#their bodies on that bridge looked like it did took injuries from such catastrophe

[faltine-fae]

betting on it that silco's molotov cocktail did kill felicia & connol, just as jinx did with her bomb with mylo & claggor🙁🙁🙁

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “The New Doctrine.”

Things are heating up a little, and I hope you all enjoy. I will have you know that there was a bit of a time skip in here for Ramirez and Adam, and there are things that happened to them that I might go back and write at a later date.

But for now I am getting back to the Humans are Space Orcs theme, and I thank you for being patient while I went off on a tangent

The sun beat down through the caldera of the mountain, beating don on her skin, and the droplets of water that rolled down her skin in great streams. Water sloshed around her body, ankle dep and kicked up into the air by her swirling feet. The tip of her spear was bright with water, and the white moss around her was almost blinding, so she kept her eyes mostly shut, listening to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of Naktan’s spear on stone timing out a rhythm for her, fight, a wild dance of imaginary foes an unseen enemies.

The heat of the sun was familiar, a friend to her after all these months fighting, and perfecting her craft under its rays and in all other weathers inclement or not.

She had fought when the rain thundered down and lightning roared overhead. She had fought when the wind roared, and when the ash fell out of season. She had fought during the day and during the night, illuminated by the blue flames of the mountain. She fought until she could fight no longer and then she moved past her exhaustion and continued to fight despite her weariness. 

She fought until there was nothing of her left but the repeated spear movements spinning through all four of her hands like a machine that was incapable of making a misstep.

When she was done fighting by herself she fought against Naktan, a warrior so skilled it seemed as if his hands were moved by forces beyond the world in which she stood. He fought as if his entire being was infused with the spirit of war itself. Time and time again she fought him until her bruised body lay on the moss and the dirt, unable to move and unable to think.

He would dress her wounds then, carry her away to a small grouping of coitrees at the back of the bason, where she would rest, and sleep the sleep of the dead. Once done she would be roused form her sleep and forced to begin again despite the fatigue of her body, and the pain of her injuries.

Her entire life was consumed, down to her very dreams which whispered the formes back to her even as she created them. 

She was a creature of nothing more than the spear and sleep, more the former than the latter.

She couldn’t have said how long she was top hat mountain, or how many times her body ached with bruises. She couldn’t count her dreams.

But they were always there rife with friends she barely remembered and faced it was hard to recognize.

Moments of clarity reminded her of who she was and what she was doing, but the strange palace and the strange practices didn’t leave her much time for thinking, only fighting. And when they weren’t fighting she was listening to the words of Naktan as he spoke to her on the nature of Drev martial doctrine in its purest state and how it had been perverted and corrupted overtime into something…. Else entirely.

The doctrine of the spear being especially poignant to her. If only that had been the tradition her mother had followed…. Than maybe her life wouldn’t have turned out this way. Maybe she would have been raised by proud parents together in battle instead of one proud parent and another full of bitterness, so torn apart by their differences that they would never fight together again.

She listened to his words, and listened some more, about the nature of fighting itself, and the more she listened the more she understood just how wrong they had been about so many things. War was for honor sure, but it had never meant to become the lynch pin that held the doctrine together.  Fighting was about honor and was only to be performed under certain circumstances, protection, and to write wrongs between corrupted nations and uncorrupted nations.

He bemoaned the population of the Drev, so meager and sparse as it was….. Which was an issue Sunny had never considered. 

When she asked about technology his words surprised her. It was not, completely heretical, yes technology for the use of CEREMONIAL war was heretical, war between the Drev and the Drev alone, but when it came to other species, all bets were off. You didn’t hold others to the standards of your own nation and expected them to keep it.

Ranged weapons were a part of the universe and a completely new fighting style the Drev were going to have to learn and embrace.

The Drev martial doctrine was supposed to be hard, hard like a stone in a river, but also flexible, like water pouring past obstacles, a delicate balance between honor and practicality. OVer the years, the Drev had perverted those practices by making them too hard, and less flexible, placing those same hard parameters on their young.

Many perfect Drev children had been thrown to the fires for this ideology, and it was fitting that she would change it.

Saying this, he stood and took her by the arm leading her towards a cave in the back of the caldera surrounded by moss almost as black as midnight. He led her inside and towards the back where a forge was burning and huffing out great gouts of flame.

He turned and allowed her to look at the armor pieces lying on the stone floor crude and unfinished.

“I have begun the process for you using the ancient and secret knowledge of prismatic armor…. The armor of the saints. This will be your armor when you finish your work, and your armor when you descend from this mountain exalted. This is the end of your time with me, and there is no more I can do for you. So take up your mantle and begin your work.

Sunny nodded allowing herself to fall into the beating rhythm of metalwork, something that she had not done in a long time, but came back to her with the ease of a skil remembered, and the armor took shape underneath her hands, imperfections burned off by the flames….. A metaphor for herself perhaps.

***

Adam pulled his bag tight over his shoulder as he and Ramirez made their way towards the ship over the Tarmac. He craned his neck to look up at the familiar ship, a back monolith against the sky. The Omen, he had missed her greatly, and all of the people on it. Months of adventuring on strange planets and time to think for himself had certainly made his fondness for the ship grro.

Absence sure did make the heart grow fonder.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned to look over at Ramirez,: who now had the worlds most glorious tan and a new white scar on the side of his neck, “You ready for this.”

“You better believe I am.” he looked up at the ship, “Did my girl miss me.”

“She most certainly did not!”

Jumping in surprise, he turned on his heels to see Narobi and Simon marching down the catwalk and over towards them. Nairobi’s eyes might as well have been filled with thunderheads negating the cheerful orange and yellow bandana she wore over her hair.

She marched right up to him, and jabbed him in the chest with a finger, “Do you know how hard it has been to keep this damn ship running when the person you left to captain CANNOT understand the IMPORTANCE of my work.”

Simon lifted her chin, “Admiral, the readout on the mechanical systems was negligible. I saw no danger from the elevated readings.”

“Do you have a degree in aerospace engineering? I don’t think so, and if you listened to me, you would know that ‘negligible’ can become ‘catastrophic’ very very fast.’

Adam frowned in some measure of concern, “Is the ship alright?”

“Just barely.” Nairobi snapped, no thanks to the Lieutenant.

Simon continued to hold her head high her jaw locked into palace quivering with anger.

Adam held up his hands, “Alright you two, take a few deep breaths and calm down. Nairobi, breathe in and out a few times, and next time sit Simon down and explain to her exactly what could go wrong and how it is likely to happen. Supply numbers and figures, Simon likes that sort of thing.” He turned his head towards Simon, “And Simon, It is important for you to listen to your crewmen. They are experts in their fields and know how to take care of their jobs better than you do. Let people know what you need, tell Nairobi that you need it explained to you in no uncertain terms. Your crew is what keeps your ship alive, and while you are their captain, you are also obligated to listen to their questions and their concerns . it is ALWAYS better to be on the safe side than it is to ignore a potential problem.”

Simon wilted a bit, and Narobi took a deep breath. Eyeing him with…. Some sort of expression he could not place.

She seemed almost surprised..

He ignored it for the time being setting his bag down and drawing himself up in height, “Now, what seems to be the problem.”

“One of our warp gaskets is running a little hot. I think it should be replaced.”

“Do you have a requisition form?”

She held out the holopad, “Right here sir.”

She held it out to him but he shook his head and pointed to Simon, “Simon, I want you to sign and date that. As acting captain of the ship, which you still are until I take command of the bridge.”

“Now both of you play nice.”

Nairobi frowned, but sighed as Simon grudgingly took and signed the requisition form, “We missed you Admiral, the ship….. Hasn’t been the same while you were gone.”

He smiled, “I know I bring a certain charm and roguish panache.”

“Well I was thinking that we don’t almost die nearly so much.”

Ramirez frowned and then looked at him, “You know what, she’s right but “I” i almost died like five times.” He turned to look at Narobi, “I got shot in the chest you know.”

She didn’t ook sorry for him, “Did you deserve it?”

He looked scandalized at her words, “I most certainly did not!”

Adam laughed, “it's Ramirez, of course he deserved it.”

He walked past Narobi and onto the ramp leading up into his ship. The smell was familiar, and hit him in a wave of fuel, and newly requisitioned cargo containers. At his side, Waffles trotted, staring up at him and wagging her tail, clearly happy to have him back since she hadn’t stopped looking at him like that since he returned. Letting her walk off leash she continued to circle him happily, tail whirling around like a furry sort of windmill.

As he stepped into the cargo area, the members of his crew stood up, salutation or greeting him surprising gusto.

They seemed…. Happy to see him.

It felt pretty good.

A few came up to shake his hand and ask how the extended vacation went. He smiled and glanced at ramirez, “As Ramirez here, he got shot.”

There was an eruption of voices and Ramirez excitedly began by telling his, mostly fabricated, tail about a heroic gun battle, proudly showing off his dented deputies badge. That got the reaction he was looking for as other men and women crowded around to oooo and ahhh.”

maverick , appearing from nowhere, looked around the man's shoulder, “Twenty bucks says you bought that at a gift shop somewhere.”

Adam grinned and shook his head, “You know I wouldn’t put it past him either, but actually, the first part of our vacation we visited the Bramble colony got us some horses and rode out for a little fun. We ended up getting kidnapped by bandits.”

“Like you seem to always do.”

“Yes, like I seem to always do, but it turned into a gunfight with the local sheriff’s department and after their leader got away the sheriff asked us to join him on thwarting a train robbery. Ramirez did get shot in the chest, and I got into a gunfight on the back of a speeding train.”

Maverick stared at them, “I’m not sure if I Believe that story or not.”

“You don’t have to, we have pictures and souvenirs of all the places we went .”

“Even have a picture of the guy who gave Ramirez that scar, on our last outing, but I can tell you that later.”

“YOU.”

He sighed quietly, “Here we go.”

He turned on the spot, looking over to see Krill marching up through the ship glowering at him, like only krill, out of all his species, could glower, “I-am-ao-angyr-with-you. 

Adam shrugged, “What’s new.”

“Don’t get cute with me. I have been watching your vital signs for weeks, and it's been like riding a rollercoaster. I have never ridden a roller coaster, but do to this experience, I already know that I would very much hate it. You, you were supposed to be on VACATION. You were supposed to be on Vacation for mental health purposes and now i hear that you have been SHOT AT, and jumped onto the back of SPEEDING TRAINS. What makes you think that this is ok!”

“I find that putting your life in danger really brings things into perspective, doctor. Now I promise I will go visit Dr. Adric later for a second opinion, but right now, I need to go inspect my ship.” He patted Krill on the head amused when the little creature nearly burst into a flaming ball of rage. It made him laugh as he worked his way further onto the ship, finally appearing on the bridge with a deep breath.

“Admiral on deck!” Someone shouted, and the entire room raised their feet in greeting him their hands raised in excitement welcoming him back with no shortage of enthusiasm and relief. He bet he knew why. Simon was….. Well she was a bit of a stick in the mud sometimes, even more so when she got nervous. He had a feeling things on the ship had become a little more strict since he had taken his leave of absence.”

He went to go take his seat in the captain's chair and frowned, “Dammit Simon, what have you been doing here. It took him almost five minutes to adjust his seat back into its preferred position, and then when he turned on his holo projections he frowned, “Simon! What the hell did you do.”

“I reconfigured it for maximum efficiency.”

“To me it looks like you broke it. Damn where the hell is everything.”

It took him about two hours to even partially recover what simon had “fixed.” And even then he was still having trouble finding everything. He would have liked to get off the ground that day, but it didn’t seem like that was going to be happening. He dismissed the rest of the crew to  rework the computers back to his preferred state.

Simon called it inefficient, but he called it comfortable and familiar, which is what mattered when it came to being a pilot. He promised her when she became the captain of her own ship she could do whatever the hell she wanted.

Sitting there, alone in the dark for hours on end, he tried not to think about the one person he had hoped to see when he came back. He tried as hard as he absolutely could not tothink, but still the thoughts slipped in anyways.

He pulled the ship into orbit just before lights out with the help of the night crew, and then surrendered command to the night lieutenant giving orders to head in the direction of Europa station before he stepped out into the darkened hallway.

Alone and with his own throughs, he grew morose and sour upon thinking.

Waffles bumped her head softly against his hand and he ran his fingers along her velvety ears, “Yeah I’m an idiot.”

“Certainly.”

He jumped shocked for a moment thinking she had spoken before realising the voice….. The voice wasn’t female number one, and number two it had a certain air of condescension that he knew and recognized all too well.

“Hello Conn.”

Ethereal silver ribbons took their form around the next corner as Conn floated closer his wide black eyes shining back at Adam from the darkness, “Admiral. I am glad to see you are doing better.”

He grunted, “Save me te platitudes Conn.”

“No really, I am glad, you see I am the only one here who has to share your necrosis, which can be rather loud and bothersome sometimes when I am trying to relax.”

“I am sorry my mental anguish invoenianced you.”

“Apology accepted.”

Adam sighed deeply.

“She’s not here you know.”

He blinked feeling his skin go cold and clammy, “She’s not.”

“Yes, she has not been back for months now.”

He took a deep shaky breath, “Oh…. I see.”

“When she left, she did seem intent on returning, but I cannot know if those inclinations have changed.”

“How long?”

“She didn’t know. She was still deciding on her next course of action…. Also, you might want to turn around.”

“Turn around, why would I want to-” He was turning even as he spoke, and just in time so it seemed to be punched squarely in the jaw. He fell over backwards slamming into the floor with a loud rattle seeing stars, his face aching. He scrambled to regain himself but went slack again when he looked up and saw Cannon standing over him, a look of absolute rage on his alien face.

He grabbed Adam by the front of the shirt and hauled him upright and into the air so his feet were kicking a good two feet off the ground. He could feel the fabric of his shirt straining against his weight as he was slammed back against the wall.

“You BASTARD!”

It translated to bastard in english, but underneath the words he could hear the phrase Cannon actually used. The Slur that in Drev was more closely related to corward.

His first instinct was to struggle, but then, he thought better of it, allowing himself to go limp in cannon’s hands as he quietly said, “I know.”

Cannon slammed him back against the wall again, “NO YOU DON’T KNOW. DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU’VE DONE.”

He stared up at Cannon in confusion, “I-”

“No of course you couldn’t understand, you’re human. You don’t give a shit about your romantic partners, you just up and leave them, constantly. Cherry picking them and squeezing the life out of them until your done just to discard them.”

“Cannon I-”

“Drev only-love-once. Just ONCE.”

Adam blinked in surprise and shock as those words sank in.

On of Cannon’s hands migrated to his throat, and he choked against the crushing force on his windpipe, “She will never love anyone ever again, you understand. Its biology, and nature, but you humans just don’t understand that do you. You don’t understand loyalty. Instead you pick out partners like you’re going grocery shopping, or getting a taste to see which ice cream flavor you like more.”

Cannon’s grip grew tighter, “Well she is  my SISTER…. Not an ice cream flavor.” 

Adam’s vision was beginning to blacken and he kicked weakly in an attempt to escape.

“And then you just upland left without explanation. You left her to deal with that all on her own, and now I don't know where she is, or what she is doing.”

His hearing was echoing, and hi entier vision had gone black.

At some point Cannon must have seen his face turning purple and finally dropped him. Adam hit the floor and collapsed gasping for air and holding his neck as he rolled onto his back.

“Pathetic.” Cannon snarled

Adam was admittedly very scared, he had never seen Cannon like this before. Usually so laid back and relaxed.

He sat up still holding his neck and wheezing, ‘I get it…. I get it I fucked up. I know that, I know.”

“DO YOU! Do you understand what you’ve done!”

“She is going to be alone for the rest of her life because of YOU.”

Adam flinched holding a hand over his head to avoid being struck, “It wasn’t meant to be permanent!”

Cannon paused, “What do you mean.”

“I mean I…. well. I just wanted to be able to get myself together without hurting her more. I didn’t want to force her to be with me, when I wasn’t ready or able. Now I can see that that was a mistake I made when I wasn’t in the right place. I didn’t intend to leave forever.”

“Than why didn’t you TELL HER THAT.”

Adam scrambled backwards across the floor as Cannon came marching after him, arms held to his sides ready to fight.

Adam held up a hand to cover his face.=, and Cannon had just drawn back his fist when Both of their implants began beeping.

They paused in their Drama looking down at their arms.

Adam frowned.

Cannon tapped his wrist, “What is this?”

“ITs a transmission from Anin.” he crawled to his feet, “Come on, lets go see what this is about.”

Their Argument forgotten for the moment, the two of them ran onto the bridge and Adam pulled up the transmission, flipping it on just long enough to see a message scrawled in the Drev language to rolling across screen that translated to.

“The spirit of the mountain burns blue, and the saints have returned.”

“Spirits save us.” Cannon whispered.

Adam shook his head in consternation, “No way…. But cannon, no on has been sainted in…. In.”

“Over five centuries. We must go, as the Sentinel of our clan you will be required to appear if you are able, and anyone other Drev whose feet can carry them far enough.”

“Right, setting a course for Anin.”

*** Sunny Knelt on the stone floor of the cavern, eyes closed breathing deeply. The fire of the forges were doused and she was left in semi-darkness.

Soft footsteps approached, and she looked up slowly to find Naktan standing before her, over the neatly arranged pile of armor that glowed like a freshly polished pearl in the light above…. The armor of saints.

Only relics of similar armor had ever been found, and only ever in pieces.

This was the only full suit of its kind.

“It is time.”

He held out his hands, and in them he held a large scroll made out of the most rare of Coiltree paper, “The words written here are your words, the Doctrine of Drev martial combat and law. Penned in my own hand it contains firstly, the doctrines and second the forms of the new fighting styles to be decementated throughout the class.”

