#rubicon company

[mothhuuny]

sorry if this may come across a little vent-ish, but i just wanna get my feelings out, so-to speak.

if you guys already dont know, ive been working on a little pet project of mine for awhile called Rubicon Company. its something that me and my friends are putting a lot of love and effort into, and I'm very excited to show it more publicly.

its been in the works for, gosh, almost a year now? I'm nearly ready to start posting about it more actively, since I'm about halfway done with the prolouge's draft.

... however, thats the problem. i feel like I've been putting so much work onto it on my own. i don't expect any of my friends to do the work for me, no, I expected to be doing most of it on my own, but because of that, I feel like progress has kinda... slowed to a halt? the process of the project getting done solely revolves around me, which kinda sucks.

i really wish i had some source of income, just so that I could commission an artist or someone else to do some of the work for me. i cant do that, though, because i don't even have access to my own money, and i can't get a job.

i love it so much, but i can't spend all my time working on it. not only do I have schoolwork, but I have other projects I want to work on too, but I don't want to just... let it die.

im not gonna, like, ask for money or anything because the last time somebody from the internet wanted to give me money, it turned into a whole argument with my dad, so I don't want to open that can of worms right now, plus i'd feel bad asking people for money without giving something back.

maybe i should just try and go talk to my parents about it again and try to open up writing/drawing commissions? but also, the every other time I've tried, it just gets pushed to the side, and my parents are already stressed with other money and medical issues.

it's just.

this is probably my longest post yet, but I just wanna vent out some of my feelings. thanks for reading, if you did.

[sunbentshadows]

“Looking back, it becomes clear late America worshipped corporations as gods, allowing constant proliferation of their propaganda, sacrificing health and homes and their prosperity as a nation at the altar of capital.

“Crimes against wealth were treated as severely as crimes against an individual’s life, as murder, as egregious harm to a person or child, and the laws protected corporations’ right to prosecute with a bloodthirsty ruthlessness. Lawmakers turned great profits in conjunction with these industries, buying stock and accepting legal bribes from influential persons employed by corporations to pass further favorable legislation.

“Corporations were allowed to own lawmakers, to pick presidents (the equivalent of our ‘Consul’), to kill without consequence, to poison lives and natural resources, and to take any means necessary to pursue profit - and in fact, were legally mandated no other course. These actions were lauded, for the pursuit of endless monetary gain was seen as a virtue.”

- Excerpt from a future history book

[auraeseer]

Someday, Roo be pro . . .

[headlinehorizon]

Ford Motor Company and Team Rubicon Join Forces for Hurricane Idalia Disaster Recovery Efforts

https://headlinehorizon.com/Business/Lifestyle/1244

Read about how Ford Motor Company dispatched volunteers to support Team Rubicon in aiding local disaster recovery efforts in Florida after Hurricane Idalia.

[rex101111]

Things that happen within the first few hours of AC6:

1. You get shot with a huge-ass laser mid-atmosphere entry. You barely survive this, landing several miles away from your intended landing zone.  Welcome to Rubicon 3.

2. You have a mech built with bargain bin parts, barely held together with hope and spite. It has a energy sword though, so that’s nice.

3. Not even two seconds after your, very rough, landing, you get a call from your “Handler”. He is ostensibly in charge of your well-being. This begins and ends with him sending you off on missions he’s fairly certain you’ll survive and charges you for the damage you get to your mech, the bullets you use, and he’s also cut out a piece of your brain to put in augmentations that will make you a slightly better mech pilot. In the top Most Horrible People On This Planet contest, he wouldn’t make it to the top 10.

4. You make your way through a derelict hunk of junk that’s threatening to collapse on top of you. Not even two minutes into this journey, you’re getting shot at with missiles. 

5. You finally reach your intended destination, a burning husk of a city filled with scavengers and low lives who will shoot you on sight. You are here to grave rob.

6. The reason you are grave robbing is connected to the fact you got shot in orbit, you are here illegally, and you need to find a license from any fresh corpse so you can steal the identity on it and be able to do mercenary work.

7. You go through four corpses before you find one with a license that can pass muster.

8. Mid corpse robbing a gunship sent by The Space Police spots you and you have to shot it down so it can’t kill you or, even worse, stop you from stealing the identity you just found. 

9. As soon as you get registered in the Mercenary Rolodex, which takes less then a second of an A.I taking a look and saying “alright checks out”, you have two missions. One of them has you killing a bunch of resistance fighters from the planet’s native population on behalf of a weapons company that really wants to do business here. 10. The next mission has you going to a base owned by that very same company and blowing up everything you can find there. This does not anger that company one bit, if anything it just convinces them you are a very thorough worker. 11. Very shortly after that, you are tasked with destroying a prototype mech by another company before it can get into mass production. That mech is being piloted by what can only be described as an Anime Protag who is in the worst possible franchise for his type of character. You can murder him in less then two minutes if you know what you’re doing. You can hear him desperately fight for his life the entire time. 12. After that, before you even get to clean the blood and oil and broken dreams off your robot, you get a call from a merc group leader saying that he’s seen you murder that guy real good, a guy who was auditioning to join his group, and likes the cut of your jib. He gives you the callsign he was gonna give Anime Protag before you blew him the fuck up. He laughs and tells you to be careful since it’s an unlucky number. This is the least morally repugnant thing you’ll do all game.   

13. A while after that, you go into a power plant and destroy the generator, it promptly blasts you in the face with the red radioactive Super Fuel that toasted this planet a few years back.

14. You survive, somehow, and you get a disembodied voice of some girl in your ear. You tell your handler about this and he just shrugs it off with “oh yeah that’s probably a symptom of the lobotomy, don’t worry about it”. The voice is probably the most moral person on this fire blasted hell scape of a planet.

[radabeast]

Why Aren't The Hornsent NPCs Named? An Essay On The Challenge for Compassion

So easy answer. Neither our pal in the Miquella Brigade nor the Grandam actually tell their names to us. Case closed!

No no no but more like, why didn't the DEVELOPERS choose to let us know them by name? A whole chunk of The Point is that the hornsent are people too, right? So why would we not even get to know our two (mostly just one, even, as you're not likely to even find grandam) hornsent ambassadors' actual names?

Fromsoft did something similar to this in Armored Core 6 just recently. That game is PLAINLY all about the horrors of capitalism, colonization and war, albeit almost all of your time is spent not with the resistance, but with the companies trying to tear the planet apart for fuel. Your protag's motivations aside, the RLF, Rubicon Liberation Front, are hardly given any narrative ambassadors to you at all; your Rubiconian partner pleads with your on some occasions, but otherwise the emphasis is elsewhere. Their liaison with their organization isn't even named. You don't even get to MEET most of their ranks until the secret third route, and even then, half the time that's just when you're fighting against said individuals as opponents. So...

