RAIN.

SOPHIE: (LAUGHING) Looking back—

JOSHUA: Benzaiten.

SOPHIE: —I did not put enough weight on that cartoon that I hadn’t been aware of.

SOUND: LAUGHTER.

KAT: My, I wasn’t involved with the writing of this, so my biggest regret, for this episode, is that his nickname isn’t Bent. Bent Steel.

JOSHUA: Oh.

KAT: That’s what I want.

SOUND: GROANS.

SIMON: Oh, come on.

KAT: What? Nobody else was thinking it?

SIMON: (LAUGHING) That’s so good!

SOPHIE: And, we get to learn one more thing about Ben, that we didn’t get to know before…

JOSHUA: He’s a Taurus.

SOUND: LAUGHTER.

And so is Juno, ‘cause they’re twins!

SOPHIE: They’re twins!

SOUND: DOOR SLIDES SHUT.

CONDUCTOR: You can also support The Penumbra by liking us on Facebook, following us on Twitter @thepenumbrapod, following us on Tumblr @thepenumbrapodcast, telling your friends about us, telling your friends to tell their friends about us, and especially by rating and reviewing our podcast on iTunes. Every rating, comment, and kind word spreads our stories further and inspires us to keep creating more and better tales to come.

We would like to give special thanks to all who support us on Patreon, but especially to Vron, Charlie Spiegel, Minchowski, Jaimie Gunter, and the Princess and the Scrivener for their incredibly generous contributions per episode. Thank you.

This tale, Juno Steel and the Promised Land, was told by the following people: Joshua Ilon as Juno Steel, Kat Buckingham as Alessandra Strong, Simon Moody as Mayor Pilot Pereyra, Sophie Kaner as the Piranha, Noah Simes as Peter Nureyev, and Kiki Samko as Sarah Steel.

This tale also featured: Lauren Shippen of The Bright Sessions as Erin Marshall D’Arc, Zach Valenti of Wolf 359 as Marshall Erin D’Arc, and Rich Wentworth of Hadron Gospel Hour as the mysterious voice in the walls.

On staff at The Penumbra: Kevin Vibert is our lead writer and recording engineer. Sophie Kaner is our director and sound designer. Grahame Turner is our script editor. Noah Simes is our production manager. Alice Chung is our designer and financial manager. Kat Buckingham is our publicity director. Original music by Ryan Vibert. Promotional art by Mikaela Buckley.

The Penumbra is created and produced by Sophie Kaner and Kevin Vibert.

I’m afraid this is the end of the line for today, dear Traveler. We hope you will ride with The Penumbra again soon.

ALL SOUNDS: FADE OUT.

#juno steel

16 notes · View notes

fddarchive · 4 years

Text

[Danielle Foster’s Stories] Digital Tamers: Chapter One- Just In The Nic Of Time

Danielle Foster’s story: Digital Tamers (incomplete)

Chapter One- Just In The Nic Of Time

^.~ Danielle ^.~

It starts…

You would think you know yourself…

You'd think you knew your friends…

And well,

You should HOPE you know the little imaginary creature you created.

Ten Internet friends have lives other than their own when they're role-playing on the Internet. Some even have new names! But what would happen if their "Internet Lives" suddenly become, well, real?

Trust Me! They soon find out!

How do you know you can trust me you ask? Well, on that anyway…

Well… how can I say this…? I'm One Of Them!

He heh! Danielle's the name! Me and nine other Internet friends of mine are totally and completely in LOVE with those little creatures I told you about, Oh… They're called Digimon, if you where wondering!

Digimon!

Even the word itself sounds cool!

DIGIMON!!

All I'm aloud to say is, be prepared…

Be prepared to be taken away! LITERALLY!

~ * DIGIMON! DIGITAL MONSTERS!!! * ~

*****

"NO WAY??? Are you serious? Kristina, you have to be pulling my leg here!" Questioned a frightened girl

"No Danielle…! She's Gone! Jeanne is gone!" Answered Kristina in a depressed tone

"Oh god… This is really bad! Uh, if you don't mind me asking, She never talked about running away or hurting herself did she?" Danielle continued questioning.