She nodded.

“Take up your mantle Saint of the Burning Sun, and so we shall begin a new age.”

She stood, and he knelt before her strapping on the first piece o her new armor from the feet up, interlocking the masterfully crafted pieces the color of pearl, stronger than steel. Until lastly he placed the helmet upon her head and locked it into place

It was heavy in a comforting sort of way.

A moment later he returned, “The last piece I gift to you is a weapon made by my own hand.” It was pearlescent like the white of the armor she no wore, “Stronger than steel, and as sharp as obsidian. None but I know the materials and methods to craft this, and none shall ever know until I pass it down to a successor.” he handed her the scroll, “Begin your trek down the mountain, and there they will be waiting to hear your words.”

She nodded, “Thank you Naktan….. Thank you.”

He placed a hand on her arm in a friendly gesture before urging her on.

She did as told walking, for the first time in so many months towards the opening of the caldera.

When she stepped outside she was momentarily dazzled by the glowing blue fire that roared up from around her.

The mountain seemed to shake and burn in ways she had not seen before erupting from all sides as if it knew.

Blue light poured off her body like water, and with her head held high she began her way down the mountain.

***

Adam and Kanan stood at the edge of the hotspring, packed in with the rest of a restless crowd. Adam’s eyes were wide, Dazzled by the glowing inferno that was the fiery blue mountain. He had never seen anything like it. It burned with such glorious blue intensity that he could scarcely look at it, and it rubmeld so violently he could feel it in his feet.

He wore his ceremonial Drev armor, all the way up to the helmet and down into the cape. A spear was held in his right hand as he stood sentinel for the Wandering tribe, next to the rest of the clan leaders that had made their trek here.

They stood, for hours and hours as the mountain burned, casing a beacon of blue light down around them.

Thousands of drev trickled in from all sides  whispering and murmuring at the strange scene before them. But still they were mostly silent, unsure of what to do or how to behave. Adam didn't  know what to expect. 

His human leg ached under the weight of the heavy armor as the sun began to rise slowly in the distance, but discipline, discipline he had learned in his travels kept him in his place, unmoving.

They waited and waited and waited until the Sun painted the sky peach with its rising.

And from the sulfuric fog of the hotspring, the watched as a figure coalesced as a shadow in the mist, walking calmly across the open hotspring field

A asp rose up, as those, still in disbelief began to realise that this was real.

Adam stared forward engaging his mechanical eye and zooming in on the figure.

The fog parted like a curtain to reveal a glorious almost ethereal drev warrior in pearl white armor just as the sun crested over the horizon. The light hit the armor, and rays of prismatic light exploded around them.

The waiting crowd gasped and threw up their hands to cover their eyes. The light was so pright Adam had to cover his human eye, and only after he filtered out the brighter wavelengths was he able to see.

And when he did his knees went weak.

“Sunny!”

Cannon heard the words and forced himself to stare into the bright light, but after a moment of looking Adam heard him, “Spirits above….” His voice trailed off 

She walked slowly and with great purpose over the steaming landscape, glittering like constellation fallen from the sky.

Adam fel his heart racing and his stomach churn in flips.

A small part of him, for a single instant bittered towards her, for going out and becoming THIS while he was away.

But then the rest of him, stamped that thought out with a vengeance feeling a glowing of pride inside for her and what she had become. She was better than he was, than he had ever been and he could see now that he had never deserved to even stand in her presence. He felt small even as pride for her burned through his veins like the molten blue fire on the mountain.

She paused just ahead of them, standing on the white bed of the hotsprings.

“Brothers and sisters.”

Her voice echoed like rolling thunder.

His heart only beat faster, his stomach turning somersaults.

“Long has it been since the spirits spoke, since they have changed the martial doctrine of our people. Long have we been left to suffer in words and actions corrupted by time and foolish interpretations. Today I am here to lead the Drev into a new and brighter age, but also to bring us back to the true and pure doctrines that once were, before being so morally corrupt. See the mountain behind me, and the armor with which I ware, and if any of you dare to challenge my legitimacy, let him step into the circle with me.”

She stared around at the crowd, her eyes seeming to glow with fire.

His heart sped up and then stopped as her eyes passed over him, and then turned to fall upon him again.

It seemed as if she could see right through him, and his innards felt s if they melted and trickled down into his leg.

“Does no one wish to challenge me.”

The plateau was silent.

“By deferring to my word you accept my legitimacy, and therefore the legitimacy of my words. THe doctrines will be handed out to all peoples young and old, for copy and study. The day changes now, and my first and greatest decree is a return to the true doctrine of the spear, “If a Kit is born above the raging fires, and possesses the ability to hold a weapon, than they shall not be cast into the fire.”

There was a gasp up around them.

“It may have one arm, or no legs, or no eyes, or be blind or be deff, or have no carapace of which to speak, but if they can hold a spear than they shall live.”

The thunder of her words rocked him to his very bones, so he could only have imagined what it did t the others, an entire people who had been living differently for hundreds of years. How would they react, would they accept her words.

But looking up at her, he knew what his choice would be.

He wouldn’t dare challenge her.

She was the truth made corporeal.

She was A saint.” 

[icosmohunters]

chapter nine : benignity

chapter nine of cosmo hunters!

word count : 4.4k words

synopsis : quinn was hurt during the hunt for the master of puppets, and the puppeteer remained untouched after hope chose to retreat. in the midst of the boy’s recovery, hope finds herself opening up to the others. 

it was a catastrophe, bringing the boy into the ship without bringing him incredible pain. the way the others hovered over him and rushed him around, running about for cloths and freezing cold water and bandages and needles and threads. hope had to stand back because it wasn’t her place to intrude.

they had put quinn on one of the spare bottom bunks, and all hope could see from the window over enzo’s broad back was dawn’s head moving at times and the sweet sound of her voice which would often be interrupted by the pained cries from the injured boy.

she couldn’t watch, nor listen.

blinking slightly, she moved away from the door and like a ghost, carried herself to her room. perhaps if she fell asleep, if she awoke the next morning, this nightmare would be over. a self-inflicted nightmare, one which she had caused due to her very aloof plan of taking down a cybercriminal for good. and someone had gotten hurt because of her actions. because of her recklessness.

sometimes she viewed moments like these as pure karma. was this the universe’s payback for her unnecessary rudeness? for her snappy attitude? for her unkind approach to things? for her coldness? did she deserve this for whatever reason?

resting her hand on the wall, hope blinked a couple more times and then viewed her red hand where the blood was drying. before she could dry heave, she rushed to the bathroom and in a frenzy, hurried to wash it off, wanting to rid it from her skin, the imprint of her foolishness. hope then splashed her face and smacked her cheeks before groaning.

“ you didn’t stab him. you weren’t the one who told him to get hurt. so why are you the one taking all the blame? ”, the bounty hunter was scolding herself, her mother wasn’t there to do the job. looking at herself in the mirror, her plain face soon contorted into a growing grimace. she whimpered and ran to dry her hands and her face.

exiting the bathroom, hope paused for a moment and frowned more. her chance to get the puppeteer was gone because she put a group of innocent people in danger. they weren’t saints but they didn’t deserve to be hurt by something that was meant for her. why did she even agree to take them? she knew something was going to go bad, she felt it.

and now here they were, struggling to remain calm after their mechanic was struck by one of the androids. hope didn’t even have the energy to seethe with rage at the man who inflicted the harm towards them. maybe when she grounds herself, she’ll be able to actually feel . . . something.

“ hope! ”.

the girl let out a yelp and smacked a hand over her mouth before looking at who stood before her. enzo. looking concerned, hands behind his back. she saw this as the first time he’s ever seen her in this sort of state and she wanted it to be the last time, she couldn’t afford to lose it. not now. not when they needed to feel secure or sane.

she felt her food begin to rise and focused on not doing so, focusing on better well-being that might be brought if she attempts to sleep. gulping, she removed her hand from her mouth and upon adjusting her posture, let out a small sigh. “ sorry, i was a bit dazed, that’s all ”, she replied. and then looked in the directions of the rooms. “ is he going to be alright? ”.

“ hope, you’re shakin— ”.

“  —n-nevermind me! quinn, how is he? is he stable? does he need a blood transfusion? what about his internal conditions, is anything bleeding from the inside? i can ask a.j to do a sca— ”.

“ hope! ”.

“ oh for god’s sake, enzo, tell me! i wouldn’t give a fuck if i was at the verge of dying right now, my worries are on quinn and whether i’m going to have to fly a dead kid through space to burry him somewhere! ”.

hope had grabbed a handful of the man’s shirt and squeezed it into her fists, ready to practically headbutt him to get him into the right frame of mind. or maybe to fix her very own, which seemed to have gone haywire, melting in the worry and the guilt of the entire situation, she hadn’t even gathered the courage to lift nebula off.

releasing her grip from his shirt, hope let out a shaky exhale and covered her face behind her trembling hands. “ s-sorry . . . ”, she muttered, shaking her head. she was losing it, absolutely losing it for no reason. she knew quinn was going to be okay, especially at the hands of an expert like dawn. but in the case that he wasn’t doing well, the captain felt like it was her right to know. “ god, i’m sorry. ”

“ it’s alright, all of this is messing with all of us ”, enzo reassured her and then crossed his arms across his chest. “ but really, hope, if you think any of this is your fault, you’re mistaken. if anything . . . it was my fault for agreeing to come. we should have stayed. but then the thought of you handling it all by yourself, you wouldn’t have made it. ”

she hated to admit it but he was right. she’d seen those androids, they looked hellish, like things manufactured in the deepest pit of the underworld, murderous and cold. they would have reduced her to dust in an instant.

the girl ran a hand through her hair, “ so, it’s kind of both our fault’s. we should have come better prepared, with better ammunition and maps and more people. people from voyage. god, i don’t know how i’ll ever get my hands on him again. after this, he’s shifting, he’s not going to the same place. ” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “ i lost him completely. ”

“ to be fair, it was too ambitious of voyage to throw you into a mission like that. one person could have easily died in there, they need an entire team ”, enzo spoke and frowned. “ i know you like to be independent, hope, but you wouldn’t have lasted a second in there by yourself. ”

“ i wouldn’t be able to handle fighting one of those things again. ”

“ what things? ”.

“ nothing. ”

enzo recommended for her to get some rest as best as she could. as if that was going to be easy, the horrors she’d seen today would come back to haunt her in the deepest parts of her dreams. perhaps she would dream of that pale picture that stared at her once in a dream, waiting, twitching, eager for her to step forward so it could lunge.

wandering into her room, hope grabbed her bathing equipment as she needed to wash up properly before thinking about going to bed. sometimes you forget things because you’re so exhausted. towel and soaps in hand, she wandered off.

the first thing she noticed after she started to fill the bath up whilst undressing is that her ankles looked like they had been bashed to pieces. it was probably from when she tripped up the juggernaut, forgetting he was made of metal and her legs were made of innocent calcium. not even dense muscles like hers would be able to survive without an injury.

her right ankle belonging to her dominant leg was pretty much wrapped in bruises, it was purpling. she could cry at the sight of it. it was horrendous, an enormous patch of purple on the surface of her skin and she didn’t even think to touch it, she just added drops of eucalyptus oil in the bath and hoped for the best.

bathing for around twenty minutes hope found her eyes closing spontaneously at times, hinting her exhaustion that had risen to a hundred ever since she properly relaxed. the smell of the eucalyptus oil was possibly the best aroma in the world aside from that of her mother’s food, it relaxed her body and her mind. but the images of today wouldn’t stop flashing in her mind.

and she tried to put them to sleep. she got changed after drying herself and searched for her sleeping pills and took them with a glass of water on the side of the bed. clapping her hands, the lights soon switched off and she tossed to her left side, the most comfortable side to sleep in. 

and then she waited, waited for sleep to take notice of her and take her away into a land of dreams, sweeter dreams compared to the ones she’s been having. her eyes were heavy but her body just wouldn’t relax. and every time she closed her eyes, she gets that sensation.

that someone is watching her, closely observing through some sort of entry, through some sort of gap through the space-time continuum. it was the feeling that lingered from having to deal with the puppeteer, the great, psychotic puppeteer.

the vision of his eyes came to mind and hope snapped her own eyes open and turned her bedside lamp on before gulping. she couldn’t sleep. even though she felt like she was going to faint, it was impossible for her muscles to relax. or her mind. nothing was relaxing. she was beyond perturbed. 

yet she didn’t want to stay awake. she needed to sleep. she needed rest, a.j wouldn’t let her lift off the nebula in the morning. realizing she was still on mars, hope got out from beneath her bedsheets and approached her window. looking out into the martian night sky. she sighed softly.

it looked too much like home. in fact, she just felt the homesickness growing painfully intense by looking at a sky littered with stars. it wasn’t earth, but among those stars, home could be spotted. home. 

“ a.j, what day is it on earth today? ”.

“ april tenth. ”

hope frowned. in two days' time, her home would be littered by color and lush, a new beginning to the seasons and a new beginning to life in general, inviting the bloom of flowers and the gathering of friends and family to celebrate rebirth. she wasn’t religious, but easter was somehow one of her favorite holidays.

“ would you like to send a message to your parents, captain? ensuring your safety? ”, a.j questioned once more.

hope looked out into the stars and then hummed, “ no. leave it. i’ll pay them a visit eventually. ”

time skip  ﹏

staying awake, it was difficult. but it wasn’t as if she would be able to sleep anyway, not with a million thoughts being fired in her brain. her head was consumed by all sorts of worries and perceptions, some that may be seen as worrisome but hope didn’t really share them with anyone. she felt that if she closed her eyes, she would see something. 

and this thing would keep her awake for hours at an end. there was a perfectly dark night sky out there, a sense of familiarity rather than floating through endless space with no awareness of time. she didn’t take advantage of it, though.

mars had a twenty-five-hour cycle, and currently it was three in the morning. the captain was in the lounge, nursing her nerves with a can of energy drink that she had stocked up on after a brief visit to a grocery store. she had spoken to enzo roughly five hours ago, and since then hope hasn’t seen or heard from everyone.

at this point, she was assuming the worst. the kid died, she was tempted to believe. nobody cared to drop in to tell her of anything, maybe he was still healing or was struggling to sleep like her and so they were trying to soothe him into a state of painless peace.

the doors slid open and hope’s tired eyes moved towards the figure that came in. it was dom, he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink either, still in the clothes from the mission and with a grave expression on his face. when he took notice of her, hope prepared to be yelled at.

to be blamed, to receive a good scolding. but nothing ever came. he just stared at her for a moment and then averted his gaze away. “ is he alright? ”, she questioned. “ the kid. is he okay? ”.

“ stable ”, dom replied and hope let out a sigh of relief, bracing herself for a but. it never came, though, as dom went over and got himself something from the vending machine. “ what flavor of energy drink do you choose? ”.

hope blinked but replied, “ cherry. ”

dom hummed and then tapped away at the screen on the vending machine. it was silent for a moment, hope had grown used to speaking to the rest but she never did the same with dominic, not after what happened between them just after they came out of the j-colony. his bruise looked slightly better but it was nowhere near healed.

“ he’s healing okay ”, he said to break the silence. “ the cut didn’t reach any vital organs but it was somewhat deep. a.j had a look, which was quite useful. but quinn’s healing slowly now, vivi’s watching after him in case he wakes up in pain. ”

“ i’m sorry. ”

“ don’t be. ”

for that and also for the bruise, hope wanted to say but was unable to.

dom walked near to the couch and hope saw the same cherry drink she was holding in her hands. popping the can open, dom took a sip and appeared puzzled for a second before grimacing. “ that’s strong ”, he managed to say with another shudder.

hope chuckled softly and looked to the doors when they slid open once more. enzo walked on through, it seemed as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep either but he at least had gotten changed. “ nice seeing you two getting along ”, he commented with a tired grin. “ why are you awake, cap? ”.

“ got a late-night craving. my sleeping pills didn’t work, so there’s no point in staying awake. besides, i was worried about quinn ”, she stated as the young man approached. “ is there enough medication for him? ”.

dom snorted, “ more than enough. ”

“ you could heal an entire army with what you’ve got stored in there, cap ”, enzo added before stopping by her and offering a small smile. “ quinn will be alright, he just needs plenty of rest and good food. i was in the kitchen, i saw some bags on the counter. did you go shopping? ”.

oh. hope blushed softly and looked down. she’s never been one to blush, at all. she was slightly embarrassed to have been found out, she was going to put the food back into the fridge but then completely zoned out and forgot. 

“ yeah, i did ”, hope revealed. 

enzo gasped and clapped happily, “ vivi is gonna whip us something good tomorrow then and i cannot wait for that. you should see the soup she makes when one of us is sick. ”

it was refreshing to see them back to their normal antics, it was better to see them all smiling, though, it brought a sense of safety. that she didn’t have to worry about all that’s happened and that all would be well within a given time. sure, she had missed the chance of killing the puppeteer.

but it was suspicious why voyage had even given her a task like that, especially one for her to complete alone. if he was on top of the list, they would’ve most likely offered her some sort of help. they didn’t, they forced her to do it by herself with the impression that she wouldn’t pass the task on, and she didn’t.

and now someone had gotten hurt. whilst she wanted to take the blame, the pirates didn’t allow her to. dom and enzo settled on the couch to watch something or play a video game, hope wasn’t paying too much attention to be sure.

because she soon lifted herself from the couch and left the lounge, her attention dragging towards the door of the rooms they were allocated in. she wasn’t too certain if dawn and quinn were awake, but she knew vivienne was, so it was worth going in to check. she could see with her very own eyes just what had been done to heal the boy.

once the doors slid open, hope looked into the room for the first time in a while. they hadn’t made a total mess of it, most of it was clean except for some bags by the window which hope assumed were clothes of some sort. or comfort items. 

craning her head to the side, her eyes widened at the sight. quinn was laying down on the bottom bunk of one of the spare beds, a blanket over his body. his chest rose and fell gently and some color had returned to his face. seeing movement on the top bunk, hope saw it was dawn, fast asleep.

vivienne had put a chair right beside where quinn laid, she had a reading light on and a book open against her lap. she was wearing some pleasant grey pajamas that looked rather comfortable. and it suited her a lot. upon taking notice of the other girl, she smiled softly. “ you’re still up ”, she noticed.