Fromsoft is unique in that they often don't spoon-feed you "this is right" and "this is wrong". By no means do they ever seem to say colonization and slaughter is correct, and in fact the very crux of the plot is in grappling with the justifications. BUT, you are placed directly in the role of the oppressors' side. All around you are people you will grow to respect, and fight alongside, and they will also help you tear down this planet if you choose that route. You do, very much so, have to FIGHT and CHOOSE to aid the people of Rubicon, even if it hurts. Even if it means fighting, abandoning and even killing the people who have been by your side. And I think that's much more realistic to many real-life experiences than just "starting out on the right side".

Back to Elden RIng and the hornsent, though. Grandam is found only under very specific circumstances, within a single location, and within a small time window of the game. You step out of that window? You lose her completely, including the lore she had, and the means with which to understand better the hornsent. Why? Why would Fromsoft even implement her, if it's that hard to even reach her words?

And again, I think it's... realistic. You, the Tarnished, are a human along Marika's progeny, barring your own personal character lore. You are a human and you are part of the race that had slaughtered the hornsent. Of COURSE the hornsent themselves aren't going to trust you, spoonfeed you WHY you should care about them. Shouldn't you care already about the pain and suffering of others? Why WOULDN'T you? If it's that hard to come to grips with the horrors Your Kind caused, then maybe you're no better.

And I think. The story wants to challenge you like that, past gameplay, past feeding you their intent directly. You have to SEEK OUT the answers and THINK. Is it truly justified to slaughter a whole race? Was this truly right? Should I think of these individuals as people, or as monsters?

Hornsent (NPC) is also a very interesting choice. Not only is he the only hornsent you're actually likely to find and speak with, but he actively hates your guts. Soon as the charm is off, even, he's back on his path of vengeance. He says time and time again, he's nothing more than this mission to Get Back on those responsible. Wouldn't the devs want to make you weep for someone far more pitiable, far more palatable?

Well, if you bother paying attention to him enough, and aid the man in his questline, you'll understand then that he's someone who lost his whole family to Messmer's crusades. Mother, wife, child, in addition of course to the innumerable others slaughtered. Is that not enough to want all-consuming vengeance? Wouldn't YOU want people dead because of that? Regardless, even, of whether or not he was even a perpetrator of the original jar slaughters (and I've seen enough feasible evidence against that)... Is he not pitiable enough for that alone?

To you, he is just a Hornsent. To he himself, the man is a Hornsent, likely a title he wears both in defiance, as well as the only scrap of identity he has left. His people were killed because they were Hornsent. His family was killed because they were Hornsent. Would you even ever see him as anything else? Would it matter, even, if he HIMSELF has nothing else?

And, clearly, if you've been seeing anything anywhere in the fan discussions: this challenge to Think is lost on many people. Some people, somewhat understandably, take these aspects as Fromsoft caring little about the hornsent at all, and claiming them as The Original Evils within their own story. Others don't even bother to take anything not fed to them, and claim that the slaughter of hornsent was duly justified, and that this is undeniably supported within the game. But even barring the consistent themes of dichotomies, dualities, and the cycles of abuse ever-present throughout the game-- yeah, I'd say a good deal of reflection could and should be found in the self, first. Who are YOU when challenged for this compassion, first?

[moiderahart]

The Fires of Raven, or Why I Side-eye anyone who claims it's the "good ending".

I keep on seeing takes about how the Fires of Raven ending is the Actual Good Ending and not gonna lie it makes me kind of sick. Partially because "Wow do you literally just believe the first thing people tell you? No wonder propaganda works as well as it does."

The other is that as far as I'm concerned, Coral is a People. Not human by any means but personhood is hardly the kind of thing that's exclusive to humanity. If it can communicate, if it has a culture, if it has agency and emotion, then it is a people. It's basically the concept of a nonhuman person. Coral is depicted as having clear sentience. And at that point I think it's essentially just a people.

It's why I think the idea of AI becoming self aware is one that we're not prepared for, not because of paperclip factories or skynet (which is an inane fear as far as I'm concerned) but because we will have made a person, and we're not ready for that ethical question. Not by a longshot.

The initial Fires of Ibis weren't a spontaneous Coral event. It was a deliberate act; it's why Walter brings up the story in Chapter 4. The story of the man who burned it all who, as we come to learn in the logs, was Professor Nagai. Coral Collapse is a consequence with a scary name but it's one that is not defined; we don't know what Coral Collapse actually entails.

This isn't a mistake on Fromsoft's part; it's a deliberate choice. That ambiguity is part of the point. The lack of a known quantity to Coral Collapse is a big driver of the fear behind it. It's a fear great enough to cause Nagai to burn the stars, in favor of the world that is.

And yet the world that is was also the one that lobotomized C4 621.

The world that is has a company like Arquebus wage war against civilians. Send them to re-education camps which, if you know anything about real world re-education camps, you would know that they are an abomination, and there is no exception on Rubicon.

This is a world that saw Rubicon, a planet of endless possibility and natural beauty, and built towering, continent-sized oil rigs to suck it dry.

Coral was allowed to live for eons before Humanity fucking colonized it. Coral was allowed to grow, to exist, to evolve into its current form until humanity began to shove it into a container.

And Coral was allowed to live before one of the colonizers decided a people was too dangerous to let live based on a chance.

This sounds like an excuse that I have seen too many times.

[shewroteaworld]

Detached

Premise: You think you're alone in a storm of feelings. There's one person who won't let you get drenched in this downpour alone.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (relationship can be read as purely platonic or as a budding romance)

Approximate word count: 650

Warnings: Self-deprecation

“I just want to feel things. And not feel bad about feeling them.” 

Tears fall and splotch the lines of your notebook paper. You’re relieved your writing was spared. But you're also annoyed. If it washed away the graphite evidence, maybe you could shy away from this. Maybe you could not feel this.

How could you feel such contradictory desires at the same time? How could you hold both in your heart? You couldn’t. You literally couldn’t.

It was only inevitable. You were meant to destroy yourself. You had brain power, sure. But connection to yourself? Your soul? A real knowledge of self?

You sniffle. You bite your knuckles to choke the sobs. If someone caught you here, crying in the BAU bathroom on the toilet…you could never live that down. 

You sigh. Everyone was busy with work, packing up to go home, or already in the parking lot.

You were fine. You were safe. This was safe.

Of course, as if you were in a sitcom, as soon as the thought passed your mind, there was a goddamn knock on the door.

“Are you okay in there? I was passing by and couldn’t help but hear…do you need help?”

Spencer.

You shiver. You pull on your sweater as if you can squeeze warmth out of it. 

“I’m-I’m fine Spencer.” And just like that, the portal closed. You detached. If you could get him to leave quick enough, maybe you could touch it again– actually have a chance at feeling it. Releasing it.