"No Way!!! Of course not!!! She was just… Uh busy I guess, busy with work she thought I wouldn't understand I guess. Now she was reported missing just last night on the news!" Kristina finished with a sigh and the sound of her body free falling on her bed.

"Hmmmmm… SCARRY! Huh? Aw-man!!!" The girl whined in a half sarcastic tone.

"WHAT?!?" The frightened girl asked

"I JUST BOUGHT THE RIGHTS OF THREE WAY CALLING FOR MY CELL PHONE SO WE CAN ALL TALK AT ONCE!!!" Joked the girl

"Danielle! Jeanne Is Missing!!! An, And YOU'RE WORRIED ABOUT A LOSIE FIVE BUCKS???" Yelled Kristina

"HEY! It Was $17.50! And besides, I was kidding! You know lightening your AT-TA-TUDE!" Said Danielle

"Oh, sorry… Uh! Bout the yelling part, not the money!" Half joked Kristina

"I Know! And sorry… I guess you weren't ready for a joke just yet… BUT YOU SHOULDN'T WORRIE SO MUCH! Uh… I think its bad for your skin…?" She said cheerfully

"ME WORRIEING?!? No way! But you Should Talk. you, you worrie wart!" She said now cheering up also "But what if she's hurt, or lost?" She added

"Jeanne? Nah!!! Those should be the least of your worries! We should be scared she's hungry! But that's not saying much!!!" Danielle stated

"He, heh Yeah! Or craving Pixie Stix!!!" Giggled Kristina

"Heh him! OH MY GOD!!!" Sounded Danielle

"You know, you shouldn't say that so much!" Stated Kristina

"Sorry, but its 3-a-clock!!! We where supposed to meet Alex and Jessica on the Internet 1, 2... Er- like seven hours ago!"

"Oh GOSH! You're right! But its only 2:00!"

"Yeah, in YOUR home sweet, Texas, but in MY C.T. it's three!"

"Heh, You a poet, and didn't know it!"

"Yeah, I know it, just don't show it! But, Ya think? Nah! Well, we've been talken sense five! My battery is like shot! So, I'll meet you online!"

"Yeah… But I'm glad you got a cell phone! Even though you always forget to charge it!"

"Heh, I kinda had to! We where talking on the real phone for like fifteen minutes and my mom totally flipped when she got the bill!"

"Hmmm… MY FAULT!"

"YUP!" She snorted as the sound of the Internet dialing up rang over her words "OH MY GOD!"

"DANIELLE!"

"Sorry, but what's this?" She asked as she switched on the light "Oh, its just my D-3 Digivice… HEY WAIT A MINUTE, I FORGOT THIS OVER JESSICA'S HOUSE LAST WEEKEND! And it looks, REAL!!!"

'STEP INTO THE VORTEX!'

"WHA? WOH KRISTINA!!!" Her voice shrieked

"You know, you're the only person I know who can watch TV, talk on the phone AND chat on the computer at the same time! Danielle? Danielle?!? DANIELLE! If you don't stop messing around right now, I'll, uh… I'll go get my brother to read that email you sent me about that dream! DANIELLE? FINE!" The girl huffed wile she slammed down the phone and walked across the hall to her brother's room and dragged him back into her room where she slapped him around until he woke.

"Hmmm… Kristina? What are you doing?" The boy whined

"BUDDY! READ THIS NOW!" The girl demanded

"Huh? Ha, Ha!" He sprung up "You lost a contact!" Teased Buddy

"No! I just thought you might want to read this…!"

"WWWhat is it?" He asked consciously

"Oh, it's just something, ABOUT YOU!"

'GET IN NOW, And Hurry!!!' Yelled the same voice as the one that yelled to Danielle

"No way!" Yelled Kristina "Who are you?"