“ so are you ”, hope replied and approached her. she briefly crouched down beside the bed to get a better look at the sleeping boy. it was a weird habit of hers, something she had developed back home. always waking up early and immediately checking if her brother was still sleeping and if he was feeling okay. even now, it didn’t feel that different. “ poor kid . . . i feel awful for what happened. ”

vivienne reached over and brushed the hair out of quinn’s eyes, “ he was in pain but he never once spoke about it being anyone else’s fault. he just fell asleep a couple of hours ago after dawn gave him some morphine. ” hope’s eyes widened. “ i didn’t know morphine was even legal to have outside of a hospital. ”

“ yeah, well i needed it once a long while back ”, the girl described. she didn’t linger on the subject for too long and chose to sit on the edge of the bed rather than crouching and cause more pain to her ankles. “ he’s going to be fine, though. he just didn’t deserve getting hurt. ”

“ wait, did you deserve it instead? ”, vivienne questioned, turning back to her book with a chuckle.

“ yes ”. vivienne’s smile dropped. “ i would have rather gotten hurt than allowed someone else to take the hit. i should have stayed with you guys but . . . i don’t regret it. the puppeteer came into contact with me. he knows my name, my reputation, he knew i was nothing against him alone. but he knew there were people . . . people under my responsibility. ”

“ you think he commanded the attack ”, vivienne assumed.

hope nodded, “ it’s probable. he knows his own bunker, surely. it was easy for him to know we came in, we just weren’t careful enough. and it’s not enough to just shoot at the security cameras. he has eyes scattered everywhere. ”

she thought that he knew they were there even when they were above, on the surface of mars hunting for the ravine. those abandoned apartments, he could have easily stored something within them, something so high-tech that not even hope’s rogue sonar picked up anything. nothing at all.

but he knew that they were coming and when they were coming, it was how he worked. eyes everywhere, so everywhere that you couldn’t even begin to think where the first eye was. he was vulture flying above, waiting, watching as the prey draws closer before striking.

hope shivered slightly and shifted her position, trying not to think too much about the incident. it would make voyage angry but she had already dropped a word in, sending a distress signal as someone had gotten hurt during the mission and to pass the quest onto a team, not a single bounty hunter.

as strong as she was, she wouldn’t have lasted a second in there had she gone alone.

“ it’s going to be easter in two days back home ”, vivienne said suddenly, and hope was glad that she did. it was nice to talk about home sometimes. she relaxed slightly and nodded. “ do you celebrate it? ”.

hope chuckled, “ yeah, my family does. we’re not religious, we’re just easily influenced by others. but my mom usually puts chocolate eggs around the house and we all try and find it. usually, when he’s there, dad holds a nice barbeque for the neighbors. ”

“ no exterior family? ”.

“ nope, we keep to ourselves. besides, the exterior family is across the country. most are in canada, they like the cold for some reason ”, hope explained and looked towards quinn, fixing his blanket over him. “ i’d like to go there someday. ”

“ home? ”.

“ canada. ”

the two girls shared a gentle laugh, soft as to avoid waking the others up. it was nice, hope had to say. admitting it was hard but she liked the company, it made a difference. she knew that she was arrogant in the beginning, believing that she was fine on her own but sometimes having someone around makes a difference, especially for someone engulfed in solitude like this particular bounty hunter.

“ if you . . . want to go, to see your family, i could definitely tell the others we’re making a stop first ”, vivienne proposed slowly, trying to find the right words. “ i can’t remember the last time we’ve all been to earth. ” 

hope smiled. smiled. the pure selflessness had led to a sudden swarm of butterflies in her chest, it was very flattering to see the woman being so caring, she’s never quite seen anything like it. and it invoked a reaction that not even hope was used to. but the smile stayed for some reason, she didn’t try to wipe it away.

running a hand through her hair, the girl nodded. “ yeah, y-yeah that’d be nice. dad went through a lot a while back and i haven’t exactly been the best daughter, haven’t visited him. it’s cool between us but . . . i can imagine it looks bad ”, she explained softly, staring at her fingers. “ it’s nearly been a year since i’ve been home. ”

“ you must miss your family terribly ”, vivienne pointed out and tilted her head. she seemed to have forgotten about her book. “ is it just your parents and you? ”.

hope shook her head, “ it’s me, mom, dad and connor. ”

“ who’s connor? family dog? ”.

hope snorted and suppressed the urge to burst into total laughter. she slapped her knee slightly and adjusted herself on the seat, her smile didn’t fade, though. her eyes lit up at the mention of her brother. her tone even changed as she tilted her head and answered, “ my baby brother. ”

vivienne gasped softly, “ oh god, i’m sorry, i didn’t know. ”

“ no, it’s quite alright. he’s quite puppy-like, anyhow ”, the girl replied, her smile still completely intact. she appeared starstruck, but that gaze she had, that aloof expression of happiness, that was love. absolute love for a younger brother who she would die for. 

vivienne beamed herself, though it seemed to at something else. “ well, i can imagine you’d be very happy to see your family. we can go to earth, maybe it’ll cheer quinn up. besides, easter is a great holiday to go back home to ”, she suggested, looking back towards the sleeping boy. 

“ yeah, i suppose we can all go ”, hope said softly and nodded, and then looked towards her wristband. “ but . . . i have to take you guys to where you have to be. maybe you can get better help there. ”

vivienne frowned, “ do you want us gone that badly? ”.

hope was rendered speechless. she didn’t want it to seem like she had wanted to get rid of them or move them off her ship. it was just that quinn could find better help, better medication and better food somewhere where there was actually something to offer. hope had nothing to offer to them at all!

but she also really wanted for them to stay until he’d healed. and perhaps a stop by earth could do the trick. but hope wasn’t too certain about it until she looked at vivienne. she didn’t want them gone.

not now.

and perhaps, not for a while . . . maybe until all of this was over. until quinn was healed and until easter had gone by. she needed time to ensure that they would be leaving safely without voyage trailing behind them, on the hunt.

“ w-well, not really ”.

vivienne’s expression softened and she averted her gaze back to her book. “ then it’s settled. you can take us, i’ll tell the others in the morning. try to get some sleep, though, cap ”, the woman said and hope paused, she’s never been referred to as captain by vivienne.

nodding either way, the bounty hunter rose from her seat and wrapped her arms over her chest and walked towards the door, looking back for a moment. viviennne seemed to be happily enjoying her book, but she was smiling, even if it was ever so slightly gentle.

“ good night ”, she called back softly.

vivienne looked up and chuckled, “ good night, captain. and thank you. ”

[friking-awsom-kitten]

Sleeping beauty just need some coffee IASA Chapter 4

He gasped, sitting up in shock. However, something refrained him from getting enough air and was shoved up deep into his throat. He chocked and grasped whatever was blocking his airways, ripping it off. Suddenly he could breathe again and he took big gulps.

His eyes flitted around the room in a panic, not recognizing where he was. Something to his left caught his eye and he stared at the woman that had been checking a machine next to him.

The woman dropped what she was holding and screamed.

He screamed back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam had been staring out the window for a long time now. She didn't pay attention to whatever the teacher was saying. Few kids did.

Word of Danny had gotten around pretty fast and by the end of the first day everyone knew. It had been chaos.

Some people were angry and wanted to bill the Fentons for all the damage Danny's fights had gotten them. Some wanted to report the parents for child abuse. Most were furious at the GIW for disrespecting basic human rights and trying to capture a boy and were pestering the government to shut it down. The president, however, wouldn't back down, saying they were the best of the best at ghost science and this town needed them.

But almost everybody was grateful for Danny and all he'd done for the town.

A lot of people had visited him in the hospital. Including several of Sam's classmates.

They would also continuously ask the two friends questions.

About how it happened. If Danny's parents had known. Whether they got to fight ghosts too. Whether Danny would keep protecting the town or if he was ok.

Sam honestly didn't know. It had been two weeks. She'd never been more worried than she was now. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense, though. He had been exhausted. Physically and mentally. He was probably on the bridge of collapsing anyways and that blast must have depleted his energy reserves.

She sighed and glanced towards Tucker, who was staring at his phone. The device was turned off and pushed far away on the table, but the boy didn't take his eyes off of it.

All of a sudden, a sharp ring interrupted the teacher. Everyone jumped a bit in their seats and they turned to look at Tucker, who was scrambling to pick up his phone and putting it on his ear.

"Yes? For real?!" Tucker's eyes widened and he looked at Sam. "He's awake!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They burst in the hospital room. They had memorized the way long before and could walk from the receptionist to the ICU wing in their sleep.

Their eyes immediately fell on the small family in the corner.

Maddie looked about ready to cry and Jack was standing still with furrowed eyebrows. It was not a sight Tucker and Sam had expected to see.

The cause of all this grief was sitting up on his bed with a frustrated expression. He didn't have a breathing mask on anymore and the IV had been removed.

"Danny!" Sam cheered and sprang forward to hug him. He tensed under her hug and she frowned, letting go. "Danny?"

The boy huffed, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "So I've been told. Who are you?"

She was so perplexed her arms went slack. Tucker sucked in a gasp and they both turned to the doctor that had been standing next to them. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Daniel seems to suffer from Amnesia. From what you have told me and what we discovered, this was caused by a combination of sleep deprivation, malnutrition, and recent stress. The severe concussion he recently got sealed it. It affected his hippocampus." The doctor stopped reading from his paper and looked Danny over before continuing. "From what I have gathered up to now, he seems to only be affected on the explicit memory, meaning the memory of the places and the times and the people. Or the who, what, where, when and why. However, the implicit seems normal, thankfully."

"The what?" Tucker breathed out, barely able to form words as he tried to understand everything happening.

"That means the skills he has learned. He can walk, talk, breathe, and all the motoric functions he has learned throughout his life, as well as riding a bike or reading. However, I'm not sure whether his semantic memory is damaged. This is the common knowledge. For example the days of the month. Or when his birthday is. The damage on that may vary."

The raven gave an exasperated sigh. "If you go through that explanation one more time I'm gonna give myself another concussion."

"Well," Tucker smiled weakly, even though tears were threatening to fall, "he didn't change personality-wise."

The other boy grinned. "He did say I still have the skills I learned. Must have practiced my sass a lot because I'm a pro."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. You did." She turned to the doctor. "But they will come back, right? This isn't permanent?"

For the first time, the doctor's face fell. "I- we aren't sure. Retrograde amnesia, which is what this condition is called, doesn't have a cure, but there are some ways to coach old memories to come back. Most patients remember their oldest memories, but Danny doesn't seem to even have that. If he does regain some memories, it will most likely be from early childhood. However, we can't be sure. It could get better, worse, or stay like this for the rest of his life." He looked at the pale faces in the room and smiled encouragingly. "But I don't think it will get worse given that this was a brain injury, first and foremost."

He nodded towards the parents. "Before I run a blood test and prescribe anything, I need some questions answered." He took out a list and a pen. "Did Daniel take medications? Any past health problems? For example seizures or strokes or infections? Did he take drugs?" He crossed over every time they shook their heads or wrote down when they mentioned something about a panic attack or how he had had an accident in the portal.

The doctor shook his head. This kid was a walking medical catastrophe. It was no wonder he ended up with amnesia. He sighed and put his papers down. "I'll send for a drug test and he'll have an MRI scan. After that he will have to stay in the hospital for a few more days until he is fully healed. Daniel, will you let us put back the IV?"

Danny scrunched his nose. "Ugh why. I'm awake now. I just need some food. Do you guys have some fries?"

"We'll get you appropriate food after the IV is back on. Your body is still short on nutrients."

"Please, Danny." Maddie begged. "The sack also has some ectoplasm. It will help you heal faster. You will be able to get out of here sooner."

Danny pursed his lips. This woman claimed to be his mom, and let me tell you how weird it is to not even remember your own mother. He wasn't even sure if he could trust these people. They could be lying to him for all he knew. But he had no other option. Besides, that woman gave him a comforting vibe. He smiled at her unconsciously and nodded. "Alright, but the second I'm out I want pancakes."

All the medical procedures had been run and the doctor had decided Danny would stay two more days before he could go home. All Danny's injuries had been healed during his coma. He claimed nothing hurt and only complained about getting food. Something nobody was surprised about. The boy hadn't eaten normal food in weeks. What they were surprised about was that he was so restless. He should be tired. In fact, he should still be unconscious. But nobody was about to complain about that.

What Danny really wanted was a bath. He felt dirty and gross. He was horrified to learn he'd been washed during his slumber and couldn't look at any nurse in the eye after that.

However, he felt especially uncomfortable when groups of strangers walked through the door and grinned at him and gave him presents and took pictures.

He glanced at the table next to him. It was simply covered in 'thank you' and 'get well' notes and some kind of merchandise. He had also gotten many pictures and drawings, but they were so confusing he couldn't figure heads or tails of it. On the other side were also some balloons and a few stuffed animals and to top it off, all around him were flowers.

I must have been some kind of celebrity, Danny thought. But why were they thanking him?

A girl suddenly burst through the doors and tackled the poor boy. He let out a yelp and she let go just as fast as she'd latched on and started rambling.

"I'm so sorry. I came as soon as I heard and then the plane was delayed and I first had to arrange a short vacation and I had to finish this assignment and they wouldn't let me go saying you weren't in danger of death and they said 'Alright, you can go, but if you don't get that degree it's on you' and I swear I was about to strangle them."

Danny couldn't understand what she was talking about so he took the time to inspect her. She had long brownish-red hair and he could honestly see the resemblance to his apparent mother. This must be Jasmine, his older sister.

The girl seemed to catch on that Danny wasn't responding and she paused, looking at him good for the first time. They stared at each other in silence for some time, taking in the other sibling.

Jasmine held out her hand and smiled. "Hello. My name is Jasmine, but you can call me Jazz. I'm sorry about just now. I was a bit worried."

Danny blinked in surprise. Why was she introducing herself? She must know he had amnesia. He grinned. It felt nice to know at least someone didn't come asking him if he knew them or expecting something from him. He shook her hand. "I don't think I need to introduce myself since you probably know me better than I do. You're my sister, right?"

Her smile brightened and he silently congratulated himself. "Yes. I'm two years older. So I'm nineteen and you're gonna be seventeen in Oktober 27. It's July 13 today. I just came from college."

Danny smiled softly, grateful for all the information she was giving him. He felt awkward having to ask such simple things. "Are you in the first year?"

She nodded. "I'm studying creative therapy. To put it simply, it's a kind of therapy for people who can't put their problems into words so instead do it with their hands. The therapist then can study their movements and results to see how they think and how to help them. There are many types and I'm doing a mix between drama and art."

She continued talking and Danny listened. He learned so much. She told him all about her and her life and her friends and even what recently happened in college. It was as if they were catching up on old times.

She didn't mention anything about Danny, or what he used to do or what they did together and he was grateful for that. It would have felt like she was telling him what he should have done and he would've felt obligated. It was an insane thought, given that all that had happened in the past, but he didn't want people telling him who he was.

They talked for hours. Mostly she was the one speaking, but Danny often put in his opinion or input in something and she would laugh.

At one point, a violet-eyed girl and a dark-skinned boy walked in and joined them. Danny remembered them as the two people who were there when he woke up. He tensed a bit, but they just greeted him and sat down. They said some words to Jazz and turned to look at him.

The boy wiped his hands on his pants and cleared his throat, but at a look from Jazz he smiled at Danny. "Hey, man. I don't think we told you our names. I'm Tucker Foley and that's Sam Manson."

Danny nodded towards them, but frowned at the girl. "Are your eyes naturally purple?"

Sam rolled said eyes as Tucker laughed. "No." She admitted. "They're blue. I got these contact lenses from my grandmother. She didn't want them to go to waste."

Tucker laughed some more. "Her grandmom used to be really rebellious as a teen. She saw potential in Sam," he told Danny and so the conversation went into flow again.

Sam and Tucker telling Danny about themselves and complaining a bit about school. They also told him how they met.

Apparently, Danny had known these people for practically all his life. Since kindergarten. That was a weird thought.

Jazz had glared at them for bringing that up but Danny sighed. "It's ok, Jazz. I'm gonna get this a lot from now on."

Sam winced. "Sorry. Just thought you'd want some background information. If there's something you don't like talking about we won't. Just tell us, alright?"

Danny shrugged. "That's just the thing, Sam. I don't know anything about anything. Everyone expects me to know all kinds of stuff and then it's just gonna get awkward." He huffed, frowning. "Whatever. It doesn't matter. I'll just figure out what my life is now."

Jazz grinned, beaming proudly. "That's the way to look at it, Danny. Just start off fresh."

Except that wasn't entirely possible. The moment Danny was admitted out of the hospital he knew his life was way weirder than he had thought at first.

When he was let out there was a crowd waving him off and cheering and he got a green sock thrown at him so that was a nice way to enter the world fresh.

Then there was the house he apparently lived in.