Oh, why did you have to go to therapy?

“(Y/N)? You’re definitely not fine, open up.” 

“Spencer, I’m…” You shut your eyes tight. “I don’t want to worry you, so you should just leave.”

His scoff cuts through the mahogany door. “I’m not leaving you. You’re not okay.”

“Spencer, please.” You wipe snot from your nose on your sleeve. Like a toddler. “Leave, please, I just want to be alone.” You beg.

“I–” A dart of hope cuts through your heart. He sighs. “I don’t believe you.” It’s dashed. “Please, let me in, let me help.”

You can’t piece together enough words to form a rebuttal. When did you get a rubber tongue?

“(Y/N), I care. I’m your friend. Let me in.”

You sniffle, a smile tugging at the corner of your lip. He didn’t have to remind you of who he was. 

The smile slips away faster than the millisecond it arrived in. You couldn’t do this alone, and he wouldn’t let you.

There was finally someone in your life who wouldn’t let you.

“You can come in, Spence.”

You stare at his khaki–slacked knees as he slips through the door of the woman’s restroom. 

“I think we’re breaking company protocol.” You say to his patent leather shoes.

“For once, I’m putting personal protocol above that.” He says softly. “Letting you cry in the bathroom alone is against my protocol.”

You close your eyes. “I think I’m damaged goods.” 

“I think you’re way too harsh on yourself.” He pounces.

You open your eyes. “I don’t know how to feel things.” You croak.

“You know more than you know. That’s how the greatest intellectuals feel when they touch feelings. You’re not alone.”

You scoff. “Am I some great intellectual?”

“Stop that.” He cuts in. “You know you are.” He crosses the Rubicon between you, the tips of his toes stopping centimeters from yours. 

“I’ve been there. You have never been alone. And I’m here. To hold this with you.”

You meet his eyes. They’re soft and cold with worry yet there’s a warmth– like the warmth from the taste of home baked cookies. You feel it in your bones.

“To hold this with me?” You ask.

“To hold this with you.” He affirms.

For the first time in a long time, the cork pops from the bottle in the pit of your stomach.

You speak. 

[kyoswimm]

one last armored core post for now— nobody ever talks about how coral is called ‘coral’. on the surface, you might not get why it’s clever, maybe they just thought the name was cool.

but coral- real life coral- are colonial organisms. there are solitary species of coral, but their reefs are more iconic. they love their own company, which is the exact wording Walter uses when describing rubicon’s coral.

not to mention coral has a symbiotic relationship with a species of algae- just like 621 and ayre.

it’s such a clever usage of coral and gosh darn it does that tickle my neurons

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

That you Keep

Author’s note: More Random shit. So- Malum Caedo in Boltgun was all like "I shall finish what Captain Titus Started!!" and that was adorable, for a Veteran Murder Machien of a Man. And like. Titus and Malum meeting in Space Marine 2 would be great since, clearly, he adored his Captain.

Summary: Veteran Sternguard Malum Caedo hears tell of his previous Captain, now Lieutenant Titus having survived and returned back to the Ultramarines.

Warnings: Smut. NSFT. uh... let me know if you need me to add anything here? Thanks y'all!

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

He had been walking from one part of the ship to the other when he'd heard some of the younger brothers who'd been initially created as Primaris Marines complain about their new Officer.

Gadriel complaining to Chairon about Lt. Titus, Malum paused and looked at his younger brothers in the Second Company and asked if they meant Demetrian Titus- and asked them certain questions about the identity of this Demetrian Titus.

Realizing that the Demetrian Titus that they are talking about is his Demetrian Titus has him asking them where he could find their Lt. They are a little taken back about his questions and vehemence, but they told him.

He thanked the younger brothers for telling him all of this as he headed to where Titus, his Demetrian is. Part of why he'd taken the Graia mission all those long years ago was to see if he could recover his body, since he had been told that Titus had died on that mission.

Part of him thought that had been a lie, and he's glad to know that his instincts on such a thing were correct. His Demetrian turns when he called out his name softly, a smile soft and gentle appears on Titus's face, if a little cautious.

Malum pulls of his helmet, "I am so glad that you are alive Metri."

"You thought I was dead?" Titus asks.

"Yes," Malum says, "Stars above, I have missed you, I had grieved your loss. I am glad that you have returned to us."

Something colder and harder in Demetrian's eyes softens and warms at that. An almost sparkle of something flashes in the other's eyes as he strides towards Malum as they move closer towards one another.

Malum reaches out and grabs one of Demetrian's arms who clasps his hand back as they tug each other lightly into a deep embrace. Titus notes out loud, "You feel stronger."

"Indeed- the benefits of crossing the Rubicon Primaris, successfully," Malum says proudly, "You too- seem stronger."

"I have also crossed the Rubicon Primaris," Titus says, pausing a little, "Did you choose to cross, or was it that or being turned into a Dreadnaught or death?"

"I chose to try to Cross the Rubicon," Malum says, "... What about you?"

"... Chapter Master Calgar chose for me to cross the Rubicon." Titus says.

"Ah, you are not the only Captain that our wonderful Chapter Master has decided such medical decisions for." Malum says quietly, lowly, "I have missed you, so much."

"I have missed you deeply Mal," Titus says as he lightly tugs his fellow turned-Primaris Marine with him to his private rooms.

Malum follows him eagerly as they go into Titus's room, Demetrian lets go of his hand for a moment and goes to his armor stand and hits the quick release button on his armor and steps out of it.

Malum follows suit with his own armor and within a blink of an eye, Titus is upon him. A clash of lips, tongue, and the clack of teeth as they press kisses and touches, desperate fingers touch and tease their paramor's skin and body.

"I have missed you, all these long, lonely years," Malum whispers, moaning into Titus's lips.

"Never chose another to bed?" Titus asks, half surprised, half pleased.

"None could compare to you," Malum said with a shake of his head, honest in his words as they continue to kiss and touch.

Demetrian presses his fingers to Malum's lips and he opens his mouth eagerly as he sucks on the other's fingers- helping lubricate them as Titus teases their cocks, by rubbing them against each other.

Malum groans in pleasure and the delicious friction as Titus flips Malum over and pulls his fingers away as he stretches Malum open with his fingers.

The pain and pleasure run up his spine in equal measure as he pleads, "Titus- fuck me, Please."

"In a bit, love, In a bit," Titus murmurs, "It's been a century for us both, love."

Malum whines a little at that and grinds his backside against Titus' fingers and cock. He hides a little smirk as he hears Titus's swearing of pleasure and the way the other picks up the pace on stretching him.

The feeling Titus's other hand lightly smacking his ass in punishment only enhancing the pain-pleasure-need-desire and he groans in pleasure as Titus pulls his fingers out of him.