"Kristina, I think you mean "what are you?"" Stated Buddy

The windows and doors rattled from the evil forces behind them. Finally the doors gave in and flew open.

"Uh, Kristina! That little door seems a lot better than those!!!" Screamed Buddy pointing to some dark, foggy, shaddow-like ghosts floating toward them A dark hand stretched right through Buddy reaching for Kristina.

"KRISTINA! HELP! Uh! Look out!" Yelled Buddy

"How do we know we can trust you?" Questioned Kristina

'ERAH! NO TIME FOR QUESTIONS!' The bright colorful triangular box grabbed Kristina by the shoulder and pulled her in.

"BUDDY!" Screamed Kristina as she grabbed his arm and accidentally pulled him in as well!

*****

"No Alex! I don't know where Kristina is, I don't even know where Danielle is!"

* Bring *

"Well, Kristina and I are like BEST FRIENDS! JESSICA! And, she would have told me if she wasn't able to meet me online!"

* Bring *

"And I live right around the block from Danielle, she would have called by now, so I'm sending another email to both of them ok?"

* Bring *

"Ok… I guess I can do the same."

Jessica and Alex got off the instant message board and wrote slightly "crude" emails and went to hit send only some how, must have hit the wrong button.

"Huh?!? WHAT THE…?!?" They both seemed to ask one after the other

"I must have somehow got a virus! HEY!!! WAIT A MINUTE! VIRUSES STAY INSIDE THE COMPUTER! AHHHHHHHHHH!" Screamed Alex as he was sucked into the Vortex

"Hey! How'd you get out of the computer?" Asked Jessica

'I am not a who, nor I am not a what, but you are in great danger! Step into the vortex, now!' The colorful box said

"Danger huh? Well, if I'm in such "great danger" how come you came threw my computer, and didn't just take the easy, much quicker way? Uh, it's called a door! Well…?" She said.

Jessica than began grinning thinking about her father grounding her to the house for the weekend for putting ice down his and his brother's back while they where asleep... "Its a good thing he hasn't found out about the broken window yet!" she said to herself "So lets see... Grounded or deathly frightening box? WELL!!! How much worse can this be? It could be fun!" The adventitious girl said with wide eyes "Yah-hoooo!!!" She yelled jumping inside

*****

Levi was just climbing back into bed from getting a drink of milk strait from the container whipping his milk mustache away with his wrist. He was getting into bed when his sheets where picked up into the shape of a giant hand and covered his mouth it then wrapped itself around his body.

'COZY?' Asked the evil followed by a laugh. The room now light up with the same light as all before. Then Levi was extremely frightened while he watched the Vortex form inside his room and more dark shadows coming threw his windows. The Vortex's hand like figure came and grabbed onto Levi's sheet allowing the boy to run, but instead he sat and screamed for help… "HELP! MOM! DAD! HEF…!" The vortex wrapped its hand around Levi's mouth to keep him quite so his parents didn't come and force him to leave without being able to save him. Again the shadowy darkness overwhelmed the boy, and pulled him toward the windows. It than twisted the area of the sheet where the Vortex was holding, so it had to let go in order to get a good enough grip to save the boy. The vortex let go, and that's when the shadows struck!

They snapped the sheet around so Levi was now facing the evil. The shadows grabbed Levi's hand, and touched him in the wrist ever so lightly, and the boy just screamed in agony! "It stabbed me! It Stabbed Me!" The vortex grabbed his foot, but between his shirt falling off, and his parents opening the door, the shadows failed in steeling him. They flew away from the light from the hallway lamp coming through the crack in the door. The light pulled him into the Vortex right before his parents came inside the boy's room to see the evil or the Vortex.

*****

The sound of snoring filled the room as the Vortex hacked its way into Dusten's computer from the inside. It got into his screen as it flashed in a great light. The Vortex entered the room. Finally Dusten woke up from the sudden change of darkness of the night, to the light of the Vortex, to the darkness of the evil. It suddenly became cold in his room.