He honestly had no idea what to say about that. It looked like aliens had infiltrated earth and were doing a terrible job at laying low.

He sighed, ignoring all the paparazzi and following the two adults inside. It was much better inside. It was very clean. As if it had been prepared for his arrival. That just made him feel more guilty.

Maddie and Jack were grinning at him as they gave him a tour of the house. Maddie more nervously, while Jack was excited.

The first and second story were pretty normal. On the first was the kitchen and the living room. Then upstairs were all the bedrooms. Danny paused in what was apparently his room. It looked pretty clean and neat. He must have been either a perfectionist or his mom had tidied it up for him. He was gonna go with the second one.

Finally, he was shown the basement and the op Center, which is what they called the UFO on the house. The UFO looked exactly how Danny imagined a UFO would look like. It was huge and had a lot of wires. Somewhere something was beeping, but he couldn't figure out what.

Then the basement. Danny shivered as soon as he entered. He saw millions of weird machines and guns and a milkshake maker he decided not to trust. The name Fenton appeared everywhere. Like a logo.

Then there was a door at the other side of the room. It had a beethemed pattern as if warning people of toxins. Danny felt like he should put on a face mask or something to protect himself. His father was wearing some type of protective suit.

"What do you do for a living," he asked, exasperated.

"We're ghost hunters!" Jack grinned, leaving Danny with a baffled expression.

"Why do you hunt ghosts?" He asked, stumped and curious. The part about ghosts didn't surprise him much. It felt as normal as the fact birds were chirping outside.

Jack's expression fell and he exchanged a look with Maddie. "Well son." He started cautiously. "We're ghost scientists. We have been studying them for years. We sometimes catch one to learn more about them from up close."

"Like they're animals." Danny frowned and his parents grimaced.

"They're not all sentient, Danny." It was Maddie who said this. "And Amity park has been haunted by ghosts for years. Most of them attacked and destroyed."

"Well maybe most of them just stayed home minding their own business and the ones that did mean bad came here so we don't see the other side of their world."

To his surprise Maddie smiled softly. "Yes. You may be right."

They didn't tell him much about the things in the basement. In fact it was the shortest they had been in a room and they practically shoved him back up the stairs.

They stayed in the living and talked a bit and Maddie went to the kitchen to cook some dinner because it was already pretty late in the afternoon. Danny had a foreboding feeling. Probably because how Jazz paled and sent him a few scared looks.

Danny stood up and followed his mother to see her fumbling around the fridge, trying to find something that didn't try to bite her hand off. "Hey?" Danny started, unsure if this would be seen as impolite. "Do you want me to help you cook dinner?"

The woman brightened considerably as she slammed the fridge shut and smiled at him. "Are you sure? I mean. Yes, I would love it if you did this with me."

Danny nodded and rolled his sleeves up before washing his hands. Maddie's eyes widened when she realized she'd forgotten to do that.

"So what are we making?"

Maddie scrunched her face. "I'm not sure yet, Danny. There isn't much left that is edible."

"Where do you keep all the food?" Her boy's eyes searched the small kitchen and she remembered he had forgotten all of that.

She pointed out the fridge and a few cabinets and he looked through them, bringing out many types of ingredients and selecting a few out. He asked for the pots and the pans and she pointed it out. He asked for herbs and she showed him. He asked her anything and she gave him the answer, watching in amusement as he fell right into his element.

Maddie settled back a bit as she saw him swiftly cut some carrots and dump them in the pot. She smiled. It had been a long time ago that Danny had taken the job of a cook in this house. Given that no one had any insight in it or kept mixing the sauce with the wrong chemical (what do you mean chemicals aren't supposed to go in food?). The raven had looked up recipes or he would cook ready-made food.

He'd started simple and after a while started mixing in his own stuff and experimenting. He had loved it. Maddie had let him drop a few chores so he would have time to prepare and make dinner. He would write a list of groceries and tape it on the fridge and Jack would go buy it.

In fact, Maddie could see the last note he had written still on the top left of the refrigerator. Her eyes watered a bit.

"Are you ok?"

She wiped her eyes and nodded. "Just that onion you were cutting just now. It's fine. Go ahead. You're doing a great job." She smiled. "Anything else you need?"

He shook his head as he flipped some pieces of meat on the sizzling pan. "Well, not for now. There are no more potatoes. And when was the last time you refilled the salt? And I had to use something else instead of the paprika because that's all done too. And you got way too much beef. How are you going to eat it all before it expires."

Maddie's smile turned nostalgic as she saw all he listed right now written on the little sticky note on the fridge. "We usually don't," she told him, earning herself a look of disgust.

Finally, the dinner was ready and they all say down to eat. Each family member congratulating the boy on the excellent food and what would they do without him. They didn't mention how they'd barely survived the two weeks he'd been absent.

Jazz was just in college, but Jack and Maddie had to constantly order pizza or eat in a restaurant every night. Even something as making some toast was always a hassle. Not only because the toaster sometimes malfunctioned and threw up the bread so hard it stuck on the ceiling, but Maddie was also very sure bread shouldn't be green.

Now they had Danny back. Everything had changed. Just....everything.

But he was back.

They talked a bit more. Danny asked about the many drawings they'd had to carry back home along with the rest of the presents. Who was that man on the drawings that looked to be made by kids ranging from three to fifteen?

Jack looked excited to tell him something, but Jazz had shushed them. She smiled at Danny reassuringly. "How about we talk about that tomorrow. You have enough to think on right now." She stacked the empty plates and brought them to the sink. "You heard the doctor. Get some rest. I'll do the dishes. Don't worry about school yet. You have a few weeks to recuperate and get used to life."

Danny looked at each of the people in the room, taking in their appearance and demeanor. If this was his family, no matter how crazy, he loved it. He smiled and turned around, bidding them a good night.

He walked up the stairs and paused, trying to remember where his room was.

He had a small moment of panic when he couldn't recall right away. What if he forgot more things? What if he forgot whatever he did today? What if the doctor was wrong and my amnesia isn't just of whatever happened before the concussion and I'll keep forget- oh wait his door was the one in the left hall.

He sighed in relief when his assumption was proved correct as the door opened. He closed it behind him and took a good look around.

The walls were white, but they had been covered in many posters about some kind of egg band or about a Doom. He wasn't sure. There were also some NASA posters and the wall next to his desk had a big board covered in pictures. There was a blackhaired boy with Sam and Tucker. A lot of those actually. And some about random places Danny had no clue about.

But his eyes wandered to that boy again. Was that...him?

He hadn't looked in the mirror yet. It was strange. Not knowing what you looked like.

Was that really him?

He found a mirror next to the dresser and the closet. It was large. It could fit his whole upper body and a bit of his legs.

He paused before taking a peek. A pit in his stomach and a bit of adrenaline made him jump forward and stare at the boy in the mirror.

He looked a bit older than in those pictures. But he still has black hair, blue eyes, a small nose and smallish eyes and thin lips and fat cheeks and freckles. Although he felt better knowing he had a bit of a jawline and the baby fat was less than in the pictures. His hair was also longer. And it was messy. Probably hadn't been brushed in weeks. Even if they had washed it, as they said, it still looked greasy and dirty.

He didn't feel like doing much of his appearance right now.

He wanted to explore.

He put to the side the pile of presents his father had dumped in his room after having brought it from the hospital and went rummaging through his room.

He opened every drawer, looked at every piece of clothing and squinted under every piece of furniture and he learned a bit about his past self.

He didn't have much variety in clothing. It was mostly T-shirts, jeans and sweaters. There was one neat suit shoved in the back, though.

He had some kind of obsession with stars.

Same thing goes for ghosts. There was even a map in his dresser. Along with a long list of names and some kind of description behind them.

He looked in the bathroom, which he had found he had right in his room. He found a first aid kit shoved under the sink, which he found odd. The rest was just normal supplies for in the shower.

But for the rest, his old life was still a mystery to him. Danny wondered if he would ever gain it back. Had he always been this famous? Wasn't it exhausting? And why had everyone been thanking him?

He suddenly wondered where his phone was. He should have one right? He'll ask his mother tomorrow.

But he really wanted to look up amnesia on the internet.

His eyes fell on a beat up laptop and he tried to turn it on, but it had a password. The hint wasn't even helpful. It just said 'bitch' and Danny honestly felt attacked and offended.

He plopped down on the bed with a deep sigh.

Everyone told him to get rest, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. He felt so energetic and restless. He didn't think that should be normal. He was pretty sure patients just coming out of comatose shouldn't feel rested.

Sigh, just one more thing he wanted to look up on the internet.

He also wanted to know how he went into a coma.

The doctor had vaguely mentioned a concussion or another kind of head injury. Must have been bad. He'd also made it pretty clear Danny was up long before anyone had thought he would be.

Maybe if I had slept for a bit longer, Danny thought, I would have been able to keep my memories.

He groaned quietly. Nothing made sense. Life was a weird jumble of gibberish and with every piece of information he made out it just became even weirder.

He lifted his arm to look at one picture he found he liked. A white haired anime man was standing with hands on his hips and a cape fluttering behind him. Sparkles had been thrown around as well as glitter that had been glued on.

There wasn't a note or anything, just a boy's name. Joey. Along with a small drawing of a dinosaur that Danny didn't think had anything to do with the rest.

That same anime boy turned up everywhere. On the balloons. On the plushies. On the shirt he'd gotten. On the posters the poeple seeing him off from the hospital were holding.

Who was that dude??

And what did Danny have to do with him??

Danny stood up and walked towards the mirror again. He cocked one hip as he put his hands on them and frowned at the image.

"Who are you?" He asked the boy with exasperation. "And just how crazy is your life?"

[afterspark-podcast]

G1 Episode 12: Transcript

Episode Show Notes

[This can also be found on AO3!]

[Stinger]

S: It's really dark and it's ominous and he's standing in moonlight, and he's examining a body.

[Intro Music]

O: Hello, and welcome to the Afterspark Podcast, an episode by episode recap the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. I’m Owls!

S: And I'm Specs!

O: And today we're gonna be talking about episode number 12: The Ultimate Doom, Part 2. Let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Yesssss. Last time on the Transformers, Sparkplug turned into a shitty parent via mind control (well, when the Decepticons are involved it happens)-

O: [Laughter]

S: Optimus hit his head and made extremely questionable decisions and then Megatron has, uh, transported Cybertron into Earth's orbit.

O: As you do. And as we open today catastrophes threatened to rip the planet Earth to pieces.

S: And Cybertron? It just looks like a bad moon rising on the horizon.

O: [Laughter]

S: Oh god, I didn't realize that rhymed the time.

[Laughter]

O: Spike tries to talk some sense into his dad but Sparkplug just tries to get him to join the bad guys instead.

S: Oh I swear Spike really looks like he's staring into the camera like it's The Office. He looks so done.

O: He really, really does.

S: This poor kid.

O: And if you remember last time, it was Optimus Prime, himself, that allowed Cybertron to be space-bridged near Earth. Optimus is regretting his actions at the moment and Ironhide tells him, “he did what he needed to do.” Why? No- I call bullshit on this, there was no good reason why this needed to happen beyond Megatron saying that Cybertron would be destroyed otherwise, but I don't really think it would have been. There was no reason to think this because I call bullshit.

S: Optimus, you could have literally taken a step back to think about this. You didn't need to press the stupid button right that minute.

O: He could've decked Megatron. Knocked him out, thought about it, then pressed the button. I still would have thought you made the wrong decision but whatever.

S: You could have had Ratchet look at your head first. I mean-

O: Yeah, seriously I convinced he had a head injury.

S: Yeah. So Megatron's already decided that they've won the war-

O: Of course.

S: As you know, giant mechanical despots are prone to do. I mean, he does this multiple times.

O: Of course, Spike attempts to shoot Megatron with this, like, laser beam that might be a satellite from the previous episode. We’re not sure.

S: I'm pretty sure it is, it basically looks exactly like what they used to space-bridge-

O: Yeah, but it doesn't have the Giant dish on it, that's why I was confused.

S: Maybe they took it off? I don’t know-

O: I don't know. Anyway, it's this thing he hops into and tries to shoot Megatron but, uh, Megs is warned by Sparkplug and gets out of the way.

S: Bad dad.

O: This generates some rocks that almost hit Starscream and Starscream is incredibly angry about getting rocks thrown at him.

S: And he totally looked like Thundercracker the shot prior, like, he was totally Thundercracker blue and then next shot we see him reacting and, nope, that is Starscream. He's probably super pissed about the color change, too.

O: I would imagine. Starscream insults Spike by calling him a “flesh creature” and says, “We’re invincible!”

S:  Oh, my god we should maybe have a tally of that.

O: I- We should. Just have, I-I think it would literally explode with all the-

S: Maybe how many episodes since Starscream said “We're invincible!” or “I'm invincible!” or some variation.

O: [Laughter] It’s been 0 days since the last incident.

S: [Laughter] That seems simpler. I don’t know. So Starscream leads the other Decepticons into an attack

O: And during this attack, Bumblebee gets hit and this hit, for some reason, makes this sound straight out of a bowling alley instead of it actually sounding like metal is being hitn

S: Yeah, like, it doesn't sound like a strike but it sounds like they got like one or two pins with a bowling ball and it's honestly kind of weirdly, um, auditorily disappointing

O: [Laughter]

S: It's weird.

O: It doesn't quite have the impact maybe you were expecting.

S: Yeah, and meanwhile Optimus acquires cat-scratch fever as Ravage jumps on his back, then a branch falls on a power line overhead. Which...I don't think we saw this power line before now but, yeah, the branch falling on the power line causes the power line to fall down and shock Ravage, who then runs the fuck away.

O: I- I just have to ask it, what was the point of anything that's happened in this episode? I don't think it really has an impact of anything that happens after this. It's just things are sort of happening at this point, I think.

S: They needed something to fill up space because they didn't have enough plot for three frickin episodes.

O: Yeah, this should have been like maybe two.

S: I don't think they’d quite gotten two parters down at this point.

O: Eh, probably not.

S: Because I think we've only got individual episodes and then three-parters and then the five-parters.

O: Oh God, I'm not looking forward to those. I’m convinced- I am convinced the multi-partners are the weakest ones in the series.

S: Yeah. So, the Seekers take to the air and Starscream orders Thundercracker to shoot. Thundercracker is, you know, totally rightfully worried about the wind and Starscream is like, “Shoot anyway!” and then lo and behold the fire from Thundercracker’s flamethrowers totally blow back onto them. They don't have a good time.

O: They do not but, naturally, in the middle of a life-or-death fight this sight causes Jazz and Trailbreaker to drop everything and toss a few fire puns at each other.

S: Hot nose. Hot nose.

O: They weren't even good fire puns.

S: Yeah.

O: Rumble gets a taste of his own medicine as seismic activity causes a crevice to open under his feet and swallow him up.

S: He's getting his just desserts, I guess. I don't know. And Soundwave’s been just standing in the back watching all this chaos. Like, he just he looks like he's disassociated.

O: [Laughter] Eh..um…boy am i tired.

S: But, yeah, so he's just standing back watching all this chaos unfurl around him and then Megatron orders him to use an audio disruptor wave.

O: Which he has now, apparently, and Soundwave being one of the few bots able to take an order in this goddamn army does what he's told.

S: The resulting audio wave causes the Autobots to flee and for the majority of the humans a seemingly snap out of their weird mind controlling, except Sparkplug. I guess this thing, like, just. I don't know it seems like it makes the Autobots fall down and humans just snap out of things.

O: But of course Sparkplug isn’t snapped out of this.

S: It's plot relevant.

O: Of course.

S: Then we literally see Prime's trailer sort of shimmer into existence here as they flee, which was a nice effect.

O: It was actually a nice effect but I'm still, like, is the trailer a hologram? Does it, like, come out of subspace? How does the trailer work? And I'm never gonna get an answer to this. [Laughter]

S: I think we just say subspace, but…

O: Probably... which, so many questions. Ah, Spike and Bumblebee flee as Spike watches his dad escape into Skywarp and why do you think Skywarp was picked to be the Sparkplug ferry?

S: I don't know. Um, maybe he was just cooler with having squish- well, humans near him or as he'd say ‘squishies?’ I don't know, he seems like he's maybe chiller than the others.

O: Oh, Starscream would not even remotely consider the idea whatsoever.

S: Well, he does with Dr. Arkeville.

O: Yeah, but that's on his own choice.

S: Yeah.

O: I don't think he’d be very happy if Megatron was like, “You are in charge of this tiny human, Starscream.”

S: True, and I feel like Thundercracker would just be like, “Nope-”

O: Nope, nope. Thundercracker out!

S: Yeah. Though watching Dr. Arkeville makes the connection that his mind control has been broken by the audio disruption and-

O: Psst! This will be relevant later!

S: Oh, very relevant.

O: Starscream, in the middle of all this, starts yelling at Megatron about letting the Autobots escape. Megatron rewards this outburst by backhanding Starscream across the face.

S: As he does. I mean, he seems like he does that, like, once every two episodes.

O: Something like that.

S: They have a very weird relationship. Megatron tells Starscream that this is the only warning he's intending to give and Starscream makes a super fucking weird face.

O: Is he turned on by this? I mean...is he turned on by this? That’s. That’s what that smirk looks like. Okay! Back in the Decepticon base Rumble watches with mild interest as Dr. [Ark]eville shoots Sparkplug with a laser.

S: Whyyyy does Dr. Arkeville shoot him with a device that's, like, three feet away and hanging from the ceiling instead of, I don't know, a handheld device that would be, you know, a lot more easy to control?

O: Obviously it's to make the new hypno-chip stick. Who needs glue when you have lasers!