He whines at the loss and Titus chuckles a little as he thrusts in, he had wanted to do so slowly. But the hot, tight feeling of Malum around him. Fuck it really has been so long. Has him thrusting all the way in fast.

Damn. This new body of his really is an upgrade. Stronger, faster, it's impressive. As he presses biting kisses into Malums neck and shoulder as he starts to thrust in and out of him.

Malum eagerly matching his pace rolling his hips and groaning in pleasure, while Titus groans in pleasure and murmurs filthy praise. It's embarrassingly quick how fast he cums, but is pleased that Malum doesn't take long to cum either.

[kivaember]

it's maid day so here's 621 in a maid dress and rusty suffering

-

Every so often, Rusty would manage to convince Raven to "meet up" outside of sorties to "hang out".

The reason for the quotation marks there was that Raven didn't know that they met up to hang out. Rusty usually had to couch his requests in mission speak... and, admittedly, pay Raven afterwards to maintain the innocent deception. It was always a pittance, and Raven was under the impression that he was doing Rusty a favour by giving him a "buddy discount" (his words, not Rusty's), which made it seem like it was Raven manufacturing reasons to "meet up" by accepting clearly bogus missions for 100 COAM a piece-

Okay, this is getting complicated.

To simplify: they were both two very messed up guys who had no idea how to make friends normally, so Rusty did triple layers of subterfuge to hang out with the one person who was unrelated to the tangled hot mess that was his spy life on Rubicon, while Raven was unable to socialise outside of mission objectives and parameters.

They went on a lot of 'geographical surveys' together, is what he's saying.

It was enough to have the Vespers notice, but not exactly suspicious. From what Rusty had gleaned from Pater's sly jibes and Hawkin's poorly concealed smiles, they thought he and Raven were running off to secluded areas to have wild, passionate sex in each other's cockpits. Technically it was against company policy, but they were out on the frontiers. It was likely considered an acceptable misdemeanour to let Rusty blow off steam harmlessly - and a potential hook to sway Raven more towards an Arquebus bias.

Rusty didn't disabuse them of their assumption. It made things easier, really. He said 'I'm going on another geological survey with Raven, he requested my presence' and O'Keeffe would wave him off with 'okay just don't take all night again'. Snail would take one look at 'geological survey' and 'V.IV Rusty' and 'Raven' on the mission report and promptly lose interest - by now it was a short hand for 'V.IV is making a booty call'.

It let him take his time. He'd meet Raven, but then move on and spend a few hours elsewhere without needing to think of an excuse - because everyone would assume he was fucking Raven.

Honestly - he wished.

But no, their meetings were as chaste as things could be. They had scoped out a few good locations to meet - shielded from the wind, the snow, and allowing them to spend a few hours outside of their ACs - but they made sure to alternate them in a random pattern, just in case Balam or some enterprising independent mercenary got any ideas. Every time they met up, Rusty would bring what little he could for entertainment, a few bottles of smuggled Rubicon moonshine, and they would just... talk and chill.

...and then one meet up, Raven turned up in a dress.

-

The meeting spot they chose this time was an old yet mostly intact building situated in the shadow of a sky grid. The building was built of concrete and insulating material, the interior lukewarm compared to the frigid climes outside, and had likely been a school, once upon a time.

Rooms with desks and chairs, hallways with lockers, an old gym where the wooden floors had long since rotted and the ceiling half-caved in, and dark labratories where the chemical cabinets had been broken into, their contents long since emptied and leaving bare shelves and discoloured, empty glass jars.

It was one of their more favourite meeting spots, and Rusty had arrived first this frigid evening. He had parked STEEL HAZE outside the building, the AC sat in a low squat and partially concealed behind the multi-story building. Rusty had clambered out and trudged his way inside, makign for their usual meeting spot inside: the headmaster's office.

It was still relatively intact. An old, oaken desk that had withstood the ravages of time, a sofa where the springs had gone flat but wasn't moth-eaten, and a large window where the glass was frosted over but still intact. The carpet was stained, though, and the bookcases lining the wall were lacking books - moisture had gotten in here at some point, and the books had decayed into something mushy, but otherwise the room was serviceable for their meeting.

Rusty sat down on the sofa, resting his boots on the creaking coffee table, and stared out the window. The building sighed and creaked around him, the wind howling as it rattled the window, giving a sense of lonely isolation. Rusty just cracked open one of the moonshines he had brought with him, drinking straight from the bottle. He didn't like thinking about why Rubiconian settlements were so eerily abandoned.

He got through half the bottle by the time he heard the telltale growl and rumble of an arriving AC. His confirmation came when a data exchange request zipped to his implants, coming from Network ID: 04-23-621. Raven.

Rusty accepted it. There was no verbal communication or anything like that, and admittedly Raven was the first and only time he'd ever used his implants like this, but it was just an.. acknowledgement? Regardless, he accepted the request, Rusty felt a vague sort of 'okay', and the connection dropped as quickly as it was formed. Raven's way of saying 'hello', he supposed.

Made him wonder if there was a level of incompatibility between Old and New Gen. Rusty had heard Old Gen had a weird sort of 'telepathy' capability with each other, but no such thing existed with the New Gens. Rusty didn't know the science behind it, but Coral was well known for being able to store insane amounts of data and transporting it near-instantaneously across vast distances, whereas the 'Coral Substitute' used in New Gens could... not do that. A fact that the UEG was eternally sour over, after Arquebus had unveiled it with much fanfare.

(In fact, the 'Coral Substitute' was barely a substitute at all. The only thing it could do was successfully augment a human... to a fraction of what an Old Gen's performance was like, yes, but it was still something. The massive amount of energy, data storage, and quantum characteristics were still a work in progress)

In any case, the "telepathy" would've been useful to have, but ultimately Rusty was relieved. There were all kind of horror stories about Old Gens being susceptible to 'neural-hacks', and Rusty quite liked having complete control over his own mind and thoughts, thank you. It was the only thing he could claim to actually own in this capitalistic hellscape of a galaxy.

He continued sipping through his bottle of moonshine as he waited. It was quiet, Raven no doubt parking up STALKER beside STEEL HAZE and likely making his way up here. He was a slow walker - incredibly slow - so Rusty had all but finished the bottle by the time he heard footsteps shuffle towards the office.

Rusty felt loose and relaxed, pleasantly warm, and he slid his boots off the coffee table and set the empty bottle down on it just as the door creaked open. Tone light and slightly drawling, he looked up with a: "About time you-"

He stopped.

Raven stood in the doorway, staring at him with that bland, emotionless stare of his. That wasn't what gave Rusty pause. It was his- outfit.