'DUSTEN!!! It Will Get You! Hurry, You'll be killed!!!' Yelled the worried Vortex. Dusten quickly ran across the room, past the darkness and jumped into the Vortex. You didn't have to tell him twice!

"Wow! Thanks! That was close!" Said Dusten thankfully.

'Ha! Close? You should have seen the last one I saved! Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha!' Replied the Vortex

*****

"Ha heh! I love this new Fan Fic you wrote Jenn! It's so cute!" Said a female voice

"Thanks Lexxy! I know I'm proud of it, I TOOK FOREVER!" Said Jenn

"Too bad Digimon aren't real! I'd LOVE to see Cunomon make a fool of himself like that!" Giggled Lexxy

"Yeah, I know! SPLASH! Ha, ha, heh!" Laughed Jenn

"Did you make any screen shots?" Asked Lexxy

"Yeah, let me get you the address! Let me see… oh, I have it in my Favorite's List!" She than clicked to the little heart shaped button and realized something was off!

"Huh? What's this? Woh!" yelled the girl. She jumped back as her screen light up. Then a colorful box entered her room. "HEY GET BACK IN THERE, YOU, YOU COMPUTER THINGIE!" Yelled Jenn

'I cannot do that Jennifer, but you must lead me to the last Digidestonded…' Said the Vortex

"Who?" Asked Jenn

'What is the one called Lexxy's email address?' Asked the Vortex

"Uh, Lexxy?" Asked Jenn

'Yes, Lexxy! In This World It Doesn't Mater, but in a few minutes, what ever you call her will be trapped, and killed, if not turned into a evil ghost! NOW What Is Lexxy's… What is her email address?' Asked the annoyed Vortex

"Let me get a pen…" said Jenn

'ERAH!' The light grabbed her by the arm and together they went inside the Vortex.

*****

* BING *

The little box in the corner of Lexxy's screen popped up. "One New Mail"

Lexxy opened the email, it was from Jenn, and it read "Open This Link Now!" She did. That aloud the Vortex to let itself inside her room.

"Woh! Jenn? How'd you get here?" Asked Lexxy

"Hurry! Inside this! Trust me!" Yelled Jenn

'At-hem!' Coughed the Vortex

"Oh, I mean, trust us!" Said Jenn

'Yes, Lexxy, step into the Vortex!' Said the Vortex

"Woh It talks! Cool!" Giggled Lexxy

"C'mon Lexxy! Step Into The 'VORTEX'"! Said Jenn moving her fingers in the quote motions as she said Vortex.

"Well, LETS GO THEN!!!" Said Lexxy cheerfully

*****

^.~ Danielle ^.~

Woh That was close! Uh, I mean…

Is "The Vortex" really our friend? Where is Jeanne? Where are we going? The Digital World? Is there such a place? Are we…

HERE'S A QUESTION! WILL I EVER STOP? Gesh! Who wrote this junk? Ok! My turn!!!

Gosh! I'm so excited! We where saved just in the nic of time! Hey… Wouldn't be the coolest title? Digital Tamers: Chapter One- Just In The Nic Of Time! I like!

WOW! I Just Can't Get Over How Close We Where To Getting Killed! Good thing none of us where, so much as touched! Hey… Levi! Gosh, is he ok? Why did he yell? I hope they didn't hurt him! And, the evil went strait through Buddy, he didn't scream! Well, in pain anyway…

Gosh, you'll just have to see in Digital Tamers: Chapter Two- Digidestonded! Coming soon, and it's just a few clicks away!