S: I feel like glue would be the easier and cheaper method.

O: He's a mad scientist, Specs, he's a mad scientist. Lasers are clearly the way he has to go.

S: ...But it's not efficient.

O: Mad scientists’ don’t care about efficiency!

S: I feel like he should but-

O: Well, he's a kind of shitty character, to be honest.

S: He is, unfortunately. Well, I don't think we ever see any other iterations of him which I guess I'm glad about.

O: He actually is in Shattered Glass, ironically, but he's a good guy.

S: That's good!

O: I like him! I like him in Shattered Glass, actually.

S: I was, like, I was gonna ask if he was a good person.

O: He's actually really cool. He’s still got like some cybernetic augmentations that nobody's really sure where it came from but, no, he's actually pretty cool.

S: That’s good! I’ll have to read those. I mean you’re-

O: They’re all on your new computer now!

S:Well, you're enabling the hell out of me, thank you.

O: [Laughter] Well, I mean I feel I can only return the favor.

S: So, Laserbeak is apparently kid- off- well, off kidnapping more human test subjects elsewhere.

O: He kidnaps two people at a time here. You’d think he'd go to a school or factory or something and get a bunch of people all in one go?

S: Well, he's also one relatively small bird robot.

O: TRUE. You’d think they would send multiple bots and do this.

S: True, true. I guess the animators just didn't want to deal with animating a whole crowd of people which, um, fair. I wouldn't want to, either.

O: Yeah, Laserbeak returns with the kidnapped men and Rumble takes one of them off to be enslaved via hypno chip but not before Shockwave calls to inform Megatron that the energy level of Cybertron is at a critically low level.

S: Cybertron is just always on the verge of fuckin starving. Oh god.

O: Shockwave. Shockwave, you've gotta ask for a transfer, man.

S: Yeah, or just, you know, actually shipping goddamn Energon which I guess the Decepticons do try, but the Autobots keep, you know-

O: Fucking shit up?

S: Yeah, I've forgotten the word that I want. Fending off their efforts? Something, whatever.

O: Sabotaging?

S: They're not sabotaging, they're just completely locking things down, preventing them from [clap] from doing it. I feel like the word starts with an F but it's not important. Let’s get this back to this! Um. Back with the Autobots, Optimus and Ironhide are having trouble navigating the “severe weather” quotation marks there. So many quotation marks around “severe.”

O: [Laughter] It just looks like a heavy drizzle but okay guys. Jazz is ergonomically handling this situation by magnetizing himself the Ironhide's bumper.

S: Jazz, you just make everything better. You’re- you’re awesome, dude.

O: Definitely!

S: Even if I am kind of annoyed by your really bad puns, earlier.

O: He’s the Pun Master.

S: Pun Meister.

O: Yeeeeeeaaaaaaah!

S: [Laughter] Oh god. In Bumblebee’s cab, Spike just he looks so fucking done. He really looks like he's disassociated.

O: Oh yeah, he's super out of it. So much so, that when Bumblebee blows out a tire and needs help he's gotta, like, physically shake Spike out of his cab to get his attention.

S: Oh god, no one's having a good day, especially with all the rain. And Megatron would like to have some updates on his human slaves, oh, thank you very much.

O: I'm not sure who wrote this damn episode but I strongly suspect it may have been a drunk monkey because we literally keep cutting to people for less than 30 seconds and then cutting away again. All of these scenes feel sooo pointless! And so we go back, yet again, with Spike and Bumblebee after swapping to Megatron for like 10 seconds. Um, a big, random crack opens up under Bumblebee. Bee ends up hanging off the edge of the side of the cliff, clutching Spike to his chest.

S: And, okay, it's it wasn't intended to look like this but between Spike’s expression here and the way he's clinging to Bumblebee, it really just looks like he's completely and utterly disgusted with someone critiquing their relationship.

O: [Laughter]

S: That's- I know he's clinging to Bumblebee for dear life because, god, there’s-

O: Canyon!

S: Fuckin, yeah. Hundred foot canyon? We don't know how deep it is. But that expression. He just looks so disgusted. He looks so unhappy.

O: Laserbeak shows up out of nowhere and takes off with Spike.

S: This is apparently what giant robot birds do. That’s just his life.

O: I want to know why this cassettes got conscripted into helping the mad scientist, exactly? They actually know how to take fucking orders that's the reason.

S: And they’re vaguely close to scale to him.

O: Yeah they are a lot smaller.

S: Yeah, and then Bumblebee loses his grip by apparently forgetting that he was, you know, needing to hang off to the edge with that particular hand.

O: [Laughter]

S: He presumably falls to his death as we go to the commercial break.

O: And just sort of quote the Jem Jam, “Buy the toys, kids, or Bumblebee might die!”

S: Aaaah, that's a lot of the motivational factor behind these episodes isn’t it.

O: Uh-huh, uh-huh.

S: Oh god, Spike is rescued by Bluestreak, Hound, and Windcharger, when Bluestreak shoots Spike out of Laserbeak's grasp bringing Bluestreak’s sniper skills into this.

O: Of course, and Hound transforms and catches Spike in his seat. It's very strange because he, like, jumps up at the air so they're sort of falling at the same time and it seems like he's actually slowly Spike’s momentum down or trying to.

S: Yeah, like this entire production is really weird because, like, they're down below and then Hound transforms, drives, like, off and around- off a cliff- to catch-

O: To catch him.

S: Spike.

O: Yeah.

S: And that, that seems like such a goddamn production just to try and catch this kid.

O: I mean-

S: Well, they don’t want him to die.

O: Well, like. I-I feel like since the last episode, obviously, Ratchet has given them a good talking-to on, “Hey! Humans can't survive long falls or something.”

S: “They're squishy. The terminal velocity will splatter their internal organs, even if the exterior does not splatter. Don't let them drop.”

O: [Laughter]

S: “You answer to me,”

O: They would.

S: Yeah. then Bluestreak calls Laserbeak a turkey.

O: Shut up, Bluestreak.

S: He might have called. I don't forget- if it was just a turkey or something else attached to turkey.

O: I don't care, it involved a turkey and I was like shut up Bluestreak.

S: And then Spike leads the others over to the crevice that swallowed Bumblebee because you gotta get the Bee?

O: Uh, yeah, then Hound pulls out a scanner that he holds in front of his crotch and swipes it from side to side.

S: It looks really awkward. It looks so bad, where did he even pull it from?

O: Who knows?  But Hound does eventually pick up Bumblebee’s signal with his penis- I mean his scanner.

S: And then Windcharger uses his magic arms to pull Bee out of the crevice with his..laser magnetic tractor beam.

O: Well, it may get Bumblebee back and I love that Bumblebee says that he's out of gas so he just climbs that Hounds’ back seat for a ride back to base.

S: This is not the only time we see giant robots riding in or on other giant robots.

O: He’s just so good natured about it, I think, is what cracks me up?

S: Um-hmm. The Decepticons load up Skywarp with Energon and send Sparkplug to Cybertron with him. Finally!

O: Finally they’re getting some Energon.

S: Yeah.

O: Dr. Evil's pissed that Megatron is sending away one of his slaves but Megatron informs him that Decepticons have duplicated at his tech and now can control his slaves, too.

S: Doc, Doc. You're evil and you didn't file a patent and also you're working with giant evil robots so do you really expect the giant evil robots to respect your creator’s rights here?

O: Yeah.

S: Did you seriously expect that? Did you expect them to have some sort of- I forget the word.

O: Copyright? Uh, patents?

S: I don't know, honor among thieves?

O: Ah! Yeah, no.

S: I don't know.

O: We are talking about Megatron.

S: Yeah.

O: Back with the Autobots, they send out the Dinobots to help with disaster relief as Earth continues to be affected by various natural disasters.

S: Grimlock makes his apathy about Earth's fate known and then Wheeljack asks him, “With you on it?” and Grimlock considers this for a moment is like, “Hadn’t thought of that.”

O: Don’t worry bud, you’ll get to the right conclusion eventually.

S: You'll learn some enlightened self-interest, Grims. Grimsey, you will in time. And the Decepticons are also having some issues with these various natural disasters. They, uh, they set off as their, uh, base is damaged with- from rock slides and tsunamis.

O: Naturally, Starscream comments on this with his normal level of charm.

S: That is loudly and with lots of screeching.

O: Yes!

S: Spike continues to deal with his dad's absence. He's not a happy camper. He really isn't. When another earthquake rocks the Ark, this time due to Mount St. Hillary exhibiting volcanic activity.

O: All the Autobots evacuate the Ark and we get some excellent visual shitposting as-

S: Ah, well, not all the Autobots. Not quite all the Autobots..  

O: Ah, sorry. The Autobots are evacuating the Ark and then we get some excellent visual shitposting as-

S: Once outside, Ironhide turns toward. He turns toward the volcano and then transforms and wordlessly points with an open mouth.

O: And then, not a second later, the volcano erupts and Ratchet, Huffer, and Windcharger come blasting out the top of the volcano.

S: This totally is not Ratchet’s idea of a party but maybe Huffer’s having a good time?

O: It's Huffer. You know he isn't.

S: And then they're saved by Skyfire.

O: Hi buddy! So, Optimus, after all this happened says that they need to turn off the volcano.

S: That's really not how volcanoes work but okay, buddy.

O: Ironhide goes inside the volcano and blasts a bunch of rocks to plug it up.

S: And he says, “When you're good, you're good.” Or something to that effect.

O: It’s something to that effect and that should not work. But aargh!

S:  But they should- they could really use Beachcomber here cuz he's- he's, you know, he's a he's a geologist.

O: And maybe get a professional next time. Anyway, this works for no reason.

S: [sigh] …Why? And then we see the Dinobots doing various things that are supposedly helping with the natural disasters but I don’t know.

O: At least that's what the cartoon wants us to think.

S: They're doing something- they're doing some blockades and some, um, canals.

O: To help with the tsunami.

S: I guess it's like the thing where Ironhide was, like, shooting, like-

O: Oh god.

S: Canals? Or whatever?

O: Ugh.

S: During, I think, the first three parter?

O: Something like that.

S: In the Ark - which is apparently, totally, just fine now - Optimus is talking about Spike. With Spike just standing right there. Like, that's awkward.

O: You gotta get better at keeping track of your little dudes near your feet, man.

S: And Spike is informed that Sparkplug has been taken to Cybertron. How did the Autobots know this? I don't remember.

O: I don't remember, I don't know if they got a call or if Optimus is just telling this to Skyfire, or what.

S: Or maybe Optimus Prime's magic pecs picked it up.

O: [Laughter] Of course! Regardless- Wheeljack, Bumblebee, and Skyfire all volunteer to go with Spike to Cybertron to rescue his dad.

S: Aaaah Skyfire is so freaking nice.

O: Get that ‘bot a hug.

S: And this is Spike’s first time on Cybertron!!! Except that Chip and Sparkplug totally got to go there before him-

O: [Laughter]

S: Soooo all the fun uniqueness is maybe taken away.

O: Skyfire is apparently excellent at flying as he's dodging the hell out of everything that the Decepticons are throwing at them right now.

S: And then Brawn is apparently here, too. I mean, I guess we need- I guess we need pugnacious short dude that can punch through things, but all right.

O: And clearly Skyfire hates him as much as I do because Skyfire trips Brawn when he's exiting Skyfire’s cargo bay.

S: By transforming. Skyfire was apparently just in a super big ass hurry. And Spike does not have any situational awareness whatsoever because he just totally bumbles right into a laser beam, triggering a trap that he then falls into and Bumblebee and Brawn proceed to jump in after him.

O: Mostly because they're small but good job, Spike. You split up the party, you should never split up the damn party!

S: Yeaaaaah.

O: Naturally, they escape through a nearby ventilation shaft until they fall through that, too.

S: I think the, say, Decepticons use the Cybertronian equivalent of tin foil, or something, for this?

O: Yeah, it like, it just falls to pieces. They fall through it.

S: Yeah, whatever contractor got hired for this? Whoever hired them sho- should really try and get, you know, compensation.

O: Pretty much.

S: Yeah.

O: Our three idiots land right in front of the helpfully labeled hypno chip control computer

S: It's so convenient and Brawn proceeds to call Wheeljack on his handy-dandy cellphone to explain the whole mind-control chip thing to him.

O: And the--everybody hides because they hear somebody coming, but Spike lures his dad nearby by leaving out Sparkplugs’ favorite wrench.

S: I don't think we ever see him bring the wrench but, apparently, he just-

O: Apparently, he brought it. [Laughter]

S: Yeah and then Sparkplug sees Spike and alerts the Decepticons because Spike’s just like, “I love you, dad, I can't hide from you!” and the episode cuts us Spike yells, “Nooooooo!!!”  And there are tears glimmering in his eyes.

O: Of course, it's very anime. Join us next time for the “thrilling?” conclusion to our three parter The Ultimate Doom part 3.

S: And that's thrilling with a question mark behind it, because...how thrilling is this stuff, really?

O: [Laughter] You decide.

S: I don’t think it’s very thrilling.

O: Alright, Specs, what's our fanfic for today?

S: Alright, so our recommendations for today are- our fanfiction recommendations for today, there's only two of them so I'm trying to keep this minimal, are “Tanked” by Cyberwulf which is in the G1 cartoon continuity. It's rated T because Optimus Prime accidentally gets drunk.

O: [Laughter]

S: And it's rated Gen, more or less, uhhhh, it mentions Optimus/Elita-1 which, uuuuuuhhhh, has some, uh. Basically involves Optimus sort of musing on his relationship with her and being like, “I didn't know she was my sister, I didn’t know!!!”

O: Oh, dear god!

S: “For like four million years, our creator was a jerk!”

O: Oh god, that’s so wrong!

S: It is! It is! Sorry, um. So, yeah, I guess that's a thing. I guess that's a note for you, alright. Uh, our characters here are Optimus Prime, Sparkplug Witwicky, Spike Witwicky, and Ironhide. And, in summary, “Prime needs help only, Sparkplug can give it.” And I basically just wanted something Sparkplug-centric for this and it's a one shot and basically both of these are actually Sparkplug-centric.

S: Alright, our second one is The Human Element by Im_The_Doctor and then Bofur1 [Im_The_Doctor (Bofu1)] in, uh...

O: Parentheses.

S: Parentheses, thank you. It's G1 cartoon continuity, it's rated G, it’s Gen- there aren't any pairings, and our characters here are: Ratchet, Wheeljack, Sparkplug, Jazz, Bumblebee, Brawn, Gears, Huffer, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Prowl, Hoist, and Blaster, more or less in order of-

O: Of importance? Or appearance?

S: Probably appearance, yeah. In summary, “ “…and stay out! I don’t want to see another human for the rest of this tricursed orn!” Ratchet is being even more uptight than usual, especially about humans, so a few of his friends decide to intercede in the ways that they know best.” And, okay, I said it was something Sparkplug-centric, it's also kind of Ratchet-centric, too, because they're trying to convince Ratchet that humans are okay.

O: [Chuckle]

S: And it's, um, technically I think it might be part of a series cuz this particular author has actually a really, really long series that seems to focus on the minibots that I've been meaning to read but I haven't yet.

O: Gotcha.

S: But this was--it was fun and entertaining and Ratchet’s like, “You need to convince me-”

O: [Laughter] This convincing had better involve booze.

S: Kind of. It's a party.

O: It’s Ratchet, I'm not surprised.

S: Yeah, so those are our two of fanfiction recommendations, thank you.

S: Alright and that just about wraps it up for us today remember to check us out on Tumblr or Pillowfort as Afterspark-Podcast for any additional information, show notes or links we may have mentioned. You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at Aftersparkpod (all one word) and various other locations by searching for Afterspark Podcast such as AO3, Archive Of Our Own, itunes, Google Podcasts, Stitcher, and Youtube, just to name a few. Till next time, I'm Specs.

O: And I’m Owls!

S: Toodles!

[Outro Music]

[deepdisireslonging]

Family Found Part 42: Business as Usual

The choices are getting harder for the Reader, and everyone is taking notice. If she’s not careful, the fallout will be catastrophic not only to the roster but to her relationship with her cousin, Dean.

Warnings/Promises: wrestling violence, Ambrose Angst, angst in general, sassy Elias

Word Count: 2810

Note: Sooo, had to look it up, but because my series doesn’t align with the actual events of Raw, Dolph Ziggler never held the IC in 2018. Keep that in mind. Wow, a lot of stuff has happened. Thank you guys for sticking around with this series! Also, correction: the next PPV is Fastlane, not Starrcade. My bad.

Part 1: Welcome to the Team

Part 41: Fall Short (Elimination Chamber)

Monday Night Raw – February 25, 2019

“I’m sure our general manager, Y/N Ambrose, is not happy with how tonight started,” Cole reported. “Apparently, Dean stormed into her office and demanded a title match. He did get one, but it’s for the number one contender’s spot for the Universal. We could possibly see Ambrose versus Rollins at WrestleMania or sooner if the cousins work out a deal.”

“Unlikely,” Corey added.

Renee was in agreement. “After their spat last week, I don’t think they are going to see eye to eye any time soon. Do you guys think there will be an Ambrose versus Ambrose match?”

“What does it matter?” Corey chuckled. “We all know who you’d root for.”

“Perhaps.” Renee’s voice dropped to barely audible. “I would prefer them not to fight at all.”

Dean made his way to the ring, bouncing around while he waited for his opponent. You sent out Mojo Rawley. He hadn’t fought in a while, and he was eager to try for another title chance. Even if it meant facing an irate Dean.