"Uh, buddy. Your... clothes..." Rusty said very slowly, his gaze fixed on Raven's torso. The moonshine hadn't been that strong, had it? He knew some batches could cause hallucinogenic effects, but Rusty was Rubiconian. It'd take more than one bottle to cause that in him.

Raven looked down and plucked at said clothes, black fabric pinched between gloved fingers.

It looked cheap - the sort you'd find on the rack at a local supermarket on Earth. It was too shiny, and Rusty could see how the fabric had creased horribly from where it had been neatly folded up in its packaging, giving it the look of a crisp packet or something similar. It didn't fit right either - a bit too baggy at the chest, since Raven lacked the assets to fill it, and loose around the hips, since he barely had any. It was long at the knee too, the skirt stopping just shy of an inch above his ankle - not that it showed any skin, as Raven was still wearing his usual steel-capped combat boots, the laces loosely tied up and dangling messily.

After another few seconds of shocked staring, Rusty belatedly realised that Raven was in some fascimile of a maid outfit. The 'sexy' kind, except it was clearly for someone taller and, um, curvier than him, so it negated the 'sexy' and came across as homely instead. Either way, the effect was the same: stunning Rusty into silence.

Raven looked up, his blank expression saying he saw nothing strange about all this. He pulled at the hem of his gloves - his usual ones, black leather with steel stitched over the knuckles - before crossing his arms. The only saving grace was that he was wearing a jacket, unzipped of course, but it just clashed with the whole ensemble.

Weirdly, Rusty couldn't help but be reminded of those animated shows Pater covertly watched in the office when Snail wasn't around: anime? He was pretty sure he saw a character in one of his shows dressed like this, except it had been a female maid armed with an ancient AK-47 shooting zombies, not an AC pilot.

"Um," Rusty tried. After another pause, he cleared his throat and said: "What's with... the outfit?"

Raven just shrugged, and unfolded his arms to shuffle towards the sofa. Rusty just watched as Raven sat down on the other end... and slouched, his legs spreading. Rusty had to fight the urge to lean over and pull the hem of his skirt down from where it hitched up.

Thankfully, it at least revealled he was wearing thick, woollen stockings underneath... Raven wasn't wandering around without any form of pants, thank god.

After a pause, Raven dug into his jacket pocket and typed languidly on his communication's device: "I was told this is customary to wear on 'Maid Day'."

Rusty didn't know where to begin.

"Who- told you that?" Actually, he knew exactly where to begin. "Walter? Did- did Walter put you in that?"

He knew there was something skeevy going on between him and Raven, but to think he was forcing Raven - who had no choice but to obey him, thanks to his indentured servitude - to dress up to satisfy his desires... was he even-!?

"No." Raven gave him an odd look. "It was the men."

"The- men?"

"The men."

Rusty stared. Raven did not elaborate.

just leave it alone, Rusty, a voice that sounded a lot like Uncle muttered, just leave it alone...

He couldn't, though. Once you dumped a mystery, no matter how bizarre or comical, Rusty was compelled to peel it apart and devour it. He had to know what the fuck was up with all this.

"What men?" Rusty pressed. "Do you know how many men are on this planet? You're not narrowing it down."

Raven shrugged again, but he did, thankfully, elaborate this time: "The men Walter hires to maintain my AC. They belong to RaD."

Oh, okay. That makes se- no wait.

"So, those RaD guys put you in that dress?"

"They told me it was traditional."

"Were they wearing maid dresses?"

"Some of them."

Well, at least it wasn't a pack of perverts ganging up on the clearly very attractive yet naive Raven, Rusty thought darkly. Though, they could still be perverts. Did Walter not vet any of his hires? Then again, pickings were slim on Rubicon if you wanted neutral workers that wouldn't rob you blind the moment you had your back turned...

"Is that all they did?"

Raven just looked increasingly confused. "...is there more to this day? Did they forget to do something?"

"No, no, just..." Rusty sighed. "I wanted to make sure they hadn't done anything, uh... like, you know..."

He dithered over his words. Raven blinked guilelessly at him.

"...inappropriate," Rusty finished in a mumble.

Raven made a small noise of acknowledgement. "I see. No, they didn't sexually harrass me or anything like that. Walter would kill them."

"Ah. Um." Well, okay, maybe Raven wasn't as naive as he thought. "Well. Um. Good?"

Raven gave him a somewhat evaluating look. "Do you like it?"

"Ah?"

"The dress."

"Well, it..." Rusty faltered, then decided he needed another bottle of moonshine for this. He fished out two, handing one over to Raven while keeping the other for himself. "They clearly didn't get your size right."

"It is baggy in places."

"Uh, yeah, I noticed."

"Around the chest."

"Yeah..."

"And the hips."

Rusty coughed. "I noticed."

Raven was staring very intently at him at this point, like he was trying to telepathically convey something to him through sheer force of will, yet was coming up against the impenetrable wall that was called 'frustrating obliviousness'.

"It's basically falling off. The zip doesn't go up all the way on the back."

"Really? I can give you my jacket if you need-"

Raven cut him off with a loud, gusty sigh, and took a large swig of his moonshine. Rusty felt like he'd missed something embarrassingly obvious.

For a few moments, nothing but the howling wind could be heard. Rusty frowned as he sipped his own drink, peeking at Raven and his ill-fitting maid outfit and the general weirdness of the whole thing.

These meetings tended to go like this: they'd sit together, share a few drinks, and Raven would ask him rather strange yet innocent questions about perfectly normal things like they were incredibly alien. What was it like going to school? What was his fondest childhood memory? Had he ever pet a cat before? What was it like working in an office?

Rusty vaguely understood that Gen Fours didn't have pleasant lives in this galaxy, but those kind of questions... it made it seem like Raven had never had a normal life at all, not even a childhood. It made him uneasy to think about, but he indulged Raven all the same. He fed him a pack of lies of course, spinning a yarn about his days growing up on one of the Tau Ceti colonies, but Raven ate it up all the same. It seemed harmless, Raven's curiosity and Rusty's blatant lies.

So this? This was outside the norm. Or it could be Rusty overthinking things. It was probably some silly prank the RaD lot pulled on Raven, unaware that the pilot didn't comprehend the concept of 'social shame'. Raven also lacked social skills, and on more than on occasion accidentally said things that sounded inappropriate, but was just him either being too literal, too blunt, or just unaware of the double entrente he came out with. This was likely one of those times.

"They called this a date."

"..." Okay, well. So much for that. "Those RaD guys?"

"Yes."

Rusty lowered his bottle, resting it against his thigh. He stared straight ahead, thinking about the pointed comments of the other Vespers. It was just that, except Raven lacked social awareness. That's all.

"...this is a geographical survey."

"We're in a building drinking illegal moonshine together."

"We're surveying the interior of this building very intently," Rusty continued, not daring to let himself think this was what he was suspecting it to be. He'd told himself, from the first time he and Raven had met face-to-face and fully understanding just how lacking in agency he was, that he wouldn't dare cross a single line with him. Not like that in any case.