~ * Digimon! Digital Monsters! * ~

#Danielle #Danielle Foster #Digital Tamers #Digimon FDD #fanfic #fanfics #Digimon FDD fanfic #Digimon FDD fanfics

0 notes

samanthasroberts · 7 years

Text

‘I know their vital stats, their romantic histories’: how Sunderland AFC saved me

For this Chinese Jewish Texan, England was a difficult place to feel at home. But all that changed when she discovered football

Thats shite, man! the man behind screams. The discontent in the crowd is reaching a critical mass. Useless twats, snarls a father below, opening a packet of crisps for his nine-year-old son.

I stand frozen, wrapped up in a scarf and down jacket. Who are we yelling at? Why are we so angry?

Its Boxing Day 2012 and Im at the Stadium of Light in Sunderland for my first ever football match. Its freezing cold; it begins to rain. And then it happens. A Sunderland player fires a shot that creeps past the Manchester City goalkeeper and into the bottom corner of the net. The stadium thunders as a sea of 46,000 bodies fall over each other, total strangers hugging their neighbours, while simultaneously jumping up and down. The man next to me screams so loudly in my ear that Im momentarily deaf. Then he turns me towards him, grabs my shoulders, locks eyes with me and shakes my body. Ahhhhhhhhhh! he screams, in happiness and disbelief.

Ahhhhhhh! I scream back, in fear.

***

When I moved to London, I got a job as a junior editor on a luxury lifestyle website. The site was run by a flamboyant man from Croydon named Carlos, with coiffed salt and pepper hair. Never one to pass up an opportunity to show off, Carlos liked to introduce me to visiting VIPs as our New Yorker who speaks fluent Mandarin and went to Harvard.

None of these things was true. I grew up in a small town in Texas: Amarillo. For some reason, Carlos didnt think this as impressive as being from New York (despite Amarillo being the helium capital of the world and the home of Tony Christies sweet Marie). As for fluent in Mandarin, my dad is Chinese, but I speak only broken Mandarin after living and working in Beijing for a few years. I didnt go to Harvard I was rejected but I did go to a university an hour away. None of these things made sense to Carlos, so he went with his own version.

My exchanges with Carlos were stilted. Our interactions ended in awkward silences. He was twice my age and we had nothing in common. But he was well known in London media circles and I was desperate to get him on side.

After Beijing, I assumed it would be a breeze to assimilate in a country where I no longer faced a language barrier. In China, I had spent a good amount of time miming my interactions. I also had to get used to Beijing locals asking me how much money I made, or telling me I was looking fatter than usual. But it was a bluntness I came to embrace: at least I knew where I stood.

Not so in London. The city was so rife with passive aggression that I didnt know when people were being rude or kind. A woman thanked me on the train for moving my bag and I was almost certain what she was really saying was too fucking right. A man squeezed by me on the escalator and the pitch of his seemingly polite May I? was so snide, it nearly brought me to tears. Carlos asked me if I want to do something for him at work and I wasnt sure if it was an order, a helpful suggestion or sarcasm. The words themselves were unfailingly polite, but it was all in the tone. Other Americans I knew suffered the same way. I genuinely dont know if my colleagues are making fun of me or being nice, a friend from Chicago confessed one night over drinks.

London can be a tough city for newcomers to crack. Compared with the US, people prefer to keep to themselves, especially in public. Im shy, so this was wonderful at first. No one approaches you to chat. I once fell in a crowded street in broad daylight and began the, Im fine, Im fine, honestly protest. But no one had stopped. I lay on the ground, impressed with peoples dedication to not getting involved with strangers. I began to think that I might never find a way to break through the famous British reserve. Would I ever find common ground with Carlos? If only there was some magic key.

And then one day, I witnessed a man bite another man on live TV. This happened during a football match that was on in a pub I happened to be in. I was immediately intrigued: by the biting, the drama, the getting caught, the primal emotion of the incident. I didnt realise it at the time, but this was it: my in.

On a bus, I sat with a couple of friends who were discussing live scores; soon, the entire upper deck had joined the conversation. It was like a portal to another dimension in which everyone was chatty, friendly and open on public transport.