To Mojo’s credit, he was willing to do anything not waste this opportunity. His own body was on the line, taking a lot as Dean punched through his frustration. You watched from backstage, glad this worked out as the opening match. The crowd was on its feet and chants for both opponents were split down the middle. But Mojo got a little too into it. You flinched as the referee forcefully pulled him away from stomping on Dean while holding the ropes but ignoring the five-count. You headed to Gorilla.

In the time it took you to make it there, Mojo had disqualified himself. You rushed out onto the stage. “I don’t think we’ve seen enough of this match. Have you?” you asked the audience. The smattering of boos was easily ignored with a surface smile. “Let’s restart this as a no disqualification, no count-out match.”

Dean grinned. He rolled out of the back of the ring and came up with a steel chair. Mojo had rolled the other way. He came back into the ring with a kendo stick. They began again. Dean’s eyebrow opened with a small gash that bled down his face. Mojo backed away, suddenly unsure of Dean’s calm as the referee checked on him. Then the referee turned to double check on Mojo.

It was then that Elias rushed up the back-right steps and pulled Dean’s head back into the turnbuckles before pushing him forward to fall on his face. Mojo knew a chance when he saw one. Elias disappeared. Mojo leapt for the pin. The referee counted to three. Dean didn’t come around until Mojo was already having his hand raised.

Backstage, you breathed a sigh of relief.

Maybe if you avoided your office, Dean couldn’t find you to ask questions you didn’t have answers for.

***

He found you anyway, waving away a medic. “Okay, maybe I was a little pushy getting that match, but what the hell was that?” Dean growled and rolled out an ache in his neck.

It took all your strength to keep a neutral face. “You’ve been complaining for months that I wasn’t putting you in matches. But then I restarted this match so you could win not by disqualification, and you’re still mad at me.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Don’t turn this around. Yeah, I’m still confused about the last several months. Last week you won’t let me help you. This week you sent your attack dog to ensure I lost. Is it because I wronged you in another life, or is it because I couldn’t stop child services from taking you away? I thought I apologized for that already, but I can do it again.”

You scoffed. “I doubt your pride could take the hit.”

“Then maybe you should apologize. Because some’s got to clear the air around here.”

“No. I won’t say I’m sorry for what I did. My choices have been my own. There’s nothing I can do to change them. The bridge is burned, and I hated to watch it, but here we are. You. And me.” The force behind your statements almost made you believe them.

Dean stared you down. You shuffled on your feet, feeling more and more like the little girl caught borrowing his lock-picking set than the general manager of Raw. Finally, he sighed. “You really are gunning for a match between us, aren’t you? Fastlane or WrestleMania?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to!” The words burned passing your lips. If you stayed any longer you were going to tell him everything. Your mask of assuredness was beginning to break. His brow was already starting to crease as he realized you were holding something back. Before you could spill, you turned on your heel and hurried away.

***

Dolph Ziggler had taken over the ring in the meantime. He strutted around seeming very proud of himself. A review of the elimination chamber had just played, showing off his talent and how he’d been the last one eliminated. He was almost laughing too hard to speak. “I think I did rather well at Elimination Chamber, don’t you? All things considered, from Drew’s betrayal back at TLC, to getting walked over in opportunities, to having to fight for my spot in that match, I made it to the last two. And not just that, I almost had Drew pinned.” He hummed in delight. “I was runner up in the chamber.” He sang that little comment again and smiled. “And as such, I believe I deserve the first chance at the Intercontinental Championship.”

He would have said more, but the crowd overpowered him as Finn Balor’s music hit. “I ‘ave to congratulate ya on your accomplishment last week. Runner up against everyone in tha match is quite the accolade.”

Pseudo-bowing at the waist, Dolph thanked him. His head tilted in confusion as Finn began to make his way down the ramp instead of going backstage.

“But, that’s all you’ve ever been when it comes ta Drew. Runner up. Second best. An aftert’ought.” He stepped through the ropes. “Come on, Dolph. How long ‘as it been since you’ve been champion? I had to look it up. December of 2017, and ya told the WWE Universe t’at they didn’t deserve you. Then you vacated the title and haven’t ‘ad one since. It seems the titles and Universe decided they didn’t deserve you. Now, I’ve just been a champion. An’ I will be again because I’m still hungry for it. Even if I have ta go through you. You, who seems to have lost his edge.”

Dolph stepped to get in his face. “Maybe so. But at least I don’t need a demon to sit on my shoulder to win matches. I will beat McIntyre for the Intercontinental Champion. And I’ll do it before you can get your hands on it.”

Both men turned and readied for a fight as bagpipes took over the speakers. But Drew McIntyre came out in a black suit, making the white and gold belt stand out. “You are both welcome to try and take this title from me. Tell ya what… I’ll have an open challenge next week. But, it’s only open for one spot. Whoever makes it to the ring first, gets the opportunity. Deal?” He grinned as Finn and Dolph shouted in agreement. “May the best man step up, then.”

***

Charly Caruso sighed in relief as she spotted Elias. “Thank goodness I found you.”

He was not as enthusiastic. “Charly, why are you interrupting my rehearsal time? Do you have any idea how long it took me to find a quiet space in this lousy arena? I think it probably would have been easier to leave this untalented city entirely so that I could hone my craft.”

“Please, Elias. WrestleMania is rapidly approaching, as is Fastlane. You have yet to announce who you will be challenging for the main event match you won by winning the Royal Rumble. As the championships sit, would you rather face Seth Rollins for the Universal or Drew McIntyre for the Intercontinental Championship?” She held out her mic.

Elias looked at it indignantly but answered anyway. Sort of. “The Universal I would have to say has the most prestige. It’s been a hard championship to win, and an even harder one to hold onto… unless you are a certain incarnate beast. But some people say that the title is cursed to bring title ends in terrible ways. Balor’s injury. Kevin Owen’s forgettable reign. Goldberg’s twenty-second WrestleMania loss. Maybe I don’t want it. The Intercontinental is a classic. It’s got style, almost as much as it deserves. Around my waist again, it would be given back it’s well-deserved glory. But McIntyre seems a little busy with squabblers. And one more that he hasn’t paid enough attention to, besides me.”

He shook his head and stood. “Nah, I just might wait until after Fastlane to pick. Now if you’ll excuse me… I need to find a new spot to perfect my melodious gospel.”

With a huff, Charly dropped her mic and watched as Elias drifted into the shadows.

***

The second spot in Fastlane’s match for the tag team titles was up for grabs next. Tyler Breeze and Dana Brook were the surprise winners last week. This week, the match came down to the B-Team and the Ascension.

“And can you believe it, Y/N is considering making Fastlane’s match a triple threat. How is anyone supposed to compete with those kinds of odds?”

Cole grit his teeth at Corey’s outburst but had a quick enough answer. “The same way they have before I suppose: keep their head on a swivel.” He flinched and called Konnor’s drop of Bo Dallas.

The tag was made from each corner, bringing in the two wearied teammates. Viktor stumbled through a strike, giving Curtis Axel the room to catch him and drop him. As he went for a pin, Bo rushed forward and kept Konner from interfering. The B-Team was going to Fastlane to face an unknown number of opposing teams.

***

Rhonda Rousey fiddled with the mic in her hands. It took her a moment to gather up the last of her thoughts. “At first, I wanted to talk things over with Natalya in private. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that you guys need to hear her answers too.” She took a deep breath. “A few weeks ago, Natalya and I had a match to determine which one of us was going to have a spot in the chamber match. I went into it thinking I was entering the ring with a friend. If either of us lost, there weren’t going to be any hard feelings. But then… well. Maybe we should just show the clip.” She turned to look at the Titantron. First, it showed the impromptu ‘Moment of Bliss’ interview.

Alexa smiled. “What happens if one of you wins the Raw women’s championship after the Elimination Chamber? What happens to the-” she gestured between them, “the friendship?”

“Nothing.” Rhonda squirmed in her seat. “I’ve been here for almost a year. Natalya is my closest friend here.” She faced Natalya. “Why can’t we try one of those things where we help one of us get the title, then we’re the first challenge? Between the two of us, we could either rack of title reigns or help one another ensure long, successful ones.”

Not it was Natalya’s turn to squirm in her seat. “Rhonda, I’ve been in this business my whole life. I’ve seen-“ She sighed. “You know those don’t actually work, right? Someone always wants to be the best. They can’t be that if they’re always in their friend’s shadow.”

Then, the clip showed part of the match.

Natalya sprung forward, renewing her attack. “Take what you can get,” she muttered. Rhonda heard and faltered in her steps. She caught a kick to the face that put her in the perfect position for a Sharpshooter. Natalya released her as soon as the referee told her Rhonda had tapped.

With the clip over, Rhonda was about to speak when Natalya entered the arena. She stepped only as far as center stage, establishing that she wasn’t going to enter the ring. “What’s your point, Rhonda. This is the WWE. We wrestle. We fight. We win opportunities and we win titles.”

“I get that. And I get that sometimes the goals come between people. But was it worth it? You lost to Nia and had to start the title match. Then, you were eliminated by Mickie and Alicia. The opportunity you fought so hard for fell flat.” Rhonda stepped closer to the ropes, halting as Natalya took a step back yards away on the stage. “Why can’t we work together like they did. Like Sasha and Bayley do?”

“You realize you’ve picked the worst examples, right?” Natalya huffed with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m a third generational wrestler, Rhonda. Title reigns have come and gone, some recently for me. But with each passing week, I can physically feel them getting further and further away. When I think about it, it’s hard to breathe. I don’t want that burn, that desire to hold gold again, to go on so long that it slips into feeling normal. I can’t.”

A pause separated the two women. Rhonda quietly said, “so where do we go from here? Sometimes I feel like you’re my only true friend here, but nowadays even that is disappearing.”

Natalya looked off into the crowd instead of at Rhonda. “We continue to train together. Business as usual. Let life and work roll on. This will work itself out.”

“Business?” Rhonda nodded. “Okay. So be it.”

***

The non-title match between the Riott Squad and the team of Nia Jax and Tamina was supposed to be the main event.

Ruby Riott was ringside, doing her thing and keeping an eye on anything that might threaten her teammates. The Squad themselves were keeping up with the powerhouses. Liv Morgan was successfully irritating Tamina into making mistakes, and Sarah was surprising Nia with strength of her own. The Squad had switched so it was Nia versus Liv at the moment when Ruby drifted to thinking about her own plans. She was still keeping a lookout by looking to one side, but her thoughts kept her blind to what was coming from the other direction. It wasn’t until Sarah was knocked off the apron to fall over her that Ruby realized her mistake.

While Liv rushed to the ropes to check on her partners, Tamina rushed back and tagged in. She rushed to grab Liv’s pink locks and slammed her back for the pin. Sarah scrambled to get in the ring, but she was too late to stop it.

Beaten, the Riott Squad tried to hasten a retreat. Nia’s voice over the speakers froze their steps.

“You know, Tamina, I don’t feel like we’ve had enough excitement for tonight.”

“You know, Nia. I have to agree. What did you have in mind to change that?”

“I thought maybe, since Ruby Riott hasn’t done anything tonight, I might just challenge her to a match.” She grinned.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Tamina continued. “But what about the other two? They might get in the way.”

Nia draped an arm over her shoulder. “That’s what I’ve got you for. Someone who really knows how to watch my back. Someone who doesn’t… get distracted.”

That final addition made Ruby grit her teeth. Before her squad could hold her back, she slid into the ring and told the referee to ring the bell. Tamina rolled to the floor before it did, cutting Liv and Sarah off from getting closer. She kept an eye on the match by glancing at the Titantron.

In the ring, Nia was already built up from her last match. Ruby was still distracted. And now angry too, which kept blinding her to obvious feigns from Nia and the consequences of her own mistakes. She was able to hold an upper hand for a while, but Nia shut it down. A final Samoan Drop ended the match, leaving Ruby in a heap.

Tamina held up her arms as Liv and Sarah ran past. They ignored the other team leaving and rushed to help Ruby sit up. Liv took the tag title just now being returned to them and set them to one side. Ruby’s eyes followed them. As her teammates patted her on the back with uplifting words, she kept her gaze on the pair of white and gold. She reached her hand out to them, but couldn’t bring herself to touch them. Liv and Sarah flinched away as she shrugged them off.

Part 43: It’s Official

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Forever Tags: @blondekel77 @hallemichelles @laochbaineann@ramblingsofabourbondrinker @savmontreal @southsidebucky@tinyelfperson  @zuni21798

WWE/Series Tags: @a-home-for-stray-stories @kingslayers-queen @top-1-percent @mother-forker @neversatisfiedgirl @racheo91 @roman-reigns-princess @secretagentfangirl @thetherianthropydaily @scuzmunkie @cait-kae@ramsaypants @sony-undead18 @brianaraydean @st4yingstrong@dopeybubbles @crystallizeme @jessica91073 @denise8691 @stalelight @kenyadakblalock @1dluver13xx @lauren-novak @lunatic-desert-child@littledeadrottinghood @livelifewondering

[amralimesoti]

Musical Inspiration

In truth, Nathaniel soon came to realize that Amralime stubbed, bumped, and tripped into so many things all the time because he was an absolute airhead outside of battle or politics. It was like his mind just went to sleep or wandered away whenever he wasn't in danger - during a fight was a completely different story. Well, mostly. It was easy to tell in the beginning, that the battle mage was used to his men being able to take on hordes of enemies without much support, which Nathaniel might have been willing to take as a complement if it didn't end up with him surrounded by enemies and expected to just... Manage it. The elf had seemed almost entirely unphased when Oghren hit the ground, like he was used to the idiot running into the thick of it and getting knocked out, but when he noticed both him and Anders shortly follow suit, the look of panic on his face was almost priceless. The Howe imagined it would have been more funny if he hadn't been trying to hold close the gaping wound on his inner thigh. Admittedly, the sight that soon followed that catastrophe was one the rouge didn't think he would ever forget.

Once the Commander had understood the gravity of his error, he immediately sent out a stun on all the enemies. It was enough time for him to make a stone fist hurtle at Oghren's heavily armoured body and send it flying into Anders - crudely but successfully pushing the two out of harm's way. He then ran away from Nathaniel and, for a terrifying moment, the rouge thought the elf was about to abandon all of them. Instead, he got himself to the furthest corner of the enemies group and sent out a chain of electricity, just as they were starting to come back around. The beasts shrieked and moved in on him from all angles, leaving Nathaniel for dead on the ground and not even noticing the other two passed out Wardens off to the side of the battle. He watched on in horror, completely helpless, as the Commander took blows head on from multiple foes, all while he viciously slaughtered them around him with his staff and sword. Nathaniel suspected that it was only a combination of his healing magic, lyrium potions, and stun spells that saved their leader's life on that day. When the last enemy fell, Amralime was supporting himself on his staff and shaking knees. His clothes were covered with gaps where weapons had reached his flesh and blood trickled down his legs in steady streams and the rouge was absolutely convinced that the man was simply dead on his feet.

After a moment, where the world seemed far too quiet and Nathaniel was about ready to call out to the other man, those bright eyes seemed to reclear, as if he was just becoming aware that the fighting was now over. He looked up then, around, his eyes scanned over Anders and Oghren. Once he was satisfied with what he saw, he turned his gaze next to Nathaniel. The wound on his leg was still bleeding, he could feel the slow slick of warm fluid moving past his fingertips. It was making him light headed, but he was sure he would survive with some proper bandaging. The Commander seemed to be thinking the same thing, because his mouth went into a stubborn line and he visibly gathered up the strength he'd need to get over to him, stumbling across the bloodied floor and collapsing down to his knees before his injured comrade with a pained grunt. Close up, the elf looked even worse off then before, his skin almost proper black where the bruises were trying to steadily form, the slashes in his side and arm looking to need immediate care.

The mage ignored all of it. He opened up his pack and pulled out a very strong lyrium potion and some bandages. Drinking the contents from the bottle, he visually cringed and shivered before tossing the empty thing aside and moved his attention to the wound under Nathaniel's hand. "Let me see."

Admittedly, the Howe didn't expect to be so startled when he felt the Commanders small fingers nudge under his. The action was filled with gentleness, with care and consideration for any pain this could potentially cause him. There was barely any pain though, the nerves long since given out with shock and damage. Thus, his mind supplied, the hitch in his breath was entirely uncalled for as a soft palm brushed over the torn flesh of his sensitive inner thigh and the warm energy of a healing spell began to stitch the skin back together.

He didn't know why his throat suddenly felt so dry, but he had to swallow before he could bring it in himself to speak, finding his voice uneven as he did "You are gravely wounded as well, Commander."

Amralime looked up from his work to catch his rogue's eyes and, maybe it was mad of him to think so and he'd lost more blood than he'd thought but, he had never seen a man so tarnished by the heat of battle look so utterly... Lovely. The elf's hair was loose, unplanned strands falling around his face, the shimmering white of it was even brighter in the contrast of his dark ash skin. There was dirt on the bridge of his nose and above his brow and a few cuts and scrapes littered every part of his delicate face. A bruise was starting to form on the left side of his jaw and the skin had split on the right of his bottom lip. He was covered head to toe with both his and others blood and behind the coppery scent was that of the sweat that brought a small sheen to his complexion. His bright large eyes fluttered with surprise and Nathaniel had never really noticed how long his lashes were until now.

And then he smiled.

It was small, tired, but so very warm and sweet. His eyes had softened around the edges and looked even more dazzling with amusement and affection there to fill them. With his head tilting slightly to the side as he looked up at him, Nathaniel felt as if someone had taken every ounce of his breath away. "You're wounds come first, Nathaniel."

And some part of him was absolutely embarrassed that he wanted to hear his name on those lips again.