"I even pay you," he added belatedly. He could see Raven typing on his communication device in his periphery. "Because this is a mission."

"I assumed it to be pleasure escort pay."

Oh god. Was that what Raven had thought this was the whole time-!?

"But you don't need to pay me anymore," Raven continued while Rusty internally disintegrated out of sheer horrified mortification (and bewilderment that Raven willingly accepted such low payments he was definitely worth a hundred times what Rusty paid for pleasure escorting). "I enjoy our time together. It's mutually enjoyable. So, it's a date now. That's what the men said."

The men knew too much about Rusty and Raven's personal affairs what the fuck.

"It's okay if you're shy. I'll go as slow as you like, Rusty."

Rusty couldn't even say anything in defence of himself, mute with embarrassment and bright red from mortification. Raven turned his body slightly towards him, and gently rested a hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry if using the dress as a seduction attempt was too risque for you, though. The men said guys like you would like it, and I trusted their judgement."

The men knew too much about Rusty and Raven's personal affairs what the fuck.

"I... uhhh..." Rusty somehow managed to engage his brain. "Um, like- fine. Okay. That's okay. The dress is good. Okay."

Raven's blank expression gained a minutely baffled edge to it.

Good god he wasn't going to be able to look at anyone in the face after this. Rusty rarely misjudged a social situation, and never did he do so this disastrously. He was going to crawl into STEEL HAZE and not come out for days after this.

"I mean." Rusty forced out a sigh. "I'm- you just took me off guard. I'm. Fine with this. Date. Yup. This is a date now. If that's how we'll roll it, I'm cool with that. Cool, cool."

"Rusty. You do not sound or look cool."

"Totally cool," Rusty said tightly, his face feeling hot enough to fry an egg on it. "As a cucumber."

"It's okay, Rusty. I don't mind you being uncool."

Girl, help.

"I thought I was being slick," he suddenly said, unable to keep up the act(?) any longer. "I had it planned out, that you thought these were missions and we both had plausible deniability about the whole thing. We're not emotionally well-adjusted at all, buddy. We're supposed to be weird about this."

"I know."

"But you turned up in a maid dress."

"It is maid day."

"Why didn't you say anything about me paying you like you're a- a feelings prostitute?"

"Because we're not emotionally well-adjusted."

Rusty had no argument against that. He just admitted it, after all.

"It's okay." Raven patted his arm and then leaned back. "We've communicated now, like the men told me too. Next time, we can progress. I'd like to try hand holding."

"...okay," Rusty said, because what do you say in response to such earnestness? He was still grappling with the realisation that Raven thought he was being paid like a prostitute for the past few months.

Raven nodded, like that was that. "I was hoping you would dress up, though."

"For maid day." Rusty didn't say it as a question.

"You would look cute."

"Cute."

"And attractive. You have the waist and hips for it. In fact, this maid dress could fit you? It would be tight, though."

"Raven."

"Hold on. Let me strip."

"Raven-!"

[owenthetokencishet]

The Indomitus crusade was a rousing success for the newly-reanimated primarch. The imperium sanctus was swiftly reconquered in the wake of the eye of terror's opening and its forces bolstered with new primaris space marines of the Ultima founding.

However... nobody, not even a son of Him on the throne, is perfect. Both of these great ventures were... rushed. Work was left half-finished, papers were misfiled, requisitions went unanswered. The Iron Ravens chapter are a textbook case of all of this.

The Iron Ravens were haphazardly slapped together from a random quota of unnumbered sons from the indomitus fleets, an order of primaris from Cawl's vaults, including some of his... experiments, and whoever from other XIX legion chapters volunteered to be commanders.

As soon as the chapter had the proper body count, it was split up and flung to the distant edges of the galaxy. The whole chapter has never been in the same place at once, and requisitions are hard to fulfill that far out

As a result, the whole "chapter" is a complete dumpster fire

They still don't have a chapter homeworld or flagship to hold a fortress-monastery

Their chapter master died during the rubicon primaris procedure and nobody's figured out who should take his place

Their chief librarian got the title by being the only psyker in the chapter

Some administratum scribe fucked up and now each company only has 1 of every vehichle

They still don't have a 1st company

The chapter was slated to receive 20 suits of terminator armour. They got 1

The 3rd captain's a woman which keeps the inquisition watching their every move

Nobody can agree on how rigidly the codex should be followed

Add to that the inexperience and clumsiness of the freshly thawed primaris marines and you have a beautiful disaster chspter. They're not heretics, they're not cursed, they just lost the bureaucratic lottery.

[ips-northstar-official]

wonderful work on the Raleigh! now, just a question. how did we get to Rubicon Three?

Wow that’s a non-standard Raleigh, I love it.

I have no clue how you got there, it’s not on any of the company star charts. Just, ah—stay put, I’ll get help. Don’t get pulled into any revolutions while I’m gone ok? We’ll get you back.*

—The Intern

*probably. Fuck, I have no idea.

[rat-woman876]

I ADORE the Tester AC fight in armored core VI, because its just so goddamn mean. Minor spoilers ahead for the VERY early parts of Armored core VI: Fires of Rubicon.

Spoil time :)

To set the stage theres a younger AC pilot whos got his spirits high and in a new top of the line AC! Hes on his way to get it to the redguns so they can keep up the good fight. Thats a very stereotypical anime protag kinda deal.

Then theres the silent psycho Merc whos on their way to fight this AC and destroy it.

In a lot of media the story plays out with the young chipper pilot winning the day over a long hard battle.

In AC6 you're the silent psycho and the fight lasts less then a minute. You kill that young AC pilot for your own reasons and for cash and at the whim of a company.

Whats worse is the next job you take is from the Redguns, the people who the Tester AC was fighting for, they got a spot open for you to do some work alongside their real AC pilots. They never even mention the killing of the AC pilot, your Handler does but not like a "Jesus raven that was like a kid." More of a "Anywho I got a job from the Redguns, yknow same faction as that AC trainee you killed. Stay safe." Kinda thing

Hell you become G13 Raven. That pilot died and they just filled their spot in with their killer. It paints a great picture of how unforgiving this war is, that loosing a AC pilot doesn't mean much of anything when the guy who killed them without remorse is just a few thousand bucks away from being your hound for a day.

It also kinda sorta tells you you're a goddamn monster, but you shouldn't feel too bad, just another body on the pile left wherever you go, thats all that Pilot was he was either going to die in that war, to another merc, maybe just a system failure, you just got there first and you made it violently swift.

This is all made worse because hes a GREART source of early game cash meaning this poor guy gets basically gutted on a regular basis and it just makes the guy a object to be grinded up so you can get more parts, which you kind of already did.