Football was everywhere, it turned out. Once I noticed this, I began to absorb football facts, though only certain things stuck. I loved it when footballers cried. Maybe it was the persistent myth of the stiff upper lip but seeing a player moved to tears, to me, showed he cared more than anyone else. It wasnt like watching an actor pretend to tear up. This shit was real.

I loved any sort of drama on and off the pitch. Family tensions, love problems, scandals, shoving matches; before long, I became a reliable source of useless, soap opera-esque information about players.

I also became a fervent Sunderland supporter. Why would a Chinese girl from Texas living in Highbury, north London, become a Sunderland supporter? Because I had married one. Ian, born and bred in Sunderland, talked about his teams players as if they were his family. That made them my family, too. I knew their names, their shirt numbers, their vital stats, their romantic histories. I was also a natural fit for Sunderland because I love an underdog and by God, I had chosen the underdog of underdogs. The big clubs, with their expensive superstars, were boring to me. Our wins were rare, but they were so much sweeter for it.

I watched televised matches, sometimes without Ian if he was busy or out of town, something that had my friends and family baffled. During visits home to Texas, Ian and I zealously woke early to catch the Sunderland game. My father would observe me, puzzled. My mother, who is Jewish, was also bewildered but said, Well, you were the most athletic of our family of klutzes. It was my childhood best friend Jori who called me out. We were in a Waffle House diner surrounded by grassy plains. I asked Ian if he knew how Sunderlands relegation rivals had fared in their six-pointer, when she interrupted me. Are you talking about British soccer? Who are you? I told her the truth: Im just a girl, standing in front of the TV, hoping a footballer scores a winning goal in the last minute of a high-stakes match and then weeps about it.

A young fan lets rip as Sunderland take on Man United. Photograph: Getty

Do you know who really liked football? Carlos. We soon developed a rapport. Every Monday, hed rush to my desk and wed discuss the weekends matches. He was obsessed with playing style, formations and league tables. Meanwhile, I was the expert on the fights, the crying and the hissy fits. Suddenly, we were friends. He wasnt just my scary boss who got annoyed that I didnt know who Lynyrd Skynyrd were. We were bonding.

They say that to assimilate in a foreign country, you have to speak the language, and now I finally did. Did I make friends from learning about football? I would go out on a limb and say that yes, I did. I made friends with Dave at the Three store when I sat there for two hours after accidentally flushing my phone down the toilet. I bonded with a Ghanaian driver as we discussed a former Sunderland player from his country. In a hotel in the Lake District, there was a communication breakdown with a concierge that ended happily when we both agreed that Diego Costa was a jerk and Jermain Defoe a great goal scorer. When cab rides were too silent, no problem. Lets talk about the match, driver.

***

Dinner in the north-east of England is different from dinner in Texas. Here the food is cooked well-done, the weather is colder and greyer, the company more polite, the table quieter.

Ians dad, brother and uncles are lifelong Sunderland season ticket holders. Ask them a question about what they want to eat, or their favourite movie, or their preference for boxers or briefs, and they will reply, Im easy. Suggest that Jack Rodwell is a decent footballer and they are unleashed animated, passionate, opinionated. I enjoy bantering with Ians brother and dad about football, but we argue a lot mostly because there is one thing I havent been able to wrap my head around since my first game.

After that first Boxing Day match, on the walk from the Stadium of Light to the car with Ian, his dad, his uncle and his brother, I ask the question thats on my mind.

Why do we yell mean things at our own players?

Silence. And then: They just didnt show up. For most of the match, they were bloody awful, Ian says. Good use of we, though, he adds.

But shouldnt we be supporting them? Encouraging them?

Ian shakes his head and sighs.

You know, like being positive and lifting them up? I was still trying to make sense of why 46,000 people would call themselves supporters when they gave the most vitriolic, abusive commentary on their own players. Their support was downright terrifying.

This was your first match, Jess. Weve suffered years of pain while watching players go through the motions. Ive been enduring this for 25 years, Ian says. Twenty-six years, Ians older brother says. His dad: Try 60 years. And finally, I understand the British subtext: You are a wide-eyed idiot.