The song at the top makes me think of Nathaniel A LOT, especially in relations to Amralime, though much closer to the end of the game and in reference to after it ended.

There are pictures that prelude this one, but it's the first to be finished so w/e. As you can see, I've made my way to Awakening! This piece is also really inconsistent, panel to panel, because I edited all three photo's separately when I should have just done it at the same time. Alas, foolish me.

Anyway, this is depicting my very unexpected budding relations with one Nathaniel Howe. I mean, I liked the guy right away the moment he started snapping at me in his cell, he reminded me of Zevran. You know, admitting to wanting to kill me and all - it was heartwarming~ So, of course I conscripted him. I wasn't, however, expecting his rather sudden attitude change towards my Commander. I mean, I gave him a bow and we had some really nice little conversations (I absolutely abhore the dialog system in Awakening, by the way) and, out of nowhere he was all like 'Yes, of course, whatever you want, I'm here for you!' It was such a 180 I felt like Amral might have felt his head spin.

Anyway, back to the topic proper. Shortly after I gave Nate his bow (+14 approval) we got into a fight with a reasonably large amount of enemies. Of course, I didn't actually see it that way at the time, since I'd come straight out of Origins and was still on my high of battling the horde and archdemon. So, I'm all like 'Ah, this is nothing. We'll get through without breaking a sweat.' It didn't phase me when Oghren went down, he always was the first to KO since I could never rein the bastard in and heal him fast enough. However, when Anders and Nathaniel soon followed I was suddenly punched in the face with the realization that THESE ARE NOT MY BATTLE HARDENED FAMILY OH GOD NO. Needless to say, I freaked out a bit. Slightly due to the fact that Amral is just a battlemage and barely any enemies had been taken out before I was all alone.

Either way, I've always been the type to be in the center of combat (yes Oghren, I know I’m a hypocrite, but AT LEAST I NEVER DIE) taking most of the horde, so I managed to survive the encounter by the hair of my chin (ie. peachfuzz). Afterwards, Anders and Oghren only had minor injuries. Nathaniel, however, had a gaping wound. I'm heavy into the story aspects of a game, by the way, so my mind translated that as: throw some injury kits at the other two and hobble over to your injured bae and invoke some TLC despite almost being dead yourself. This was, of course, the moment I suspected Amral had earned quite the significant amount of respect from his new little archer - and probably a new found admirer because, I can't look at Nathaniel's dialog throughout the game and not think he seems reaaally fucking Bi. He just, reminds me so much of Zevran it makes me laugh. He's like the severe, grumpy, paranoid version of my lovely little assassin~♥ It was hard not to fall for the cutie.

[kansascityhappenings]

Hurricane Dorian victim finds his wife’s glasses, diary and rosary — but not her body

https://newsource-embed-prd.ns.cnn.com/videos/newsource-video-embed.js

FREEPORT, Grand Bahama  — Since Hurricane Dorian laid waste to his home and island, Howard Armstrong has been on a grim quest: to find the body of his wife, Lynn.

Howard and Lynn were hunkered down in their one-story home in Freeport on the island of Grand Bahama when Dorian roared in as a Category 5 hurricane on September 1.

The storm sliced houses in two, hurled cars into the ocean and uprooted whole lives on the islands of Abaco and Grand Bahama. With winds exceeding 200 mph and a storm surge of over 20 feet in places, Dorian was the most catastrophic storm to ever hit the Bahamas.

A month on from Dorian, dozens are known to have died and hundreds are still missing. The reality that some may never be found is setting in.

For 20 years Howard and Lynn lived a simple but ideal life, in a low-lying area on the outskirts of Freeport.

“It was our paradise,” Howard said.

They built their small house facing a canal where Howard, who’s lived in the Bahamas since he was 6, kept the trawler he used to fish for crabs.

Lynn collected shells and decorated the yard with them. Howard stored his fishing traps on their coconut trees. Their house had been damaged by other big storms but they had always been fine.

Their luck ran out with Dorian.

The storm surge from the hurricane filled their house with water up to the roof. Waves inside their home ripped off metal storm shutters and turned them into deadly shrapnel.

Appliances swirled around and smashed into the couple as they watched the water rise in their kitchen.

“The refrigerator was the heaviest, the most dangerous, you tried to avoid that one,” Howard remembered.

They struggled to keep their heads above the water. They tried to hang on to the ceiling fan and float on their couch cushions. Howard attempted to smash a hole in the roof but didn’t have any tools to cut through.

Finally, a full day after Dorian first began pummeling their island, Howard and Lynn climbed onto the last thing left above the ocean — the kitchen cabinets.

He pulled their two cats on the cabinets as well, Howard said. Their dog had already been swept away.

Lynn was spent.

“Her teeth were chattering from the cold, she was giving up. I told her to get on top and hold on top of the cabinet,” Howard said.

“She said ‘I think I’m going to die.’ And I told her, ‘No, you’re not.’”

Howard swam out of their home to look for help but found nothing and no one. Returning to Lynn, he saw the cabinets had disintegrated and Lynn was floating in the water. She was dead.

Again, Howard swam out and this time made it to a neighbor’s home. There was a body inside there too. He stayed until at last, he was rescued by a group of Bahamians who formed their own search squads and ventured into his flooded streets on jet skis.

The storm had hit on Sunday, moving at a glacial pace of one mile per hour. It was now Tuesday, and Dorian’s winds still lashed Grand Bahama.

We met Howard hours later after he was saved, standing on a partially submerged bridge that had become the staging point for the volunteer rescue crews. He was waiting there to see if his wife’s body would be recovered.

The interview we did with him on the bridge was seen around the world and generated an outpouring of sympathy for the 66-year-old fisherman who lost everything.

Colleagues, viewers and readers later wrote us wondering what had become of him. Lynn was a British citizen, originally from Halifax in northern England, and the UK Embassy in Washington emailed asking if we knew whether her body had been recovered and if they could help Howard.

But Howard had vanished. He had lost his cellphone in the storm and was homeless.

For days we heard reports that he was crashing on various friends’ couches or sleeping on his boat. He was searching for Lynn’s body, his friends told us, but believed she had been carried off as the waters receded.

Three weeks after first meeting Howard, we got in touch with his daughter Meghann Gaines via social media. She lives in Florida, and said the family was trying to get him to come stay with them in the US.

But he was still searching for Lynn’s remains. Frustrated by the lack of progress on Grand Bahama, he had made it to the capital Nassau, on another island, to see if anyone there could help.

As he had done in Grand Bahama, Howard gave police a description of his wife. She was wearing grey sweatpants, either a white or grey tank top and a gold wedding band.

But, Howard said, the police there replied they were only handling cases of missing people from Abaco island — not Grand Bahama.

According to the Bahamian government, the casualty count from Dorian stands at 56 dead and 600 people still missing. Bodies are being found on a regular basis, and the death toll inches up.

Under Bahamian law it takes at least seven years to declare a person dead if their body has not been recovered. Following Dorian, Prime Minister Hubert Minnis told CNN that officials were working to expedite the process for people like Howard.

“We know that some of those missing will never be found. There will be no closure until a coroner signs off and we are working on that as quickly as possible,” Minnis he said in an interview.

“But that has to go through a legal process. I think we have done all we can in terms of saving lives and minimizing insults and injuries to individuals. We did not expect the storm to be as vicious as Dorian.”

While Bahamian officials say the two islands that were most impacted — Grand Bahama and Abaco — are “bouncing back,” conditions remain dire. There, people engage in a daily struggle to find gas, food, water and building supplies.

Many people in Freeport have electricity and brackish, salty water from their taps that they can bathe with, but officials warn against drinking it.

In Marsh Harbor and much of the rest of Abaco there is no power or water. Neighborhoods resemble ghost towns as thousands of people have fled the disaster areas for other islands in the Bahamas or the US.

For people who are missing family — like Howard Armstrong — there is the sense that time is running out for them recover their loves ones’ bodies.

We found Howard in Nassau and flew back with him to Grand Bahama Island to continue his search for Lynn.

When we landed, he received a text from a contact in the government saying more bodies had been recovered. He should go to the Central Police Station in Freeport immediately, the text said, to see if one of them could be Lynn.

Howard was both anxious and afraid. “What were we going to find after three weeks? What state would a corpse be in? Unrecognizable, right?” Howard asked. “Would you even be able to tell who they are? Is your hair still there?”

Howard went inside the police station and once again was asked to give a description of his wife. A police officer promised to get back to him.

While he waited, Howard took us back to the shell of his former home.

At the entrance to his community, police stood guard, one carrying an assault rifle to discourage looters.

Already, Howard said, looters had taken one of his boats which they tried to drag into the nearby woods, only to give up and leave the boat stranded.

In front of their torn apart home, the pieces of Howard and Lynn’s old life lay scattered.

Howard found Lynn’s glasses under a pile of rubble, one of her planners lay open near the dock — her meticulous notes sketched in small, precise handwriting. A rosary from her jewelry box hung from a nearby tree branch.

One month later he still did not know where his beloved’s body ended up.

“I feel guilty because I left her body and didn’t take it with me,” Howard said, even though he barely made it out alive himself. “I would have had her to bury.”

Howard is haunted by the things he could have done differently and the loss of everything he had.

“One night I was up and I couldn’t even turn the lights out or close my eyes,” he said. “I said why didn’t I just go with her? I wouldn’t have to deal with this or any other damn thing. For some reason the Lord spared me. I wonder about it all the time.”

Later that day Howard received a call from the police. They did not have Lynn’s body.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/10/01/hurricane-dorian-victim-finds-his-wifes-glasses-diary-and-rosary-but-not-her-body/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/10/01/hurricane-dorian-victim-finds-his-wifes-glasses-diary-and-rosary-but-not-her-body/

[judeonthemove]

Chickens Stole My Baño

Selected playlist for the full immersive experience, courtesy of the bridge of the Eduardo II. To be played on repeat, daily, forever:

Rod Stewart – Young Turks, Baby Jane

REM – Losing My Religion

Dire Straights – The Walk of Life

Blondie – Call Me

Luz Yenny de Los Andes or similar

Domingo/Sunday – Pucallpa (still)

The chickens are coming mañana, tomorrow, before we leave. Allegedly.

Yesterday morning (nice and early because on Friday they’d said they were due to leave at eleven on Saturday) we came down to the Eduardo II to talk money. Friday's chalkboard that proudly declared the departure as ‘Hoy, sin falta' or ‘Today, without fail', was up again. According to a man who looked like he might know, the departure time had moved to five-thirty in the afternoon though. We’d hoped for a cabin with our own shower and loo but no such thing existed. The baño facilities were down the other end of the deck, past the washing machines, mattresses, a three-piece suite, and sacks of wood chips. A dark metal hole, with seatless toilet and a piece of pipe for a shower, both running off the same brownish water supply, using shut-off handles. Simple, effective, potentially disease-ridden, plumbing. Nails driven into a length of cobwebby rough timber acted as towel hooks, helpfully placed directly above the lidless bin for used loo roll. South American plumbing can't manage paper so a bin is always present, but playing Russian roulette with your clean clothes isn't usually a factor. Our luxurious cabin on the upper deck exuded industrial chic: seven foot by six, in mildewed white and blue steel, with welded L-profile steel lengths and timber slats for bunks. Fixed steel vents gave some air but no view. Foam covered in badly pilled pink nylon, and an empty, exposed-wires light fitting completed the look. Fairly dire but manageable, and above all private and secure.

We did a little deal, bought our tickets, and were issued with our padlock key. Unexpectedly, the man in charge of housekeeping appeared with brand new pillows and synthetic but pristine sheets. He deftly made up the bunks and immediately it looked more homely. We headed off to grab some breakfast and corral our belongings and when we came back he'd managed to procure us a lightbulb (thank you phrasebook!). The deck below was filling fast with families and hammocks, and the hive of loading activity was ongoing. We scooted off out again to bulk buy water. An unknown number of days aboard a floating oven is no time to get dehydrated. There was a fair bit of staring being done by then. We were the only non-Peruvians aboard, and possibly the only non-crew in a cabin at that stage. The curious took strolls to the upper deck to have a nosey at us and ask where we were going. On the shore we’d passed two pale-skinned men in Mennonite garb: black dungarees and work boots, crisp shirts and straw hats. More similarly dressed men, and women in bonnets and modest puffed sleeve dresses, stood directing the loading of a hefty quantity of corrugated metal panels onto the next boat. Were they actually planning to raise a barn!? I really hoped so. We were quickly not the most stare-worthy folk around.

Remarkably, given the trash that was being flung into it, the river didn't smell bad. A fresh, green smelling breeze rose above the heat but couldn't compete as our side of the boat began to roast in the afternoon. After rendering our cabin a no-go zone with bug spray, we found some chairs and scootched them further and further up the deck chasing shade. Upon declaring the all clear, we hid in our baking bunks. On the top bunk, James discovered the delights of radiant heat from the top deck above, while I contorted myself against the wall evading the direct rays vampire-style. Two boats across, a crash of pipes and screaming ripped through the torpor as an unstable load gave way on deck. Without hesitation, in a moving display of care and unity, all the loading men from every vessel rushed to assist. They freed him from wherever he was stuck and formed an eight-man spinal board substitute to carry him up the steep, dusty bank and away. The man was conscious, moving and able to yell which were potentially good signs, but any time off, let alone serious injury would be a catastrophe in such precarious work. Men with less sweaty shirts and more influence stood and debated the scene, until the crane operator began gingerly dealing with the collapse.

As pink and violet splashed across the broad sky, our revised departure time slid away. Cats began their roaming in the gloaming. Answers became vague until someone admitted the self-evident “mañana”. Unlike James, I hadn't enacted a prescient double helping of breakfast strategy. The long uncertain day of waiting meant no lunch and, now it was too late to confidently venture ashore, no dinner either. Food service on the boat will only commence when we're underway. The boat next door with a generator like a bag of spanners in a spin-dryer, echoed the sentiments of my stomach. Woman cannot live on dry crackers alone. I braved the shower first, clanging around, half regretting that a lightbulb had appeared when I could have been spared from seeing the brownish hue of the water. It was cool and created the illusion of cleanliness so that was good enough after the sweltering afternoon. Around eleven, the crew unleashed a waterfall from the decks before retiring. Slowly the boat fell silent and cool.

Loading recommenced at dawn, watched over by the stoic yet questionable chalkboard. A quick appraisal said we had time for breakfast. We set off briskly. A man lay passed out in the dust at the port entrance, next to the cafe shack on the edge of the big puddle. Fish smells emanated from the cafe itself and we moved on. Everything was shut but the church. Sunday, gaaargh! Fortunately, a couple of street stalls were serving. The unconscious man awoke and rose unsteadily as we made our way back from a hasty plate of rice. Loading slowed to a dribble but, ominously, some rearranging began on our deck. The grim-faced captain who had ignored my greetings thus far, appeared and informed us the baños would no longer be accessible and we'd have to use the other ones. When the alternative is a deck below and a duck and a weave through a hundred-odd hammocks it's amazing how sentimental you can get for the dirty metal box up the way. Not only that but the void in our deck posed an obvious question, and “mañana” was the inevitable answer.

Lunch on shore killed some time, as did Amish-watching when an extended family group arrived to peruse possible boats. Another backpacker picked his way along the bank and was soon absorbed into the hammock sea. We acquired some friendly neighbours, and bemused them with our inability to speak or comprehend. On the foredeck, the crew somehow found space for two truck loads of ice blocks and a lorry full of potatoes. In the suspicious void, hanging feeders and sawdust appeared. We were reliably informed that “pollos”, chickens, were to be the final piece of the jigsaw. A noisy, smelly, frightened avian siege, keeping us from the bathroom. I had a go at the ones below, apologetically creeping through bodies and not quite asserting myself sufficiently in the ill-disciplined queueing system. The other backpacker squeezed by and ignored me. In our experience, people don't much like it when you ruin their illusion of being the only traveller in the village. A man with a clipboard compiled a passenger list and more men arrived with bags and bags of bread rolls. Both clear signs of an actual departure coming up. Our engines fired and we moved. Jokers from the next boat, started shouting bon voyage messages as our captain shifted us ten feet to reposition the gang plank.

The boat starts to bed down. Some guys begin to chew the fat on deck outside our open door. The only word I recognise is “gringos”. Later, thrumming fingernails of rain sound on the decks. I realise I smell of the river.

Lunes/ Monday - Pucallpa

As ‘The Matrix's’ Agent Smith once astutely remarked, “It's the smell”. We woke around six, to the ammonia of chickens and the irritating sound of some guys sitting having a full-volume, never-ending conversation right by the vents near our heads. It had begun to rain, compounding the misery of chickens and loading men alike and creating a public health disaster waiting to happen. The boat, already covered in droppings, was then showered in sawdust for grip and the resultant gunge began to spread. I was pleased to see that the chickens on board were at least being let loose and looked remarkably calm. The truck they had come from however, was a monstrous nightmare of trickle down cruelty. Down in the hammock forest, a miraculous lack of bathroom queue, and plenty of enterprising folk selling food and drink. The hammocks were strung in four interweaved rows down the boat, with others amassing lengthways in the space that remained down each side. Beneath that, a lay a tangle of luggage, blankets, play spaces and people. For all our joking about the state of our cabin, we were well aware by then that it really was luxury in comparison. Back up at our vantage point I trained my vision to spot likely breakfast vendors approaching, and as the rain strengthened, managed to head some off, securing rice, fruit and churros in the process. The occasional plucky chicken made a break from its crate, and sat on deck or floated in the river unable to decide what to do with its temporary freedom. Once the rain abated, our deck became a popular spectator spot. Encouraging progress with the chickens suggested there was hope of leaving, if not at the ambitious and inaccurate quoted time of nine o'clock. Hope was short-lived however as a truck full of drainage pipes arrived. These were transported with remarkable skill and elegance, to the top deck. The Mennonite group arrived, cutting striking figures in the crowd. Another boat docked and began unloading tropical timber and motorbikes while a team hacked fish out of ice one by one. Everything was carried off by hand. The scale of physical labour involved was extraordinary in comparison with our world of forklifts and cranes.