Mini-rant-writing-essay-thingamajig over, stay safe!

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Original Writing Project: 916

OKAY, now that I've edited the first few chapters enough, I think it's finally time to have its debut to you all!

This is an original sci-fi story completely written by me, with MAJOR influences from things like Gundam and whatnot.

I want to post it here to get your all's feedback and just to share some good ol' storytelling, so please let me know what you guys think of it, your feedback/comments is always read by me!

I expect to have the first few chapters out sometime during this week after your normal schedule of simping, but this post will just be covering what the main idea of the story is/what shows/games is influencing it.

Below the cut is the blurb, inspirations, main characters, and a story excerpt!

First of all, thank you so much for even pressing the keep reading tab/showing any remote interest. I understand this isn't really what you come to this blog for, so it means the world to me!

Anyways, first up is the story blurb:

===

Story Blurb:

The year is 1177. Thirty-four years have passed since the battlefield had been introduced to the bipedal warmachines known as Soldat D’acier. Though they only stand a few meters above tanks, they were able to reduce armored divisions to scrap metal, and fortresses once thought impenetrable transformed to piles of rubble.

The entire continent of Anis rushed their militaries into an arms race to have their own versions of these steel behemoths.

In the name of expansion and rightful conquest, the country of Florence had declared war on Cumbria in 1155. The invasion saw countless deployments of Soldats on both sides, and death quickly followed in their wake. The two nations signed a peace treaty to end hostilities after five long years, but their crimes wouldn't be so easily forgotten by the people, nor its creations.

Now, the man-made atrocities emerging from the "Enhanced Human Initiative" stoke the flames of war once more, forcing an uneasy alliance. And from the same crime that threatens them, comes their final hope: Enhanced Human 916.

===

Inspirations:

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blooded Orphans, Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Mobile Suit Gundam: Narrative Mobile Suit Gundam: Unicorn Mobile Suit Gundam: Zeta The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel, Armored Core 6: Fires of Rubicon, Scarlet Nexus, Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, Girls' Frontline,

I was not joking when I said the major influences are from Gundam. At first I was worried about not being 100% original, but eh. Write what you love, right? Elements of the story, themes, suits, and a unholy amount more is snatched from all the Gundam shows listed above.

Armored Core 6 is what inspired the look of the "Soldats", and how combat flows in the story. The main lead, 916, is called numbers bc of the player character 621. (I also learned that the reasons I chose that number came from my subconscious, specifically Darling in the Franxx and that character, 196 aka Ikuno)

Scarlet Nexus inspired some of the tech things regarding the pilots being able to "read each other's minds" so to speak. Pretty much a less space-magic version of being a Newtype from Gundam, as well as other characters.

Trails of Cold Steel and Girls' Frontline inspired the other cast members, and speaking of which:

===

Main Cast:

Wolf Company

Enhanced Human 916, "Vi", Age: 21

A young man who escaped the "Enhanced Human Initiative." Due to augmentation and surgeries, he remains stoic and emotionless, but thanks to his adoptive family, has shown signs of opening up. Earned his nickname after his violet eyes.

He pilots the Soldat R1-N0, "Rhino", a bulky mech utilizing rush and ambush tactics, armed with a 60mm Autocannon and Heat Dagger.

A/N: Titular character, heavily inspired by Byleth (Fire Emblem Three Houses), and Mikazuki (Iron-Blooded Orphans). My second favorite character to write so far in the story, ironically.

David Collins, "Boss", Age: 53

Leader of a PMC called "Wolf Company". David took 916 in at a young age and raised him to be part of the "family". Loud and proud, he takes great pride in all serving underneath him, and has known to have a temper in anything regarding his age. Earned his nickname since calling him "Boss" was more comfortable for everyone.

He pilots the Soldat "Juggernaut', a machine with the legs of a tank, but upper half of a mech with arms. Armed with wrist-mounted machine guns and twin battle-cannons on top of its shoulders.

A/N: Inspired by Maine from Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Don't look too much into that, don't worry. You can also tell from just his dialogue how much I like writing him too. He is my number 1 favorite to write.

Chloe, "Flare", Age: 35

Second in command of "Wolf Company. Chloe is extremely loud, complementing her foul-mouthed nature. Generally regarded as the "Big SIster" of the team. Earned her nickname from her extremely short temper.

She pilots the Soldat "Mantis", a lanky and smaller machine focusing on blitz tactics, able to leap surprisingly massive heights due to its inverted legs.

A/N: Inspired by Bianca (Gundam Thunderbolt), Sasha (Attack on Titan) and Miku (Darling in the Franxx). To everyone I have shown this story thus far, she has been the fan favorite, including her partner in crime:

Hayes, "Screw", Age: 32

The newest "rookie" of Wolf Company. Impulsive, a little too confident in himself but admittedly a talented sniper, Hayes is always eager to prove himself. Earned his nickname from either screwing himself over, or the enemy.

He pilots the Soldat "Phantom", a mech focusing on stealth and sniping, able to keep itself off enemy radar.

A/N: Inspired by Connie (Attack on Titan) and Zorome (Darling in the Franxx). Him and Chloe are a fun combo, as you will soon see.

There's eight more main characters, but I'll let you read their introduction yourself! 916 and Wolf Company will be the ones we'll be following the most throughout the story. Though this part of the cast was heavily inspired by Iron-Blooded Orphans. For those who watched the show, again, don't read too much into that.

===

The last thing I'll have for this post will be an excerpt from the prologue to get things started! Hopefully my slow ass will have the prologue out soon, so please look forward to it!

Without further ado-

===

Story Excerpt:

===

“Doctor Moreau, do you think we go to heaven?” asked the small girl.

Doctor Moreau stopped typing for a moment as her eyes glanced over the terminal, seeing the child laying on the operating table, standing out from the rest of the clean black walls and white tiles. The room was supported with soft lights illuminating the room, complemented by the blue screens and dizzying amount of automated surgical equipment quietly whirring into position.

Moreau pushed her aging white hair away from her eyes, looking at the child, subject designated 403. 403 was about seven, she barely stood up to Moreau’s stomach and had long black hair that stopped at her shoulders. The light blue gown was slightly too big for her, the sleeves extending over most of her hands and just revealing her fingers. Seeing her face again reminded Doctor Moreau of 403's rather inquisitive nature. 

“Why are you asking that, 403?” Moreau replied, her tone indifferent. Her fingers went back to typing as she sighed. “If you’re worried about the procedure, the chips are perfectly safe to implant. There has been no previous record of anyone dying from-”

“-But I’m going to die after.”

“...What?”

“After the chip goes into me. Will the others and I go to heaven?”