You got me into this: Jess with her husband, Ian. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

At my high school in Texas, there was a club called Senior Spirits. Senior Spirit members met to boost the egos of our sports teams and rally other students to support those teams. To quote from the yearbook, their mission was to make posters and give our school spirit. In the photo, a group of 20 girls wearing matching T-shirts and ponytails, grin at the camera, 100% heartfelt.

These werent cheerleaders. And they werent affiliated with the Steppers, the ultra-serious dancers who performed at pep rallies, the hour-long ceremonies dedicated to whipping up school spirit. Nor were they the student marching band that played during football matches to help stoke, yes, even more team spirit. Team spirit was like an elusive ghost permeating the school and we all had to worship it.

That spirit was partial to posters with marker pen and glitter, to ponytails, to cakes shaped like American footballs and prayers before the big game. It revelled in exclamation marks. It did not like folded arms and booing and sarcasm. It did not like being called a useless twat.

Apparently team spirit isnt a thing in north-east England. So how do English secondary schools pump up their sports teams? I imagine the halls of these schools are lined with posters of a different sort: You better not screw this up, Jones! and Dont do any of that long-ball shit, Gibbons.

I still struggle with this complete inversion, but it unlocked something core in the English mentality how ingrained the cynicism is, as well as the tendency to proceed from a position of cautious defeat. Expect to lose so it hurts less when it happens, and if we win, no harm done.

Diehard football fans remain sceptical of me. At matches, I ask questions. I get looks when I yell cheerful encouragement. I cant stop shouting, At least you tried! every time a player takes a shot but fails to score. Some have the gall to question my passion for football until I do well at the pub quiz football round. If you love something, does it matter if you love it for all the wrong reasons? Apparently, to them, yes. But one thing was for sure: I was emotionally committed.

In May 2016, at the end of that years season, Sunderland were on the brink of doom, as we are every year. Hundreds of fans gathered at the Old Red Lion in Angel, north London, for one of the last matches of the season. I am 5ft 2in, so I left Ian and his friends and waded through Mackems to get to a good vantage point to watch the match. We were playing Everton, and this would seal everything: would we stay up and relegate bitter rivals Newcastle in the process?

Awaydays at the Drayton Park pub in north London, before taking on Arsenal at the Emirates. Photograph: Pal Hansen for the Guardian

The first time we scored, someones pint of beer, spilt in jubilant joy and shock, doused my head. On the second goal, the shouts were deafening. On the third, a man threw his arms around me and together we jumped up and down and screamed with pure joy. I left the pub dazed, half-deaf, hair soaked in booze and my face aching from smiling.

I became a UK citizen last year. At a city town hall, I swore my allegiance to the Queen and stumbled through the national anthem with 17 other newly minted UK citizens. But that moment didnt come close to the buoyant feeling of pure joy and belonging I felt in the arms of a stranger as we celebrated the victory of our beloved team. If the root of football passion is said to be a sense of family and place, then this Chinese Jewish Texan has found her new home.

Unfortunately, that home is sometimes a den of pain and despair. By the time you read this, we will have played three Championship matches in the new season. Ian assures me we will not have won one: Sunderland havent won a league game in August or September for four years in a row.

In April this year, we were finally relegated from the Premier League with four matches left to play.

Useless losers! I yell at the players as Sunderland fail to score even one goal. Its all over. Nothing to hope for now, no Match Of The Day to look forward to.

As I shout at the players, Ian pats me hard on the back. Well done, he says. I look at him, confused. Now you know what it feels like to hate your own team.

Commenting on this piece? If you would like your comment to be considered for inclusion on Weekend magazines letters page in print, please email [email protected], including your name and address (not for publication).

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/09/17/i-know-their-vital-stats-their-romantic-histories-how-sunderland-afc-saved-me/

0 notes