Finally, after a great deal of faffing about, we slipped our moorings just after midday. I say slipped our moorings, but the event actually involved mysterious and protracted effort with a hacksaw to free the metal cable from where it was stuck in the river bank. And off we went down the Uyacali, broad, clay-coloured and, judging by the plumb lines set on both sides of the boat and a tender zooming ahead with a measuring stick, really shallow. We took sweeping wide lines through the scribbled loops of water. The banks were vertically sliced and high, iced with palms and tall grasses. The sky remained steadfastly overcast, though vivid with UV as I discovered to my cost. The cabin filled with the stench of chickens and the stares of strangers. Motes of chicken fluff floated and settled like dandelion seeds. I was woken from an impromptu nap by the invasive, tinny dance music of a bunch of lads who'd set up camp outside. I retreated behind my headphones, emerging only for essentials. On the deck below, the perpetual scratching of chicken claws above lent a sinister overtone to the already oppressive scene. The kitchen opened and we discovered we were to stay put rather than join the mass queue. We were quietly a little relieved, but it would also mark us out even more. Fretting about the polystyrene waste of ‘room service', and the awkwardness of special treatment, I tried to figure out asking about using our own carefully chosen bowls without narking the chef.

The sun set on port, and then starboard as we weaved. Given the enormous distance to cover, we hoped to continue overnight but clearly it would be too risky. Soon after seven Eduardo II moored up, and we prayed to stay upwind of our feathered friends.

Martes/Tuesday

Casting off starts some time after four and dawn brings not so much a sunrise as a lightening of the grey scale. Dead, black scarab-shaped beetles litter the dewy deck. Bassless music, invades our cabin from somewhere, like an irritating mosquito you can't quite catch. I soon realise the crew on the bridge are playing Rod Stewart. The chicken stench is heady indeed and the only place to avoid it is standing ahead of the bridge. People below begin to appear with containers of brown soupy porridge and bread rolls.

Since I was up, I grabbed my bowl and headed for the breakfast queue. I didn't particularly need the meal, but I was curious and wanted to join in. Pleasingly, not everyone had jumped up at the same time, so the queue was manageable. Shuffling and ducking under hammock strings, trying not to tread on mattresses, toys and small hands I made my way to the front. I then realised the kitchen system involved presenting your ticket to prove how many portions you were entitled to collect. The people in front and behind me knew this of course and I was in danger of becoming queue roadkill when the head chef gave the nod to his deputy for my bread roll allocation. As the only non-Peruvian woman on board, I was easy enough to identify. A pair of buttered rolls and a wide bowl of thin chocolate porridge in hand, the challenge of how to get back was on. The gap on starboard was full of queue, and the direct route to port was blocked by the crew table, so the only thing for it was to edge round the stern past the frenetic hand basins and toilet block. An appetising prospect no doubt, but achievable, and I managed not to tip steaming slop on the heads of any toddlers on the way back. James looked not at all envious upon my return, and happy in his decision to remain in his bunk. I soon discovered that it didn't matter where you perched, everything tasted like chickens.

James remained up top for much of the day, like a sage on a mountain, with music and books for company. I vowed to write but couldn't settle in the cabin with the increasingly unpleasant guano fug, and blatant smile-free staring. Outside was the freshness of trees, the sound of water, thatched dwellings and longtail boats but the UV was vicious. Eventually, rather than tie the door right back as we had been, we experimented with securing it to act as a funnel. While our hammocks were a bit redundant other than as blankets, the paracord we’d bought to hang them with was proving very handy. Thus was our balance of fragrant breeze plus shade restored. Meals settled into a pattern of various tasty permutations of rice and chicken. It was right really that their living sisters should be making their presence felt. We had tried to queue for lunch but were kindly shoed back upstairs. The attempt to avoid unnecessary polystyrene container use was futile. Later, a pod of river dolphins made their way upstream, their compact little forms flowing and leaping through the water. A tiny tributary was a constant stream of water hyacinth patches, which proceeded miles downstream like a flotilla before being whisked into a huge back-eddy. As the sun set, we approached and docked for a while at a town in the middle of nowhere. Loads of people disembarked and many more joined us. Sellers jumped on, and James was eagle-eyed in spotting wedges of cake. We snaffled two slices and sat spectating the frantic action. Although we had expected to stop at dusk, we continued, creeping along with spotlight and advance scouting party. The ride is so quiet and smooth that there is no sense of movement, yet we are making progress. The crunk and boom of the crew stepping on buckled welded panels carries on all around us, long after we fall asleep.

Miércoles/Wednesday

At quarter to five I stick my head out to see what all the shouting is about. To my surprise, I find two silent young lads sat on chairs outside the cabin, observing the action. They don't even turn their heads. We'd moored up very late but casting off again, the bow seemed to be stuck on the bank. Not for long, but plenty of time for a lot of yelling, laughing, tinny pop music, and a full tympani section playing on the metal above our heads. I run the gauntlet of the stares of the full crew but soon find that access to the baños below is completely blocked by bodies and luggage. I return, cursing, but ten years in the Guiding movement was not wasted on me in terms of preparedness to improvise. The sun comes up in its full glory and everyone starts to come to life at the sound of the rails being struck for breakfast. I experiment with door funnel strategy mark two and it holds without blocking our access. Clipping on steel announces the arrival of Dino, the resident dog, and a small, pointed, caramel face has a quick check over my handiwork.

The day progresses very much like the one before, except with much reduced chicken stink and more sunscreen. Cheers go up from somewhere nearby and I stick my head out in time to see Eduardo IV going the other way with two full decks of hammocks. No return journeys for chickens it seems. We creep along at times, feeling the boat skim the bottom of the deceptively wide river. Tired of the multitude of phones playing competing, terrible music within feet of each other and us, we break out James' travel speaker and blot it all out with some mighty fine techno. Mid-morning, we stop briefly, bows on to the high bank of a small town. A crowd of sellers awaits and jumps on board, hawking meals, snacks and fizzy drinks. As the scrum dies down, a boy and his mother drag a screaming pig down the bank by a tether on its hind leg. It fights with all it has and the boy slaps its face while his mother grips its ear and forces it on board. The poor thing is then left in peace, but exposed on the foredeck. Later, at a village too small to feature on the map, a consignment of ice blocks is deposited one by one on the bank ready for a fisherman with a waiting mototaxi.

We continue to snake east and west around tight loops thirty kilometres long that take us less than ten further north. Some are so close to being ox bow lakes that they return us almost to the same spot for a couple of hours work. At sundown, people gather on deck and a tiny boy plays with a bunch of grapes almost as long as himself. He enjoys rolling them in the exact spot the dog pissed on yesterday...then eating them. Let's hope the antibacterial effects of UV are working properly. The Mennonite couple and a few others disembark at a spot on the river without even a path. They scatter in the dark in unlit longtail boats. We stop again at a village and nimble young men trot up and down with a consignment of sacks. They are 50kg each and a couple of them carry two at a time. The insect life is intense and we retreat. Later, there is a knock at the door and James answers. A bloke points and says something about our lightbulb. We have no idea what he means but, reluctant to make any further concessions in our living standards, we refuse to hand it over. He knocks again shortly after. With more specific miming and a couple words we recognise, it becomes clear he's a member of the crew and needs us to turn off the light. They must wonder how two such complete tits manage to survive. We calculate it will be at least another three days to Iquitos.

Jueves/Thursday

There is a cockerel on board now. This became apparent around four-thirty. The crew woke it up with their unsubtle mooring preparations. Sadly they also woke the woman staying outside, two cabins up. The one with the loud music and louder voice who was still going after midnight. Why can't she be hangover snoring like a normal person? We have been going all night and have covered a good distance, turning the corner from generally northbound to generally north-east. The long creep up the border of the Reserva Nacional Pacaya-Samiria has begun. At the end of the Reserva is the confluence where the Amazon River begins. Thunder, lightning and rain serve to keep people off the decks, which is a mercy if we are to get some more sleep before breakfast service begins.

More sleep, ludicrous idea! There are some chickens and ice to deliver. As if by magic, the one distressed pink pig has become two smaller black ones overnight. They pant in the sun until someone gives them water to drink and wallow in. We stop for some time at a village where the Ucayali splits in two. I find myself developing an appreciation for early Rod Stewart. As with every time we dock at a settlement, passengers get left behind. The guys in the tender wait patiently to mop up the stragglers bounding down the bank a bit too late back from the village shop. We take the left prong of the fork, as endorsed by a dolphin. This will take us through rather than alongside the Reserva, so today should have some particularly lush scenery if it hasn't been illegally logged.

The scenery looks pretty much the same, but the atmosphere on board is much calmer. The hammock forest is more of a grove now, and there are notably fewer people crowding onto the deck outside our door. We either stop at villages, if there is cargo involved, or the tender runs to the shore to drop and collect people. Locals flag us down by waving their t-shirts. Pretty, palm-thatched wooden buildings on stilts mix with newer corrugated aluminium roofing. The pig wallow has evaporated. Mid-afternoon and we are summoned over to a picturesque settlement, where the shore is lined with people, laundry and stacks of banana branches. The helm performs some boat ballet and brings us close to the bank, bow into the stream. It starts to rain quite suddenly, and the bananas are being loaded at a trot when the boat moves and the gangplank falls in stopping play temporarily. A peal of squealing announces that the pigs are being shifted to make room for bananas. Trial and error repositioning the boat, leaves banana loaders chasing Eduardo II up the bank, much to the amusement of the villagers and crew. The rain stops as quickly as it starts, and afterwards it is hotter. As we progress, the wind picks up and we are forced to revert to door tethering strategy mark one. A dead cockroach skids by down the deck.

Approaching a broad bend, we are intercepted by a longtail boat with a decidedly poorly-sounding outboard. It discharges a gaggle of food sellers, who are soon relieved of all their grilled fish, rice, egg and plantain offerings. As the first boat loads up with gas canisters and leaves, a second tries and fails to catch us. It retreats, cuts the shallow corner and has another go. They are mercilessly but cheerfully heckled in the process. I take a punt on some sort of sugary poppadom disks for our afternoon tea. More chickens are delivered, thinning out the numbers a little. For a supposed national reserve, this area really does have a lot of banana plantations. During the next banana loading escapade, an eight-legged interloper brazenly marches over the threshold of our cabin. We enthusiastically agree that unidentified Amazonian spiders are not welcome. It refuses to succumb to our foul insecticide, runs under my bunk then scuttles up the wall when I go looking for it with a torch. James manages to trap it in a pot and I dump it unceremoniously overboard. I wonder if the bananas have stowaways.

After nightfall, a huge, silent electrical storm reveals itself and fireflies dance over the water. For the third night running we can pick out the planets and the splash of the Milky Way.

Viernes/Friday

I am woken at three-forty. The boat, quiet when making way, is a cacophony of rattles and clangs when manoeuvring or docked. We have made barely twenty kilometres in the last six hours, so frequent and lengthy have the stops been. Another mud bank, another protracted exchange of cargo and bananas. Our metal cell is vibrating like a pneumatic drill, and all the chickens have been woken too. The sub-David Guetta ringtone of one of our neighbours keeps going off as he takes calls outside our door. I mean, just why, on all counts? As a passenger on a cargo boat, you are effectively just another income stream. Your time and welfare are fairly irrelevant. The sterling work of the chefs and cleaner is the only concession. At least, unlike the livestock, we are here of our own volition and will be free if we ever get to Iquitos.

After a generous forty-five minutes more sleep, we are woken by breakfast. We collectively are on the move again, under grey skies. Personally we are moving so little that James realises his kinetic watch has stopped. A new passenger, a tweenage boy, stands outside our door staring and unresponsive. I'm in no mood for that, or for people banging on the door when I'm in the bathroom. The last one gets a “bugger off!”. It feels good. More sociably, I manage to fall into conversation with two ten year old boys, who are very patient with me. I grab the phrasebook and they peruse it, intrigued, asking and answering many questions. They come from Iquitos and recommend visiting the forest. Sound advice indeed. Their dad says we’ll be in Iquitos “mañana”. I'm not so convinced but hope his local knowledge is correct. During the morning, many more people join the boat. Two of our cabin neighbours leave and are replaced by two more. One speaks some English and says hello. His English is a little better than my negligible Spanish so we muddle through for a few minutes. We are missing out on a great deal, not being able to talk to people.

Approaching lunchtime, my entertainment involves waiting to see what the river does. On the map are two of the wiggliest loops we've seen so far, one of which has formed an island and is well on the way to being an ox bow lake. What joy then, both from a physical geography and a time shaved off our journey perspective, that both loops have broken through into a shortcut saving about twenty kilometres. Stretches where the bank has grass but no trees are the only clue to the shape when the river is high. Things are looking up. After lunch, I try to write but sleep deprivation catches up and overtakes me. I wake to see the Uyacali has joined back together and we are making progress towards Requena, where I hoped we'd be by sundown. The beginning of the Amazon is at least a hundred kilometres beyond that, where the Uyacali meets the Marañón. The rivers creep towards each other up opposite sides of the Reserva, like two successful acts on the cusp of becoming a super-group.

At dusk I have a little chat with the cleaner and finally find out his name, Eduardo. He confirms we will arrive tomorrow, but that the chickens will leave tonight. As any good Englishwoman is obliged to do in conversation, I somehow conspire to crowbar in a mention the weather at home. We arrive at Requena to a scrum on the unlit floating pontoon. It is no longer floating. The river is so low that it has descended to its lowest extent and then broken in half. The large metal platform lies at a strange angle on the mud. Longtail boats cluster alongside collecting bananas and other cargo. The owner of one has enterprisingly improvised a head torch by strapping a full size torch to the top of his head. The boat hasn't even tied up and a surge of people is on board, some clambering straight over the cargo to the upper decks. Food sellers, passengers getting on and off, and a squad of young guys with empty sacks crowd the walkways. As it calms down slightly, the terrible chicken unloading begins. They are stuffed in sacks, trotted down to the dock, dumped unceremoniously into crates, and shoved until they all fit. The ones that still have room to move their beaks cry as they are hefted about. It is brutal, and I imagine there is worse to come. As the boat pulls away, shouting goes up from the dock and the tender goes to the rescue of ten or more lads who had ignored the siren at their peril. Bats swoop through the deck light, enjoying an insect dinner buffet before it is switched off. Frogs and crickets enliven the shore. The tender drops the stragglers off then leads us back out into the dark by depth stick and torch light.

Sábado/Saturday

I did set my alarm for six-thirty to check how close the Amazon was, but I needn't have bothered. I woke spontaneously at half-three and half-four, checked my phone GPS and we were nowhere near. Plenty of time for a few more hours of sleep, but one cockerel leads to another and by five-twenty they were going off simultaneously from different parts of the boat. Coming from somewhere way below, maybe the indoor cargo area, a strong whiff of reggaeton. I guestimate fifty kilometres to the Amazon and another hundred and forty to Iquitos. Gonna be a long day even if we don't stop.

The Rod Stewart ‘Groundhog Day’ experience is in full swing on the bridge, and the chicken wrangler has begun a neat and methodical clean up routine. By six-thirty I am wondering where breakfast is. Quite a departure from my habitual night owl tendencies. Day eight on board and day six on the move, the sky may be grey but there is levity in the mood of the passengers. Everyone chats and laughs. Just as breakfast is served to the boat, the chicken assistant begins shovelling soiled wood chips over the side.

After vigilantly monitoring the GPS, we arrive at the official beginning of the Amazon River at nine. It is a cool, if unspectacular moment. We turn a corner, join with the Marañon, and continue on a wider version of what we have been accustomed to. A large vessel like our own, ploughs the other way, churning up a frothy crappuccino in its wake. Entertainment is provided courtesy of the tender, which repeatedly buzzes back and forth delivering passengers and their wide screen TVs, mandarins and dressing table to a settlement on the confluence. Crew all safely back on board, the helm tickles the throttle and we start powering along at nineteen kilometres an hour. Nothing much else happens. We plan how to get all our stuff off safely. I despair at how I'm going to stow a redundant hammock in my already bursting rucksack. Everything that I'm not wearing is consigned to a toxic waste bag, for laundry or burning, whichever takes my fancy. Waiting for lunch becomes the main activity. It doesn't arrive. Do we go down or stay put? Eventually the chef appears with two crockery plates of delicious stew. Sat proudly atop my meal, a chicken foot. A thoroughly appropriate final rebuke for my complicity in their torment.

The very much thinned out crowd is somehow both restless and relaxed during the final couple of hours to Iquitos. On the hammock deck, a young man introduces two green parakeets to an elderly blind man, who seems enchanted. No stops means we are finally making good time, and a shortcut where the river splits into frayed strings is also welcome. I am not sorry to be making my last visit to the baños when the time comes. We make it to Iquitos at sunset and wait patiently at the Port Authority pontoon while the paperwork is cleared. The city is along a lagoon, lined with vessels in varying states of repair. Longtails and small taxi ferries buzz up and down. Two very swit swoo boutique hotel boats pass us by, mocking us with their crisp linen. Mosquitoes start to gather for the evening's festivities. The Eduardo II crams onto the edge of a steep dusty bank and bedlam is unleashed. There are showers and cold pints with our names on them.