The question had caught the doctor completely off guard. Moreau had answered questions such as, “Will this hurt?”, or “Do I have to?”. This question was something she could not answer with her usual dismissive tone. She sat up straight in her seat now and turned to look at the child. 403's eyes were still fixated on the ceiling.

“Why are you so certain you’re going to die, 403?”

“That’s what my brother told me. When the chip goes into our brain, we’re sent off to die.”

The girl’s voice stated it as a matter of fact. There was no confusion in her tone of what was to become of her. Doctor Moreau had no response as she stared at 403 with her mouth slightly open. The child simply turned her head, facing her and expectantly waiting for an answer.

“... I certainly hope there’s a heaven, 403. I’m sure heaven will allow good kids like you and your brother.”

“What about my friends? Will they-”

“We’re about to begin the surgery. Please face up towards the light and close your eyes.” Moreau bluntly cut off the conversation.

403 pouted, but complied. It was clear that the answer did not satisfy her as much as she wanted it to. Doctor Moreau took a second to recover and focus back on the job at hand. Facing back towards the terminal, she began typing once more. With the input of several passwords and confirmations, the surgery to implant the combat data-chip into 403’s brain would commence. Afterwards, she would be sent to her brother’s unit, and be deployed to the battlefield.

Just like all the others.

This room had always been nothing out of the ordinary to Moreau. The same procedure had been repeated more times than she could count and yet why did this one make it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?

“Doctor Moreau?”

“Yes, 403?”

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“You may.”

“Can I listen to that song you always play? The one that goes ‘Lalalalala~’? I want to hear it one more time before I sleep. I really like it.”

Doctor Moreau’s lips suddenly dried up as she once again stopped typing. With a slightly trembling hand, she turned to the radio sitting on her desk and nodded.

“...Of course, 403. No more questions, please.” 

She could see the smile form on 403’s lips as the mask was gently put onto her face, the anesthesia slowly starting to pump into 403’s lungs.

“...Thank you.”

Doctor Moreau swallowed hard as her finger pressed the on switch of her old radio. Despite being in such a high tech surgical room, her radio was comically outdated. It was a small gray oval-like object that only had a speaker and a few buttons. To even put music in it, she had to insert a smaller rectangle that contained the songs in it via tape. It was a gift from her father when she was 403’s age, the thought of their roles being reversed not lost on the doctor.

‘Sing, sing a song Let the world sing along Sing of love there could be Sing for you and for me…~’

Doctor Moreau could hear 403 softly hum along to the song as her voice gradually became quieter, and eventually turning into soft breathing. The whirring of the surgical equipment and the radio being the only things in the room left making noise. The only remaining step was for Doctor Moreau to approve the procedure to implant the chip into 403’s brain.

“Is there heaven…” the doctor quietly repeated the question to herself, attempting to ignore 403’s startling self awareness of the situation.

"Authorization confirmed, Implant procedure beginning.” A deep robotic voice rang out across the room as the sound of a drill began drowning out the other equipment. Doctor Moreau sat on her chair as she closed her eyes, waiting for the procedure to be done and turning off the radio in the process.

 “For me, I don’t think so…Heaven was lost to me long ago.”

...

‘Sing, sing a song Make it simple to last Your whole life long~’

The Doctor was snapped out of her melancholy as the music continued playing. Sighing, she moved to turn it off for good.

“Piece of junk is starting to-” She stopped as her finger was about to hit the switch.

The radio was still off.

Listening closely again, Moreau realized the singing was coming outside of the door.

‘Don't worry that it's not Good enough for anyone Else to hear~’

Creeping towards the door, the doctor put her ears to it and heard what sounded like a chorus singing. The song wasn’t over the intercom, otherwise the voice would be far clearer.

Instead it sounded like- 

A sudden sense of dread hit the doctor as she swung the doors open and ran towards the hangar. Multiple guards and scientists were opening the doors along the long gray hallway, joining Moreau and investigating what the noise was. When they finally got to the railing after the doors slid open, none of them could speak. 

‘Just sing, sing a song (Just sing, sing a song) Just sing, sing a song~’

Inside the massive hangar stood rows of countless Soldats, giant bipedal machines that stood several meters tall, lined up next to each other as if they were statues. Their bulky legs stood firmly in place and the compact yet slender arms did not move an inch.

The only things moving were their horned box-like heads, slowly moving side to side in perfect sync. Each of the voices emerging from the Soldats were different but singing in perfect harmony.

Their normally offline and horizontal segregated visors were suddenly flickering to life with blue lights, illuminating the large dark room with bright blue rays.

‘La la la la la, la la la la La la la la la la laaaaa~’

Doctor Moreau could hear the voices of security guards rushing down the stairs to halt the singing, shouting orders at the others to back away.

However, the doctor could only hear their cheerful singing along with her breathing becoming noticeably shorter with each second, feeling her chest tighten.

Once again, the question 403 springed up to the forefront of her mind.

“Is there heaven?”

...

===

And that's the first part of the prologue done, hope to have this out soon, and again if you got this far, thanks for taking the time!

See ya soon, and back to the normal content for now!

[morbidology]

Breck Bednar was a bright, intelligent, year ten pupil at St. Bedes in Redhill, Surrey. His father, Barry, was a successful City oil trader originally from Houston, Texas, who went on to manage a series of companies, including Rubicon Oil Brokers. Breck’s mother, Lorin LaFave, hailed from Michigan and had previously worked for clothing companies before she became governor and teaching assistant at St. John’s C of E Primary School.

Like many teenagers, Breck found solace and companionship on the internet, immersing himself in online gaming and making new friends. He joined an online community called TeamSpeak after being introduced to it at a church youth group. The platform was similar to Skype, allowing him to play games with his school friends and meet new ones, including two boys named Liam and Tom. Although they attended different schools, they would all chat on the server after classes.

Initially, Breck’s parents believed the online server was a positive thing for him as it fostered socializing and interaction with like-minded individuals. Breck excelled in sports, but it was computers that were his passion and future career. Even as a young boy, he had a deep interest in computers, teaching himself code and building his own gaming computer using components purchased online.

The server was owned and controlled by 18-year-old Lewis Daynes. Breck became close to Daynes and looked up to him. First of all, he was impressed by his extensive computer knowledge. As the relationship grew, Daynes told Breck that he worked as a computer engineer by day and had even worked for the US Defence Department as a hacker and promised Breck great wealth through a fictional software company. According to Lewis, he had ties to the FBI, ran multi-million-pound businesses and owned luxury homes in London and New York City.

In reality, Daynes was unemployed and lived in a flat in Grays, Essex. He had been abandoned by his parents and had spent his childhood and adolescence in and out of foster care. Online, he created this persona as a wealthy and successful entrepreneur and Breck was impressed. He believed that Daynes was living the kind of life that he had dreamed of for himself.

After grooming and manipulating Breck, Daynes did the unthinkable..

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞: