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dulafer · 3 years ago

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REHAB

Another old one where I only posted links to another site. Twin brothers, one with great career and drinking problem. The other fills in for him. It’s long, detailed etc....

The Favor

I haven’t seen my brother Marcus in years but he needs a favor, so of course he called. He didn’t provide any details, just that he needs a ride to Cleveland, Ohio and for me to watch his car for a few weeks. Marcus is my identical twin, down to a tribal band tattoo we got on spring break in college. Even our initials are identical thanks to our mother’s naming us ‘Michael Robert Thomas’ and ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’. Growing up, our parents could never tell us apart and many times we’d trade places even through college.

We both graduated from University of Michigan with a degree in marketing but I took a minor in finance. After graduating, he craved the big city, high pay lure of Chicago while I stayed in Ann Arbor working for a trendy web marketing company. We haven’t been close since graduating from college.

Personality wise, let’s just say Marcus is the charming, outgoing twin and I’m more of a wall flower. In high school and college he was always getting the girl, or guy and sharing with me. He’d do all the work and I was happy with sloppy seconds. Many times we dated the same person without them knowing—that’s how identical we are. Nowadays, we talk occasionally and on our birthday. He’s got his life, I’ve got mine, and I keep up with his via his very active Instagram and Twitter accounts. I’ve got enough ‘marketing’ in my life so I’m more of an online stalker, never posting anything.

According to his Instagram, he just got promoted vice president at Coleman Marketing—a very prestigious firm in downtown Chicago. Someone tagged him in videos from last night celebrating his promotion. He’s raking in the money while I just got laid off. Not that I’m worried as I got a nice severance package and have a few leads on jobs. I was head of a marketing department for an automotive trim manufacturer. Truthfully, I was the marketing department completely.

Marcus pulls up to my house just after 7 am looking exhausted getting out of his BMW. It looks like he’s dressed in what he had on last night. He's wearing a great black leather jacket. His hair is gelled and spiky, and he’s clean shaven. I’ve let myself go lately, not shaving in days and no haircut in weeks. I’ll worry about a haircut and shave when I get a job interview. I greet him on the stoop.

“Marcus, when the hell did you leave Chicago? I was expecting you at lunch. Since when do you get up before noon?” I mock him.

“I was on a high, celebrating my promotion and couldn’t get Chad, my boyfriend, to come home with me. So I didn't sleep, packed up my things, jumped in the car and drove right here. Got coffee?”

“Sure, plenty, help yourself. You look beat bro.”

“You look like a bum bro, what’s with the scruff and hair?” He angrily fires back.

“Using up some vacation time here, getting things done around the house. Love the BMW bro, awesome machine.” I cover for my job loss and change topic.

Marcus walks in, heads straight to the Keurig and makes himself at home. “I just drove 4 hours straight without stopping. You’re driving the rest of the way.”

“Nice, I love BMWs. So what in the hell is in Cleveland, Ohio? Nothing that I know of.”

“I’ve been court ordered to check into St. Joseph Rehab Center.”

“Jesus, what the fuck did you do?” I act shocked but I’m not.

“I had an accident, totaled my car and someone else’s, there was alcohol and drugs involved and it’s my fourth offense.”

“Is everyone okay? Are you okay? You look fine?”

“Yeah, other car was parked and empty, My Land Rover crumpled like paper but it really protected me.”

“Wow, you were lucky bro. I always told you—“

“Shut up, I know, I know…. So I go into rehab for a few weeks, get the doc to sign off that I’m fine and no one is the wiser.” He grabs his head like its pounding.

“A few weeks? Tammy went to rehab for six months!”

“She didn’t have my lawyer.” He boasts.

“So I drop you off, pick you up?”

“That’s it. Keep it quiet, call into work for me Monday, take a few weeks off due to the death of our father.”

“Our father who died seven years ago?”

“Exactly, be all broken up about it. Shed some verbal tears. I have your script written, who to talk to, what to tell them.”

“Why don’t you call them yourself?”

“Once I check in, there’s no phones, computers or visitors allowed.”

“Jeez, sounds like a prison but you’re dressed like you going to a club bro, love the jacket.”

“Yeah, I’m a little over dressed. I came straight from the bar. They said to just bring sneakers, jeans, sweatpants, hoodies and t-shirts. The jacket is Coach, got it a few weeks ago shopping with my boyfriend Chad on the Mag Mile.”

I feel his jacket. “Can I borrow your jacket while you’re locked up.”

“Well, you are driving the rest of the way.” He takes it off, hands it to me and I pull it on over my t-shirt.

“Looks better on me bro.” He snickers at me. “It’s not meant to pair with a t-shirt. Mind if I take a quick shower? I was out all night with friends, haven’t showered yet.”

“Sure go ahead.”

He takes his coffee into my bedroom. The shower turns on while I find the keys for the BMW in his jacket I’m still wearing. I head outside and unlock the sleek black metallic M8 with a stunning red interior. Behind the driver’s seat is his briefcase and in the trunk is a large suitcase. I jump in, hit the start button and she roars to life with a powerful purr. It’s a remarkable car and I can’t wait to drive it.

Back inside I snap a pic of myself and finish up my coffee. Marcus steps out of bedroom, refreshed, wearing a pair of my jeans, a University of Michigan t-shirt and my new Nikes.

“Hope you don’t mind bro. I’ve been in the same clothes since happy hour last night, needed a change.”

“Not a problem, I’ll have my manservant launder and press your clothes.”

“I was sorta overdressed for this place.”

“You think? Now you look like someone with the drinking problem.” I laugh.

“I look like you doofus!” He heads to kitchen and has another cup of coffee.

I grab my hoodie and toss it to him to wear. “I love this jacket bro, you can wear this. Since you won’t be needing anything this nice in rehab, I’ll just borrow it for a while.” I order him.

“Bro, it’s a $1100 jacket. You're not keeping it.”

“Fuck bro, no wonder it feels so soft.” I feel it more. “What you’re wearing now is more appropriate for the Betty Ford Clinic, or wherever the fuck you’re going.”

While he’s rummaging through my kitchen for something to eat, I head back to my bedroom. His outfit is tossed on my chair. I quickly strip out of my sweats pants and dress in his clothes. He’s wearing my best sneakers and favorite t-shirt, I want to try out his look on me. I slip into his Polo Chinos, tuck in his dress shirt, fasten the belt, step into his driving shoes, then check myself out in the mirror. I try fixing my hair like Marcus’ but it’s too long.

I walk out to the kitchen, feeling my new pants, his eyes pop out seeing me. “Damn bro, I’ve never worn pants this soft.”

“Polo, all I wear, got them at their flagship store—“

“On the Mile.” I interrupt him, already knowing the answer. “Cole Haan driving shoes? Really? A bit pretentious if you ask me.”

“They match the jacket and belt man plus they’re so comfortable. You’ve been living in bumfuck Michigan too long, shopping at Walmart. You need to get a sense of fashion. You look presentable now though.” He snidely responds.

“What are you talking about ‘Michael’, I have a great fashion sense, just look at me.” I smile, assuming his identity then confidently pull back on his jacket and hand him my baseball caps.

“Don’t get too comfortable in them, I’ll be back in a few weeks.” Marcus warns me while putting my baseball cap on backwards.

“We’re still identical after 29 years bro.” I look in the mirror seeing a scruffy Marcus staring back, my brother comes up behind to compare.

“You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave. Hey, since you’re the scruffy one, you should do rehab for me.” He jokes.

“In your dreams bro. I’m not the one with the drinking problem.” I shoot him down.

“Whatever ass wipe, you probably can't get a decent drink within 30 miles of here. It’s no wonder you don’t drink. I can take an elevator from my office on the 19th, up to the 95th floor, to the best bar in all of Chicago.” Marcus brags, thinking I’m impressed.

“Oh I drink but not to the point of not getting home, almost killing myself and getting a DUI. You’re the pathetic one.”

“Whatever bro, just remember—dad’s death, then vacation time to get his affairs in order. I have plenty of time to do this without anyone finding out.”

“So call into work for you, lie to them, drive your car around and pick you up in two weeks. Easy.”

“That’s it, by the way, you’re driving since I’m not legally able to. Keys are in my jacket” I pull them out and toss them in the air.

“Great! Just great. Guess I should be grateful I’m not bailing you out of jail.”

Road Trip

We leave Ann Arbor and he talks the entire trip about his accident, how he was drunk and high, driving home from Chad’s place, paying an expensive lawyer, promotion at work, buying this new BMW cash and how he’s going to change. I’ve heard this since college. He’s so self absorbed that I barely talk about myself and don’t mention my job loss or hunt. I’m actually very jealous—his career is exploding even with his fuck ups and mine is imploding. I feel like a loser but driving this new BMW, in his expensive clothes, at least I look like a winner.

As is typical for Marcus, his coffee consumption has me pulling over at a rest stop on i80 not even an hour after leaving my house. I glance in the vanity mirror and start fussing with my hair, thinking of his comment. He’s right, we’re still identical—a haircut and shave would make us indistinguishable. I could have fun as him for a few weeks I think to myself and grin. His phone rings while I’m sitting in the car waiting, so I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Marcus, are you on your way? You’ve got to check in by noon today.” ID shows Stephen Backes.

“Yeah, I’m making good time, according to GPS, I’ll be there about 11am.”

“Please tell me you’re not driving.”

“No, a friend is driving me.”

“Okay, so I have some bad news for you. The judge didn’t agree to two weeks like I thought he would. You’ll be there three to four months, sorry man.” This has to be Marcus’ high price lawyer. “I’m so sorry. Are you there?”

“Fuck!!” Is all I could say while thinking of me needing a job.

“Believe me, we’ll get you out sooner, I won’t stop fighting for you. I’m pushing for a reduction already.”

“So what can I do?” I’m stunned as Marcus will be.

“There’s nothing you can do. Check in today, do all they say and don’t make a scene. I’ll keep in contact via the staff there. I can’t visit and you can’t call out. Get yourself clean. On the bright side, the Alexanders aren’t pressing charges for the property damage, which is great news.”

“Silver lining.” I mutter.

“Okay, don’t worry, I'll get you out in no time.” He hangs up.

I sit there as a crazy thought forms in my mind—Marcus away for three months. I need something to do and who knows about his rehab stint? It’d be fun to step into his life for a while. We did it all the time growing up and in College. During summer break just before graduating from college, we traded places for a few months. He went to Daytona Beach with my boyfriend while I stayed home and partied as him. It worked out great because I was sick of Jonathan’s flaming personality. Marcus’s boyfriend was hot and he was bored with him. It was a great summer being my douche brother, fucking his boyfriend, partying with his friends and living his life. I didn’t want to swap back. Even our parents never figured it out, we were so identical. I stare in the vanity mirror and check myself out, turning my head from side to side, playing with my hair. I’m certain I can pull it off. Just then the car door opens up, Marcus jumps in and startles me.

“Lets get moving bro, I need to be there before lunch.”

“We’ve got plenty of time. So who at work knows about your DUI and rehab visit?” I start to question him to make sure I can step into his life.

“No one, not even my best friend Jason or my boyfriend Chad know. I just got a huge promotion and Coleman was not happy with my last DUI. This one I managed to keep quiet but if I get caught, bye bye career. I called my lawyer right away and was out in hours. I told everyone I bought the BMW to celebrate my promotion, not because I totaled my Range Rover.”

“So you’ll just tell them you’re taking care of dad’s affairs, email them a few times over the next few weeks and no one knows.” I question him.

“Oh fuck, bro, never thought of it that way. I’ll be cut off from the world. You’ll have to check my email and answer my phone for me too, respond to some of them. Tell them you’re having a hard time with mom and she doesn’t have internet or good cell service in northern Michigan. Just adopt my bullshit attitude and tell em you’ll get back to them.”

The more he talks, the easier it’s getting to pull this deception off. “Wow, you haven’t thought this through. Where is your computer? Log in? Phone?” Gathering pieces of his life if I want to go through with this game.

“I didn’t have much time, my lawyer called last night during happy hour, told me to get to Cleveland today. Work computer and files are in the briefcase right behind you. Password is first 4 letters of our last name and last 4 numbers of my social security, 1785. Got it?” He points to the iPhone charging on the center console.

“You better write that down.” I propose. He reaches behind me, grabs the portfolio from his briefcase and starts jotting down notes in it.

“What if someone calls about something specific, like an account or proposal?” I fake concern for more details.

“They’re all on my desktop in folders. You’ll have to email the Ballis Automotive powerpoint to Gary McClintock on Monday so he can handle presentation for me.”

“You always do this Marcus. One little favor blows up into a cluster fuck, just like one little drink for you.”

“I promise this will be easy. I start the position Monday, there is a great marketing team to manage, it’ll run itself for a few weeks. They’ll feel bad contacting me during such tragic times.” He laughs at his deviousness.

He continues to talk the rest of the way, filling me in on his career, telling me what I should be doing, and bragging about his success. He’s quite in love with himself, talking about his recent bonus, how his $2,000,000 condo is now worth $2,500,000, and his $500,000 salary. I know I can do his job in a heartbeat based on our discussion.

When we get off the Cleveland exit I pull over for gas. He has to use the bathroom again but I put my hand out for his wallet.

“Wallet, PIN number?” I ask.

“0394.” He gives it to me without hesitating but it’s the same PIN he’s been using since college.

I fill the tank and jump back in, tucking his wallet in my back pocket where he keeps it.

We make excellent time, getting there at 11:00 am. He grabs his suitcase from the trunk and we head in. The receptionist just stares at us.

“I’m Marcus Thomas, checking in.” He walks up to the receptionist.

“Yes Mr. Thomas, we’re expecting you. Welcome to St. Joseph Clinic, please fill out these forms. We need to check your bags for any substances. Also we discourage any valuables as things tend to go missing or are used to bribe staff.” A bright energetic nurse greets us.

He looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.

“Here, take these, put them in my car.” He removes his watch and ring, and I put them in my pocket.

“I have your wallet.” I pull it out of my pocket.

“You won’t need a penny here Mr. Thomas. In fact we keep your wallet and money locked up to discourage any sorts of bribes. I just need to verify your ID.” The nurse says.

I open his wallet and hand her his ID. She hands it back to me and Marcus waves it away for me to keep it. They have Marcus fill out some forms and he puts me down as emergency contact person. Security rummages through his bag, pulling everything out and even checking the lining. While he is signing things, I take out my phone and sneak pics of his hair, making sure to zoom in on all sides.

“Okay Michael, thanks for the ride. Take care of my baby. Everything for Monday morning is in my briefcase. Cya soon.” A large male nurse grabs his luggage and escorts him to his room.

Heading Home?

Walking out to the BMW, I reach in my pocket and feel my brother’s watch and ring, then feel his wallet in my back pocket. In the car, I flip down the vanity mirror and start playing with my hair again, then adjust it down to admire my outfit. It would be the ultimate deception to step into his life like I did in college—fucking Chad, doing his job, fooling his friends and spending his money. All his personal belongings are in my possession. Marcus even said so himself “You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave.”

I grab his phone and the facial recognition opens it right up for ‘Marcus’. His entire life is in my fingertips. I scroll through his calendar, texts, email and social media. His schedule is full of meetings and appointments, including the Ballis Automotive presentation coming up on Friday. Twitter and Facebook are filled with political rants and chats with friends. Instagram is full of pics of his recent work promotion celebrations. There are videos of him suited up, celebrating in a conference room yesterday, and more at some bar late last night wearing this exact outfit. No wonder he looked like crap this morning. I respond to some of the comments with various emojis as Marcus would, knowing his twisted sense of humor.

After 10 minutes of sitting in the parking lot, I start driving back—straight to Chicago. I haven’t been to his place in almost three years after he moved in and wanted to show it off. His GPS has his home address set for me. It’ll be fun to step into his life for a few months and assume his identity. He’ll be pissed but it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. I’ll frame it as saving his career when he finds out months from now.

A few miles down the road I spot a ‘Great Clips’ hair salon in a strip mall and pull in without hesitating. They’re not busy and get me in right away. Using the pics from my phone, I ask for the same haircut. A young girl cuts my hair, shaves me, adds creme to my hair, and completely transforms me into Marcus. I stare in the mirror, grin then casually rake my hand through my hair per my brother’s habit. I feel my clean shaven face and the back of my neck. It’s perfect and I tip her heavily from my new wallet. I pull on my new Coach jacket and check myself out in the bathroom before leaving the salon. From my pockets, I pull out my brother’s ring and watch and put them on. I look exactly like Marcus did when he walked into my house earlier today.

Back in ‘my’ BMW, I take my old wallet and phone, and lock them in the center console. I’ll use my driver’s license if I get pulled over. I slip on the sunglasses my brother wore then glance in the vanity mirror seeing Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing. “Marcus Thomas, nice to meet you.” I say to my new reflection.

I’m doing this—taking over Marcus’ life for a while. It’s payback for him fucking my boyfriends growing up, behind my back without me knowing. I grin in my mirror, then check my Tag watch. It’s 12:30 and my Nav system says I’ll be home in Chicago by 5:30 pm.

During the long ride home, ‘my’ buddy Jason calls—It’s show time.

“Hey buddy, where you at? I stopped by your place and you weren’t there? Thought after last night you’d still be passed out?” He harasses me.

“Sorry, didn’t I mention I had to go see my brother in Ann Arbor?”

“Hell, you never even mentioned you had a brother. Hopefully he’s better looking than you and can hold his liquor.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely the better looking one but he controls his drinking better. We’re not that close but he’s having an engagement party tonight and wanted to see him.” I laugh and play Marcus perfectly.

“So I’m guessing no Sidetracks tonight or golf tomorrow?”

“No, sorry, won’t be home til tomorrow night.”

“Any word on your Merit membership?”

“Nothing yet.” Not sure what he’s talking about, will check into it.

“Okay, don’t forget next Saturday, for sure at Harborside.”

“Didn’t forget, its in my calendar.”

“I need to run here. See you at work bright and early Monday Mr. Vice President.” He chuckles and hangs up.

That went extremely well. I’d love to go out tonight but I need time to learn about my new life. I open up my Facebook while driving, look up Jason and recognize him from my party pics last night. There’s pics of 'us' doing shots, looking wasted. He’s a good friend and didn’t suspect a thing. Five minutes later ‘my’ boyfriend Chad calls. I’m a little nervous but answer it, thinking to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas’. My new boyfriend has no reason to doubt my identity.

“Chad, how you doing?

“You sound good after last night.”

“Yeah, good sleep. How you feeling?”

“Great, just got back from picking up sister, then lunch at Brewser's, getting her settled in. You up for meeting her tonight?”

“Oh, I’m in Ann Arbor, my brother has a surprise for me, having a little party.”

“You never mentioned a brother.”

“Yeah, we’re not that close. I’m betting he knocked up his girlfriend and is getting married.” I chuckle.

“Oh great, that should be fun. When you getting back?”

“Late tomorrow I’m thinking.”

“Oh, you’re gonna miss my sister.”

“I’m sorry, this came up a few hours ago with no warning, so here I am cruising to Michigan.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll survive driving the Bimmer, just don’t get a speeding ticket. I’m sorry about last night but I had too much to drink and wasn’t feeling good.” Chad chuckles.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens.”

“I’ll make it up to you Monday babe.” He promises.

“I’m holding you to it.”

“You better hold ‘it’ to me.” Getting suggestive and laughing at his joke.

Chad goes on and on about his sister, her abusive husband and all the drama in her life. I give him my sympathetic ear while he does most of the talking. He doesn’t notice anything different about his boyfriend. I like the sound of his masculine voice which matches his rugged scruff image on my Instagram. I can’t wait to get him into bed but I need some ‘Marcus’ time to learn about my new life.

I drive the rest of the way back to his condo without pulling over. It’s a long ride but the BMW M8 is one sweet machine and makes it pass quickly. Marcus has great tastes in automobile. I’ve never driven a car like this. According to my brother, it has 600 hp and it feels like it. I’m cruising 80 mph but feel like I’m doing only 40 mph. I admire my new car, outfit, ring and watch as I’m flying ‘home’.

Making Myself at Home

The hardest part was finding his assigned parking space after pulling into the garage. This causes me to drive around in circles. I stroll in carrying my brother’s briefcase and find the elevator. Finding my new condo is easy because of my visit a few years ago—Marcus bragged about being just below the Penthouse on the 78th floor. Tucked in my wallet is my access card that gets me into my new home.

I’m immediately in awe of ‘my’ place. It looks like something from ‘Architectural Digest’ magazine. The living room, kitchen and dining room have unobstructed corner view of Lake Michigan. The view is stunning, eliminating the need for any art or focal points in the living room. I take off my jacket, toss it on the sofa, grab a beer and make myself at home. There’s a dividing wall between the kitchen/dining room and the living room with a huge flat screen TV and see-thru open fireplace underneath it. All the furniture is clean, square and contemporary. On the built-in wall unit are pics of mom and dad and other friends but only one of us taken at Halloween where we look nothing alike. A lot of his personal items, like artwork, pictures and music collection reflect both our lives and tastes. There are pics of me but anyone who’d see them would just assume it’s Marcus.

The bedroom is large with a huge master bath and two connected closets full of my new wardrobe. The closets are his and her but he has them set up for work and casual. On the wall in between the two closets is a large built in jewelry chest containing a Rolex, a few Omegas and Tags, and an Apple Watch on a charging stand next to it. There’s also a nice selection of cufflinks, bracelets and other miscellaneous items. Underneath the shelf are drawers full of underwear, jocks and socks. On the wall behind the jewelry box is a safe that opens up after trying a few variations of his social security number. Inside is a gun, cash, passport and his birth certificate.

In my new bedroom, the suit Marcus wore to work and celebrated in yesterday is laying on a leather chaise lounge with his untied shoes nearby on the floor. I pick up the suit coat and try it on—a perfect fit as would be expected. Everything he wore, that defined him yesterday is there to transform me into him. A devious thought crosses my mind—heading out to the 95th for a bite and getting familiar with my work place, in his work outfit from yesterday. I rush to the bathroom to freshen up and check out ‘my’ toiletries. A little bit of hair creme, brushing my teeth, a quick dab of deodorant, a spray of cologne and I’m the epitome of my brother.

Back in my bedroom, I quickly strip out of my brother’s bar clothes and start pulling on his black Tom Ford suit. His cuffed pants still have his belt in as I pull them on. His white dress shirt with monogramming have the cufflinks still in place. It’s tapered and hugs my body as I tuck it into my pants. His black cap toe shoes are still tied and broken in, for me to wiggle into. In the mirror I perfectly knot his silver textured tie as our father taught us when we were 14. Pulling on his suit coat completes my transformation and in the mirror staring back is Marcus as he was at work celebrating his promotion.

It’s 8pm and I’m starving and decide to stop by ‘my office, then grab a bite at the 95th since my brother is a regular. ‘My’ office is on the 19th floor, so that’s my first stop since it is necessary for starting my new job on Monday. In the mirror I check my hair, and tuck my wallet, iPhone and keys in my pockets.

At his office, finding his parking spot is just as tricky as at the condo, taking me 10 minutes to locate. My RF card operates the elevator, taking me to the 19th floor, where I easily find my office a few doors down from Robert Coleman’s corner office. The view isn’t nearly as spectacular as my condo but it’ll do for a work space. I spend an hour sitting at the desk, exploring drawers and files, and learning the layout so I’m up to speed first thing Monday morning. I didn’t think to bring my computer or I would have stayed longer.

Learning my way around this building is complicated—figuring what elevator gets me where. I have to take the business elevator to a public lobby and take the express elevator up to the 95th. The hostess recognizes ‘Mr. Thomas’ and asks if I’m meeting anyone. I just tell her I’m grabbing a drink at the bar and she leads me to the bar where ‘Tony’ also knows me and hands me a Gin and Tonic without asking.

“Thanks Tony. Busy Night?”

“Not really. Jimmy said last night was insane. You hungry?”

“Yeah it was busy. I’m starving.”

“The usual?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.” I have no clue what I’m getting but I’ll eat anything.

I then head to the men’s room, taking my time to learn the layout as Marcus would know. Based on ‘my’ Instagram account, I’ll be spending many happy hours here in the coming months. There’s a steak tenderloin sandwich waiting at the bar for me when I get back. Tony rambles on and on about my brother and his friends, talking about Jason striking out with the redhead from J.P. Morgan last night he heard about from Jimmy. We’re quite the regulars here and I’m glad I stopped.

I get home after 11pm, exhausted from driving all day. Just like Marcus, I climb naked into his messy, unmade bed and pass right out. The first thing I do after waking up is jump in the shower, using his body wash, shampoo and conditioner. I don’t hesitate to use his electric toothbrush, deodorant or other personal items as my own. The final touch is using my brothers hair creme and styling it as he would. I grin and say to myself “Good morning Marcus.”

Standing in ‘my’ bedroom, I go to the closets and slowly finger all of my new clothes. I pull open doors and drawers and familiarize myself with the contents. I pick up a sweater from the top of the closet and can smell the scent of the real Marcus Thomas. I start to think of my new identity and of the months ahead of living here and wearing all these clothes - ‘Marcus Thomas’ clothes. Silently I think, “you know what they say about clothes making the man!"

I walk around taking it all in, noting how it’s organized. From his drawers, I pull on a pair of his black Under Armour briefs. From the casual closet, I grab a pair of tan Polo chinos and a baby blue cashmere v-neck sweater I recognize from his instagram. His Cole Haas chukka boots and matching belt from yesterday go great with my Sunday outfit. A gold Omega watch and his black/titanium ring complete my very Marcus look. I’m the embodiment of my brother. Once dressed, I go through my work closet and explore.

His work suits are at one end, organized by color. I scan them, pull them apart to inspect and try on a few. They’re all very high-end Tom Ford, Brooks Brothers, Brioni or Hugo Boss and the fit is impeccable as to be expected. These are easily $5000 suits, compared to my $300 ‘Men’s Wearhouse’ specials. Next to his suits are dress shirts in all colors and styles, many of them custom with monogramming. His ties, belts, and shoes are concealed in the wall via very unique organizers that rolls out from the wall. These pull out organizers separate his outerwear like topcoats, trench coats from his dress shirts and suits. There’s one empty ‘Coach’ hanger that must be for my leather jacket that I wore yesterday.

Back in my bedroom, I pick up my clothes from yesterday and toss in the hamper, except my old pair of Calvin Klein underwear—they end up buried deep in the kitchen garbage can. There can be nothing to reveal my real identity, no connection to my brother Michael.

The kitchen is contemporary with high-end cabinets and appliances—sleek stainless steel, beautiful teak wood cabinets and marble countertops. Breakfast is K-cup coffee and a power bar. On the counter is a note from a Trudy, informing ‘me’ that she’ll begin thorough cleaning on Tuesday. So I have a housekeeper, of course I do. During breakfast, I familiarize myself with the kitchen, learning where things are, what’s in his fridge and cupboards.

I take my breakfast to his office and his home computer wakes up with no password, showing me bookmarks for his banking, retirement and other accounts. His Wells Fargo checking account has $50,000 in it and his spending is very revealing. The account reveals a $15,000 check that paid for his lawyer, a $5000 check went for his DUI fine, another $40,000 check for St Joseph rehab. Keeping his DUI secret wasn’t cheap but it didn't dent his finances at all. There’s a $1012 charge from Coach Chicago, and in ‘my’ emails is the receipt dated a few weeks ago. His checking account reveals his dry cleaner, ‘lovely home’ cleaning service and all his spending habits. I’m definitely going shopping today on the Magnificent Mile or ‘Mag Mile’ as we locals call it.

His $24,000/monthly deposits from Coleman provide a great lifestyle but there’s numerous deposits from ‘Cayman National Bank’ of $100,000 going back years. Something doesn’t look right—there’s a lot of money moving around. A Fidelity account reveals diverse investments worth $3m. There’s also a J.P. Morgan account for his Palladium VISA that ‘I’ used to buy my new BMW weeks ago. I don’t have a thing to worry about financially as Marcus.

I open up his work laptop and easily log in as him. There’s a few new emails to review, then I spend hours reading through his old ones, getting up to speed with Ballis and other key customers. Thanks to his email history, it’s easy to respond to a few new emails as he would. On his desktop are all the files he mentioned, that’ll help me to learn his work issues. The Ballis presentation looks to be complete, ready for me to give on Friday but it looks boring. Some things seem odd or missing—I’ll have to look at that later.

My First Performance

It’s now lunch, I’m hungry and grab my new leather jacket to go out shopping. With my phone, wallet and keys in place, I head down to my car to start my first day. My first stop is the Burberry flagship store where I buy a tan classic trench coat that I didn’t find in my closet. I’ve always loved that classic look but they’re $2700—a little steep for my brother Michael but not me. Across the street is the Under Armour store that I shop at monthly and just have to check out. Half an hour later, I’m leaving with new underwear and some workout gear. I walk into the Coach store and I’m immediately accosted by the salesperson who sold ‘me’ the leather jacket I’m wearing. To make his day, I purchase a black hooded leather jacket that catches my eye for $1200. As I’m loading everything into my BMW, the phone rings and I don’t hesitate to answer it.

“Hey Liam.” I love caller ID. I’m able to answer like I’ve known him for years.

“Hey Marcus, what are you doing?”

“Was out shopping, looking to grab lunch now and need to work later.” Reminding myself that I need more time in the office before my first day on the job.

“Where you at, I’ll join you.” He offers.

“On the Mile near Burberry.” I respond eagerly but think of the test of fooling ‘Liam’.

“Great, meet me at Capital Grill in 30 minutes.”

“Sounds like a plan.” My brother’s usual lingo, or it use to be.

Capital Grill is a few minutes away, giving me plenty of time to dig up information on Liam. Based on text messages and emails, he is gorgeous with short brown hair, an amazing six pack, blue eyes, stubble and is definitely a love interest. It looks like my brother and him were hot and heavy during the summer, with trips to Saugatuck and Holland Michigan on weekends. According to recent emails, he moved to Detroit for a big promotion with Bank of America. ‘My’ Instagram is full of beach parties, bonfires and drinking on a beach. My phone is even better with pics of him naked in my bedroom. Nice one bro!

I’m sure I’ll fool him easily. He shows up 30 minutes later with a big wet kiss for me. I’m instantly hard seeing him and from passionately kissing a hot stranger. During lunch he’s teasing my legs with his toes and reaching across with his hands, touching mine.

“How’s Detroit treating you?” I start with what I know.

“I hate it! It’s dirty, the bars suck and no there’s no shopping like here.” He teases my legs constantly.

“It’s a big change I’m sure.” I can’t help but stare into his blue eyes.

“Are you seeing anyone?” He probes.

“Not really, a few dates, you? Been busy with work and my promotion.”

“We need to celebrate that, I saw your Instagram posts and would have come home a few days earlier had I known.” He has his foot in my crotch, feeling my hard-on with his toes.

“We could celebrate privately now back at my place.” I smile and take his hand.

He grabs mine, pulls me up and we head back to ‘my’ place. Once inside, I press him against the wall, ram my tongue down his throat then drag him back to my bedroom and rip off his clothes. I push him on the bed.

“Fuck man, your horny Marcus.” He reaches into the drawer, easily finds a condom and pulls me into the bed. In seconds I’m on my back, the condom is slipped on and he’s straddling me, riding my throbbing cock.

“Oh my god Liam.” I scream out in ecstasy and explode in him.

It was a great afternoon, especially when he screams out “Fuckkk Marcus” and I pump him full of cum.

“Man, you’re incredible as always.” He cries out exhausted.

“It feels like it’s been years, I’ve missed you so much. You’re so hot.” I collapse back with my hands behind my head, totally thrilled with my performance as Marcus.

“You’re one horny fucker, it must have been a while for you. You seem different, more relaxed, laid back?” He shocks me, then giggles and I join in.

“That was months of missing you.” I kiss him deeply and get hard again.

He takes my stiff throbbing member in his mouth without asking, getting me off again in seconds. Fuck, my brother really should keep this one—he’s hot, smart, funny and great in bed. Men like that are tough to find. We shower, scrubbing each other and making out. I’m grinning in the mirror, seeing Liam walking up behind me with a look in his eyes. He hasn’t notice anything different about ‘Marcus’.

“You look handsome as ever, babe,” he says, reaching his arm around and grabbing my stiff penis. “You sure you have to go to work?”

“Sorry but tomorrow is my first day as Vice President, I have a lot of prepping to do. When do you leave?” I turn around and kiss him gently.

“Wednesday morning, let’s do this again Tuesday night. I have a business dinner tomorrow.” He whispers in my ear.

“It’s a date.”

He pulls off the towel from around my waist, wraps his arms around my neck and starts deeply kissing me. I brace myself against the counter and pull him tight cupping his ass in my hands. Minutes later, he dresses and says goodbye with a peck on the cheek. I grab my iPhone and duplicate a pic that’s in my camera of ‘me’ from a few weeks ago, with only a white towel around my waste. My build and six pack appears to be identical to my brother’s. I grin knowing my new identity is perfect. I’m dressing in front of the mirror, thinking of the best sex I’ve had in years. It’s incredible being Marcus with all the benefits—hot men, great wardrobe and incredible condo. It’s off to work here though. I need to be up to speed tomorrow. I need to know exactly what I’m doing.

No one is in the office on a Sunday afternoon and I have the whole place to myself to explore. My office is very impressive, very high-tech looking with a great view. There lots of plants, large conference table, hidden closet and great desk with two large monitors that automatically sync to my laptop when I open it. I’m there for hours logged into the system learning the layout, looking up files/people and my dashboard. By the end of the night, I’m responding to emails as Marcus would and planning my week. As I’m leaving, I glance my image in the window and smile as satisfaction sweeps over me. I’m ready for my first day as vice president.

Work Day One

I get to bed at 11 pm but I’m up after midnight studying the social media of fellow employees. I drift in and out of sleep all night long. The excitement of being Marcus Thomas has me up at 5 am planning my day—my 1st team meeting to review projects at 9 am, lunch with MedTech CMO and Ballis review at 3 pm.

I crawl out of bed a little apprehensive about pulling off this charade. Then I remind myself how easily I passed for my brother with Liam, his coworker Jason and his lawyer. Since no one knows about Michael, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect I’m not Marcus. A long shower calms me down and using Marcus’s body wash gives me his base scent. All his personal hygiene items, including his Polo cologne which he’s been wearing since college are on his counter. I’m not a big fan of hair wax and creme but Marcus is. I put a dab in my hand, warm it up in my palms and work it through my hair. Running his comb through it, gives me his flawless style, identical to the photos in my phone. I use his electric toothbrush, spritz on some Polo, lift up my arm and make a few passes with his deodorant. My brother’s scent is now mine.

Marcus has alway been anal with his appearance and style—planning and laying everything out before dressing so I adopt the same habit. I’ve reviewed his Instagram and photos looking for some guidance on what he likes to wear. They’re a wealth of information on his tastes. His charcoal glen plaid Tom Ford suit catches my eye and looked great on him a few weeks ago. I pair it with a white french cuff, spread collar shirt, purple textured tie and white silk pocket square. The Tag is fine for weekends and casual days but knowing my pretentious brother, I’m certain Marcus would wear either the Omega or Rolex watch for work. I select his white gold Rolex and a pair of matching cufflinks. His black cap toe Allen Edmond shoes finish Marcus’ outfit for the day.

In front of the closet mirror, I pull on his, no, my socks, underwear and t-shirt, then cuffed pants and custom shirt. His cufflinks and tie are next. His Allen Edmonds are luxurious and broken in for me. The way everything fits, it's clear we're still the same size. Finally I pull on the suit coat, add watch and ring, then tuck phone and wallet into my suit pockets. I’m watching my transformation in the mirror, pleased with every detail that confirms I’m Marcus Thomas, new vice president of marketing for Coleman.

It’s hard to believe how completely different ‘my’ life is now–looking in the mirror, my reflection isn’t my own any more, I’m Marcus Thomas. I reach up and rake my hand through my thick hair. I love being Marcus—his style, his money and sex life so far are great. I straighten and adjust the knot of my tie with a smirk. “I’m Marcus Thomas,” I say to myself as my new reality is settling in.

I drive to work even though I could easily walk but there’s emails from HR about my new assigned parking space. Knowing Marcus, I’m certain he’d be driving everyday to show off the BMW M8, even with his DUI issue. This version of him will do the same but in case I’m pulled over, my original wallet is locked in the BMW console. I find my new parking spot, shut off the engine and mentally prepare myself. “I’m Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman” I repeat to myself many times.

I pull out my new coach wallet and work ID with RF chip, then I notice ‘my’ driver’s license. It’s the one detail I need to assume Marcus’ life in Illinois—his driver’s license. Marcus’ drivers license is suspended and if I use it for a traffic stop, I’ll be in jail. I can’t call his lawyer to fix it and they probably wouldn’t restore it until rehab is complete and he’s free. Then the perfect solution hits me—first, I’ll change my name in Michigan from Michael to Marcus then ‘move’ to Illinois using my new name and Marcus’ address. I’ll have a valid ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’ driver’s license that’s perfect with a clean driving record.

A quick check of myself in the vanity mirror reflects Marcus back at me, looking very sharp as usual. I get out and stroll in with my briefcase ready for my new position. People are greeting me, congratulating me and asking about my weekend. Everyone knows about my party Friday night at McGee’s. I need to thank my team member, Richard Zeppa for that tidbit of information I was lacking.

I hang up my new trench coat but leave on my suit, not sure what the dress code is for upper management. On Friday everyone was in a suit jacket during the office party for my promotion. At the coffee machine, the office gossip, politics and small talk comes easy. It teaches me a lot about the company, helping me fit in. Back in my office the day begins with email and prepping for my 9:30 am review with my team. Marcus was kind enough to do the prep work for me, outlining all the issues and his concerns. It’ll be like he’s actually there. Come to think of it, he is here and I’ve got to think of myself as my brother completely.

Jason shows up at my office looking even better in person. He walks in, shuts the door and jumps into one of my chairs. Too bad he’s not gay or I’d be all over my new best friend.

“Look at you Mr. Vice President, all professional looking and in early. New tie? You look rested and ready to go.” He notices.

“First impressions are important, especially with a new team to impress. Nah, I’ve had this tie, just wanted something that pops.” I notice he’s keeping his suit on.

“How was your weekend, when did you get back?” He asks and I’m ready.

“It was good, I met my brother’s fiancee, drank too much, a lot of family was there and pressure is now on me to tie the knot. I got home about 10 pm and crashed. What did you do?” I explain.

“You tie the knot? You can barely tie your shoes.” He mocks and laughs at me. “Crashed all day Saturday, went out with Christine to some comedy club, sex and golf with Ted and Will yesterday.”

There’s a knock on my door and I recognize Adam Trappe, Coleman’s President. Jason jumps up from chair and welcomes ‘Adam’ into my office.

“Adam, Come on in, we’re just catching up.”

Adam comes right in, I stand up as a sign of respect. “Marcus, Ready for your first day?”

“Sure, anxious to tear into the job.” I smile as he has no clue this really is my ‘first’ day.

“Don’t forget lunch with Andy Kramer from Medtech. We need to tag team him on his spend.” Adam reminds me.`

“Adam, with the proposal I have planned, he’ll be begging to give us more money and buying us lunch. I promise.” Doing my best impersonation of my arrogant brother, having memorized his talking points for lunch today.

Adams smiles. “I’ll drive, just stop by my office about 11:30. Kristi made reservations at Gracy’s.”

Jason and Adam leave and I review ‘my’ notes for my first team meeting. Apparently, Marcus’s rehab stint was a last minute event because he has the next few weeks planned out and prepped for. Everything is right at my fingertips to be him.

The whole day was easier than I expected. For the project reviews, it was new for all everyone so I followed my standard practice and raised Marcus’ concerns from his notes. Lunch was a huge success as Kramer loved my proposal and agreed to increase his marketing budget. Adam’s only complaint was him having to pick up lunch for us. I spend the rest of the day with my new team in and out of my office, and catching up with a flood of emails. Overall, It was an incredible day.

Jason stops by my office for happy hour and a few of us head up to the 95th. The view of the city from up there is amazing but I try to ignore it since it would be familiar to Marcus. Jimmy automatically hands me ‘my’ usual Gin & Tonic. We’re there for a few hours, drinking and having appetizers. Unlike my brother, I know when to stop which Jason notices.

“You’re different Marcus, something wrong? You’re not drinking.”

“Rough weekend thanks to Friday night and you, then driving to Ann Arbor. Then starting new position today.”

“So why aren’t you drinking?”

“Because of Friday night and you.”

He laughs at me. “Did you invite your boyfriend? Chad just came in with ‘Alex’ and is heading this way.”

Shit, Marcus mentioned Chad and something about the accident. I open up my phone and run to the bathroom quick. “I’ll be right back, beer is kicking in.”

“What beer?” He gets cocky with his best friend.

In the bathroom I quickly review text messages from him, trying to piece together their relationship. The early text messages are about partying and clubbing at some trendy spots. Later messages are about sex, going out for dinner and hanging out. I’ll just have to wing it, can’t hide in the stall all night. I splash cold water on my face, stare in the mirror and think to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas, just look at you’. After straightening my tie and running my hand through my hair, I head back to the bar. One thing is certain, he’s hot and if he wants to have sex, I’m in. Chad comes over to me with a big hug followed by a tender kiss. I’m hard in a minute like I was with Liam yesterday.

“I knew I’d find you here babe. I’m sorry about Friday night, I just had so much to do Saturday and Sunday with my sister in town.” He pouts.

“Don’t worry about it. I forgot about a family event in Ann Arbor I had to go to.” I lie.

Jason whispers in my ear. “Don’t want to say the marriage word do you?” Then chuckles.

“I’ve missed you.” Chad says while his friend Alex gives me really dirty looks. I’m not sure who he is, if they’re related, friends or what.

“I’ve missed you, can I get you a drink?”

“A vodka cranberry would be great, Alex, do you want something?” He asks his friend.

“Vodka cranberry would do the trick.” He says queerly. I get a very jealous vibe off him.

I head to the bar and pay with my new Amex then return. Alex is hanging up his phone, excited because his boyfriend got home early and is waiting for him. He guzzles his drink and runs, leaving Chad with me and my friends.

I play Marcus’ friends convincingly and no one doubts my identity. I make sure to take lots of selfies with Jason and Chad and post them on my Instagram and Facebook, using clever hashtags and comments. Instead of my usual Ultra beer, I’m drinking Marcus’ gin & tonic and notice that Jason is a Yuengling drinker. In the mirror behind the bar, I glimpse Marcus and his best friend drinking and getting shit face.

I’ve known Marcus my entire life while Chad has known him only a few months. After a few drinks, he’s grabbing my ass and kissing me. I lean in and kiss him deeply back, loving the credibility he gives me as my brother, accepting me so easily, loving it when he calls me Marcus. I want to fuck him so badly. We hurry back to my place and I fuck him in my brother’s bed. As I make my way down his body, I slide his underwear off, then delicately lick his perfect penis. He’s been here before as he has no problem finding my condoms and slipping one on me. I slip into him slowly and push in deeply, making him moan louder and louder. When he calls out ‘Marcus’, I climax immediately and he follows a minute later. I spoon him to sleep with my hands wrapped around his waist.

I wake up to my shower running and him running around the apartment.

“Don’t get up, it’s early and I have a shoot at 6am with Charlie Matthews. He’s gorgeous.” His voice full of excitement.

I grab my phone off the charger and quickly google Charlie Matthews. “Not as hot as what you had last night.”

“Hot and sexy. I had a great time, let’s do this Friday night and we can sleep in Saturday.”

“Let me text you on that, Friday is really busy and I have a golf outing with Jason really early Saturday. I blew him off last weekend, can’t do it again.” I explain.

“Let me know then.” He comes over to the bed and kisses me deeply. I keep my hand on the back of his head and try to keep him from leaving.

I’ve been Marcus for two days and have had sex every day—more than I had in the past six months as Michael. His life is better than expected and I wouldn’t change a thing. I wonder who else I could fuck, or hook up with Liam again since he is still in town. Marcus has been living the good life for sure. I then remember seeing Grinder on my brother’s phone, grab it and start swiping for some possible action for tonight.

Work Day Two

In the shower, I grab my semi-rigid penis, think of my new sex life, rub one out then follow my routine. I’m in love with Marcus’s life—the sex, job, friends, car, and condo. Stepping into his life it has been easier than I ever imagine. I’m really appreciating his closet, especially his suits. When we were growing up, he always had a more ‘put-together’ preppy look, paying attention to details. I was more grunge and laidback. It was the only way our parents could tell us apart. He’s taken his preppy look to the next level. He has a subscription to GQ and collection on his closet shelf going back years. I never knew he was such a metrosexual.

His appearance is easy to duplicate with his complete wardrobe at my finger tips. Thanks to his Instagram, there are years of pics and videos of him during and after work at happy hours. There are pics of him in a light gray window pane suit that catches my eyes. It’s dated a few months ago and it looked great on him. It’s a Hugo Boss suit that I easily find in his closet. All the details except the shoes are easy to find and pull together. As Marcus does, I lay everything out on my bed to perfect.

My second day starts with Jason waiting for me in my office.

“Where were you bro?” He demands.

“What?” I have no clue what he’s referring to.

“Hello? The gym? Did you forget?”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry man. I hooked up with Chad, was ‘busy’ all night and over slept.” Thinking quick because I had no clue about Marcus working out. I did notice a gym bag on the floor in the closet but didn’t think about it.

“I didn’t see you leaving with him?”

“Because you were busy with Cathy.” I give him one of Marcus’ devious smiles, like he ate the canary.

“All is forgiven oh great one.” He jokes, bows and twirls his hand as a sign of respect.

The rest of my day is easy, getting into account and proposal details, working with my team. Jason is in and out of my office talking about anything and everything—I really like the guy and being his friend. We do lunch together at the Big Pig just across the street. According to my debit account, it’s at least a weekly occurrence if not more. Marcus eats anything so there’s no need to worry what I order. The only questionable choice was me getting a Coke instead of a beer. Jason commented and told him I drank too much again last night. It seemed to quiet him quickly.

As we were finishing up, Liam called about getting together tonight and I don’t hesitate to say yes. I pick him up at his hotel, take him to Ghezzi’s for Italian. I ply him with wine while staying away from it. The wine doesn’t affect his ‘foot work’ in my crotch fortunately and I’m throbbing hard all through dinner. We skip desert and I he ends up with my penis as ‘desert’ and loves it. I’m now three for three with sex so far this week. Liam doesn’t stay so he can catch his early morning flight back to Detroit tomorrow.

Work Day Three

Two days of work have gone fairly smooth. There’s been a few glitches, like Marcus’ gym habit or not knowing things off the top of my head, that have been out of character. There will be more missteps and I’ll just respond the best I can.

To sort out the gym routine with Jason, I start with his gym bag where I find his gear but also his gym ID card and dry cleaning slip in the end pocket. He’s a member of John Hancock Center Fitness, and also uses the Hancock dry cleaner. On my calendar are blocked off areas for ‘gym’ on Tuesday and Thursday morning at 7 am. There are still a lot of blanks I need to fill out so I head to work early for a quick stop at the gym.

I’m greeted by ‘Gina’ the receptionist at the entrance. “Marcus, we missed you yesterday, Jason was looking for you too.”

“Yeah Gina, he tore into me in the office for it.” I laugh.

“What can I do for you?”

“I think I may have lost my ear buds here, did anyone turn a pair in?” I ask.

“Not that I know of but let me check.” She heads into the manager’s office while I head to the men’s locker room to find my locker. There’s a number on my ID card that leads me to my locker and opens it right up for me. Marcus has his complete bathroom duplicated in here—Polo products, toothbrush and extra gear. There’s a clipboard showing a routine that he hasn’t used it in a year per the date but it does give me an outline of his habit.

I grab my earbuds out of my pocket and head back to Gina.

“It looks like you’ve found them.” She notes happily.

“Yeah, left them in my locker like an idiot.” I laugh. “Hey was Jason in today?”

“No but then again, he never comes without you except on Sundays once in a while.”

“Oh you have his attendance history?”

“Sure, going back years to when you both joined.” She turns the monitor around for me to see. Right there is what I needed—Jason and I work out every Tuesday and Thursday like clockwork at 7 am, leave about 8:30 am, grab a coffee at the Starbucks per my spending alerts and head to work.

“Thanks for your help Gina, see you tomorrow.”

“No you won’t, remember Ron is on Thursday.” She corrects me.

“Oh yeah, it feels like Monday for some reason.” A plausible recover.

My gym routine is set for tomorrow morning with my best friend.

After a few days as Marcus, my life is already becoming routine. I’m using ‘I’ll get back to you’ a lot but I do get back to them after I research the issue. This helps with learning the job and customers. No one has questioned my identity but then why would they with my looks.

Late in the day a young kid with a man bun knocks on my door and walks in. I have never seen him before.

“Mr. Thomas, hi, I’m Gavin from IT services. Are you having computer problems?” He asks.

“No, why?” I respond not thinking I have any issues. I’m in the system and seem to have full access.

“Well, we track logins and you haven’t been using your biometric scanner, just your PIN.”

Damn, I did see a fingerprint scanner on the desk and haven’t bother with it even though it blinks when I open up my MacBook. I tried it once then it turned red and rejected me.

“It didn’t work on Sunday so I’ve just been using my PIN. Isn’t that okay?” I explain.

“The PIN should only be used when you’re traveling, working remotely. The fingerprint is much more secure, prevents hackers from gaining access. Mr. Coleman wants his senior staff more protected.” Gavin explains.

“Understood, I just wasn’t worried about it.”

“Shut down and reboot and try it.” He directs.

After it boots up, I try my fingerprint and it beeps red.

“Hmmm, your fingerprint file must be corrupt. We’ll rescan and reconfigure it for you. It happens now and then.” From his bag he pulls out his computer and hand size scanner. He hooks everything up and the scanner glows blue for him.

“Now just place your right hand on it and don’t move till it glows green.”

I’m nervous wondering if this will compare old and new, and alert him to the difference. He removes my hand, then types away at his laptop.

“Okay, now reboot and try any finger.” He orders.

It boots up, I try my index finger and it approves.

“All set Mr. Thomas. Next time it happens, call me right away. Also, we’ll be adding biometric scanners to all the executive offices and lobby entrance in a few weeks. You’re all set for that now.”

“Thanks Gavin, I appreciate the help.” Gavin doesn’t realize how much he’s helped me. I’ve been looking at that scanner all week, wondering how get my fingerprints recognized and afraid of asking for help because of fear I’d be discovered. I’m now Marcus Thomas with security.

I skip happy hour with my friends and head home to prep for tomorrow’s big presentation. On the way I stop at the cleaners and pick up a bundle of laundry, suits, ties and shirts. The elderly woman greets ‘Mr. Thomas’ and thanks me for my business. At home I review my dry cleaning as I hang up everything in my closet. There’s a sharp 3 piece charcoal suit that’s one of my favorites based on Instagram and will be my outfit for tomorrow.

I work in my home office till 9 pm reviewing the Ballis files, meeting notes and account details. Marcus’ Ballis history spans almost 2 years. It’s obvious the quality of his work has vastly improved over those years. There’s a maturity to it now. I pull up the Ballis presentation and practice it for Friday’s meeting. The one difference between myself and Marcus is that I’m the better public speaker. There are a few videos of him giving presentations in his account files and we’re about equal now.

TGIF

I’m awake very early, planning my outfit for today’s big presentation. I’ll be wearing one of my brother’s, I mean one of my favorite outfits—I’m all Tom Ford today. I checked my shopping receipts and found that I purchased a ‘Tom Ford Windsor 3-piece peak lapel suit’ for $7200 a few months ago. That was just for the suit—add $300 for tie, $50 for a pocket square, $600 for a custom dress shirt, $2000 for a pair of English Tan leather shoes, $75 for black underwear, $145 for t-shirts and a stunning $4950 for ‘striped’ cufflinks for a total of $17,000. They must love me at Tom Ford. It takes 30 minutes to find all these items in my closet.

It’s amazing slipping into $75 boxer briefs that hug my ass. I never liked wearing t-shirts but Marcus always does so I pull on a brand new $145 Tom Ford t-shirt. For socks, I find a crazy colorful bright green pair with golf balls on them—for a pop of color. He showed these off on his Tiktok account which I’ve yet to use. I pull on the cuffed pants and add a belt, using the same hole as he has a few times. His custom shirt tapers to my waist. The striped cufflinks are a bit tricky but look like a million dollars. The tie decision is tough but I stick with the gold paisley Tom Ford he wore with this suit before. His tan dress shoes look great but are not yet broken in, but he left them tied so I just wiggle into them. I’ve never worn a 3-piece suit in my life but the vest adds an image of authority as it goes on. I remove the suit jacket and confidently pull it on, adjusting the cuffs and tie in the mirror. ‘My’ Rolex and ring complete my transformation into Marcus Robert Thomas.

In the mirror is Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing, running his hand through his hair, checking every detail of his appearance. My new Burberry tops off my identity.

Friday cements my new identity. The Ballis presentation is flawless and after 5 hours, their marketing team awards Coleman a huge contract worth $5m. My biggest challenge was quickly learning the names of the key players since my brother had a number of meetings with them. Robert Coleman congratulated me at happy hour on the 95th. He pulls me aside and says. “keep doing this and you won’t be VP for long.”

Jason, who wasn’t in the meeting, comes up to me and I have Mark take a pic. “Marcus, you’re the buzz of the entire office, even Adam is praising you.”

“Buddy, Ballis was just ripe for a new marketing direction and it all fell into place.”

“Well, it was your best work according to everyone in the room.” He adds.

“Robert quietly told me I wouldn’t be VP for long, so he’s either firing me or promoting me.” I smile while Jason jumps up and down hugging me.

“You better not be stealing my boyfriend.” Chad shows up, puts his hand around my neck and pulls me in for deep kiss.

“Babe, you’re late.” I note.

“Yeah, last minute phone call with California. I’ll make it up to you later.” He smiles.

Jason chimes in.”don’t keep him up all night, we’re playing Harborside bright and early.”

“I didn’t forget.” I assure him.

After Chad discretely reaches in my pocket and fondles my cock., we excuse ourselves, grab dinner and head back to my place. We fuck all night long, including in my shower, early the next morning. As soon as Chad leaves, Jason calls to make sure I’m up.

He offers to pick me up and drive. I’m grateful since I’m clueless how to get to Harborside. Marcus’ golf clothes are in the casual part of my closet and his clubs are in one of my spare bedrooms along with his other toys. Marcus was always a better golfer than me and I haven’t played in years. Again, I use instagram to select a typical Marcus outfit—Under Armour shorts and shirt, Adidas cleats and his leggings since it’s chilly outside. He has a great set of Callaway clubs and bag but it doesn’t help. Jason points out that I suck more than usual but I blame it on not sleeping last night and not playing in weeks.

The best part of the day is Jason driving me back to his place to help him move some furniture. I now know where my best friend lives. We hang out for hours, watch some college football, and drink too much beer the rest of the afternoon. That night we hit up “Sides” and I get wasted for the first time in 7 years. My new friends are great and clueless they have a new friend.

Sunday is set aside as a ‘me’ day to celebrate my first incredible week living my brother’s life. I dress in my usual Polo Chino, a sweater and my favorite leather jacket. For breakfast I take the M8 north along Lake Michigan and find a little diner to eat then head back to the city to shop. Even though I mock the ‘Mag Mile’, there’s no better place to shop and that’s my plan. My net worth is north of $5 million now and I’m going to spend some of it. At the Polo store I’m recognized, kissed up to and end up spending $2500 for sport coat, pants and casual shirt. At the Rolex Boutique I spend $13,000 on Rolex Daytona, putting it on my Platinum VISA. The serious damage is done at Tom Ford where I spend $20,000 on a few new suits, suspenders, shoes and ties. One is a double breasted, the other is a 3-piece suit and I haven’t seen anything like them in my closet. Everything I purchase reflects Marcus’ style and tastes, not Michael’s.

Back home, it takes two trips to unload the car. Chad comes over for dinner and spends the night. He’s shocked to learn I can cook but I keep it simple with some steaks on the grill, potatoes and salad. He’s up early to go to work and I decline an invitation to join him so I can sleep in. I really enjoy spending time with him, especially the sex.

The next week flies by like the first with long hours, working out and happy hours with Jason and friends. Robert has given me the AMP account to conquer next, bypassing Adam. My love life is insane. Chad fucked me in the bathroom on the 95th, Liam wants me to spend a weekend with him in Detroit. Merit approved my application for membership so Jason and I will be taking the AMP management team there for a round before the season end.

I can’t believe how easy it’s been stepping into Marcus’ life and how much I’m enjoying it. His routine is now my routine—whether it’s working out, or happy hour or work. I’ve replaced him and no one has a clue. When someone says ‘Marcus’, I instinctively respond to ‘my’ name without hesitation. My fear now is losing it back to him and ending up back in Ann Arbor building websites and working for another little company.

Visit Number One

Marcus’ rehab clinic called, letting me know I can visit on Saturday and take him off campus for lunch. I confirm I’ll be there at noon and to let him know. On the way there, I stop by my house and change from his clothes into my typical Levis and t-shirt but keep the leather jacket on. I also wear my Michigan baseball cap to hide my new haircut. Marcus’ clothes are put in a duffle bag and hidden in the trunk to change back into later.

There are a lot of rules to agree to before Marcus is allowed out for the afternoon. He’s limited to a 10 mile area and no alcohol, drugs or cigarettes of any kind. A big male nurse brings him out to me and we jump in the BMW.

“You’re not getting out?” Is the first question I ask.

“Fuck no, I’m stuck here for 90 days at least according to my therapist. My fucking lawyer says it was a last minute change and that he even told me. I was so drunk the last time we talked, that I probably forgot the conversation.”

“Great, I was confused when the clinic called about lunch, figuring they meant taking you home. What about work? They’re expecting you on Monday.”

“I know, I know, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for with Coleman. I was thinking we could swap places and you stay here but this ankle bracelet doesn’t come off.” He lifts his leg to show me.

“Jesus, you’re under house arrest bro. I could have, would have. I was laid off from my job a few days ago. We were bought out by Tyco months ago and when I refused to move to Philadelphia for them, they laid me off.” He’s not the only good liar in the family.

“So what are you going to do?” Marcus asks.

“Well, I got a 9 months severance, even have some leads on jobs, so I’m in no hurry yet.”

“Bro, this is perfect! Go into work as me, cover for me.” I knew he’d come up with that on his own. Internally I’m smiling but outwardly, I look gravely concerned.

“Oh come on bro, this isn’t college, this would be your life. This would be for months. How do I learn your job by Monday morning?”

“Michael, we’re both marketing majors, you have all my files on my laptop, all you have to do is clean yourself up, put on one of my suits and go in. It’ll be easy, like when we swapped for the summer in college.”

“You’re comparing this to college? We swapped boyfriends for a few months.”

“Yeah, it’ll be easy. I’m starting a new position with a new creative team that barely know me.”

“What about your coworkers, friends, neighbors and boyfriends? Your phone has been going crazy with people calling, offering condolences and wanting to send flowers. I spoke to Liam and Chad a few times, they’re worried about me, I mean you and our dad’s death. That lie traveled really far and fast.” I’m as good of a liar as Marcus.

“Oh, it was probably my buddy Jason, he’s as bad as a woman.” He chuckles.

“So Jason knows you really well, right? As soon as I fuck up, he’ll figure out I’m not you.”

“No, he has no clue I even have a brother, let alone a twin. He’ll have no reason to suspect you’re not me.”

“What about everyone else?”

“I’ll write down everything you need to know about my life. Pull into that Dollar Store and grab a tablet. Do you have my computer with you?”

“No, it’s in my living room along with your phone, wallet and jewelry.” I pull into the store and we grab all that’s needed. I throw everything at him and he starts writing feverishly while I look for a place to eat in this little town. We settle on a Sonny’s BBQ and get a table in the corner away from everyone. I keep my baseball cap on so Marcus doesn’t notice my haircut that actually looks better than his’.

He’s quietly chatting and writing the entire time, only taking time to eat his BBQ ribs and drink some ice tea. He’s drawing floor plans, scribbling names with notes and paragraphs of information.

“Ok, here’s everything you need to know.” Marcus announces proudly and pushes papers towards me. “It’s in groups of work, friends and boyfriends.”

“Great, tell me about my new boyfriends, tricks or ‘friends with benefits’.”

“Ha, Let’s start with the important people, those closest to me.”

“Do you have a little black book I can use?” I beg.

“Focus! Jason is my closest friend, followed by Mark. We do happy hours, work out, work together, golf, road trips, and watch football on weekends.” Marcus gets very serious.

“I need to have a little ‘fun’ bro.” I whine.

“Here’s everything you need to be me with them.” He responds with attitude then passes me sheets labeled ‘Friends/Boyfriends’. He has their names listed, how they met, quirks, habits, hobbies, interests. Then he hands me a ‘Coleman’ sheet.

“For work, Robert Coleman hired me, mentored me and I’m like the son he’s never had. He’s been easing out of the business, letting Adam Trappe assume more responsibility. I’m next in line for Adam’s President position next.”

Marcus has detailed notes for all managers I’ve been interacting with for weeks. This gives me even more information that only the real Marcus would know. I use this to fire off more questions about my new life and the information just flows from him to me.

“What about ‘my’ sex life bro? I need a boyfriend or boytoy. You have to have one based on texts and phone calls I’m trying to respond to. Oh, and the pics in your phone, fuckkkk.” I smile at him.

“No serious boyfriend so you’re safe. Chad, who you’ve talk to is latest. We met at an art showing for our common friend Peter. I fucked him in the back office of the gallery the first night and hook up weekly at least. He’s great in the sack.”

“I looked at his pics on your phone. He looks amazing.”

He goes on about Liam, Jim and Dennis, filling in a lot of blanks. Then he talks about Jason and his straight guy friends. About half the information is not new to me but the rest is great. Marcus fills in a lot of personal history about people, things like how they met, jokes they share, likes/dislikes and habits. A lot of the little things Marcus knows, are now part of my identity and strengthen my identity as Marcus Thomas.

“So how is the Clinic treating you? Making progress?” I ask.

“The last two weeks was me shaking, having withdrawals and night sweats. I would kill for a drink right now. There’s group therapy every day before lunch, then after lunch are the one-on-one sessions. Dinner is at 6pm and the rest of the day is ours. There’s TV and complete library but no phones or internet.”

“What about your lawyer, record and trial? How does that work?” I probe.

“I get a weekly, 10 minute call. He says the 3 months of treatment may be counted as 3 months of jail time but I could still get real jail time of up to 5 years.”

“What about you driving? You’ll have a record.”

“It’s too early to know. I’m hoping I do 3 months here, have limited driving rights and no jail time. He’s also working on getting the arrest record expunged.”

“You have a lot riding on this lawyer, do you want me to contact him?”

“No, but check my mail for any of his bills and pay them. My bank login information is here, but it should be saved on my iMac.”

“What if I’m caught?” Not that I would but just want to play up my concern.

“Are you joking? You won’t be. With all this information and your looks, you’ll pull off my identity easily. Have fun at work Marcus.” He hands over his life to me.

I drop Marcus off but don’t go inside. It’s another 6 hour drive home with a quick stop in Ann Arbor to change into Marcus for another month. The entire drive home my mind is spinning with what just happened. My brother has turned over his life to me and I don’t have to worry about the last two weeks. Once I’ve changed back into my ‘Marcus’ outfit and driving the BMW, I only think of myself as him. I start thinking of work and upcoming projects, working out with Jason and lunch at Merit using my new membership.

The Better Marcus

The Ballis Automotive rebranding campaign kicked off a few weeks ago to rave reviews. Robert storms into my office all excited because we’ve been nominated for a number of Association of National Advertisers B2 awards. Just to be nominated is a huge honor even if you don’t win. The Ballis campaign was nominated for the categories of ‘Web Presence’, ‘Branding’, ‘Employer Branding’ and ‘Product Relaunch’. The B2 award gala will be held at the end of the month, at the Sheraton Grand which is less than a mile from our office.

Marcus may have done the initial work on the overall proposal, but I’m the one who reworked the website and branding portions at the last minute. I’ve always been the more creative one. Robert is convinced this will catapult Coleman to the top for Chicago marketing. When Robert leaves, I look out the window, overlooking Michigan avenue and look at myself in the reflection. A deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction hits me—I’m a better Marcus for sure.

“Is your head swollen? Will it fit through the door?” Jason comes running into my office after hearing the ANA news.

“No, you better call building maintenance so they can enlarge the door so I can get out.” I turn around, he high fives me and I smack the back of his head for his comment.

“Ouch, you fucker! We’re heading up to 95th.”

“For sure, just give me a few minutes to finish up here. I’ll meet you there.”

I finish up some emails, then think about Marcus getting all the credit for my hard work. He’d have no problem sitting here with the award on the desk, showing it off, bragging while not having a clue what went into it. Thinking of this, just pisses me off. I’m not going to let him do this, he’s been taking things from me our entire life.

Happy hour is insane and even Jason notices I’m back to drinking ‘like a ho’. The whole office is here including Robert and Adam. Robert pulls me, Gary, and Adam aside to let us know that we have a table for the black tie gala, we’re all attending in a few weeks and it’s black tie. It’s a huge celebration for just the simple nominations.

I text Chad and he joins us then drives me back to his place for the night. This helps a lot since, like Jason, I had no clue where he lives. Sex with him is great. I don’t even mind him being a screamer, especially when he’s screaming out ‘Marcus’. Fucking him as Marcus is such a turn on for me, that I usually explode upon hearing my new name. I figured out, based on emails that Marcus dated him for about 6 weeks, and I’ve been at it for 4 weeks. Like everyone else I interact with, he’s clueless to the switch.

Two weeks later ‘team Coleman’, as we’re now calling ourselves, is at the Gala dressed to the nines. I spent about $9,000 at Tom Ford for a new Tuxedo and accessories. There is a Brooks Brothers tuxedo in the back of my closet but wearing it would be out of character for Marcus. It was a brilliant night for Coleman and Ballis, winning ‘Web Presence, Employer Branding and Branding’—all areas that I created, not Marcus. Robert hands me one of the awards and has me talk about the web presence concept. Chad films it for my Instagram. We go back to my place to celebrate with more sex but I leave early for my lunch with my brother tomorrow in Cleveland.

The next morning I spend hours at the DMV getting my new Illinois drivers license. I walk in as Michael Thomas from Ann Arbor, Michigan and walk out as Marcus Thomas of Chicago Illinois. I managed to find the same shirt Marcus used for his license, and wore it for my new pic. Putting both side by side, the only difference is the license number itself. At home I log into all of my accounts, like banking, work, travel and update them with my new drivers license number. My old wallet and my brother’s license are locked in my safe and I change the passcode. The new driver’s license replaces the old one like i’ve replaced Marcus.

I’m shamelessly using ‘my’ Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat and TikTok just like my brother. Whether I’m at happy hour, the gym or out on a date, I’m posting and bragging about my life.

Visit Number Two

Six weeks have passed since my brother went into rehab and I assumed his identity and life. I’m firmly in place as Marcus, acquiring his friends and career—basically his entire life is now mine. I’m a better version of Marcus Thomas. This time I don’t change my clothes or identity to visit him. On purpose, I’m in one of his favorite outfits, that was well documented on his Instagram. I’m there early and he’s waiting in the lobby for me. He jumps up when he sees me.

“Michael, you’re early.” Using a name I haven’t responded to in weeks.

“Come on bro, let’s go, I’m starving.” I sign him out with the front desk.

We jump into the car and head to the Sonny’s again. I bring in my briefcase and computer into restaurant with me, to have him help me with some account information. The hostess looks at us oddly, probably wondering if we’re twins. Marcus looks horrible with an overgrown stubble and long hair while I’m the epitome of Marcus Thomas.

“Wow, don’t you look all spiffy in my clothes.” Marcus stares at me.

“Yeah, I didn’t realize you were such a fashionista but I’m starting to appreciate it. You approve of my outfit?” I adjust my sleeves in my suit coat.

“Ah yeah, because it’s one of my favorite outfits—Hugo Boss, my Omega watch and even my Prada shoes. Why so dressed up?” He notices the details.

“Yeah, I saw it on ‘my’ Instagram and loved it.” I’m wearing his Hugo Boss tan glen plaid suit with wine color dress shirt, and Prada lace up derbies. I duplicated it exactly from his pics on Instagram. “I thought I’d show you how much I look like you with hair done, in one of your outfits you. Don’t worry, I take off the jacket and hang it in the car while driving.”

“Just make yourself at home, in my home and my life.”

“Actually it’s my life Michael. Your friends and coworkers haven’t noticed anything different about me. It’s been really easy being Marcus.” I smile at him, giving him my identity and he doesn’t say a word.

“I can see why. You’re the spitting image of me, even the hair now.” He acknowledges.

“Yeah I had to get a haircut of course. Learning your job, friends and life was challenging but I’m you.”

“What about Chad?” He questions.

“Oh my god, I’ve had more sex as you than I had in the past year. You’re still dating Chad and Liam visited. They’re both incredible in bed.” I grin devilishly at him.”

“You’ve slept with both of them?”

“Yeah, Liam was in town for work, called and we had lunch, then sex but he’s back in Detroit. I’ve been ’dating’ Chad regularly and he’s blast too.”

“Wow you have replaced me. I’m so horny and jealous. They didn’t notice a difference?”

“Only that I was better in bed!” I boast.

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“So how is it going with rehab? Making progress?” I ask sincerely.

“I would give you a million dollars for a beer right now. I finally started sleeping normally but the cravings don’t end. The other day I had an incident with my doctor when I rejected some pills to calm me down. I threw the bottle in a fit and pills flew across the room. They ended up injecting me with a needle instead and I was out for 12 hours.”

“I never noticed your drinking issue. In college you were no different than anybody else.”

“It happened after college with the job, daily happy hours and binge drinking.”

“I can relate now because Jason wants to do the 95th every night.”

“How is he doing? I miss hanging out with him.” Marcus sadly asks.

“He’s doing great, seeing a girl he met at a football game. He claims she’s the one.”

“Ha, yeah he says that with every new girl. I give it 4 weeks max.” He laughs a little.

“What’s the lawyer saying?” I ask seriously.

“It’s not good.” He’s down again. “He’s trying but not having any luck. He also says I have ‘at least’ three months here, that it could be longer.”

“Jail time?”

“3 to 7 years.” He says soberly.

“Fuck bro! Fuck!!” I was a little loud and some people heard me.

“Yep, I’m fucked for sure. Even 3 years in jail will kill me.”

“I’m sorry bro. I don’t know what to say.” I respond very quietly.

“It’s out of my control, nothing I can do. I just have to hope my lawyer is worth all the money I’m paying him. I don’t want to think about it.” Marcus sighs in defeat. “How is my life, you certainly have my look nailed.”

“The first few weeks were sketchy, learning your job, habits and people who know you. You didn’t mention your gym membership and working out with Jason. He noticed that when I missed our ‘normal’ workout. Then I messed up when I was clueless about Nikomahs Casino, your first major success.”

“But has anyone discovered you, questioned you?”

“Look at me.” I lean back in the chair and run my hand through my hair in a typical Marcus gesture. “If our parents couldn’t tell us apart, do you think your friends can? They don’t even know you have a twin, so why would they think I’m anyone but you?”

“That is amazing but I shouldn’t be surprised, it was alway easy for us to swap.”

“I’m you, living your life and loving it. I’m doing one hell of a job.”

“No glitches or problems with people or issues?”

“Not a single person has questioned my identity but there has been some slip ups on my part. The worst moment was my lack of knowledge about the changes to the Nikomahs casino account over the past 6 years, that ‘I’ personally handle. I was so embarrassed but Robert jumped in and filled in the blanks. Afterwards he pulled me aside and asked what’s wrong, that I was not myself. I pulled the ‘mom isn’t well and I can’t focus. It seemed to work but that night I spent hours in the office reviewing every document and email about it.” I confess but lie.

“You can’t possibly know my career history or little details.”

“That’s why you’re going to fill me in on the details. You’re going to fill in the blanks of your life for me.” I pull out his computer from his briefcase.

“Sure, you’ve got 6 more weeks to cover for me.”

“I have to ask…what if you go to jail? What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Resign my job, sell my condo and put everything in storage? Make up some lie, like I’m starting my own business and moving to London.”

“Throw everything away? What if I keep your identity? Robert loves you like a son, and Jason loves you like a brother. They’d be devastated.” I toss it out there to see his reaction.

He gets pissed at me for saying it, I see his anger. “Then fucking live my life, you’ve always been jealous of me. You can be me! It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this but I’m definitely doing a better job of it.” I get cocky back with him.

“Yeah right, your vast experience of job hopping and creating dinky webpages really qualifies you for my job. Looking like me and actually being me, are two different things.”

“Fuck you. I’m crushing it as you. Robert has noticed a positive change in you since I cut back drinking and even Jason has admitted it’s time for us to drink less.” I fire back at him.

“Fuck you, you may be sitting at my desk, doing my job but you’re not me.”

I open up my acceptance speech video from last night and shove his iPhone in his hand. “I’m actually better than you after only one month. Watch the new Marcus Thomas, ANA B2 award winner.”

He’s just watching in silence, mouth open in disbelief. “You accepted my award for Ballis?”

“No, it’s my award for my work. The meeting was delayed and I reworked about 75% of your proposal, which are what the awards were for.” I boast, he has nothing to say after that.

I open my notebook, pull up the Ballis proposal and shove it towards him. He scrolls through the entire thing, totally silent again.

“So you built on top of what I created. If I had more time, I would have done even better.” He proclaims after reviewing the presentation.

“Oh, give me a fucking break. Your proposal put me to sleep the first time I went through it. Gary and Adam loved my new concept and Ballis was onboard before the meeting ended. Coleman never saw that happen. You’re welcome.”

“I’m not thanking you for shit.” People heard that. He’s going thru his social media on ‘my’ iPhone stunned. “You’re living my life.”

“Like my new Tuxedo? It’s Tom Ford. I didn’t want to wear ‘my’ old Brooks Brothers tuxedo I wore for Mark’s wedding.”

“What did that cost me?” He snidely questions.

“Michael, not your concern little bro. I wanted to look my best for my 15 minutes of fame.”

"My 15 minutes of fame!" He barks again.

“Like I said, I’m being you, including your stupid TikTok and Instagram. It’s what you wanted and it’s exhausting being a narcissist, keeping your ‘fans’ happy.” Actually I’m enjoying the attention and comments but I’m not letting him know.

“Your TikToks are great and I can’t tell the difference in our posts and pics.” He calms down.

“Duh! We’re twins, you do realize that? You better hope I just don’t walk away tomorrow from your life. You’ll be screwed career wise. You’ll be designing dinky websites and taking crappy jobs.”

“You’d never do that, my life is so much better than your’s and you know it. You should be thanking me.”

“Try me. I’m the one doing you a huge favor, remember that!” I threaten him.

I’m in charge after that and we spend hours reviewing files and his work history. He doesn’t hesitate to answer any of my questions. After some quick shopping for clothes for him at Dick’s Sporting Goods, I drop him off at the entrance and head home. The long drive home gives me time for reflect on my new life. I'm really enjoying everything about it. After only 6 weeks, I don’t want to give it up.

More Control

I'm living life exactly as Marcus would. The only difference is that I drink half as much as him. I love hanging with Jason and Mark, golfing, playing basketball and working out with them. I've slipped easily into his circle of friends. There's been a few incidences where I didn't quite catch a joke or references but they're usually drunk and don't notice. In Ann Arbor, I had work friends but outside of that I was a loaner, occasionally dating but nothing ever serious.

Other aspects of his life have fallen into place. I keep his appointment for a haircut with Steve at Halo, a hair salon not far from my place. It was a combination wash, haircut, manicure, eyebrow trim and hand job! As I was leaning back over the sink, he’s massaging both my heads at the same time. I’m wasn’t sure how to react but he whispers in my ear that he gets off at 8pm and he’d get me off by midnight if I pick him up. I play it cool as he makes out with me at the same time.

When I leave Halo, I post my shocked looked on Instagram. I pick him up at 8, take him out to eat, then back to my place. This is a regular haircut for my brother since he leads me back to my bedroom, wraps a condom from my drawer on me and rides it all night long. Marcus’ sex life is way better than mine and Steve doesn’t notice a difference just like Chad and Liam. I call Jason to apologize for blowing off Side Tracks but as soon as I say ‘haircut’, he calls me a slut and tells me how jealous he is. I’m grateful to Steve for the sex and for tidying up grooming details like my eyebrows and cuticles.

I'm officially 'exclusive' with Chad but having too much fun with all this new attention. I’ve scheduled a trip to Detroit for a weekend with Liam. What can I say? He’s tight, fun and just my type. Chad thinks I'm going to a marketing conference in Detroit. Chad is great eye candy for my management to see me with and he’s as fun as Liam in bed. He’s been dating me longer than he did my brother but I don't see much of a future with him. Chad adds credibility to me as Marcus and I still explode when he screams out 'Marcus' as I ram his tight hole. The sex is awesome.

My job is going so well. I believe, no, I know I'm being groomed to be president, taking over Adam's spot. At least once a week, I do lunch with Adam and Robert where we talk about the future of Coleman and of Robert stepping back. They've both notice a change for the better in me, saying I'm more focused, more of a leader and creative.

Financially, I'm spending more than Marcus normally would but I did need a new tuxedo for the ANA, and joining the Merit Club wasn't cheap but it is a legit business expense for my taxes. I met with my Fidelity advisor, Andrew Gingerich, which is something Marcus never did in person, and never took an interest in his money. Good old Marcus, as usual, he only cared that he was making money. My advisor was happy to meet with me and help with diversifying my portfolio. In just the last month, my costs have dropped while my returns have increased significantly.

One thing no one at Coleman noticed about the old Marcus is his embezzling of corporate funds over the years. We're talking about $500,000 per year that magically moved from marketing to his own personal Fidelity checking account via a Cayman account. No wonder his could just plop down $120,000 for his new BMW and $30,000 for his Merit Club membership. My brother would have eventually been caught and really ended up in jail. It took a while to unravel the money trail but then I returned it to Coleman, making sure it looks like a simple accounting error. My net worth has dropped by about $2m but more importantly, I have leverage over my brother.

Visit Number Three

It’s going to be a day of reckoning for my brother. I’ve been him for 10 weeks, making this our longest identity swap and also a lot more complex than when we were in college. I pick him up and head to our usual Sonny’s BBQ. Marcus doesn’t say a word during the short drive and he looks good but not happy at all.

“So what’s with the silence?” I carefully ask.

“Oh nothing really, just another month of rehab followed by 3 to 7 years in jail.”

“What? What the hell happened?”

“My worthless lawyer and a judge, with a stick up his ass for 4th time offenders.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect jail time for you. Can you appeal it?”

“Yes, and I could get parole in a few years.”

“When do you go to jail?”

“In about two weeks.”

In a small way, I feel bad for him then I think of his previous incidents, and him embezzling from his employer who adores him. He had it made financially just on his salary alone with no need to steal a penny. After a few fleeting thoughts like that, reality comes back and I think he’s not getting close to what he deserves. I’m also thrilled at the thought of keeping his life for myself.

“So you go straight to jail? No probation, no time in between?”

“The police will pick me up right here, the prison is in Jackson, Michigan. It’s for white collar criminals and addiction with continuing counseling.”

“Fuck man, fuck! What are you going to do?” I vent.

“How about we swap places and you do me a little favor.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds like a plan, especially with that nice ankle bracelet you’re wearing. Do you still have urges to drink?”

“In all honesty, after I got the news of jail time, I wished I was at the 95th, downing shots with Jason.”

“Well, it’s quite a lot to accept. That’s normal.”

“You’ll probably be let out early. It’s not like you killed someone.”

“Yeah, my lawyer agrees with you on that, but still, three years in jail.”

“What about your life and job?”

“Just quit my job, pack everything up and put it in storage.” He says it too easily.

“Throw it all away?”

“Yeah and when I get out, I’ll be doing websites and marketing for ‘Sammy’s Garage’ in Ann Arbor like you.” He laughs at his put down.

“Maybe you will be, in fact, you probably will, but I won’t. I’ve grown accustom to your life.”

“You’re moving to a big city and getting a real job? Oh yeah, I so see that happening.” He mocks me.

“Already a done deal bro, not giving it up.”

“Are you saying, you’re keeping my life?”

“Why not? I’m the better Marcus, my coworker Adam says I’ll be promoted to his spot in a few months when Robert retires. Look at me bro, I’m you without the drinking problem. I’m set for life—great salary, boyfriends, great friends, awesome condo and hot car.”

“Why not? Why not? Are you fucking insane? First, it’s not your life, it’s mine. Second, I won’t let you do it.”

“I’ve been thinking about this and it makes complete sense. I need a job, I’m perfect for it and I’m a natural. No one has a clue I’m not you, thanks to my looks and your coaching.”

“I’ll have my lawyer make sure you don’t, you’ll go to jail for fraud. I’ll claim I had no clue what you were doing.”

“I don’t think so bro, unless you want to spend more time in jail for embezzling funds.”

“What?” He looks shocked.

“I know you have millions hidden in accounts all around the world. I bet Coleman would love to know how you screwed them.”

“How did you find out?”

“Oh come on bro, I’m not stupid. I looked at your tax returns and even if you saved every penny, you’d be lucky to have $3m in the bank. Then there’s mysterious deposits from and to an account in the Caymans. It took a little sleuthing but with my degree in finance, it started to make sense. Then when ‘my’ buddy Javier called from the Caymans, it all fell into place.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told you, I’m taking over your life. As you mentioned, it’s pretty sweet, I’m good at it and you were right, I was a little jealous.”

“You fucking bastard.” He curses under his breath.

“Calm down bro, it’s not too bad. You can’t use it, you won’t need it for a few years. It’s going to be our little secret from now on. Oh and it’s permanent too, so even when you do get out, don’t come asking for your life back.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I have gotten away with this for months now. By the way, if something happens to me, I’ve made arrangements to blow this wide open and you will be back in jail. Also, Javier is no longer helping me, I put an end to your scheme.” His mouth is hanging up.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to your own brother.”

“Ha! Seriously, you’re playing the brother card? My brother who calls once or twice a year, who I haven’t seen in years and who keeps me secret. Nice try.” I laugh and mock him.

Marcus just sits there saying nothing, staring at his ribs. I can see he’s seething and thinking of his options. He’s just got to realize it’s checkmate and accept it.

“Bro, I’m doing you a huge favor. Your reputation remains intact and it’s actually gotten better with me in charge. I’m now well known in the marketing world. It’s best for both of us but it’s only fair that I benefit the most. When you get out, I’ll be here to help you get on your feet, hell, I’ll give your plenty of start up money and as me, you can create your own company even. You’ve got time to plan it.”

“Fine!” He blurts out defeated.

“Bro, I’ll come see you in prison, keep you updated on things. You’ll be fine, we’ll both be fine.”

We finish our lunch and he doesn’t say a word the entire drive back. We pull up front, I walk him in and give him a hug.

“Cya bro.” Are my last words to him. I take my time driving back to my new life in Chicago.

THE END

#twin #stolen identity #imposter #body switch #male body swap #body swap #bodyswap #gay men #impersonation #transformation #transform

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chaoticallysapphic · 4 years ago

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just the start chapter one

summary: It’s such a sweet beginning and such a horrible end. Before you die for someone, you have to love them with your very being. You have to see just how much this world needs them despite their doubts and you have to be happy up until the very end. If not for you then for them.

a/n: I give to thee part one of the just a scratch prequel. This is a series that I will most likely very slowly update because tgt has my full attention and this is all I have for it so far. Please tell me your thoughts on it and as always thank you @medeliadracon

word count: 3k

Your kids are going to be the death of you. It was meant to be an easy, minimum stress day where you handed the kids a test you’d been helping them study for over two weeks. Afterward, it was a lesson on the creation of the Earth Kingdom and its early history, but ten-year-olds never like to make things easy on you. You caught three of your students trying to cheat off of one another and two forgot to bring pencils to school. Someone tried to feign illness to get out of it, which led three others to try their luck as well.

Another one of your students decided to continuously interrupt what was meant to be a painless fifteen-minute lesson into a thirty-minute lesson that had everyone groaning in their seats towards the ends. You did not get paid enough for this.

You may have been a bit harsh by assigning them more homework than normal and it would come back to bite you in the ass when it came time to grade them. The problem is that if you yell at them or call them assholes you’ll lose your job so instead you decide to punish them with more work and you finally leave the classroom with a tense demeanor and a need to see your favorite person.

You usually don’t let work get to you like this, you're known as the sweet teacher that everyone adores so on the days when you snap or hand out extra work your students know they messed up big time. But last night you may have lost track of time as you read a new book you had purchased the day before.

You couldn’t help how it sucked you in and locked you inside its pages until late into the evening, so you woke up late with the book lying flat against your chest and your head laid in a weird angle on the arm of your couch. You weren’t able to eat any breakfast as you ran to school with half of your shirt untucked and your hair messily pinned back.

It’s early evening now and you know she will most likely stay late at the office so you decide to bring her some of her favorite food from a fire nation food cart. By now the owner knows you by name and happily whips up the usual as you tighten your coat around you. Summer is slowly saying goodbye and in its wake autumn is bringing a chill as the sun goes down. Soon enough it’ll be the best kind of weather to cozy up inside with a mug of tea and a novel.

You’re suddenly thankful for your outfit choice, a pair of dark brown loose slacks that button at your waist with a white long-sleeved blouse tucked into the waistband. You do regret the pair of burnt orange heels you paired with the outfit, school required women to wear them which you felt was incredibly wrong with being on your feet for the majority of the day.

Usually, you’d pack a pair of flats to change into but this morning you forgot it along with your scarf. So as your feet ache you decide to strike up a conversation with one of your favorite people.

“How are you doing today?” Kaito, the food cart owner is a sweet old man who you’ve been coming to way before you met Lin. It’s only a block away from the school so when you first started working there you’d rush out during lunch to get something to eat in hopes that food would calm you down.

“I’m doing okay, although I must say the local gossip has kept me entertained today,” he places the boxes of your food into a paper bag as you hand him the yuans for the meals. You quirk a brow with an amused smile and ask “and what is the gossip today?”

“The Avatar has come to Republic City!”

“Wow, are you sure about that?” You grab the bag of food from the cart and wait for his reply before leaving.

“Well, my buddy told me, said he witnessed it himself and I believe him.”

“I’m putting my trust in you Kaito. If that’s a lie I’ll be very sad,” you say teasingly before taking a step back to walk away. He calls after you, claiming he’d never lie and while you know he’s telling the truth you still decide to playfully stick your tongue out at him over your shoulder. “Have a nice night!”

Those around whom don’t know you, which is everyone except for Kaito, watch in bewilderment at the thirty-nine years old woman who acts like a child towards the elderly cart owner.

That little encounter helped ease your nerves a bit as you walked towards the police station, cars zoomed past as the streetlights flickered on to illuminate the streets. Lin had been talking to you about needing a mode of transportation, she hated you walking everywhere for fear of getting mugged, but you enjoyed walking. It gave you time to look back on your day and think about what needs to be done before your head hits the pillow.

Some overpriced car will slash that time in half and with it your moment of silence. That being said it would be nice on your feet and back. You jog up the long stone steps in front of the precinct, a few officers are filing out for the night, all of which have slowly pieced together who you are.

They throw smiles your way as you hold the door open for them before walking inside. Ishi, the lady who runs the front desk smiles as she watches you walk past with the bag of food in hand. Everyone here likes you, which is no surprise, especially since anytime you visit Lin is left in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Phones are ringing as you walk through the main office where desks are lined up, a couple of the detectives and rookies offer a hello in between flipping through pages of paperwork or dialing the phone. Without knocking, because at this point you know it’ll just result in Lin yelling, you open the door to her office.

You find her hunched over her desk with her glasses resting at the tip of her nose. She’s got papers scattered across the desk with her chin resting in her hands. At the sound of the door opening, she glances up and lets out a sigh of relief at seeing you instead of some officer.

“Thought I’d bring you an early dinner and hopefully rip you away from your work for at least a few minutes,” you say as you set the bag down on the desk. She pushes away from the desk and, taking off her glasses, collects the mess of papers to help prep the desk for the meal.

“You know you didn’t have to do that, right?” She asks you this as she moves past you to put the stack of papers on the couch. You shrug and begin to pull out the containers of Komodo sausage and spicy fire noodles. “I wanted to, besides I know you probably skipped lunch.”

At the site of the containers from Kaito’s Lin shakes her head with a smile. “You know, one of these days I’m going to make you eat something other than Kaito’s food.”

“Hey!” You look up with a playful scowl, chopsticks in hand. “I eat my own food and that meal you made me.”

She rolls her eyes and comes up to pull you into a brief kiss, you smile as her lips touch yours and lean closer to her. Any ounce of stress left from your workday vanishes just as it always does when it comes to Lin.

“Fine,” she says, her lips gently brushing against yours, she’s smiling too. “I’m going to make you eat something other than our home-cooked meals and Kaito’s.”

“Never,” you whisper before pecking her on the lips. You pull yourself away from her, truly you want to stay in her arms and kiss her until you're breathless but you know she needs to eat. Plus you don’t want this food to get cold. “Now c’mon, eat up and tell me about your day.”

You hand Lin her chopsticks as you sit down on the leather chair opposite her desk, she rolls her desk chair to sit beside you and picks up her container of sausages and pours them over the noodles. With your legs crossed over one another your foot brushes against her leg as you do the same. This is a routine picked up long ago, just at the start of your relationship actually.

Most days you’d come here for dinner or drag her out of the office to eat at your apartment. She was grateful for your care, to be honest at first she tried to push you away, to keep you at arm's length, but she couldn’t. Lin gave up within two days of knowing you and has ever since been enraptured by your mere presence.

“It was…” Lin sighs, “the Avatar has come to town and destroyed public and private property along with interfering with Republic City Police business. I’ve been neck-deep in paperwork ever since Tenzin came to bail her out.” She stabs her chopsticks into her noodles with a scowl and swirls them around to gather a bunch of noodles around them.

“I heard about her coming to town but I didn’t know she did all of that.”

“Yeah, and she tried to tell me how to do my job!�� Setting your container down you reach over to rub your hand up her arm in a soothing manner. You tend to let off steam by reading or spending time with others whilst Lin bottled it up and let it twist into something akin to resentment.

Thankfully she recently started opening up to you and somehow she was surprised by the fact that you actually listened to her. “She’s some privileged teenager who knows nothing about this city or the law, and she tried to tell me how to do my job.”

“Lin you have to think about what you were like as a teenager. What she did was wrong, but they tend to be a bit entitled at times. Once she finds out how much you really love this city she’ll take it back and respect you.”

“Well, thankfully she won’t have to because Tenzin said he’d take her back to the South Pole.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of Tenzin, not being able to help yourself. You are a nice person, really you are and you try not to let people get to you but fuck does that Airbender get on your nerves. When he found out Lin was dating someone, a woman on top of that, he freaked out and somehow tried to make it about him.

When Lin said she happened to like men and women he stood with his mouth open in confusion. You know how hard that was for her to say. You were the second woman she had ever been with, the first some one-night stand she had met some years ago in a smoky bar. But you were the first woman she had ever dated and for her to finally admit it was a big step. You had stood there with her hand in yours as you tried to silently support her.

He shut up when she said she loved you. She hadn’t told him until a month ago so your irritation was still warranted, but you knew it was probably time to get over it. It just upset you that he expected her to spend the rest of her days alone while he happily creates as many airbenders as he can with the woman he cheated on her with. Due to him, Lin still held back to some degree regarding your relationship, which you understood and didn’t hold it against her. But you did hold it against him.

“C’mon, I know you hate him and I definitely don’t like him but at least he’s getting rid of her.” Lin sets her container down to thread her fingers through yours. You nod and gently squeeze her hand twice, a little thing you came up with a month ago. She squeezes back twice and you smile, she smiles back.

“You’re right, at least he’s doing one good thing.” Lin can’t help but laugh at that, she slowly lets go of your hand so you both can go back to eating. For a while, it’s comfortably silent as you both chow down. Lin didn’t realize how hungry she was until the delicious scent of Kaito’s cooking wafted through the air.

You’ve been happily in a relationship for almost a year, with your anniversary just days away it makes Lin wonder what these kinds of days were like before you. She can’t seem to remember, all the memories of this office that she can conjure up involve you in some way.

Lin already made sure to have time off for that day, she scheduled herself to leave early and has even been scoping out the best restaurants and jazz clubs in the area. She’s surprised herself with how much effort she’s putting into planning this. To be fair Lin Beifong never does something half-assed but even when she was with Tenzin their anniversaries were a bit simple, and she let him plan them.

“By the way can you be ready by six on Saturday for me?” You bite your lip with furrowed brows as you try to think up what's happening Saturday. With your muddled brain, it takes a few seconds for you to remember your anniversary, which is surprising seeing as you wrote it down in your calendar two months into your relationship. You even found a present for her last month.

“Hmm,” you tap your chin as you try to fight off a smile. “I don’t know, what’s Saturday?” You quirk a brow and Lin knows you’re teasing her by the look on your face.

“You know what’s Saturday.” She stares you down with an exasperated expression and sets her empty container on the desk. Biting your lip you try to continue playing dumb “I don’t think I do, can you help jog my memory?”

Your chair is close enough to hers that she can easily grab onto it and pull it until your knees are touching. In a swift motion that you could definitely never succeed at doing on your own, Lin grabs you by the hips and pulls you off your chair until you're straddling her lap. The last of your noodles go flying to the floor, not that either of you notices, as you let out a shriek of surprise.

“What happened a year ago on Saturday?”

“Y’know I think I rearranged my bookshelf that day, it was life-changing if I’m-” You begin to laugh as she scowls, “being honest.”

“You’re impossible,” she huffs. You lean down to peck her lips, your free hand going to cradle her scarred cheek. She leans forward to kiss you back but you teasingly pull away and watch as she chases after your lips.

“Hmm, did I go on a date with someone almost a year ago?”

“Y’know what I am perfectly fine going back to being single.” Lies, she doesn’t know how she’d cope without you in her life. You’ve added color back into her world and reminded her what it feels like to be happy, to feel loved and secure. It terrifies her if she’s being honest. Everyone she’s ever loved has disappointed her, she doesn’t know what she’ll do if you end up leaving her too.

“Okay, okay! Yes, I know what Saturday is.” You reach behind you to place your container on the desk, it falls onto its side due to the awkward angle but you’ll just clean it up later. Now with both hands-free, you gently cradle her face between them. Lin’s hands rest on the curve of your hips. “What kind of outfit should I wear? Something elegant or something you can easily take off?”

“Why not both?” She says with a smirk. Lin pulls you into another kiss, this one is slow and less innocent than the others. Her lips slant against yours as she pulls you closer by your hips.

You kiss her back at the same, slow pace, neither of you pushes further than the kiss. For a few minutes, you both lazily kiss one another, you missed her. Yesterday was so hectic that all you could do was call her when you finally finished grading some papers.

Reluctantly you pull away, you’re all for going further, but just not this second. You want to keep teasing her, you just can’t help it. Lin doesn’t hate your playful side, if anything she adores it which surprised quite a few people. You were this cheery woman with a bounce in your step who looked at Lin like she hung the moon.

Grumpy, bitter Lin, or so she thought. In your eyes she was amazing, she had a dry sense of humor that caught many by surprise, and she was so incredibly gentle with you. Before you even started dating she let you hold her hand or pull her into a hug, even if she did grumble about it at first.

She wouldn’t tell you then, but she secretly loved how you kept coming back despite her trying to pretend like she wasn’t totally head over heels for you. It made her feel desired and important.

“Now you’re just being greedy.”

Lin shakes her head at your words, her eyes locking in with yours once more. “I can show you greedy.”

You slowly move your hands from her cheeks to softly scratch her scalp, she lets out a relaxed sigh at your ministrations. You smile as you move them further back, her usual simple hairstyle is messed up in the process, but she doesn’t mind. It’s easy to fix.

“I’d like to see that.” You know you’ve egged her on, challenged her, and she does not back down from a challenge. Perhaps you could help relieve some of her stress on the couch before dragging her out of the office for the night.

The idea of teasing her and dragging this out flees from your mind as Lin pulls you into a heated kiss. You can’t help but think when she slips her tongue into your mouth, this woman will be the death of me.

#lin beifong #lin beifong x reader #lin beifong/reader #lin beifong fanfiction #fanifc #lok fanfic #legend of korra #lok #just the start #jts

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insomniamamma · 4 years ago

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Greenhorn: young!Ezra x F!reader

A/N: This was inspired by @opheliaelysia and our conversation about how Ez wouldn't be able to resist squishing an aurelac pod, but it ended up turning into something more. ALSO, though reader and OCs refer to Ezra as "the kid" I am picturing an early 20s Ezra. None of these people are minors.

Warnings: Language. Canon typical violence. Death. Slight gore. Angst. Hurt/comfort. A lil bit of fluff. Implied may-december romance. No beta.

___________________________________________________________________

This is a bad idea, you think, as your drop-ship hits atmo, small squarish windows limned in fire, deep vibration that thrums up through your spine, the ship trying not to tear itself apart, and the kid is still talking. No one can hear him above the vibrations and the scream of superheated molecules shredding themselves apart against the heat shield. Del sings out

"We're at max pressure--" "Copy--" "There was this one time--" "No one gives a fuck, Greenhorn---" "All of you shut the fuck up--" "We're through," says Del, "Drogue deploy in 15--' 'There was a whole fuckin nest of em--" "Oi! Shut it!" "3-2-1, deploying drogues." Del punches the button at his right hand and the drogue 'chutes fire out and the drop-ship does a sick lurch, its pace slowing from suicidal to absurdly dangerous. You've got the ability to soft-land, but so long as Del lines it up right you won't have to, the bog should cradle you. Fuel saved on the way down makes the lift safer. "Deploying mains," you say, and flip the toggle, a loud thump and another jolt as the main chutes deploy, sprouting out from the top of your lander, like the days of Apollo on Old Terra. And still the fucking kid is yapping. In writing the kid seemed half-decent, a big, raw boned boy with a rakish, dimpled smile. Had his own suit and kit and filters. Was polite enough when you asked questions of him, all yes Ma'am and no Ma'am, and three bags full Ma'am. Never would have considered his green ass if Marko hadn't bailed, or, more precisely, if Marko hadn't gotten himself in trouble with the locals and run with his tail between his legs, well, so now you had the kid, who could not for the life of him seem to shut up for two seconds. At first you thought it was just nerves, but he's been yammering away since you requested release. An uninterrupted, stream of consciousness narration. You are wondering if he is, indeed, brain damaged somehow.

"The thing about channel rats--" "For the love of Kevva no one gives a sweet jewel encrusted crap--" "Ezra! For the love of all that's holy, if you do not shut up I will shoot you in the face," you snap. "Clear?" He gives you a little wounded look. "Clear," says Ezra. And, for a brief, miraculous moment, there is silence. The drop ship lands, lurches in the boggy ground and is still. "How we lookin, Del?" "Nav dropped us right on the button," says Del, "We look great." The tight quarters fill with the sound of bodies unstrapping from the crash-couches. "Alright people. Let's suit up. Sooner we get our pull, sooner we get back up to connection orbit." You walk through the Green in loose formation. Del put you down not 3 clicks from the dig site, but the Green is tricksy and, lately, full of dangerous people. Del and Big Pete have rails. You and the kid have your throwers strapped to your hips. Del takes point, you and Big Pete hang back a hair. The kid is supposed to be bringing up the rear, but a look over your shoulder shows him entirely transfixed. This is probably his first time off whatever backwater sprung him, all shiny and new and dropped into the Bakhroma Green, his big brown eyes all agog, trying to look everywhere at once. And you feel this keenly, a spike in your chest that recalls your first time dirtside, the great, broad blue arc of the sky was enough to fuck you up, after only knowing smoothly curving station walls and blunted angles. You recall your wonder, setting foot on this lush and deadly ground, never had you seen so much life, never seen life that wasn't controlled and carefully cultivated. The Green is a truly wild place that obeys no rules but its own. "Is it all like this?" he asks, "So verdantly forested?" "Yep," says Del, "Once in a while you get a soft-spot like we landed in, but most of it's trees and roots." You slog along. The site is close, but it's already warm. And by the time you get there, the kid is mostly silent and that is truly a blessing, likely the effect of slowly poaching in his suit, not accustomed to the heat like you and the rest of the crew. "Should be getting close," says Del, brow furrowed, peering at a battered topographical map, a red x inside a red circle. You stop a beat and peer through the patterns of shadow and trees, the haze of winkling purple dust. "There," you say, hand reaching out to point without even thinking about it, a patch of dark, slightly sunken earth, devoid of brush. Plants don't like to grow over aurelac nests. You don't know why and it doesn't matter. "Right. We set up here. Trade me the rails, Del, you get to play teacher. Listen up, Ezra, Del is one of the best harvester's you'll meet. You listen to him, clear? You do what he says and nothing else." "Clear," says Ezra, grinning all big through his fishbowl helm. "Um...boss?" Says Big Pete, "Why we bothering with this boy?" "What if Marko can't get himself out of the shit this time, huh? We'll need another set of hands...we'll--" "PUT THAT DOWN!" Del's voice squeals loud and offended over the comms, "The fuck are you doin?" And before you can even think, you and Big Pete are running for the dig and would you look at that, there's the kid, gloves pulled out of their ring-seals and piled on the mossy ground beside him. He's got an aurelac node husk cupped in his bare hands, not even safely cut yet, it's umbilicus disappearing into the black dirt. "EZRA! WERE YOU BORN THIS STUPID OR DID IT TAKE YEARS OF RIGOROUS PRACTICE?" And, look at him, the kid smirks at you through his fishbowl helmet. "Sorry, Ma'am, " he says, "It seemed uncannily squishy. I just had to find out for myself--" You close the distance between you and grab his wrist, hard enough so that his idiot smile fades and you actually see some fear prick in those big brown eyes. Fear is good in the Green. Fear is your friend. Unlikely this kid has ever had cause to be afraid, but, by Kevva, you're going to give him some cause. You pull your knife from your belt and press the business end into Ezra's palm, right between the heart and head lines, just enough to dimple but not enough to break skin. He tries to jerk away, but you know how you hold him, grind those wrist bones together like marbles in a sock. "Ezra," your voice is soft, yelling does no good, this kid's probably been yelled at for most of his formative years, and it's obviously made no impression. "You see all this purple shit floating through the air? Pretty, isn't? Looks like fairy dust--" "Ma'am--" he tries to pull free. "Shut it, fool," you push the knife tip just a hair harder, feel him flinch, flinching is good, might save his idiot hide someday. "I break your skin, I give your the faintest kitten scratch of a wound and the spores will get in there and fest black. These spores will eat you from the bones out. You rot from the inside, clear?" "Clear." You let go and he scrabbles his gloves back on. "Fuckin hell," says Del. Big Pete just shakes his head.

Thank Kevva for small favors, the kid is a quick study. Those big hands are surprisingly clever, and even Del is impressed by his ability. The idea licks around your mind that maybe it's time to cut Marko loose for good, Ezra has plenty of raw talent even if he can't shut up. Your time in the Green is almost done, a half cycle to button up the dig, break camp and lift. You've given Del back the rail-gun, traded for harvesting. The thrill of splitting open those strange membranes has never gown old for you, the finicky work of dissecting the carom blisters away from the inner sac, the fizz of the fazer and then your prize revealed, in this moment your mind is fully on the pull, you don't notice anything off until you feel something thump into the back of your helmet, and hear the whine of a primed thrower. A voice crackles ever the common channel. "Drop your weapons boys, or this stupid cow gets one right through the brain pan." Big Pete already has his hands in the air, Petey always was a softy, Del still has his rails, looking at your face for a sign and you shake your head. Take the shot, you think, you try to think it AT him, but you see the rail-gun slide out of his hands. God Damnit. You would have expected them to act selfishly. You always expected you'd die out here and the business end of some thrower. And, of course, the kid is nowhere to be seen. Probably wandered behind a tree to take a leak or already caught a blast to the skull. "Right then," Your assailant says, he's got your air-hose doubled over in his free hand, "You open up that case so I can--" The thrower discharges and you pitch forward, there is no pain, just pressure, and suddenly you can breathe easier. You heave against the dead weight on your back, scrabble back down into the slick of dead leaves and needles and then the pressure is gone and you sit up. The dying man crawfishes over the loam, peering out of his helm with wide eyes and blood spattered lips, eyes that plead until they are obliterated. Ezra stands with his thrower smoking, his face pulled up into a rictus of fear and rage. "Del. Petey. Circle back. Comm channel zero. Anything flinches you take it out. Clear?" Big Pete :"Clear" Del: "Clear" "Ezra. Get his filter," "huh?" "Did I stutter? You get his filter and any other kit that's any good." You stand, but your legs want to betray you. You take a couple shambling steps and plant yourself on a fallen tree, watching the kid strip the corpse, peels the filters and o rings and hose like he's done it a million times. Your breath comes hard and ragged. Nausea grips you. All your time in the Green and you never get over that feeling of almost dying, the taste of it on your tongue like hot smoke, and here's the kid gripping your shoulder, helping you up. "We going back to camp?" "Yeah," you say, "Thrower out. There might be more of them." "I didn't want to--" You know where this is going. You remember hearing the same arguments spill out of yourself the first time you had to use a thrower, "I mean, he woulda--" You stop so you can look at him through the foggy business of his helmet. "You did right." You say, "he meant to take our whole pull." Ezra nods, but his eyes are still white-rimmed and shocked. You reach for him and give his arm a little shake. "Let's go. Eyes peeled, clear?" "Clear."

You keep expecting that shaky, nauseated feeling to dissipate on the walk back to camp but it does not. The suit seems suffocating, and you practically bolt for the tent, in and fumbling with your suit before Ezra can even turn on the scrubbers. You reach to doff your helmet, something you've done daily for years, but your hands shake and you fumble the catches, two attempts and you feel like you're drowning in your own exhalations, you need this fishbowl off your head right now, but your hands won't stop shaking. "Here," Ezra pushes your hands away and does the catches himself, lifting the helmet away from your face. His own fishbowl's gone, his sweaty hair sticking up in crazy quills, that little blond streak screaming up from his scalp like an exclamation point, and before you can properly process what's happening, Ezra pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. Your hands, which, by all means, should be shoving him the fuck off of you, turn traitor and creep around his middle. You're still shaking, but you feel him shaking too, the two of you vibrating with spent adrenaline like plucked guitar strings. His warm palm grips the back of your neck and nestles your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. You let out a watery breath. "Fuck. I'm getting to old for this shit." Ezra makes a dismissive sound. His fingers dig at your nape, pressing into the tight, cabled muscles there. You let yourself lean against him, lean into his warmth. You can't remember a time you've been this close to someone without expecting a backstab. Ezra murmurs. It's okay, we're safe, I've got you, we're safe, reassuring himself as much as you. "Ezra?" "Yes, Ma'am?" "Don't make this your life," You lift your head and look up at him, his brows are furrowed. "I'm afraid I don't understand." You poke his belly. "Get yourself maybe three solid pulls and then you get the fuck out of here," you say, peering into those big, dark eyes, "Get out and don't come back." "Ma'am?" "The Green changes people," you say, "And generally not for the better." He gives you a hard squeeze that you return and then he releases you, but only partially, one arm still slung over your shoulder. "You know," he says, "I have among my personal effects a bottle of Kanvian fire-water. Once we lift we could find a quiet place on yon freighter and share it." "Kanvian, eh?" You turn up your arm to look at your chronometer. "We boost in, what, a third of a cycle? Manage not to do anything catastrophically stupid between now and then and I'll consider it." His lips pull into a smirk, his dark eyes glittering, crinkling at the corners. He raises his hand to his head in a mock salute. "Yes, Ma'am." "Del and Big Pete should be done with their sweep soon. Start system checks on the ship, then help break camp." "Yes, Ma'am." He scoops up his discarded helmet under one arm and heads for the entrance. "Oh, and, Ezra?" "Yeah?" "You say anything about..." You gesture vaguely, "Whatever this was that just happened--" "Not to worry, fair maiden," he says, grinning, "No word of our tryst shall pass my lips, because I know that the second I let things slip you will undoubtedly shoot me in the face." "The fuck outta here, smooth talker," you laugh. Ezra jams the fishbowl back on his head and steps out into the sticky heat of The Green, zipping the tent behind him. He's a fool, you think as you set about grading and stowing the day's pull, he's a fool and likely to get himself killed. You just hope you're not the one who has to see it.

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #Ezra x reader #prospect verse #young Ezra

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houseisekai · 3 years ago

Text

House Isekai: A Realm Reborn - Part 3, Thunder Rolls (2 of 2)

House Isekai ARR Masterlist Here

—

Client: Marianne Von Edmund

With Marianne's help, the new House Isekai split off into teams to find this mysterious object and take it down before it becomes too dangerous...

[Tactics - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

Marianne handed Sitri a paper with all the findings her scouts have reported.

(Marianne) "I hope this will be of use to you all."

(Sitri) "It will, thank you, Marianne."

Marianne nodded and smiled.

(Marianne) "Please be careful, I would not like to see any of you come to harm."

(Kazuma) "Eh, don't worry, the kids'll be fine with us!"

Marianne raised an eyebrow, although her smile was still kept.

(Marianne) "With Rean and the others, I can believe that."

(Kazuma) "Hey, who was the group that saved your guys asses plenty of times back then? Mine, that's who!"

(Rean) "Aaaand, don't forget who bailed you out for a lot of those situations."

(Aigis) "It was us."

Kazuma continued to cause a commotion, letting the other groups spectate.

(Jean) "They all seem rather close."

(Lisa) "Reminds you a bit of home, doesn't it?"

Lisa smirked as she turned to Kaeya and Diluc.

Diluc rolled his eyes while Kaeya shrugged.

(Kurt) "I trust Instructor Rean and Towa's guidance, but I am unsure about the other two."

(Juna) "Well, that Aigis lady seems nice enough though, now that I think on it, what CAN those two do?"

(Ash) "Noticed Kazuma has a dagger and a short sword on his belt, but for Aigis...can't tell."

(Altina) "It appears she is like me."

(Juna) "Wait, as in not human?"

Musse turned to the Garreg Mach students.

(Musse) "What do you guys think?"

(Astrid) "Eh? Well, I dunno. I've only heard stories, never seen them in action."

(Helena) "Gets kinda hard to tell what's true."

(Stefan) "I guess today's our lucky day!"

(Elizabeth) "Hmph, if you call having to deal with otherworldy monstrosities lucky!"

(Helena) "Harsh. These people aren't that ugly."

(Elizabeth) "What in the-That is not what I meant and you know it!"

(Kairos) "..."

(Astrid) ? "Kairos? Somethin' up?"

(Kairos) "Huh? Oh, I am fine. It's nothing."

Kairos looked back down, a bit dejected.

(Stefan) "The things Lady Marianne and Sitri say getting you down?"

Kairos raised his voice to object but sighed instead.

(Kairos) "I just cannot believe I let my immaturity get the best of me there. These people are the reason we're here right now, but I cannot shake off how I feel that easily."

(Elizabeth) "I...would be lying if I said I did not feel the same."

Venti and Amber didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to considering how loudly they were announcing their feelings to the entire group.

(Venti) "If that's the case, why not get to know us then?"

(Elizabeth and Kairos) "Huh?"

(Amber) "Yeah, this mission looks to be tough, so if we all work together, I'm sure we'll be friends in no time!"

(Kurt) "I would not be opposed to it. Well, considering that we also have no alternatives present as well.'

Meanwhile, the Instructors finally finished their conversation.

(Marianne) "I wish you luck, House Isekai."

(Rean) "Thanks, Marianne. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Marianne bowed and went inside back to her estate, leaving the Instructors to walk back to their groups.

(Towa) "So, what's the plan?"

(Sitri) "I...Hm."

She stopped walking to take a moment to think.

(Sitri) "I think it'd be best if we were to all search together. We have no idea what we'd be up against."

The tone of her voice made it sound like it was more of a suggestion than a command.

(Sothis) "Looks like the group has another one."

(Diluc) "Miss Sitri, was it? If we could speak our mind."

(Sitri) "Huh? O-Oh, Go ahead."

Kazuma leaned over to Rean.

(Kazuma) "She doesn't exactly sound confident for a headmaster."

(Rean) "Being fair, she was just a nun from what we were told by Jeralt."

(Aigis) "Affirmative, she also was very weak and could not leave Garreg Mach often."

(Towa) "...S-So, if that's the case, how is she walking around out here carrying her sword no problem?"

The four stared at her while Diluc was explaining the group's plan.

(Rean) "Lahabrea did mention she was chosen to be resurrected for a reason...Did we ever find out why?"

They were silent.

(Kazuma) "Tch, even dead Those Who Slither are a pain in our ass. We never get straight answers from them"

(Aigis) "Well, that wasn't Those Who Slither, that was Byle-...Er, Lahabrea who did the resurrection himself."

(Towa) "Regardless, I think we should ask this ourselves another time."

(Diluc) "...And so, we think splitting up is the best way to approach this threat."

(Sitri) "Well..."

(Jean) "You have our word that nothing will befall any of your students."

(Kurt) "And mine as well."

(Helena) "To be fair, this would be a good way to know how we all fight considering this is our first assignment together."

(Sitri) "Fair enough...Very well, we shall split into teams.

(Rean) "I think it'd be best to mix and match teams."

(Aigis) "Agreed. Based off initial data, I will configure the teams as follows:

First Team will consist of: Rean, Sitri, Helena, Stefan, Kaeya, Amber, Altina, and Ash.

Second team will consist of: Myself, Kazuma, Astrid, Diluc, Jean, Venti, Kurt, and Juna.

Third team will consist of: Towa, Kairos, Elizabeth, Lisa, and Musse."

(Jean) "No objections from me."

(Ash) "Sounds fine."

(Musse) "Aww, I wanted one with Rean-"

(Rean) "You'll be fine under Towa's command. Besides, she was your homeroom teacher anyway."

(Lisa) "Ouch, shot down."

(Musse) "Doesn't mean I'm giving up!~"

(Lisa) "Oh, I like your attitude, love is such a powerful thing..."

(Towa) "Uh...."

(Elizabeth) "I had some slight objections being put in a group with you, Kairos, but now? I think I am glad to have at least someone familiar..."

(Kairos) "Ugh, the feeling's mutual."

(Rean) "Right then. We'll split up and meet at this point in the map if we don't find anything."

(Kazuma) "How are we gonna keep in contact if shit goes down?"

(Aigis) "Rean and Towa have their Arcus Units, and I believe the students of Garreg Mach have something similar."

(Stefan) "Yes, we were all given a communication crystal upon our entry for Sitri's group."

All the students of Garreg Mach pulled out a small flat crystal that faintly glowed blue.

(Kaeya) "We have our methods then. It's probably best we stop wasting time and get moving."

(Sitri) "Agreed. Everyone, remember to be safe. This may be only our first assignment, but do not underestimate the danger. Your lives could be thrown away if you're careless enough."

Everyone nodded and split up.

(Towa) "Alright, looks like we'll head to the site where it was first spotted. This way everyone."

Towa's group walked down a path deeper into the forest and slowly disappeared from sight of everyone else...

...

===

Doomguy's Base, Present...

Doomguy tapped his foot while listening to the Persona Users give their explanation of what was happening.

Apparently, Ryuji, Ann, Mitsuru, and Naoto fought off a group of hulking green creatures calling themselves "Orks" who came from Fodlan's Crystal Tower.

(Yu) "And that's about the gist of it."

(Yosuke) "Yeah, we weren't close enough to the scene and the news gets everything wrong anyway.."

(Futaba) "Even with my hacking I can't get a full picture, it happened so fast."

(Akihiko) "You still got any idea what's going on in Fodlan right now?"

Doomguy shook his head, and shrugged to the air, indicating for VEGA to speak for him.

(VEGA) "Unfortunately, no. There is too much interference for us to make contact with those currently in. That being the case, they are working to rectify this communication block, hopefully soon."

(Junpei) "So what, we're supposed to twiddle our thumbs and just wait?"

(Yukari) "And what exactly can we do, Stupei? If all of us just jump in guns blazing, who knows how long we'd be trapped, and how Fodlan would react!"

(Makoto) "Our entry and exit wasn't the most graceful after all..."

(Akira) "I have faith in everyone over there. It'll be up to us to keep our home safe."

(Chie) "Hey, who else has responded anyway? Seems not too many of us were able to make it in there."

(VEGA) "You are correct. The only ones to answer the call are yourselves, Rean, Elliot, Laura, Fie, Towa, and Kazuma."

(Morgana) "Anyone else?"

(VEGA) "The Denizens of Nazarick appear to be busy handling their world's politics, but they have acknowledged our call and plan to send whoever is available. The same goes for the remaining members of Class VII."

(Teddie) "Oh, how about Yuki-chan and the others?"

(Fuuka) "The School-Living Club?"

(VEGA) "I'm afraid nothing has been sent our way. Not even an acknowledgement."

(Rise) "I hope they're alright. Their world didn't exactly sound forgiving..."

(Kanji) "It's prolly' best they weren't here anyway. Not sure they'd be much help...Er, wait that sounds bad!"

(VEGA) "Negative. You are objectively correct, in terms of combat at least. Megumi and the School-Living Club were the least active members when it came to fights. Their efforts were focused on helping fleeing civilians and moral support. Neither of which we are sure is needed for Fodlan's current circumstances."

(Ken) "I'm sure everyone's fine. We should be worried less about how they are and more on how the Crystal Tower came to our world to begin with."

(VEGA) "We are currently looking into that as we speak. Please feel free to rest here until then."

The Persona users nodded and tried their best to relax, not knowing what the future would bring...

===

[Stilness of Night - Trails of Cold Steel 3 OST]

A few hours later...

Towa's group kept investigating the points of which the scouts had written on the reports, but they had found nothing.

No trace of any warning shots Marianne mentioned, its like they had completely erased the evidence.

The sun was starting to set, but thankfully it was still bright enough for them to keep looking untroubled.

Lisa was close by with Towa, looking with her and Musse while Kairos and Elizabeth investigated somewhere close by.

(Towa) "Hm...still nothing."

(Musse) "Instructor Towa?"

(Towa) "What is it, Musse?"

(Musse) "If I can ask, why is it that the people of this world hold such hostility against you?"

(Lisa) "I have been rather curious myself. It seems every opportunity those two in particular talk bad about your old group."

Towa looked up and made sure Kairos and Elizabeth was far away enough for her to continue.

(Towa) "Truth be told, our group was a mess. We kept coming in out of nowhere, and forming this massive superpower that threw a wrench into all the world leader's plans for...whatever they were going to do. World Domination? Separation? I have no idea."

Towa's eyes looked down as her expression darkened.

(Towa) "We lost a lot of friends during that war too, they gave their lives for a world they didn't know. But this place is home to us, just as much as it is to them..."

Musse and Lisa looked at each other but didn't say anything else.

Towa was doing her best to keep those memories out of her head. She had to keep a clear mind for this assignment.

Though, being told that their group was the reason a civil war was on the brink again, it didn't sit well in her stomach.

Towa's mind ached, thinking the possibility of losing even more friends to this world, which she was struggling to keep out.

Lisa walked towards Towa, kneeling down and rubbing her head.

(Lisa) "There there...I'm sure they'd understand if you told them. No need to fret."

Towa shot back up, a slight tinge of red as she put her hands on her hat.

(Towa) "ACK!"

(Lisa) "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle."

(Towa) "N-No you're fine, Miss Lisa! I'm just usually used to Rean doing that...Which, now that I say out loud, is kinda weird..."

(Musse) "Hmph, lucky."

(Lisa) "Is it weird? I was under the impression you were a couple with the way you acted."

(Musse) "I'm sure she'd like that!"

Lisa and Musse's smirks were flustering Towa.

(Towa) "T-That's not relevant, Musse! And Miss Lisa, we are NOT a couple!"

(Lisa) "So, you're available then?"

(Towa) "BWUH-WHAT?!"

Lisa failed to hold back a chuckle.

(Lisa) "Relax cutie, I'm just joking...Mostly."

(Towa) "Ugh, please just focus back on the task at hand!"

She began mumbling to herself.

(Towa) "You think I'd be used to this considering how much time I've spent with Angie and Crow..."

Lisa crossed her arms as she turned back to finding any signs of a fight.

(Musse) "...Thanks for doing that, Miss Lisa. I never liked seeing Instructor Towa get that down on herself."

(Lisa) "Figured no one does, from what I've gathered. By the way, have you found anything?"

(Musse) "Not particularly. Though that being said-"

Musse began speaking with Lisa who crouched down next to her, pointing at the trees in front of them.

(Kairos) "This question is only now appearing in my head, how exactly do they fight?"

(Elizabeth) "Now that you point it out, the only real weapon I see is on Musse's back. It appears to be some sort of...staff?"

They stared at the rifle that was strapped onto her, not sure what its function was.

(Kairos) "That makes sense, though it's shaped quite oddly. What's the point of that...lever, I think?"

Squinting at the triggerhair on Musse's rifle, he shook his head and turned to Lisa.

(Kairos) "And her. Everyone else from her group has a visible weapon, but she doesn't. All I see is a book."

(Elizabeth) "She could be a spellcaster, though what kind of magic user dresses like that?"

(Kairos) "Of course you judge them based on clothes."

(Elizabeth) "Oh stuff it! As if you're one to talk to ME about biases!"

Kairos and Elizabeth stood up, glaring daggers at each other.

(Kairos) "Hey, I was talking about their weapons!"

(Elizabeth) "And I'm talking about your little outburst earlier! Do you know how much you embarrassed all of us by-"

The went back and forth a little bit, Musse and Lisa pausing their conversation to listen.

(Musse) "How noisy."

(Lisa) "Well, we didn't find anything over here anyway, we might as well put a pause to it."

Towa watched them head towards Elizabeth and Kairos, and decided to watch what would happen instead of interfering. She knew Musse was a lot smarter than she looked, and Lisa seemed to be the same way.

(Towa) "So this is how Instructor Sara felt."

(Musse) "Is there a problem?"

(Elizabeth) "O-Oh, my apologies! No there isn't any problem."

(Kairos) "If you don't count her mouth as one."

(Elizabeth) "Silence yourself, or so goddess help me, I will silence yours!"

(Lisa) "My my, so feisty! You'll ruin those cute faces if you keep frowning so much."

That snapped Elizabeth and Kairos out of their spat and took them aback.

(Kairos) "C-Cute?"

(Elizabeth) "Feisty?!"

(Musse) "It seems no matter the world, people have the same reactions to these things..."

(Lisa) "It would appear so. It's nice having someone who understands, though."

Lisa and Musse smiled, making Kairos and Elizabeth feel slightly uncomfortable.

(Musse) "But back on topic, did you happen to find anything?"

(Kairos) "No, not really."

The two looked back down to the ground they were examining prior.

It was two trees that had snapped and fell to the ground, but there was no magical energy or weapon marks to indicate it had fell down by unnatural causes.

They were looking at the point where the tree snapped and fell over, hoping to find anything but-

(Elizabeth) "Kairos and I are well versed in magic, but we were unable to find anything that we could detect."

(Musse) "Hm...from what I see, there's nothing there either."

Lisa furrowed her brows as she gently pushed everyone to the side, taking a look herself.

(Kairos) "Miss Lisa?"

(Lisa) "...Instructor."

(Towa) "Huh? What is it?"

(Lisa) "I believe I found something."

(Elizabeth) "Truly?"

Towa walked over to the group and looked at the trees as well.

(Lisa) "I understand why no one has reported anything. This was caused by something from our group's world."

Everyone stood on edge.

(Lisa) "Our world has something we call 'Visions', powers granted to us by the Archons and allows us to attune ourselves to the elements and channel them into our will. Diluc and Amber have Pyro visions, letting them control fire. Kaeya has Cryo, Ice, Venti and Jean have Anemo, Wind. I, have Electro. Electricity."

Lisa rubbed her finger against the tree and looked at her finger.

(Lisa) "And on my hands is a very faint remnants of an Electro attack."

She stood up, grabbing her book.

(Lisa) "A very recent one."

Musse and Towa unsheathed their guns while Kairos and Elizabeth quickly looked around.

(Lisa) "I'm presuming you two cuties also wield magic?"

(Kairos) "Y-Yes. I'm proficient in dark magic skills."

(Elizabeth) "I am most skilled with white magic, but I am able to channel dark as well."

(Lisa) "Good. Because I think I know where our target is at."

Kairos and Elizabeth felt the hairs on their arms raise. The darkness of the forest started to glow with an eerie purple in the distance.

Towa got behind them and pulled out an ARCUS unit, calling Rean.

(Towa) "Rean, I think we found it! I'm sending our coordinates-"

A bolt of lightning shot down and almost hit her, making her scream and almost drop her unit.

(Towa) "AAH!"

(Rean's voice) "Towa?! Towa are you-"

BZZZZZRRRRT!

(Musse) "Target straight ahead!"

The cube slowly floated over to them, shooting out bolts of electricity in random directions.

(Musse) "I believe that first one was the warning shot the scouts were talking about."

(Kairos) "What the hell is that thing?!"

(Lisa) "Hmph. Nothing too dangerous, but still, don't let your guards down. We call it an Electro Hypostasis."

The shapes of the cubes floating around the core slowly shifted around, seemingly ready to change shapes at any time.

(Lisa) "It shapes itself into whatever it wants to attack, so be prepared for anything."

(Elizabeth) "You've fought these abominations before?!"

From Elizabeth's view, Lisa looked more annoyed than anything facing this...thing.

(Lisa) "A few times. They're normally docile until you approach, which makes Marianne's reports a lot more sense considering what's been harassing them."

The Cube seemingly stared at all of them, waiting to see if they would back off.

(Lisa) "I'm afraid my Electro vision isn't going to be as helpful as I'd like, but I won't let that stop me."

She flipped open her book, which began levitating in front of her.

The text in the book began to glow a dark purple as she turned to the group.

(Lisa) "But, I digress. The command is up to you, Instructor Towa."

(Towa) "If we let it go, it could be days before we can find it again, we don't let it slip away!"

Towa loaded her pistol and pointed at the Electro Hypostasis.

(Towa) "Engage the enemy!"

(Musse) "Understood, Instructor!"

(Elizabeth & Kairos) "Yes Ma'am!"

(Lisa) "Got it."

[Twice Stricken - Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers OST]

Musse backed up and pointed her rifle at the Hypostasis, taking the first shot.

The bullet predictably reflected off, and the four cubes flew into the air and into a rhombus shape, all aiming at the team.

Electric missiles shot out of the Hypostasis at speeds equivalent to Musse's and Towa's gun.

Lisa snapped her fingers and a electricity field formed around them, misdirecting the attacks and hitting in random directions.

Kairos and Elizabeth ran to the front, Kairos casting a fireball while Elizabeth had ice spikes form underneath it.

The first fireball caused a small explosion, blowing back some of the trees and scorching the grass while the ice spikes shot into the air and at the core of the Hypostasis, stopping the fire before it spread and piercing the core.

It made no noise of pain, though they could tell they were doing some damage to it.

The cubes quickly flew away from the spikes and towards them.

Towa fired her pistol, all aiming at a singular point the spike had pierced into.

Small bits of electricity chipped off, tho it began flying faster and dodged whatever was shot at it.

Lisa's spells were having no effect on the Hypostasis as it landed behind them.

(Lisa) "Get behind something!"

Musse and Towa dove for cover as more missiles shot out of it, Lisa standing behind a tree to hide from it.

Elizabeth did the same as well, but noticed Kairos wasn't moving.

Kairos stood out in the open still and tried to fire another fireball, but it quickly moved to the side, dodging the fireball as it hit the tree behind the Hypostasis instead.

The Hypostasis aimed at Kairos and shot a singular missile, too fast for him to dodge in time and hit him in the chest and sending him flying back into the tree.

He clenched his teeth in pain as the electricity rattled and sent a painful shock throughout his entire body.

(Elizabeth) "Kairos, you bloody idiot!"

She quickly grabbed his arm and dragged him behind cover before another barrage of missiles hit her.

(Elizabeth) "Why didn't you get into cover?!"

(Kairos) "Ach, thought I could hit it again!"

(Lisa) "It's not sentient enough to think creatively, but it's not stupid enough to fall for that again!"

Her brow furrowed further even more, knowing her spells would do nothing to it.

Musse poked her head out and pulled out her ARCUS unit, letting it analyze the Hypostasis.

(Musse) "Miss Lisa, your advice?"

(Lisa) "Keep hitting it with any elemental attack that isn't Electro-Er, thunder!"

(Musse) "Understood, taking the shot! Kairos, Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth stood out of the way of Musse's barrel as her rifle began glowing a hot red.

Pulling the trigger, a single shot hit the core, making it stagger back and form back into it's cube state.

As miniature cubes shot towards them from the excess electricity, Lisa stepped out to the open and shielded them from the bolts on the ground shooting out.

Towa rushed over to Kairos and loaded another round into her pistol, shooting it into the air.

Kairos suddenly felt the pain in his body slowly fade away and looked to Towa.

(Kairos) "Thank y-"

(Towa) "Do that later, right now they need your help!"

(Musse) "Instructor, get down!"

Towa and Kairos saw the three of them dive out the way.

Instinctually, Kairos grabbed Towa's shoulders and shoved her down to the floor as laser beams shot out and spun across the forest, it spinning rapidly as it vaporized the leaves into smoke.

The trees were getting burnt, but thankfully not chipped enough to topple over, Kairos saw.

Once it was done, Kairos rolled into the open and got on knee, adjusting his glasses as he raised his hand and clenched it.

From the skies above the Hypostasis, a burning rock crashed itself on the Hypostasis, knocking the cubes that formed the laser into pieces as the core stood out in the open.

(Lisa) "It's exposed, attack now!"

Elizabeth stood next to Kairos and swiped her hands downwards, the air forming a sword-like shape and slicing through the core, making it slightly shatter and pieces fall off.

Musse's rifle glowed white as it fired a straight line of ice, going through the core.

Towa did the same as her pistol began to glow several colors, red, then white, then red again.

Lisa made sure to keep an eye on any of the excess electricity in the air, flicking her wrist and deflecting a bolt of lightning without looking at it.

It quickly formed back into shape, and stood for a moment as the shots reflected off it.

(Elizabeth) "What is it doing now?!"

The cubes broke off into smaller ones, forming a giant arrow-shape and-

(Lisa) "To the sides, now!"

Lisa jumped back as the Hypostasis formed into a drill-like shape and began spinning towards them, tearing apart any trees that was in its way.

Towa and Musse ran to the sides while Kairos and Elizabeth ducked as it barreled past them.

The trees it knocked over were falling down left and right, Musse almost getting hit by one.

(Towa) "ABOVE YOU!"

Elizabeth looked up and realized a tree was falling on top of her.

Lisa raised her book and a concentrated spell shot out, the strength of it rushing it forward as it collided into more trees and away from everyone.

When Lisa turned her attention back to the Hypostasis, she realized it had formed two giant walls.

Lisa's eyes widened as she tried to brace herself for the shock, the walls closing on her and the force sending her into a tree.

Lisa's body tumbled onto the floor and out in the open, her vision going in and out from the attack.

(Kairos) "Lisa!"

The Hypostasis began to form it's drill shape again while Kairos and Elizabeth rushed to Lisa's defense, shooting whatever spell they could as it began flying to them.

Musse and Towa tried to help with their guns, but they were having no effect.

As it got closer, Kairos tried to pick up Lisa to move her, joined by Elizabeth as it got dangerously close to tearing through them.

Although there were no trees nearby for it to be a hazard, they still couldn't move fast enough with Lisa in hand to get out of the way safely.

(Familliar boy's voice) "COMING THROUGH KIDS!"

Kairos and Elizabeth were tackled by Kazuma while Aigis got in front of Lisa.

(Aigis) "ATHENA!"

Her Persona appeared in front of the drill, the shield failing to be pierced as Athena raised its hand, and knocked it to the side, toppling trees as it bounced through the ground.

Aigis spun around and gave Lisa a hand, which she grabbed it and was helped up.

Kazuma got up and dusted himself off.

(Elizabeth) "Instructor?"

(Kazuma) "Yeah yeah, you're welcome, now get your asses up, that cube thing will be doing the same!"

Kazuma unsheathed his sword, letting Elizabeth and Kairos get up on their own.

As the Hypostasis was getting up and about to change forms, before the core was shelled off, Jean and Venti jumped from the top of the trees and used their Anemo Visions.

Jean first blew it into the air while Venti summoned a mini tornado, picking up the core and shredding it with the speeds of the wind.

Diluc ignited his sword as he slammed it down into the tornado, setting the wind ablaze with the core still inside.

Kurt and Juna jumped in as the core hit the floor, Kurt's sword dicing it to pieces while Juna used the force of her tonfas to dent it, making electricity shoot out with each strike.

It quickly got itself up with the cubes forming once more, this time shifting into a giant fist.

It swung first into Kurt and Juna, sending them flying back into Towa and Musse.

Then it shapeshifted into a pair of scissors, making the Vision users duck under cover as it almost cut them into two.

It finally formed a giant rectangle, slamming down in front of them and sending them into the air.

As the core revealed itself while the three landed on their feet, Astrid and Kazuma swung their weapons into it, Astrid piercing through it while Kazuma slashed it in half with his sword.

Aigis, Musse, Towa, Elizabeth, and Kairos readied their guns and spells, all opening fire together while Astrid and Kazuma dodged out the way.

The final bullet went through it, the core now full of holes, it began to twitch violently as it split into pieces.

It split into three prisms as the core remained invisible in the center.

(Lisa) "Destroy those prisms!"

Juna switched her tonfas into a gunner mode and pulled the trigger, shooting one prism to tiny pieces.

Aigis's Persona smashed another prism into the floor, completely eradicating any trace of it.

Diluc's flaming sword shot out a bird-like shape, turning the prism into cinders as he made a wide swing.

With the last of the prisms gone, the core began to twitch violently as the group formed together.

Lisa got in front of everyone and held out her hands, casting another field to block out the electricity that exploded into a bright purple, the skies turning from white to a dark gray, then the clouds finally disappearing.

[Words to Believe In - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

Towa's team tried to catch their breath.

(Musse) "Whew, that was close..."

(Towa) "Now I'm reminded why Rean's the combat instructor..."

(Lisa) "Nonsense, you did just fine-...Ugh!"

Lisa fell to one knee, Diluc catching her in time.

(Diluc) "Hey, are you alright?"

(Jean) "You took a bad hit from the looks of it."

Jean looked at her back and saw a bleeding wound, as well from her head.

(Elizabeth) "Miss Lisa, I'm so sorry! If you didn't have to take your at-"

Lisa waved her hand in a dismissive manner, smiling through the pain now the adrenaline was wearing off.

(Lisa) "Don't apologize, cutie. Ol' Lisa will be just fine."

Jean and Diluc slowly helped her up while Venti turned to them.

(Venti) "Honestly, not bad for your first time fighting it!"

(Musse) "Thank you. Without Lisa, I'm not sure what would have happened."

(Kairos) "Yes, we owe much of our victory today to her-"

(Kazuma) "Yadda yadda, stop being so humble. Just accept the compliment and move on. Besides, far as Fodlan kids fighting the unknown go, you two ain't half bad."

(Aigis) "Indeed. We were only able to see snippets of the fight, but despite your differences you came to work together rather well."

(Elizabeth) "Why...T-Thank you Instructors."

(Astrid) "Wow, no love for you Instructor Towa."

(Towa) "Oh come on now, don't make this a competition!"

The group began to back and forth, Astrid moving to Elizabeth and Kairos.

(Astrid) "So, what's your impression of 'em? Kazuma and Venti just argued a lot the entire time. Was pretty funny though."

(Elizabeth) "They're not as uncivilized as I was expecting to be honest."

(Kairos) "Psh, who's judging on character now?"

(Elizabeth) "Shut. Up. Already."

(Astrid) "And now I get to hear you guys argue. Ugh, great."

(Musse) "...Huh, where's Instructor Rean and the others?"

(Everyone) "..."

Towa pulled out her ARCUS unit again.

(Towa) "Rean?"

...

Everyone stiffened when they didn't hear a response.

(Towa) "Rean?!"

===

Rean, Sitri, Helena, Stefan, Kaeya, Amber, Altina, and Ash.

Rean was looking for any signs of an attack before hearing his ARCUS unit go off.

(Towa's Voice) "Rean, I think we found it! I'm sending our coordinates-AAH!"

(Rean) "Towa?! Towa are you-"

BZZZZZRRRRT!

(Sitri) "Did something happen?!"

(Rean) "Yeah, Towa's team found it! She sent us the coordinates so we need to-AAAGH!"

Rean fell to one knee, reaching for his head.

(Altina) "Instructor?!"

(Ash) "The hell's going-DAGH! SHIT!"

Ash stopped moving and reached for his head as well, followed by Altina, then the rest of the group one by one, their heads pounding as their vision suddenly faded to white.

…

[Out of Time - Final Fantasy XIV OST]

The inside of the room was glowing a faint blue-white, two green haired individuals walking through them, though one was significantly taller than the other.

(Flayn) "Father, are you sure this is the way?"

Seteth's face scrunched up as he stared at one of the crystals in his hand. The directions it was pointing to was hazy at best.

(Seteth) "No...No Flayn, I am not sure. But we have to try something at least."

Flayn looked behind her, worried.

(Flayn) "Of course..."

They stopped themselves to what appeared to be a massive doorway. Seteth held the stone up to it and the door slowly began to open, light pouring out from the other side.

The two were about to take a step through the door before a shot of electricity bolted over their heads.

Seteth quickly raised the crystal up, and it glowed a bright blue before whatever was shooting at them disappeared.

Inside the crystal was a dark purple fog before it quickly disappeared with a white flash.

(Flayn) "What was that?!"

(Seteth) "Something we weren't looking for. Perhaps the deeper we go into the tower, we'll be able to find it."

Saying nothing else, they looked around as moving platforms shifted around them.

Seteth and Flayn stepped onto them as everything turned into a static mess, slowly fading out of view...

…

[Spiderweb - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

(Towa's voice) "Rean?"

...

(Towa's voice) "Rean?!"

Rean hazily reached for his ARCUS unit, responding to a very concerned Towa.

(Rean) "Agh, we're here!...I think."

Everyone looked at each other, the headache slowly subsiding.

(Kaeya) "What in the world was that?"

(Amber) "Ugh, my head!"

(Altina) "Is...is that supposed to happen naturally?"

(Helena) "Unless we're in extreme stress situations where our physical bodies are pushed to the limit, no."

(Stefan) "And considering we just started our assignment."

Sitri began speaking in her head.

(Sitri) Sothis...?

(Sothis) "Agh, don't worry, I felt it too...Though, wasn't that?-"

(Sitri) Seteth and Flayn...

(Sothis) "Doubt anyone else would know what they saw besides you and Rean."

(Sitri) What were they doing in the Tower, I thought we cleared it by now!

(Sothis) "I have no idea, but we have to tell this to the other instructors."

(Rean) "...And that was the end of that...vision? Or something. I'm still not sure."

(Towa's Voice) "...Understood. Let's meet back up at Marianne's and tell her that we finished the job."

(Rean) "Roger that. And Towa? Good work."

(Towa's voice) "Heh, um...thank you."

Rean hung up the call and motioned for everyone to follow, everyone still out of it from whatever it was they saw.

Later...

(Aigis) "A vision?"

(Kazuma) "Holy shit, Seteth and Flayn are alive?!"

(Sitri) "Possibly? I'm not sure..."

(Rean) "It's still blurry in my head, and I'm sure the others agree."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

(Towa) "We should investigate once we get back, but..."

[Where the Heart is - Final Fantasy XIV OST]

(Towa) "I'm glad we were able to help out, Marianne!"

(Marianne) "Thank you so much for your assistance. As always, you're always rescuing us from dangers."

Marianne smiled and bowed.

(Rean) "Of course. If there's any other troubles, please call upon us to help if you need it."

(Sitri) "Thank you for your kindness."

(Marianne) "And as requested, we have the railroads to take you back to Garreg Mach. It should be a day's trip.

(Juna) "Man, it just feels like went to a different country instead of a world with how familiar it is..."

(Amber) "What's a railroad?"

(Musse) "Oh, you see it's-..."

Class VII and the Knights began engaging in a friendly banter, which gave Kazuma to groan.

(Kazuma) "A train?! Why the hell are we taking a train when we can teleport?!"

Sothis appeared for a brief moment when she made sure no one was looking in their direction.

(Sothis) "We'll explain it later, but for now just shut up and deal with it."

Rean and Towa laughed while Aigis had a smirk.

Kazuma was ready to cuss out Sothis before the students approached them.

(Kairos) "Instructors? I...would like to apologize for my earlier outburst-"

(Rean) "Don't sweat it."

(Kairos) "Huh?"

(Towa) "To be fair, it IS a little strange for a bunch of people to pop out of portals like this and boss you around. But that being said, we are your instructors for a reason!"

(Kazuma) "Some respect goes a long way, kid!"

(Astrid) "You look as old as we do..."

(Kazuma) "And YOU shutting up can go a long way!"

Aigis slapped the back of his head and nodded.

(Aigis) "Apologies for him. Although he is right to some degree. We are happy to be your instructors, no matter what we have done in the past."

(Stefan) "I look forward to your guidance, Instructors!"

(Elizabeth) "As do I. I will make the Blue Lions proud for having me as their chosen!"

(Helena) "Hear that Astrid? You shutting up means they'll like you more."

Astrid gently punched Helena in the shoulder, Helena's expression being deadpan from the delivery to the literal punchline.

(Astrid) "Same goes for you, smartass."

Marianne approached the Garreg Mach students and looked at Kairos.

(Marianne) "You've grown up so much despite the fact it's only been a few years. I hope in the future we can have a moment to talk, so we can catch up!"

(Kairos) "A-As do I Lady- Er, I mean...Marianne."

Marianne's smile made him unable to look at her in the eye and she turned to Sitri.

(Marianne) "It's right this way. Follow me everyone."

And in a few moments, the members of House Isekai stepped onto a train that took them to Garreg Mach, Marianne waving goodbye to everyone...

...

BING, BING BING BING, BONG!

[Life at Garreg Mach Monastery - Fire Emblem: Three Houses OST]

Today's instructions were done for the day, the doors being opened as students and guards went from position to position.

A good number of students went to their dorms while many others went into the mess hall.

Guards piloted massive Knight mechs out of the hangar and towards the Gates, practicing military drills and simply standing guard for any potential threats.

Kairos, Elizabeth, Astrid, Helena, and Stefan walked out their respective classrooms and towards the Hangar.

(Helena) "Last day of hanging with the Golden Deer...Can't say I'll miss them too much."

(Astrid) "I will a little, I was FINALLY getting used to the schedule!"

Kairos shrugged.

(Kairos) "It's not like we'll never see them again. We're still attending the same Academy."

(Stefan) "I'm a bit sad I can't hang out with my friends as much, but I guess that's the nature of an Officer's academy."

(Elizabeth) "Well think of it this way, we now have a new opportunity to go down in history!...Even though our instructors are those offworlders."

(Helena) "I still can't tell, do you like them or not?"

The banter went back and forth a few more times as they moved to the hangar.

The Imperial soldier in front nodded to them and let them pass.

(Stefan) "Oh, Kairos."

(Kairos) "Hm?"

(Stefan) "Your data from the fight with that...cube thing is recorded on your crystal right?"

(Kairos) "Yeah. What about it?"

(Stefan) "You should send that to the rest of us, so we can see everyone's fighting style."

(Helena) "Oh yeah, we didn't get to fight during that."

(Kairos) "Sure, one second."

Kairos took out his communication crystal and let it connect with Astrid, Stefan, and Helena's.

Stefan nodded and smiled.

(Stefan) "Thanks, I'm pretty excited to see what they can do!"

(Elizabeth) "Soon enough, we'll get to know how they are-"

(Recette's voice) "Yoohoo, over here!"

The five stopped once they saw Recette waving over to them excitedly.

(Tear) "Welcome. Your quarters are now finished."

(Astrid) "Dam-Er, Dang, it's only been like 3 days, and you're already finished?"

(Recette) "Yup! There's nothing that blood, sweat and heckuva lotta gold can't accomplish!"

(Tear) "The wonders of capitalism."

(Helena) "...Capi-what?"

(Tear) "Nevermind. This way, your instructors are currently in a meeting but everyone else is waiting for you in the room.

The five followed Recette and Tear into their barracks into an elevator, going below the hangar and storage floor...

Garreg Mach's Listening Chamber...

(Sitri) "The other team contacted me and let us know their task is done. They're currently on their way back on the railway and should be back within the hour."

(Towa) "It's crazy to know Slayer sent Elliot, Fie, and Laura to us!"

(Rean) "Duvalie being with them is sure going to make her a lot more irritable."

(Kazuma) "She seems like a bitch."

(Towa) "That's putting it lightly..."

(Aigis) "Regardless, it is good to have reinforcements backing us up."

(Rean) "...Valimar, can you confirm signatures of anyone else present in Fodlan?"

Valimar's voice echoed out of his ARCUS unit.

(Valimar) "...Affirmative. It would appear some of the Persona Users are present as well."

(Aigis) "Really?!"

(Valimar) "Ryuji Sakamoto, Ann Takamaki, Mitsuru Kirijo, and Naoto Shirogane, according to my scans."

(Kazuma) "How come no one else has reported this?"

(Towa) "Yeah, that is pretty weird..."

(Valimar) "I am still scanning, so I am unable to tell where they are. Analysis would take a day or so."

(Rean) "Just keep us updated Valimar."

(Valimar) "Of course. Speaking of which, it seems Duvalie's group is about to arrive."

(Rean) "Let's go ahead and meet them then."

The instructors nodded and left before Sitri's Crystal began beeping.

(Sitri) "Hold on, I have to take this. I'll be with you soon."

The four left Sitri and Sothis alone as Sitri opened it up, revealing a small reflection of Edelgard.

(Sitri) "Edelgard?"

(Edelgard) "Hello, Sitri. With the official reformation of House Isekai, we would like to assign your tasks for this month, as it was done when we were enrolled."

(Sothis) "So...why are you calling just by yourself?"

(Edelgard) "And that is my next point..."

...

As the train approached the station, Stefan saw Rean and the other instructors meet up with the rest of the group.

(Stefan) "...Even more of the offworlders."

He looked to see no one was watching him, and slowly snuck away from the group.

Everyone was distracted meeting Rean's friends to notice Stefan had disappeared into a corner.

Stefan looked at his crystal and saw the recording of Kairos and Elizabeth fighting the...whatever the hell it was.

Though, he was honestly glad no one was hurt.

He tweaked his communication crystal by turning a dial to the left and pressing in a specific combination with the buttons on it.

And with that, a voice popped up on the other side.

(Distorted Voice) "There are you. Goddess, we thought something happened. Status?"

(Stefan) "I'm fine, don't worry. And something did. House Isekai has returned."

(Distorted Voice) "...Say that again, it sounded like you said House Isekai."

(Stefan) "I did say House Isekai. It's the White Cloud Contingency."

(Distorted Voice) "...Keep your eye on them. And be careful. We all saw what happened to the poor bastards who underestimated them seven years ago."

(Stefan) "Understood. And you all be careful as well."

(Distorted Voice) "Godspeed."

Stefan nodded and hung up. He slowly blended back into the crowd and saw Kairos looking in his direction.

(Kairos) "Hey, there you are!"

(Helena) "That armor slowing you down or something?"

(Astrid) "I told you guys to wait up, he was falling behind!"

(Stefan) "Hah, yeah I got lost. This place is huge!"

(Elizabeth) "Goodness gracious, just speak up Stefan! Anyways, what do you think of Instructor Rean's colleagues?"

(Helena) "...I like that grey-haired one."

(Kairos) "Of course you would."

(Astrid) "T-That orange haired guy, and...and that blue haired lady! So hot...!"

(Kairos) "...What?"

(Astrid) "I-I MEAN-"

The four exchanged jabs with each other, Stefan occasionally throwing in lines as well, but he was far more concerned that the old members alongside new people of House Isekai were coming.

[Lost in Paradise - ALI]

(Stefan) "...Hmph."

He breathed in and out to calm himself.

(Stefan) No matter what happens, even with them here, they can't interfere...Fodlan HAS to be free from this rule!

===

PART 3: ENDED

STANDBY PHASE 1...

Gotta get it homie gotta move it If you gonna do it then, push everything to the side Everybody just talk nobody really do it You should keep a secret until you actually do it No need to double check with someone Use your judgement only, break the walls Let’s do flashy fake More Cool, keep it low, prove them wrong I won’t give up the fight in my life ‘Cause my life is living for love I won’t give up the fight in my life Stand off and groove on time Tokyo prison Going to relight your feelings When times get too rough Night and day are fading Going to relight your feelings There’s no time to explain Gimme your love Access to your love Oh yeah Lost in paradise Night and day are fading out When times getting rough Access to your love Lost in paradise Night and day are fading out Keep on dancing now Hеy hey hеy hey heyeah

#House Isekai #House Isekai ARR #kairos pasha #elizabeth mcgrath #towa herschel #musse egret #lisa minci #crossover #fanfic

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roman-writing · 5 years ago

Text

A Study in Hospitality (2/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses / Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Marianne von Edmund

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,886

Summary: There’s a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

"I heard about your little 'weed killer' accident." Claude made air quotes with his fingers. "Is that really the best you could do? Weed killer?"

Hilda was in the armoury. She was sharpening her favourite axe, which -- she had to admit -- was a brave moment for Claude to approach her. She slapped the power button to stop the wheel that spun the belt grinder, and tested the edge of the curved blade against the hair on her forearm.

The hair didn't cut. The blade wasn't quite ready yet.

Lifting her personalised pink safety goggles away from her face, Hilda glanced over at Claude. "You know, it's funny you should ask about that, actually."

"Oh?" Claude leaned forward a bit. His eyes held a hungry gleam, the same he always got when he was curious about something that refused to immediately provide all its secrets.

"Yeah. I was just thinking about how it was none of your damn business."

Hilda slammed the goggles back into place, and flipped the switch to start the belt grinder again. Sparks flew as she expertly angled the blade of her axe against the grinder, making Claude jump back a step or risk singing his clothes.

Claude raised his voice slightly to be heard over the sound of grinding metal. “Oh, c’mon, Hilda! Weed killer? You really expect me to buy that?”

“Yup!”

“You have got to tell me. Not knowing is killing me.”

“And you came to cry on my shoulder? Wow. You must really be desperate.”

“Well, where is she now?”

Hilda shrugged. She paused to dip the axe’s blade in water before continuing to grind. “No idea. I haven’t seen her for a few days.”

“I thought Seteth had arranged your schedules so that you two shared everything together.”

“Yeah, and she’s just bailed on the back end of this week. And you know what? I respect that.” Hilda stopped the belt grinder again. She tested the blade, and deemed it suitably sharp for hacking off monster limbs.

Claude was leaning against a nearby wooden pillar. He played with an arrow from one of the legion of quivers that lined the walls. The shaft twirled easily between his fingers. “Won’t you even tell me about what exactly Seteth told you to do.”

With a much put-upon sigh, Hilda perched the safety goggles atop her head. She turned the axe over so that the head was firmly on the ground, and she rested her elbow against the pommel. “Fine. Since you’re being such a pain. I’m supposed to be hospitable, or whatever.”

“Sure, sure.” He used the arrow to gesture towards the surrounding armoury. “Which is why you’re here. Leaving her all alone. Makes sense.”

Her mouth opened, but every witty retort died on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes narrowed. “Hang on. Did Seteth send you?”

Claude gave her one of his signature lopsided grins, and held up his hands in surrender. The arrow dangled between his fingers. “You caught me.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“He wants you to prep Marianne for next week’s lessons.”

“Did he at least say where she was?”

At that, Claude shrugged.

Groaning dramatically, Hilda tossed her gloves and protective glasses onto the nearby work bench. She then hefted the axe in one hand. A press of her fingers against key points in the long engraved handle made the axe fold into itself until it had turned into a pair of pink sunglasses, which she then perched atop her nose.

When she turned to leave, she paused. Claude was still watching her as she glanced over her shoulder. “Hey, Claude. Have you ever known a Demeter kid whose magic kills flowers? By accident, I mean.”

His expression did not change a whit, but something keen flashed in his eyes. He feigned thoughtful contemplation, then answered, “No."

“Yeah,” Hilda began striding away. “That’s what I thought, too.”

Of course, Marianne wasn't in Demeter Cabin. Hilda was beginning to think that Marianne never actually spent any time in her own damn cabin. Almost like she didn't feel at home there. It couldn't have been that the other Demeter kids were mean to her. They couldn't be mean to a fly. The idea that they could bully anyone, when they felt bad about saying something mean to plants -- like, really? plants? -- was laughable.

But still. Regardless of why Marianne was never in Demeter Cabin, it was a pain in the ass. Hilda groaned, and stomped away. She checked the woods, the only place she had actually seen Marianne go to by choice. Which was weird in and of itself, because nobody liked the woods. They were dark, and damp, and literally crawling with monsters. Thankfully though, Marianne was not to be found there either. At least, not along the edges of it.

And so it was that Hilda started the arduous task of working her way through every major site in camp half-blood. She interrogated the pegasi for a good ten minutes. Minty was particularly unhelpful, and told her that he had never heard of Marianne, which was clearly false.

He did remember the carrots, though. Crystal clear memory of that. And did Hilda happen to have brought more perchance?

Fucking pegasi. Typical.

As she was storming from one of the rear stalls however, a pair of quiet voices gave her pause. Quickly Hilda backpedalled, and hid behind the stall door.

“Did you bring the carrots I asked for?” Minty asked, sticking his head into her space.

“Fuck off,” Hilda hissed.

“Wow. Rude. And in my own stall, too.”

She pushed his head away, and tried to listen to the voices drifting over from near the coach house, where the pegasi were draped in tack to carry chariots. When she peeked out to see if she could catch a glimpse, Hilda could just make out the slope of Seteth’s profile as he spoke to Marianne.

“You are still struggling with your new environment, I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seteth sighed, “I know your childhood was sheltered. Your father enrolled you here because he wished you to understand what it was like to live among others. He tasked me with ensuring not just your safety and instruction, but also your personal development.”

Marianne continued to hold her silence.

Seteth waited, then said, “I am talking about making friends.”

“I -” Hilda could hear Marianne swallow past an obstruction in her throat before she could speak. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Oh, come on. Even after Hilda had thrown her a friendship bone and everything? What more did a girl have to do? Write it out in a binding legal contract?

For a moment Seteth made no reply. Then he asked very softly, “Has anyone been -” he seemed to mull over the right word, “- inhospitable towards you?”

At that, Hilda bristled with indignation. He may have not mentioned her by name, but he didn’t have to; she could tell from his tone alone that he was referring to her.

Inhospitable? As if!!

Marianne shook her head. “No. Everyone has been very kind.”

Hilda nodded along enthusiastically from her hiding spot, even though neither of them could see her.

“Hmm.” Seteth sounded like he did not believe her. “But if they weren’t, you would tell me?”

Silence.

“Marianne?”

“Yes,” Marianne said.

“Good. That’s all I ask. Now, I shall leave you to your own devices. Remember to come to dinner this time, please. It is not good to skip meals, even for one such as yourself.”

Marianne gave no reply, but she must have given some indication -- Hilda could not see if she nodded from this angle -- for Seteth strode off in the direction of the armoury. He had to walk past her hiding spot, and she plastered herself against the wall. When she was sure he was gone, Hilda hesitantly leaned forward to peer out again.

“Oh! Hey, it’s that weird girl with the carrots!” Minty shoved his head and neck past Hilda to get a good look out the door, and in doing so he squished her against the wall even further. “Do you think she brought more?”

“If you step on my Loubotins, I will turn you into glue,” Hilda growled. Her sunglasses had been knocked askew on her face.

“Your what?” Minty swung his head around, tilting it to look down. “Nice shoes, by the way. Very shiny.”

“Exactly.”

She pushed him away, straightening her sunglasses and extracting herself from the stall. It took a great deal of skill to avoid any patches of pegasus dung on the ground. If Hilda had known she would’ve been hanging out in the stables today, she would’ve worn her work boots, which she had bought especially for these situations.

Having successfully extracted herself from the stall without making a complete mess of everything, Hilda looked up. And Marianne had vanished. Poof. Like smoke.

“Shit,” Hilda muttered.

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Minty said, not sounding sorry at all.

“No, not you!”

Shooing him away, Hilda marched off towards Marianne’s last known location. The air smelled faintly rotten, but that may have just been pegasus droppings. It was difficult to tell.

She couldn’t have gotten far. Even by magical means. Magica had its limits, after all. Hilda individually tapped the high heels of each shoe against the dusty ground, frowning at a few smudges of stubborn dirt that required a bit more magic. Then, clean and fetching as ever, she set out once more.

It made a bit more sense if Marianne was new to this whole demigod shtick. Some kids had a real rough time learning of what they were. Hilda wasn't one of those kids. Her older brother was a child of Aphrodite as well. Their father was something of a favourite of the goddess. Hilda had grown up knowing what she was, and how to use it.

For her, being a demigod was pretty damn great. And all those kids who struggled? Well, she was sympathetic, for sure. But she just couldn't relate.

Hilda found Marianne by the lake. She was sitting on a stretch of driftwood that looked like sun-bleached bone. Her elbows were tucked firmly into her sides, her hands clasped in her lap, watching a group of oreads and naiads playing. In her outdated formal attire, she looked like an antique doll that had been wound up with a spring-loaded mechanism.

Approaching on silent feet, Hilda waved a hand in front of Marianne's face and said in a sing-song tone, "Heyooo!"

Marianne started. She leaned away when Hilda plopped down on the log beside her. "Oh. It's you."

"You sound so enthusiastic to see me! I'm touched." Hilda placed a theatrical hand over her heart. She followed Marianne's gaze towards the group of nymphs. "They look like they're having a good time."

“Yes. They do.”

Marianne sounded a little wistful. On anyone else, the emotion would have been written clear as day across their face. Normally, Hilda could read people like an open book. But with Marianne, she had to really prise the book open. Like trying to read an old paperback when it was windy outside; the pages just kept trying to fold over one another until the book was shut.

Good thing Hilda had the right kind of magic at her disposal. She didn’t know what Marianne must’ve looked like to everyone else.

“You know,” Hilda drawled. She leaned back, and stretched her legs out before her. “I did promise to take you for a swim.”

Marianne’s gaze snapped down to her own feet. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt them.”

“Oh, pffft. It’s a big lake. There’s enough room for two more people. At least.”

At that, Marianne’s eyes wandered once more towards the waterline, where the lake lapped up against the pebbly shore. “I don’t really have any appropriate swimwear.”

A wave of relief swept through Hilda. She grinned. “Is that the problem? You should’ve said so sooner! We can totally get you some new clothes!”

“Where?”

Hilda leaned in closer and lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “I have my ways. Alright, so. Wardrobe.” Turning sideways so that she faced Marianne, Hilda held her hands pressed together beneath her chin. “I notice you wear a lot of dresses. Which is totally fine. In fact, you look great in them.”

Marianne seemed more confused by praise than anything else. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome. Anyway, my point is, this week has just been, like, orientation stuff and chores, but next week is when classes start. Do you happen to have anything -- anything at all -- that’s more, you know -” Hilda tilted her hands so that her fingers were all pointing towards Marianne’s current outfit, “- athletic?”

Marianne mulled over the question for a moment. “I have a chiton.”

A chiton. Like, from honest to god Vogue 330BC.

“Oh, boy.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hilda said, “Okay. That’s fine. We can deal with that. We’ll just take you to the armoury. Two birds, one stone. And all that jazz.”

Marianne’s brows furrowed. “Why would the armoury have clothes?”

“It doesn’t. It’s just going to be our first stop. Right after you show me all the skeletons you have rattling around in your closet.”

At that, Marianne’s eyes widened. Her face, if it was at all possible, went even paler. “Wh - What? Why would you think I -? I don’t -!”

With a snort of laughter, Hilda rose to her feet. “It was a joke. Let’s head on over to Demeter Cabin. I want to see what sort of overhaul your wardrobe needs.”

It was a short trek to the cabins square. Marianne let Hilda do the knocking. She tried to hide behind Hilda despite the fact that it was her own damn cabin, while Hilda banged her fist against the ivy-clutched door.

"Looks like nobody's home," Hilda said, when they received no response. She turned to Marianne, then gestured towards the door. "Would you do the honours?"

"Oh. Sure."

Marianne reached past her, and grasped the door handle. The woodgrain darkened for an instant -- or maybe that was just the passage of a cloud between the sun and earth -- before the door creaked open. Hilda frowned down at the handle, but now it looked perfectly fine.

"Huh."

"What's wrong?" Marianne asked.

"Oh, nothing," Hilda said. She pushed the door open, and it swung inwards. "Though I don't know why I'm the one going first."

"Politeness?" Marianne said after a second of thought.

"Nice try. But I'll buy it, I guess."

The inside of Demeter cabin was awash with sunlight. The wooden walls were overgrown with plants, and vines trailed from the rafters. The bunk beds grew from the floors. Bundles of herbs were hung to dry from the windowsills. Warmth wrapped up the space like a cosy fireplace in winter. It was like stepping into a cottage in another world after days of long hikes across the mountains. Hilda had the sudden urge to curl up with a cup of floral tea, and maybe sleep for a week.

In other words, it could not have less resembled Marianne if it tried.

When Marianne followed, stepping into the cabin after Hilda, the door shut on her heels like a dog snapping at her calves. She started, her shoulders hunching, but she tried to mask the motion by clearing her throat.

"There was," Marianne said in the most unconvincing manner possible, "a - uh - breeze."

Hilda nodded slowly. "Right."

She had to internally remind herself that she was supposed to be hospitable. Accommodating. And also that she was supposed to be looking over a wardrobe, which was actually far more exciting a prospect.

Hilda turned back to the cabin. "So, which station is yours? Let me guess." Closing one eye, she pointed a finger and trailed it around the room as if trying to lock onto a target. She stopped when she was pointing at a bed all the way in the back corner, shrouded in the only pool of shadows in the whole place. "It's that one."

"How could you tell?"

"I have a gift for these things," Hilda said dryly.

She strode across the room until she reached Marianne's station. A chest of drawers leaned lopsidedly against the wall, and there was a bar for Marianne to hang some clothes out in the open.

Hilda pointed at the chest of drawers before touching it. "Can I -?"

Sitting down on the edge of the bed as though unsure if it even belonged to her, Marianne nodded.

Hilda opened drawers. She rummaged. She was very good at rummaging. At least, she normally was. In this instance however, there was very little to rummage through.

A few stockings. Some old-timey pantaloon things. Was that a petticoat? At least that explained how Marianne's skirts always managed to maintain such excellent shape all the time.

A few more sets of dresses were hung from the bar. Hilda pulled each back to get a better look at them. She had only seen Marianne wear two since her arrival. And always Marianne wore a gold pendant strung from a white ribbon around her neck. No other jewelry or accessories. Two of the other dresses were far more elaborate. Not in their cut -- they all made her look like an old Christian priest -- but in their fabric and embroidery. Heavy velvets with fine hands. Needlework in the richest gold that shimmered along every edge. Like she had expected to attend a ball, or an emperor's court.

"Is this everything?" Hilda asked. She still held onto the edge of one of the fine gowns, stretching the hem of its skirt, which rippled like black water in the afternoon light.

"Mostly." Marianne leaned over and pulled from beneath her pillow a set of pajamas which were an eggshell blue so pale they appeared almost white.

Or, hang on. Not pajamas. A nightgown. With an ankle-length hem, and a lace collar, and sleeves gathered into loose ruffles at the wrist.

Hilda let the dress drop. Its heavy velvet hems swung from its hanger. "Okay. I lied about the armoury being our second stop. We need to go next door stat."

"Alright?"

Marianne appeared puzzled, but she rose to her feet, and followed Hilda from Demeter cabin. It was a hop, skip, and a jump over to Aphrodite Cabin, which only had Sylvain lazing about in it, pretending to be sleeping. Hilda swatted at him with a pillow until he -- and the girl hiding under his bed -- left.

"There," Hilda tossed the pillow back onto Lorenz's bed, and walked over to her own bunk. "Now that we're alone, you can try on some of my stuff."

Marianne remained standing while Hilda pawed through her own dresser, which was literally overflowing with clothes. Shoes were piled up in a mountain beneath the bunk bed, and an additional series of bars had been strung up for the multiplication of raw stuff in Hilda's wardrobe.

Tossing various pieces of clothing across Lorenz's nearby bed without a care for his personal space -- he wasn't here; he wouldn't care unless he found out -- Hilda said, "You won't fit them perfectly, but it's better you have something for next week until I can get you some stuff in your own size. Try some of those on, and let's see how you go."

For a moment, there was silence behind her. Then, the gentle rustle of fabric. She could hear the slump of cloth to the ground, but did not look around until Marianne gently cleared her throat.

Hilda turned. She cocked her head to one side and scrunched up her nose. On her, the black track pants and branded t-shirt combo were trendy in a casual kind of way -- she could make anything look good just by virtue of proximity to herself. On Marianne however, the track pants stopped well above her bare ankles. Marianne stooped and tugged at the hem of the t-shirt in an attempt to cover her stomach more. If she straightened to her full height, the barest glimpse of skin at her waist would have been visible.

At least it would have, if not for the fact that Marianne had opted to wear an additional long-sleeved, high-collared turtleneck beneath the shirt. And she still wore that weird gold pendant over it as well. The entire effect made her appear gangly and out of place, like she had experienced a sudden growth-spurt. All knees and elbows.

“It’ll just have to do for now,” Hilda sighed. She waved towards the small pile of clothes that she had accumulated on Lorenz’s bed. “Keep them. Wear them. Return them. Or don’t. Whatever.”

“Are you sure?” Marianne asked. She was still fiddling with the end of the shirt, twisting one of her hands in the fabric.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll get some more clothes in for you late next week. Luckily, you’re on the blue team.”

“Why is that lucky?”

“Because you look great in blue. Also because that means we’re on the same side. I mean -” Hilda plucked at her own blouse. “I look way better in red, but that would require me to cooperate with the Ares boys. So, you know. Needs must.”

“Could you please -?” Marianne made a twirling gesture with her fingers.

“What?” Hilda blinked. Then it hit her. “Oh! Sorry! Yeah.”

She turned back around, and could hear the whisper of fabric against skin. She removed her sunglasses, and toyed with them. She polished the pink lenses on the edge of her blouse. It would only take a flick of her wrist to extend them into an axe once more. Which reminded her.

“Hey, do you have a weapon?” Hilda asked, perching the sunglasses back upon her nose. She remained facing her own bunk bed and closet explosion across the ground.

“I have a sword,” said Marianne.

“Oh, good! You can use that during training exercises and classes, then.”

“No.”

Hilda paused. She had to resist the urge to sneak a peek over her shoulder; it was so much easier to read people when she could actually look at them. And Marianne was hard enough to read with magic, let alone without visual cues. “No, as in: no, you are unable to use a sword? Or no, as in: no, you are unable to use that sword?”

More shuffling and soft cloth noises. For a moment, the only reply was the creak of a floorboard as Marianne shifted her weight from foot to foot, until finally she admitted, “The second one. And you can turn around now.”

Hilda did so. Marianne was back in her own dress. Her hair was still a disaster of a messy bun.

“Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool. We’ll just get you a different sword, then. Or maybe a scythe,” Hilda joked. “Just to make your mother proud.”

"My mother?" Marianne repeated, her brows screwing up in confusion. Then her eyes widened. "Oh! Yes. I mean - um - of course. Demeter. My mother."

Alright, that was just plain suspicious. And obvious. For being such a mystery, this girl sure was a really really bad liar.

Hilda feigned nonchalance. "And your father?"

"Oh, well, he's -" Marianne pointed to the ground beneath their feet, and Hilda's eyes widened in understanding.

"Sorry," Hilda said with a grimace.

"It's alright."

"Who was that guy, then? The one that dropped you off in the limo?"

"Oh, him." Marianne wrung her hands together. "That was my adopted father. In a sense. It's complicated. He's a - well - a banker? Sort of. We don't really need the money, but he primarily handles loans during his day job. With - um - big stakes."

“Sure.”

So, Claude had been on the mark. She was a rich heiress. Ugh. He was going to be so insufferable when he found out. What a pain.

Wait. It also meant she was an orphan. Half-orphan. That counted, right? Did that mean they both won the betting pool?

Marianne shuffled her feet nervously. As if on cue, something clinked to the ground. Hilda looked down. A few coins scattered around, fat and gold and gleaming, as though they had spilled from Marianne's pocket. Marianne flushed, her cheeks going pink. Quickly she crouched down, and began scraping together the coins from the ground.

One of the coins rolled towards Hilda, coming to a halt by her feet. She bent down to pick it up, but hesitated before touching it, though she could not explain why. The coin seemed to resist her fingers, like it weighed far more than it should. Its face was worn smooth, as though from years of being rubbed by an anxious thumb in someone’s pocket. Upon it Hilda could just make out the emblem of a disfigured trident with only two prongs instead of three. When she turned the coin over, the other side bore the symbol of a cornucopia.

Or maybe it was a bearded face. Honestly, it was so time-worn she could barely tell.

Hilda straightened. "You - uh - you dropped this."

"Thank you," Marianne mumbled.

She held out her hand, so that Hilda could give it back without touching her. The coin fell into the centre of her palm with a heavy thud. She closed her fingers, and the coin vanished. Like some sort of mortal magic trick.

Alright. That was enough weirdness for one day. Hilda was going to make this conspiracy-theory bullshit go back to normal if it killed her.

Hilda squared her shoulders and marched over to Lorenz’s bed. “C’mon. Let’s go gear you up.”

She helped Marianne gather up all the clothes she was lending her, and carry them over to Demeter Cabin. And after that, she dragged Marianne over to the armoury to pick out some basic armour and a new sword. Marianne thanked her about twenty times on the way. Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration. But she still thanked Hilda way too much. It was enough to make Hilda feel uncomfortable.

Couldn't a girl just be nice for the sake of being nice? And for the sake of a good grade?

"It's fine. Don't mention it. No, really," Hilda said, adding a bit of nervous charmspeak into her words. "Don't."

The magic washed over Marianne, but she merely blinked. "Okay. Sorry."

Now, that was just plain weird. Titans like Seteth, and pegasi, and major gods, sure. They were immune to Hilda's charms. But -- and she didn't mean to toot her own horn -- but she really was Very Good at charmspeak. The best, even. Better than her brother anyway, and he could convince a billionaire to part with their last dollar.

Apparently however, Marianne was utterly immune.

Hilda dropped a heap of leather armour onto Marianne's bed. "Alright. Well. I'll see you later."

The last thing Hilda wanted to do on a hot afternoon was sit out in the sun and work. Toil, even. This was officially in the 'toiling' category. Overhead the sky was a blue so pale it hurt to look at with the naked eye. The sun wasn't even that high up yet, but already Hilda could feel a bead of sweat gathering between her shoulderblades. Her bra would need to be peeled off later today. Ugh.

She leaned back on her hands. She, along with a host of other students all in her age group, were gathered together in the amphitheatre. The stone offered no respite from the sun's merciless heat. Pale marble burned beneath her hands and through the sheer fabric of her very short shorts. Hilda did her best to make sure the naked skin of her thighs did not actually touch stone.

Professor Manuela was delivering some sort of instructions to the class. Hilda wasn't really listening. She lent half and ear to the usual drivel about health and safety or whatever, and cast the rest of her attention towards complaining bitterly under her breath.

"I mean -- really -- we can't, like, opt out of these things?" she grumbled. "If I throw Dimitri onto his back, that means I should be exempt from every practice until the end of time."

"You haven't thrown Dimitri onto his back, though," Claude pointed out.

"Hmph. Details. Details."

Dimitri himself, the head of Ares cabin, sat a few rows in front of them. Their conversation passed right over his head. Which was lucky, really. He had a calm exterior, but Hilda knew better. She'd seen that wrathful streak of his in the forest once.

To be fair, there had been a few big scary monsters involved, and he had single-handedly staved off half of them without any regard for his own personal safety. So, like, wrath it up, War Boy.

Manuela had stopped her pacing, and was now contemplating her students. She pointed at two of them to be the first sacrifice of the day to the arena, and Hilda almost had a heart attack when Manuela pointed in her direction.

"Mr. Riegan, if you please," Manuela said, then pointed at Dimitri. "And Mr Blaiddyd. Could you both please come down for our first demonstration?"

Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck." She slapped Claude on the shoulder as he rose to his feet. "Try not to lose a limb!"

Claude flashed her a broad beaming smile, as well as a middle finger. She returned the smile and waved cheerfully as he sauntered down the steps towards the arena floor, drawing his bow from his shoulders as he went.

"Um -?" said a soft voice beside her.

Hilda half jumped out of her skin. She had forgotten Marianne had been sitting to her left this whole time. It took all of her vast reserves of skill to make a graceful recovery. She lowered her pink sunglasses down the bridge of her nose so she could meet Marianne's eye. "Sup?"

At least today Marianne somewhat blended into the rest of the group. She was wearing a set of clothes Hilda had given to her, while doing her best to cover as much skin as possible. She clutched her new bronze sword between both hands, the leather scabbard well oiled and tended, even if it was plain. She tilted the sword a little. “When you mentioned we would be using these in classes and things, what you meant to say was -?”

Hilda nodded towards where Claude and Dimitri were squaring off under Manuel’s instruction. “You know. Fighting monsters, and sparring, and stuff.”

Marianne’s grip on the scabbard tightened. “What if someone gets hurt?”

With a shrug, Hilda dismissed the idea. She pushed her sunglasses back into place. “There’s usually someone around with healing magic. The worst I’ve seen is a scratch or two. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

In the arena, Claude managed to hold his own for a surprisingly long time. Too bad an open arena really wasn't suited to his fighting style. Had there been places for him to hide and use the geography to his advantage, he would've won. No question.

As it was, he peppered Dimitri with blows and arrows from a distance until, with a roar, Dimitri closed the distance between them. Hilda gave a sympathetic wince as Dimitri's spear swept Claude's legs out from under him, and he fell onto the ground with an audible thump.

"Ooooh that's going to leave a bruise," she said, inhaling a sharp hiss of breath when the butt of Dimitri's spear swung down. "Not the face! Not the face!!"

Claude rolled out of the way, and the blunted spear end smacked against the dusty ground of the arena. Manuela called the sparring session to a halt, awarding tips and pointers as she saw fit. She had to go up to Dimitri and place a hand on his shoulder to stop him from stalking after Claude.

The wild look in Dimitri's eyes faded, and he lowered his spear. Then he lowered his head to Claude, sweeping his hand to his heart and murmuring something Hilda couldn't hear. An apology probably, based on the way Claude waved him off with a grin.

As the two of them shook hands, Manuela's eyes sought out two more contenders from the crowd. Hilda ducked down as far as she could in an effort to avoid her gaze. It worked.

"Miss Ordelia, and Miss -" Manuela cocked her head. "-von Edmund. If you would both be so kind."

In the front row, Lysithea rose to her feet without hesitation. She bore no weapon, nor did she reveal one as she stepped out into the arena, dusting off her skirt. Meanwhile, Marianne shot Hilda a panicked look.

"Go on!" Hilda urged. "Kick her ass!"

Marianne grimaced. Or perhaps that was her trying to smile. Still, she loomed to her feet, holding onto the sword as though she had already forgotten which end she was supposed to point at the enemy. When she started to pick her way down the stairs, Hilda scooted over to join a few of the Hermes and Hephaestus kids who sat nearby.

"This should be interesting," said Ignatz. His leaned forward in his seat, his thick spectacles refracting the light. "I hope Lysithea doesn't completely wipe her off the map."

At that, Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth and called out, "Don't go easy on her, Marianne!"

Marianne's shoulders hunched up a little more around her ears, but her stride lengthened; she walked with a bit more purpose. But only a bit.

"Yeah!! You can do it!" Raphael yelled beside Hilda, as eager for a brawl as any Ares kid despite the fact that his father was Hermes. Then he lowered his voice to a rumble, and asked, "So, who is that? I’ve seen her around, but -?"

"It's the new girl in Demeter Cabin. Though Claude has his doubts about that," Ignatz explained, not looking away from where Marianne and Lysithea were squaring off; Marianne was tugging her new sword free and placing the scabbard carefully on the ground.

Hilda turned to the both of them. “Do either of you know what she even does in her free time, anyway? Because I’ve pretty much only ever seen her at meals, or during chores.”

Ignatz shrugged. "Prays, mostly."

With a snort, Hilda said, "Who prays when you can just ring up mom, and talk to god?"

"Apparently she does."

"Well -” Hilda was at a loss. “What the hell."

"I saw her talking to animals the other day," Raphael added.

Hilda gave him a flat stare. "You're joking."

"Nah, I swear! She was talking to a bird!"

“Is that even something Demeter kids do? Talk to animals?”

He shrugged.

"What kind of bird?" asked Hilda.

"I dunno." Raphael scratched at his broad chin. "An owl? It was up on a branch, and it looked like it was listening when she talked."

“What is she? A child of Athena now? Auuugh!!” Hilda let her head drop into her hands. Her voice mumbled against her palms. “Tell Claude I give up.”

“Tell Claude what now?” said a familiar voice beside her; he had returned from his sparring match.

“You win,” she groaned, dislodging her sunglasses so that she could rub at her eyes with the heels of her hands. “You’re right. Marianne’s an unknown entity. Forever. Mystery solved. You’re welcome.”

Claude patted her on the back. The side of his face was already blooming with a fresh bruise. “I’m sure we can get to the bottom of this. Now, move over, won’t you?”

Hilda made a face, and shuffled over.

Down in the arena, Marianne lost before either she or Lysithea could break a sweat. But rather than appear disheartened, Marianne seemed relieved at the outcome. She sheathed her sword, while Lysithea frowned down at her own hands then at Marianne, as though puzzled by something. When Manuela instructed them to shake hands, Marianne instead inclined her head in a weird bow, like the one Seteth had offered her upon her arrival at camp. Lysithea, utterly flummoxed, returned the gesture, but continued to shoot Marianne funny looks as they walked back to their seats.

It certainly wasn't the most invigorating sword-fighting Hilda had ever seen. That was still reserved for Petra when she was filled with battle-lust during a mission to the outside world -- a sight Hilda would never forget; it haunted her dreams. In a good way.

But while it wasn't a flashy show of strength and skill, there could be no doubt that Marianne had some skill with the blade. Lingering beneath the surface. Like looking at something at the bottom of a fast-flowing stream, it was distorted yet in plain sight.

Hilda opted to not mention anything, when Marianne returned to sit beside her. Instead offering enthusiastic praise -- which was taken up by Raphael -- and a high-five -- which was also taken up by Raphael, since Marianne still refused to touch people.

“You went easy on her,” Hilda said, loudly enough for Lysithea to hear. Lysithea glowered, but made no reply.

But Marianne only said, “She is very magically talented.”

Which wasn’t denying what Hilda had said at all.

Nothing at all remarkable happened over the course of the next week or two. Classes. Chores. More classes. More chores. Boring. Unless you counted cool-headed, snide Hubert screaming like a little girl during pegasus-riding training.

Hilda would have to make sure to actually give Minty some carrots for that.

Midway through the third week of camp, Hilda and the others gathered in the amphitheatre for some magic sparring lessons under the beady eye of the resident pedantic satyr and overall magic enthusiast, Hanneman. Hilda seated herself midway up the steps, confident that she wouldn’t be called upon for any demonstrations.

Sure, she had magic. But Hanneman always liked his magic big and loud. The kind where you flung explosions, and branches, and ice, or whatever at each other in the arena. Hilda’s kind of magic involved batting her eyelashes so effectively that the enemy just dropped their guard, leaving an excellent opening for her to kick them into the stratosphere. And for some inexplicable reason that magic wasn’t good enough for public demonstrations.

Not that Hilda was complaining. Far from it. She put her sunglasses on, propped her feet atop the step in front of her, and settled in for an afternoon snooze.

Of course, Hanneman called upon some of the Athena kids first. Then moved along to a few Hephaestus kids. The usual nonsense. Fire. Sparks. War magic. Scorched craters in the arena ground. Yawn.

But as the latest student to perform a demonstration was sitting back down, Hanneman turned his attention towards someone new.

"Miss Edmund," Hanneman said with a gesture for Marianne to stand beside him. "I understand you have some talent in earth magic."

Well, that was news to Hilda. The last time Hilda had seen Marianne perform magic, it had resulted in everything in a ten meter radius turning to withered ash. One look at Marianne’s face only confirmed it, however. She was doing that thing where she hunched up like a hermit crab hiding in its shell.

“I’m not sure if -” Marianne started to say, but Hanneman shook his horned and bespectacled head.

“None of that now. This isn’t a sparring match, so there’s no danger to you or anyone else.”

"But -"

"You cannot be exempt from everything, my dear," Hanneman added, scolding lightly. He waved for her to join him again.

Marianne hesitated. She looked over at Hilda, who flashed a feeble thumbs-up. That seemed to be all the persuasion Marianne needed, as though she would only do what Hilda approved of in this situation. Or perhaps as if she were hoping Hilda would save her.

Hilda did not realise it might have been the latter until it was far too late.

Marianne slouched to Hanneman's side. He directed her to face the others, so that she wilted beneath the full attention of the amphitheatre.

Gesturing towards their feet, he said, "No need to fear. I have known many children of Demeter during my time here. Just focus on the earth, and it will answer."

Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She did not move. Her gaze darted from side to side, before finally she squeezed her eyes shut, and held out her hand.

Absolutely nothing happened. For a long time. Hilda could hear someone in the row behind her yawn. The birds were chirping happily away in the distance, until suddenly they weren't.

Hilda sat up straighter. The back of her neck prickled. An odd silence settled over the amphitheatre. Like sound-cancelling headphones. Like being plunged beneath water. A pressure rising up like the tide until it seized everything in sight.

And beneath them, a faint rumble.

"That's it," said Hanneman, encouraging yet calm. "Don't force it. Just ease the plants out, and they should grow."

Hilda had been around the magic of Demeter kids before. Hell, just last week she had convinced Mercedes to save her bacon with those flowers. This was nothing at all like that.

Marianne's eyes remained squeezed shut, as though she were anticipating the blow of an open hand. Her outstretched fingers trembled, and suddenly the earth erupted beneath her feet. Fissures split the surface with a sound like thunder, cracks extending in every direction. Some of the other students leapt to their feet, and scrambled back as the ground yawned open. It swallowed up columns, great chunks of marble and debris falling into a mephitic chasm that continued to widen.

Hilda grabbed another student, who almost went careening into the chasm, hauling him back onto solid rock. In the arena Hanneman was yelling. Marianne's face was screwed up in a sustained flinch. When he grabbed her by the shoulder, she jerked. And in a flash of eerie light, Hanneman was flung backwards. His body crashed into the side of a pillar, and the ground went still.

Plumes of dust distorted the air. People coughed and waved, trying to see through the murk. From here, Hilda could just make out Marianne with her hands lifted to her mouth in horror.

"Sorry!" she said, over and over. "I'm sorry!"

Marianne rushed over to Hanneman, reaching out to touch him, but stopping herself from doing so. His only response was to groan something wordless. Something dark matted his grey hair, and one of his curled horns had snapped, oozing red.

The dust began to settle, and with it silence. Everyone stared. Marianne seemed to shrink before their very eyes. Before anyone could speak, she turned and fled. The moment she was gone, pandemonium broke loose. A few of the students raced over to Hanneman, Mercedes foremost among them, her hands already aglow with a healing spell.

Claude looked at Hilda. "Child of Demeter, huh?"

Hilda pursed her lips. "Now's really not the time, Claude."

"On the contrary," he gestured to the gaping wound in the ground, splitting the amphitheatre nearly in twain. "I think now is the perfect time to be asking these questions."

A pillar crumbled and crashed to the ground. Hilda winced. “Okay. Yeah. Fine. But I’m going to go find her before we start debating.”

“Good luck! Try not to get swallowed up by another freak earthquake.”

Already, Mercedes was helping Hanneman to his feet. Or -- hooves. Same thing. Another student, a red-headed Athena kid by the name of Annette, was repairing his spectacles, and handing them over for him to don. Before anyone could notice her absence, Hilda slipped away in the ensuing chaos.

Outside of the amphitheatre, Marianne was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh, Hilda started off towards the woods.

When Hilda finally found her, Marianne was perched atop a branch halfway up a tree. She was talking quietly, but when Hilda approached, she fell silent. An extra set of eyes peered from the branches above her, wide and golden. An owl. Early evening shadows gathered around the woods, clustering around Marianne as though she were a magnet for twilight. She hugged her knees to her chest, and sat, completely still.

The owl took flight when Hilda drew too near. It vanished into the surrounding trees.

Hilda placed her hands on her hips, and craned her neck back to look up. “How the hell did you even get up there?”

There were no branches between the ground and the branch Marianne sat upon. And that branch was a good twelve feet in the air. Maybe more.

Marianne peered over her knees down at Hilda. “Why did you follow me?”

“Well, that seems like a weird question.” Hilda gestured at where Marianne sat. “Then again, you are halfway up a tree after having turned some of the amphitheatre into rubble, so. Y’know. If it walks like a duck and acts like a duck.”

Marianne stared. “Then,” she said slowly, “it climbs trees?”

Hilda couldn’t keep a snort of laughter at bay. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“That satyr -?” Marianne asked. “Is he -?”

“Who? Hanneman?” Hilda scoffed. “He’s fine. Satyr’s have notoriously thick skulls. It would take more than that to kill him.” She beckoned. “Now, can you come down? I’m going to get a crick in my neck.”

That only seemed to make Marianne curl in upon herself more. If anything, the branch looked further up now, though Hilda had no idea how that could have been possible.

"You shouldn't spend so much time around me. Bad things happen around people who spend too much time with me. And I -" Marianne swallowed. Then she mumbled against her knees, "I think you're nice."

"Well, that's awfully sweet of you. Really. But I think I'll be fine."

"Hilda -"

"Listen. I'm a half-blood. Apart from your demigod step-father, all the people you spent time with must've been mortal, right? I’m tougher than I look. Now, come down, and we can go back to your cabin. I won’t even drag you to the dining pavilion. In fact,” Hilda wheedled, her voice lilting into a sing-song tone. “I’ll go get you a platter and bring it over, so people don’t stare at you. If that’s what this whole fleeing into the woods thing is even all about.”

For a moment there was silence as the offer was considered. Nervously, Marianne tugged at the long sleeves of the shirt Hilda had given her. “Can you - Can you turn around? I don’t want to do it while you’re watching.”

Truth be told, Hilda had been anticipating needing to catch her on the jump down. But with a bemused shrug, Hilda turned around on the spot. Behind her, she could hear the faintest rustle of the wind through trees, or perhaps a draught flickering through torches along a dimly lit corridor. When she turned back around, Marianne was sitting on the ground in the exact same position she had been in while atop the branch. Knees curled up to her chest. Hands firmly chained about her ankles.

Hilda held out her hand as a silent offer to help Marianne to her feet. To her utter shock, Marianne actually took it. Her fingers were soft and very very cold.

Hilda tightened her grip, and hauled Marianne upright. “Geesh. You’re freezing.”

Immediately Marianne pulled her hand away, clenching it into a fist at her side. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Hilda tilted her head towards the direction of camp. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

#marianne von edmund #hilda valentine goneril #hildamari #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #roman writes #a study in hospitality

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stahlop · 5 years ago

Text

Must Love Dogs (4/?)

It’s Chapter 4 and time for the first date! This is based very much on my first date with my husband, read the notes below for all the details. Thank you @profdanglaisstuff for being my beta. You are the best!

Chapter 1 2 3

Also on Ao3

Chapter 4

Killian arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes before the start of the date. He hadn’t meant to get there so early, but he’d been nervous after getting dressed in jeans and a blue plaid flannel, and had been pacing around his apartment for half an hour before finally just getting in his Jeep and heading over to where he was to meet Emma.

He had suggested The Boathouse for their date. It was a restaurant with a great view of the harbor. It also had an amazing outdoor patio and the weather was still nice enough that they could eat out there without overheating or shivering from cold.

He got himself seated out on the patio and he could also see the parking lot from his table. He scrutinized every car that drove into the lot hoping that it was Emma, but after 10 minutes she still had not arrived. He really hoped he was not being stood up.

Killian had taken a chance by asking her out for that night. He knew it wasn’t exactly good form, giving a woman only three hours to get ready, but he really wanted to meet her face to face. He thought the anticipation would kill him if he had to wait until tomorrow to meet her.

An older model, yellow Volkswagen Beetle drove into the lot. He could hear the screeching of metal on metal coming from its engine. He truly hoped that wasn’t Emma’s car. He didn’t fancy driving around someday in what seemed like a death trap. The Beetle found a parking place and a beautiful, blonde goddess emerged from the car. He guessed he would be driving around in that metal death trap.

She walked across the parking lot into the restaurant. She was wearing skinny jeans and brown calf-length boots with some sort of green top that was covered by a red leather jacket. Her blonde hair hung in shiny, loose waves down her figure. She looked even better in person.

“Emma?” he asked getting up from where he’d been sitting. She walked over and gave him a shy smile. “You look stunning.” He walked over to her seat and pulled out the chair for her.

“Such a gentleman.” Emma said smiling again, but not as shy as before. She sat in the seat and removed her jacket, placing it on the back of the seat. She was wearing a wrap-around green top that showed off her curves perfectly, but didn’t reveal too much cleavage.

“I’m always a gentleman.” Killian replied going back to his side of the table and taking a seat. “That’s quite a vessel you captain there,” he said, referring to her car. Emma blushed.

“I know. It was the first car I ever bought with my own money and I just can’t bear to get rid of her.” She glanced down at the menu almost as if she were embarrassed.

‘Hey,” Killian said grabbing her hand, “there’s nothing wrong with holding on to things with pleasant memories. I just haven’t seen one of those in awhile.” He smiled, hoping to make her feel more secure. “And,” he added, ‘my friend Robin happens to be a mechanic for foreign-made cars, and I know he’ll give a friend discount.”

“Well, I may just have to keep you around just for that.” She smirked and then looked back down at her menu.

“Yes, maybe you should.” Killian replied, looking at his own menu as well.

Killian didn’t know when he’d been on a more entertaining date. Emma regaled him with tales of outrageous bail jumpers that she’d had to arrest.

“I found him dangling from his girlfriend’s apartment fire escape, butt-naked, except for his shoes, trying to make a run for it. And it was January!”

Killian told some comical tales about life in the Royal Navy.

“My commanding officer during basic training was only about 66 inches tall and had to stand on a box just to yell in most of our faces. My friend Will and I just couldn’t keep a straight face the first time he did it and both of us busted up laughing. After we had to clean the latrines with toothbrushes, we learned to hold in our laughter.”

They compared stories about their dogs.

“Ditie likes to wake me up by putting her face right into mine. Nothing like dog breath to wake a person up.” Emma laughed.

“Jolly likes to sleep in my bed with me. I tried to deter it, but she kept giving me a sad face and I finally gave in. And she hogs the covers.” Killian said laughing.

Emma told him about the previous bad online dates she had that prompted her to adopt Aphrodite.

“He really claimed getting kicked in the balls was more painful than childbirth? What a wanker!” He marveled at the amount of bad dates she’d been on. Could those idiots not see what was right in front of them?

Killian told her how he’d forgotten he had even set up an account on the MustLoveDogs website.

“I almost moved it to my spam folder. I’d joined the site in an inebriated state about a year ago. You were the first woman to even respond.” He said smiling again and taking the last bite of his dinner.

“I find that hard to believe. Your profile was pretty amazing.” Emma said. She exuded confidence now. She had started out a little reserved (he couldn’t blame her after hearing those stories), but she was in her element now. Eating and talking with abandon. “I actually tried to model my profile after yours,” she gave a small smile, and god how he loved that smile already, “so we’d seem more in sync.” She blushed a little, although Killian barely saw it as night had fallen and the patio was only lit by fairy lights.

The patio had been awfully full and between the boats on the harbor and the cars in the parking lot, they had moved closer to each other to not miss a word the other said. The waitress came and removed their plates and they both asked for a wine refill as they weren’t ready to part yet.

“Tell me, Emma,” he began as he took a sip of the fresh glass of wine the server had brought to them, “how did you end up in Boston? You said you moved around a lot.” He suspected he knew the answer. She hadn’t said she was a military brat when he spoke of his service.

“Um,” she started, tracing the rim of her wine glass, “I was in the foster system. Abandoned as a baby, no idea who my parents were, or are, and don’t care.” She said it nonchalantly, as if it hadn’t affected her her entire life, but as if it were something that had just happened to her. “So, I was in a variety of places. Found in Maine and lived in Minnesota, Washington, Arizona, and Florida before I came to Boston, where I aged out of the system.” Emma took a long sip of her wine.

“Hey,” he said, taking her hands in his, “I’m sorry. Not for what happened in your past, but for all those people who were too idiotic to see what they had in front of them. But I get it. Wounds that are made when we’re young tend to linger.” He pressed a kiss to the knuckles of her hands.

“Thank you, Killian.” Emma said removing her hands from his and dabbing her napkin under her eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to get so heavy. Tragic backstories aren’t usually first date material.” She put the napkin back down on the table and resumed holding his hands.

“Do you want to get out of here? This place will be closing soon and I know a great bar where we can hang out for a little while longer if you’re amenable.” Killian waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Sure,” Emma smiled, “I’d like that.”

EKEKEK

Emma couldn’t believe how great the date was going. Usually she was annoyed or pissed with her date after half an hour, but she was utterly fascinated with Killian. Even after she’d told him about her past he didn’t judge her, only gave words of encouragement. He was funny, a good listener, a good conversationalist, and drop dead sexy (that flannel he was wearing matched his blue eyes perfectly), plus he had a dog, could he be any more perfect?

Killian had suggested going to a bar that was not too far away. One they could walk to without problem. Emma didn’t want the date to end, so when he’d suggest going to The Rabbit Hole, she was game. She’d seen the bar before but had never actually gone in.

They talked the whole way to the bar. Emma told him about Ruby and Dorothy and Mary Margaret and David.

“Mary Margaret found the website for me,” Emma admitted. “I never would have gone looking for something like that on my own.

Killian told her about Robin and Will and his brother, Liam.

“Robin and Will might as well be my brothers too. They can be wild, but they’re the best mates anyone could have. Got me out of a right bunch of trouble in my younger days. Liam practically raised me. My dad left early on and my mum got sick when I was in secondary school. Liam put off university until after she died and I went into the Navy,” he said somberly. Emma stroked her thumb over his hand that she was already holding.

They made their way to the bar entrance. Killian was surprised there was a cover as bands didn’t usually play on Friday nights.

“It’s the Lost Boys. They came in to play a surprise acoustic set tonight,” the bouncer told them. The Lost Boys were a local alternative band that had a few big hits on the radio. Emma’s eyes lit up. She’d always wanted to see them. Plus, Ruby had dated their bass player back in the day, before they were known.

Killian paid the cover and they went in. The bar was only semi-crowded. The show had not been advertised until the day of and only on their Facebook page, according to the bouncer. Also, they were at the end of their set. They had, maybe, only three songs left.

Killian went to the bar to get them some drinks, rum and coke for her, straight rum for him. She found a high top table for them to place their drinks on. When Killian returned they started to dance to the music. It wasn’t that easy to dance to alternative rock music, it mostly consisted of jerky movements coming from Killian and a bit of swaying from Emma. She looked over at him and laughed. He seemed so free, like he didn’t have a care in the world. That’s what she wanted, a man who wasn’t afraid to dance like no one was watching, even if he was terrible at it. He had the goofiest grin on his face and he was enjoying himself. And so was she.

The set ended after a few more songs. Emma went to go talk to the bass player for a moment (they’d met once or twice when he and Ruby were dating), and then went back to Killian who was finishing up his drink.

“Sorry,” she said, “Graham dated Ruby once upon a time, so I just had to say hi.” She finished what remained of her drink as well, which was basically watered down rum and coke by that point.

“No worries.” Killian said smiling, “I had a fantastic time, Emma. Shall we walk back to our cars now?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Emma said, grabbing her jacket off the table and slipping it on.

They walked out into the cool night air. It felt amazing after dancing in the bar. The walk back went too fast for Emma’s taste, even though it took a good twenty minutes. The brisk air helped clear both their heads from the slight buzzes they had from the last drinks at the bar. They were both silent as they reached the parking lot, their vehicles the only ones left since the restaurant had closed an hour or so ago.They stopped in front of Emma’s car. She turned toward him and blurted out, “Go out with me again.”

“I’d love to.” Killian smiled, “How about you bring Ditie over to my place and I’ll make dinner. I can even invite Will and his lovely girlfriend, Belle, over and they can amuse you with embarrassing stories from the past few years.”

“Ok.” Emma said breathlessly.

“Great!” Killian said, kissing her hand. “Until tomorrow then.” She opened the door to her car and got in and watched him walk to the only other car on the lot, his Jeep. Then she started her car and headed home.

Emma slept well and had pleasant dreams of Killian that night.

End Notes: My future husband drove into the parking lot in a wood paneled station wagon and I just remembered thinking, 'please don't let that be my date's car.' But it worked so perfectly with Emma's bug, I had to switch roles there. We did go to a restaurant called The Boathouse, but it was in Tempe, AZ, in July, so we were sweltering. And we did end up going to a bar and catching the end of the acoustic show for the local Phoenix, alternative rock band, Authority Zero. And my best friend was a radio DJ for the one alt rock station (RIP 103.9 The Edge), so I went and talked to them after their set. And yes, there was no kiss on the first date.

Please leave comments and reblog! Also, let me know if you want to be tagged when other chapters post.

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious

#cs au ff #cs online dating #cs pet dating #cs first date #profdanglaisstuff

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thesvenqueen · 6 years ago

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The Unexpected

SURPRISE @karis-the-fangirl! I am your (late) Secret Santa! So sorry for the delay, life’s been absolutely insane the last few days BUT I managed to finish this for you! It’s got some pining, probs bad grammar, horrible transitions, ‘one bed’ trope(ish), and overall cuteness! I hope you enjoy it & hope you have a great Christmas!

Words: 1813 Rating: K

Anna hadn’t expected the gift.

A full weekend getaway in the mountains; a little cabin nestled right on the edge with full view of the valley below and surrounding snowy mountains.

It was near several trails to explore, some with waterfalls and one even with hot springs.

It was the perfect gift, a getaway that Anna desperately needed.

Anna hadn’t expected Elsa to bail.

When she got the gift, she thought of asking Elsa, and at first Elsa was all for a weekend break.

At first.

Then, a business matter came up. Urgent & needing tending to, something that ‘couldn’t wait a weekend’ according to her sister.

Slightly annoyed, Anna said she ‘understood’.

Anna hadn’t expected her sister to suggest him.

She had blushed immediately at his name, trying to come up with some excuse as to why it wasn’t going to work; how it wasn’t a good idea & a disaster in the making.

The excuses were really to hide the faint bit of excitement at the idea, the way her heart sped up at the thought of a weekend with him.

After more encouragement, Anna finally gave in (she swore she could tell Elsa was grinning on the other end).

Anna hadn’t expected Kristoff to say yes, and so quickly as well.

Things had been, awkward, to say the least lately. They had been as thick as thieves in high school, never leaving each other’s sides. Always getting up to some kind of mischief or just enjoying a lazy afternoon together somewhere in the small town.

Then reality hit, acceptance letters received, distance came and separation happened.

Years passed, and it took a chance run in a few months ago for the pair to meet again.

Anna hadn’t expected to see him.

The site of him made her stop in her tracks.

Kristoff had grew, somehow more than his growth spurt in high school. The skinny, tall, lanky teenager was fit, bulked up, but his hair was still just barely hanging in his eyes.

He had stuttered a hello to her when she walked up to him in the store, and all it took was to see that grin she knew so well and she was done.

It took that one chance meeting to know she was head over heels for Kristoff.

Really, she had been since high school. Nerves got the best of her, regrettably so, and she never told him. The years that passed while at college Anna had missed him greatly, always regretting never saying anything, and too scared to send a text after all this time.

Now here they were, having some pizza like old times, wim him stuttering to try and save the quick “Yes!” he had exclaimed at the diner while Anna giggled.

Anna hadn’t expected the drive.

Well, that’s a lie, she had expected the long drive. What she didn’t expect was the absence of awkwardness.

The days leading up, she started to worry and half regret asking.

What if it was weird?

What if she said something stupid?

What if Kristoff didn’t enjoy it?

What if she spilled the beans on how she felt?

What if he didn’t feel the same?

For a moment, a fleeting moment, when she had first gotten in Kristoff’s truck, it was there. Awkwardness tried to creep its way in.

Then, Kristoff asked if she was ready, and with a sly grin she had replied, “I was born ready”.

Hours passed easily, with jokes, stories, and moments of comfortable silence as they drove up the mountain side.

It was like old times, better even.

Anna hadn’t expected the cabin to be so beautiful.

It was just as the picture had shown; small, quaint, perfect for a weekend getaway that sat perfectly beneath the pine trees & snow.

One by one Anna bounded around the cabin, taking it all in and caught up to Kristoff who was standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

Anna hadn’t expected the one bed.

For a moment, they both stared at the bed. Anna glanced over and could see a slight blush on Kristoff’s face; she was curious if it was from the cold.

The awkwardness came back immediately then, till Kristoff mentioned he’ll take the couch.

Oh no, that was not going to do.They had not driven all the up here for him to sleep on a couch.

“We’re adults Kristoff, we can share a bed.”

This time, the blush was definitely not from the cold.

Anna hadn’t expected the butterflies.

Once moved into the cabin, Anna had convinced Kristoff to go explore a quick nearby trail before night fall.

It was then that as Anna pleaded and begged to go, that Kristoff had chuckled and said “You know I can’t say no to you”.

For some reason, hearing that gave her butterflies.

Anna had stared at him for a moment then caught herself, quickly dashing for the door as she called “Last one in the snow is a rotten egg.”

Thankfully, the cold hid her blush.

Anna hadn’t expected the snow storm. Neither of them had.

She had known she was forgetting something that morning, but after checking her suitcase three times she gave up.

As she made a mad dash for the cabin door as it came into view, she realized it had been the weather she had forgotten to check.

The storm had rolled in and both had been distracted by the beauty of the woods around them. Kristoff called it the moment the first snowflake appeared in front of them. Anna had been skeptic, seeing no real change.

It was when they were halfway back that the bottom fell out and they were quickly covered in snow.

Shivering, Anna made it to the door of the cabin, too cold to bring her hands out of her pockets to open the door.

Sensing her discomfort, Kristoff had opened the door. Without hesitation, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her inside.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting beside the fire, blankets wrapped around her while Kristoff held her.

She could feel his chest rising against her back and the butterflies had returned immediately.

They had sat there for what seemed like forever, so comfortable and warm within each others arms.

He had whispered in her ear, “Do want hot cocoa?”, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

Anna hadn’t expected to see him like that.

She had gone to grab her phone charger, when the door to the bathroom had opened.

There Kristoff stood, shirtless, hair still damp from the shower, and Anna couldn’t help but gauk.

He was hot, she had known that but holy shit.

She blinked, noticing he was looking at her quizzically. She started to stutter an apology, and decided on just darting out the door.

She couldn’t look at him without blushing the rest of the night.

Anna hadn’t expected to feel...rejected.

Was it rejection?

Kristoff had hardly spoken to her the rest of the night, could hardly look at her really, and then when it was time for bed, he had made sure to lay on the farthest side away from her.

He didn’t even utter a goodnight.

After the day they had had, the progress they’d made over the few months, the time spent by the fireplace; For some reason, it had just crushed her.

She listened to the storm rage outside, his gentle snoores beside her and she couldn’t stand it.

Grabbing the blanket off the foot of the bed, she went to the living room, careful not to wake Kristoff.

Anna hadn’t expected to cry.

As the snow had fallen, so did her tears as she watched from the living room.

There had been a part of her, small but strong, that hoped that maybe this would be the shove to get Kristoff to notice her.

To see how she felt, to see how much she loved him.

Instead, it seemed it had pushed him away.

This whole thing had been stupid. The butterflies were stupid. The idea this could work out was stupid. Her feelings were stupid.

Everything was just stupid.

Anna hadn’t expected him to wake up.

Kristoff had followed her, making her jump when he spoke.

She turned, trying frantically to hide her tears with the blanket.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked.

“Nothing.” she said, sniffling. “I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

“Anna,” he began but she had stopped him,

“Don’t, please don’t.” He had been confused then, “Just, leave me alone.”

“Anna, please, tell me what’s wrong.”

There was a pause, and finally, “Kristoff, why did you come?”

“What?”

“Why did you come?”

“Because you asked?”

“So?”

“You didn’t have to say yes, but you did. Why?”

“Anna, what is this about?”

“How do you not see it?”

He had paused then, “See what?”

“What I’ve been hiding from you for months now, what I hid from you since we were kids.”

He just stared at her. She was crying again.

“When you left after high school, it crushed me. It hurt so much and I tried to just, let you go to make it better but...it made it worse. I was so miserable. Now, seeing you here, having you back, it’s like we’re kids again; it’s been the best time of my life. I’ve missed you so much and all that time, more than anything, I regret never telling you how I felt, how I still feel.” Anna had paused then, catching her breath, “I love you Kristoff. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I...I can’t remember a time I didn’t and I’m so afraid that you’ll leave again not knowing and I don’t know if you love me too but...but I just had to tell you before--”

Anna hadn’t expected him to kiss her.

He had all but run across the room, pulling her close to his chest as he cradled her head. The feeling of his lips to hers nearly made her legs give out.

It was magical, perfect and more than she had dreamed about.

They finally broke apart, both gasping and both smiling from ear to ear.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Kristoff murmured.

“What?” Anna giggled, tears falling once again, “Really?”

“Really.” Kristoff chuckled, “And you think I’m clueless? I don’t know how I hid it from you for so long as I did. I’m pretty sure your sister knew.”

“What?!” Anna blinked, “I...I had no idea.”

“Seriously? I don’t know how you didn’t know.”

“I...I don’t...I...what?”

Kristoff chuckled again, capturing her lips with his to silence her confusion.

Anna hadn’t expected any of it, but as she left the cabin hand in hand with Kristoff a few days later, it was better than she could have ever imagined it to be.

#kristanna #kristannasecretsanta2018 #kristoff #anna #i am so so soooo sorry it's late #I hope you enjoy it #it's a mess I know

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lillaxtrigger · 5 years ago

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Faded land: Chapter 16

The moons lunar glow shines down upon an abandoned tower; the chimeric bear’s groan echoing across the city skyline. Surrounding the broken building’s fragile base be the ever vigilant Canadian military; the soldiers pouring out from the back of their vans, armed to the brim with advance weaponry, ready to take down whatever mutant abomination threatens the city of Niagara. Peeking out from one of these floating vans, the scientist takes a glance towards the entrance; the front doors swarming with rows of marching troopers. Obviously not gonna find anybody with even half a frontal lob sneaking through their anytime soon. Maybe the back will serve as a better point of entry.

Going around towards the back, Clara takes cover from the Canadian soldiers behind their own vehicles; dashing towards the back from van to van in hopes of finding another way in. In the midst of her advance, the scientist is halted by a few patrolling troops wandering about the surrounding streets. Carefully, she bides her time, patiently awaiting for the right moment to dart past the gaze under their helms. Once their site ventured away from her general direction, Clara zips across the wide gap between vehicles. She manages to dive behind one of the vans just before the troops returned their site towards her direction. Having evade the soldiers detection, the scientist lets loose a relieved breath; resuming her stealthy progress behind the tower. Hopefully, the back door’s all clear.

Alas, her wishes prove to be nothing but; finding the back to have its own share of protection from entry, with two guards manning the way in. Looks like these guys got every side of this place locked down tight; not a single spot for her to squeeze herself in without drawing the whole brigades rifle barrels towards her precious hooded head. Still, they can’t possibly have every corner covered. There has to be some way for the scientist to get inside. And she better find one fast. It won’t take long for all of them to storm the place and reach her mutant steed.

In her observation, she soon takes notice of the large shadow rising along the moonlit tower; looking above to witness a circular aircraft flying by. From the ground, she could tell that this bizarre aircraft belonged to the northern mounties; sporting what appeared to be a similar color scheme to their ground vehicles. Seems to be a bit impractical for personal air use, but these maple leaved troopers have boasted technology that has surpassed her expectation before. You never really can predict these guys will pull out of their armored asses next.

Shortly after marveling the flying saucer, Clara’s ears catches the familiar roar from above. The round aircraft begins to encircle the towers top, firing out towards the roof a set of teargas bombs. The ships strike is swiftly thwarted, the smoke bombs knocked aside. From the roof, a sticky webbing entangles the circular aircraft; the silk causing the ship to plummet towards the earth. Watching the ship plummet down upon the streets nearby, the scientist witnesses some of the troops withdrawing from their positions and racing towards the crash; some of them being the troops that guard the back entrance. With the surrounding guard distracted, Clara takes her chance and dashes straight inside the tower.

From the backdoor, the scientist dashes right through a collection of built in vendors; their delectably delicious goods and services having long since discontinued. The only reminisce of their mark now be the persistence stench of rotting food; an aroma which Clara unfortunately sprints through. Oh god! You can practically taste the rotting flesh of decaying meat and fruit.

Coming out from the hall of death scented corporate planned consumerism, Clara finds herself staring upon a whole row of the Canadian troop. Before any of them could take notice of her, the scientist swiftly dives right behind the front desk. Glancing beyond its aged oak; she found the mounties making the marching via the stairwell; each armed with a plethora of deadly firearms. Doubt any of them would want to risk firing off one of their weapons within this withered tower; this place giving off the air of crippling dilapidation more than anything else. Cracked marble floors, weak molding walls; caving ceiling; demonstrating the fact that this towers old as the city itself. Even the furniture and equipment give off this feeling; Clara recognizing some of the brands on the appliances from her time. All of it just screams how close this place is from turning into a pile of concrete at the drop of a hat. Kind of worrisome then how much heat these troops are packing; one shot from their rifles and this whole place is coming down harder than chromium. Might make her ascent up this tower kind of complicated with all the heat crawling around; gonna need to find another way up.

Beside the row of armored mounties was a pair of elevator doors sitting to the side of the stairs. Just the kind of sneaky ascent up the tower she needs; a stealthy venture free from the sites of the Canadian troops. Only problem being how to get in said shaft. Doubt the soldiers to the side are gonna let her just waltz up and pry open the doors. They might not risk firing their weapons within the withered tower; though their hard metal gauntlets may prove to pack quite a punch. Just one bop from their knuckles would be enough to knock her out. Best find something to distract the Canadian brigades vigilant watch.

Looking towards the ceiling once more, she realized how much rot the roof really showed; cracks, moss, and mold blanketing nearly the entire plaster sheet. The weakest point of which positioned right above the marching troops; just need something to send it all crumbling down.

Ducking down behind the receptionists desk, the scientist searches for whatever she could huck at the ceiling. Not really much there that could punch through the ceilings plaster; most of it just being broken pens and discarded paper clips. Damn scavengers. Just taking whatever isn’t nailed to the floor. What kind of worthless crap could you possibly want to loot from behind a hotels front desk, huh? Keys, papers, clipboards? Its truly a wonder what they might be going through their heads to think any of that has practicality.

Luckily, Clara’s hunt winds up revealing an unexpected find; spotting an oddity laying upon the marble set to the side. Reaching out for the item, the scientist fancies a closer inspection and finds it to be plastic head; its gaping mouth giving the impression that its screaming unfiltered horror. Judging from its plastic shell and where it was discarded, she deduces that this unsettling head is meant to be a desk bobble of sorts. Who in their right mind would think that this would pleasing for potential guests to stare into while checking into a room? Gives off the impression that your staying at a haunted hotel; with a crazed axe murder ready to burst through the door and hack your head off. Regardless of its disturbing looks, it should be enough to send the roof raining down on those marching mounties.

With this in mind, she takes aim towards the crack on the ceiling and chucks the knickknack over the desk like a lobbed baseball. A single strike to the ceiling is all it takes to bring it all down on the marching brigade; the rubble of which buries some of the solider. Some of the Canadian troops jump away from the fallen debris; while other tempt to help dig their comrades out from the mess. In the middle of this chaos, one of the soldier spots something going through the elevator doors.

Prying open its steel hatch, the soldier inspects inside of the shaft; the glow if its armor illuminating the rising tunnel. From the doors, they finds not a single speck of life to behold; simply the rustic metal of girders along the corners. Glancing up doesn’t reveal much either; nothing but the cable trailing up beyond the light of his suit. Before they could inspect further; the soldier hears a demand from one of their comrades. “Everybody! Help dig these soldiers out!” With this command, the soldier retreats from the elevator shaft; unaware of the scientist that they searched for hanging right along one of the shafts bars above. Once the coast was clear, Clara leaps off the side of the shaft and grabs hold of the dangling wire; swiftly beginning her ascent up the towering tunnel.

Clara’s climb up the discontinued elevator shaft leads her over hundreds of feet from the ground floor; with nothing below her other than the inky dark void. Inching her way up also lends her plenty of time to dwell on the questions that have been scratching at her thoughts; a prime example being on the subject of her mutant steed atop this very tower. She can’t help but wonder why of all places to flee did she decide to seek shelter at such a high point. Might as well just announce yourself to the whole city right then and there. A better question being why Angelo simply didn’t bail once the Canadian troops moved in; her being more likely to flee than fight? It’s not like she couldn’t if she wanted to. Just drop down and swing away from the mounties like a spider themed super hero. Is she really that sick that she can’t muster the energy to even do that much? The further the scientist digs into the matter, the further guilt and regret seeps its way within her.

But before her mind could wonder any deeper on these thoughts, a loud boom could be heard from beyond the tunnel, making the entire shaft viciously quakes. Among the sudden tremor, the scientist takes a tight grip of the trembling steel wire and holds on for dear life. The tremors quickly calming, Clara hears the sound of twanging metal and gazes up to find the wire unraveling before her eyes. Knowing all too well what events will unfold when the wires snaps, she jumps to one of the shaft doors set to the side. As soon as she lands upon the edge of the shaft, the scientist immediately begins to pry the hatch open; frantically jerking apart the pair of steel doors. With every bit of strength Clara could summon, she slowly starts to inch the doors open; her eyes beholding the welcoming site of the hallways from beyond their steel. It’s then that the cable finally snaps; the harsh sound of grinding steel echoing through the shaft quickly after. Hearing the sound of scraping metal closing in, Clara starts to squeeze through what little space she’s given herself. The grinding growing louder; the scientist forces herself through the tight set of steel; the edge of the doors scraping against her skin. Fortunately, she manages to pull herself out with next to no injury; simply flopping down onto the hallway floor.

As soon as Clara smacks herself against the hallways torn carpet, she witnesses the elevator streaks right down; the thunderous roar of its crash echoing quickly after. Free from harms freight train of descending steel, her entire body goes limp along the carpet as a heavy breath escapes her lungs. God damn, that was way too close! Almost wound up as another mess for the Canadians to scrape off. What in their right mind would urge them to fire off one of their highly destructive weapons around this example of poor demolition waiting to happen?

Thinking this, her ears catch the echoing bangs of gunfire coming from outside. Doesn’t sound like one of their weapons. Sounds less like firing plasma and more like shooting led. Only people she knows that still use such archaic artillery around here are...Oh no…

Rising from the torn carpeting, the scientist traces the ongoing gunfire towards a room set to the side; hearing the blasts of firing plasma join in the symphony. Taking a peek out of the window, she follows the resounding chaos down to the streets below. Beneath her be a raging firefight; the Canadian troopers blasting towards a familiar set of masked guns. No. Though the mounties begin to push the masked forces back, an unmarked black van soon changes that fact; racing into the scene and running over some of the armored soldiers. No. Coming to a screeching halt, the back doors of the black vehicle burst open; lunging out from the inside be the murderous punk herself. No!

With but nothing but the edge of her machete and the strength of her body; Shoa starts quite literally tearing through the armored forces. In her furious assault, the punk casts her blade towards a distant soldier; the machete’s tip piercing straight through their helm protected skull. Dashing towards the impaled solider, several others attempt to halt Shoa’s approach; the punk goes forth with a devilish smile. With one of the mounties approach, the punk grabs hold of their arm before leaping through the air. At the ark of her jump, she lobs the armored bastard towards their aiming comrades; both soldiers inadvertently blasting one of their own as the corpse slams down on them. In her descent, the punk clasps the grip of her machete; pulling it and the troopers head clean of their shoulders. Witnessing a soldiers to the side taking aim at her, Shoa swings her machete and lobs the soldiers head towards their comrade. Before the maple leaved trooper could fire, the decapitated head smacks against the soldiers own helm; knocking him out cold.

The punks maniacal laughter echoing through the block, Shoa lets out a boastful taunt to the rest of the Canadian squad. “Is this all ya maple leaved pansies can bring to the table!? Come on! I want a real brawl on my hands! Make me spill some blood!” Its then on that the rest of the remaining mounties all lunge towards her in an effort to halt her assault; all the while the woman continues her insane chortling.

Why are these guys here!? It was only a couple hours when all of them were snoozing the night away; how they manage to round themselves up so fast!? A more worrisome thought is why they’re here. Probably for the same reasons as the mounties. Honestly can’t think of what would happen if Angelo wound up in either of their clutches; or worse yet, who she’d be worse off with.

From behind the ongoing rumble, the scientist finds a familiar figure garbed in an overcoat; the Mysterious Dandy leading the rest of his remaining forces towards the back of the tower. In his infiltration, the Dandy looks towards one of the higher windows; noticing a hooded figure withdrawing from within.

Under the window, the scientist ruminates on how to ascend the tower as quickly as possible. This place looked to be around 30 or so floors from the outset; and judging from her glance out, her climb through the shaft has managed to get her up about half of that. Obviously not gonna be using it anytime soon. Pretty safe to say that elevator is out of order for good. The stairs on the other hand might show to be a much safer alternative up towards the top. Just hope the scientist legs have enough in them to outrun both the Canadian and resistance forces.

Like Clara had predicted, her ascent up the stairwell proves to be a much more stable venture. Kind of a hassle to climb up so many of these steps, but hell; the luxury of having actual solid ground to stand on is far worth the workout. An attitude that the scientist carries until she feels the tower quake beneath her feet; the trembling nearly causing her to fall down the set of steps. Thankfully, she grabs hold of the railing along the side; keeping a tight grip on the rusty steel until the tower calms down. Jesus, how hard of a firefight are those guys wagging down there? Gonna wind up bringing the whole place down in less than an hour at this rate. Better start picking up the pace on this upward jog.

Clara’s climb up the tower eventually comes to an abrupt halt; the moons glow shining upon a cave in of concrete and marble clogging up the rising stairwell. Doesn’t seem like there’s any way around or over it, not a single crack for the scientist to squeeze herself through. Looks like she’s not gonna be breaking through all of it anytime soon either; the scientist favoring more of a practice of brain then brawn. Probably wouldn’t be a good idea to bust through it anyway; might wind up making an even bigger mess that’ll crash down right on her noggin. Never really know what could be holding this place together anymore. Could be the foundation, could be some random pile of rocks; who can really predict at this point. Not much you can do then just head back down and look for another way up.

While Clara simply tempts to turn back, her ears catch the approach of something that threatens to halt her climb outright. Beneath her feet echo the sound of approaching footsteps; their random taps growing louder with each second past. With the encroaching army looming below her, the scientist frantically looks around for somewhere to conceal her presence; though her current surrounding not promising much in terms of refuge. In her search does she take notice of the moonlight shining upon the blockade before her; swiftly turning away from the rubble and finding the source of the illumination.

“Man. Can’t wait to get my hands on that bear thing. Imagine all the cool shit we can do with it once we wrangle it in.” “Those Northern bastards ain’t gonna fuck with us with that mutant beast covering our backs.” “Wonder if it can spin webs like a real spider?” Ascending the steps, a cavalcade of resistance members come to a halt; a huge mound of broken concrete blocking their way up. “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What the hell we got here?” “Uh, figured we run into something like this. This shitty place is falling apart at the seems.” “How do we get past it? Doubt we can squeeze our way through.” “Hold up!” one of them announces as he digs in his pants. From the depths of his trousers, the terrorist pulls out a round black sphere with a glowing fuchsia button at the top. “Nabbed one of these puppies of the corpse of a Canadian. Figured it might be a grenade. What say we just blow all this outta the way.” After suggesting this, one of his fellow member smacks him in the back of the head; berating him with: “You out of your damn mind!? We’re lucky this place hasn’t come down on our heads yet. You want to send us all to an early grave!?” “Yeah. Might as well just save those Canadians the trouble and blow our brains out here” “Lets just look for another way up.” Having said that, the merry band of gun totting terrorists start to head back down; unbeknownst to them of their former comrade hanging right outside the window.

Clara’s palms taking a tight grip on the windows ledge, her gaze can’t help but venture towards the streets below. She soon swiftly withdraws her eyes back towards the top of the tower with a frightened gasp. It’s alright girl. You’ve climbed up way higher than this before. Just trick your brain into thinking that the grounds just two feet below instead of a thousand. Should calm your phobias right down. Putting these thoughts on repeat, she reluctantly begins her climb up the towers face; realizing that it might be the fastest, and possibly only way toward the top.

One hand at a time, the scientist scales up the towers ancient brickwork; the winds of the city blowing right behind her towards the west. It doesn’t take long however before her climb suddenly takes a risky turn.

Above her, one of the Canadians mini ships encircles the tower overhead, the wind bellowing out from the aircraft's base threatening to blow her down. Struggling against the opposing gales, Clara takes a tight grip of the brickwork before her; her fingers nearly slipping off the stone. Thankfully, the ship passes right through before it makes her loose her hold; the scientist reestablishing her grasps against the towers face. Once her fight against the winds had pasted, Clara swiftly starts to look for a way back inside; wishing not to risk falling to her doom for another moment.

In the scientist search, she manages to spot somebody peeking out from one of the windows above. From the window does a woman lob out what seemed to be a grenade towards the ship; successfully dunking the explosive straight into its open cockpit. The ship soon bursts into a ball of burning steel; the aircraft pieces scattering all over the place. Some of the more sizable chunks wind up smacking against the towers face; the impact causing the brickwork that she held onto to crumble. Plummeting down towards the streets below, her hands reach out for whatever could put a swift end to her descent. Clara manages to grab hold of one of the windows below her, the sudden stop nearly making her slip once more. Thankfully, she swiftly scuttles back inside before she could resume her fall; drawing away from the fading explosion behind her. Crawling back within the towers inside, a ragged breath escapes Clara’s lungs. Seems like this faction war is getting worse by the minute. If she don’t pick up the pace on this race to the top, the scientist might wind up as a corpse caught in the crossfire.

With this in mind, the scientist looks to what part of the tower she scuttled into. Before her stood the dilapidated ruins of a once luxurious penthouse suite; now battered and bruised beyond its former glory. The glass that made up its windows now lay scattered along the molding carpet. The various furniture that decorated the living room now stand broken in pieces. The open kitchen beside it that house once the latest appliances, now coated and soiled in the mold that once made up its fridge and cabinets. An obvious elude to the grand march of time. But all of that mattered not a single bit to the scientist, simply hoping over it all and zipping straight towards the door. No time to admire the ruin and decay when the roof could collapse on your head at any moment.

But right when she was ready to retreat from this reminder of better days gone past; her little retreat is put on hold by a sudden TV flung between her and the door. “I’ll be damned. Guess you’re just full of surprises, ain’t ya Science Wiz.” That voice…It can’t be. Turning away from the ridiculously oversize plasma screen reveals her fears to be true; the maniacal punk standing behind her with a devious grin. “Didn’t expect you to make it through those sewers in one piece. Guess my rockin Dandy was right about you after all.” “Sh-Shoa! I...I can explain, I-” Clara attempts to excuse. “Shut it! I don’t want your excuses.” she barks, making the scientist withdraw away from the punk. “Ditching us without so much as a mention. Wasting a bunch of good people chasing you down. Makes me sick just thinking about it. Almost happy to do you in so that our base remains a secret.” “L-Listen. I swear I ain’t gonna tell anybody where your base is. Just let me go.” Clara attempts to plea. “Doesn’t matter if you promise to keep your mouth shut or not. Once you wind up in those mounties clutches, they’ll get ya to squeal. Even if they have to pry the info right outta yer skull. Shame too.” Behind her back, she pulls out her signature machete, the stains of red plastered all over its steel still dripping fresh. “Would’ve been more than happy to share the Dandy with you.”

After remarking this, the punk charges forth with her blood soaked blade thrusting forward. Rolling away from Shoa’s lethal lunge, Clara could feel the punks cold steel grazing past the top of her back. Evading her foes deadly blade, the scientist attempts to gain as much distance from the punk as possible. Alas, Shoa quickly halts her escape; taking a tight hold of her prey’s leg. “Oh no you don’t.” After falling upon the molding carpet, Clara could feel the punk lift her as easily as a discarded rag doll. “You’re not going anywhere!” The punk soon tosses her catch across the suite; the scientist slamming against the kitchen cupboards; bits of wood falling against Clara’s back as she lands behind the counter. Rising from the molding tile, the scientist hears the punks footsteps close in. “You ain’t the first person to try and run from me.”

In one fell swoop, she leaps right over the marble counter as she finishes with: “And you sure as hell ain’t gonna be the last!” Diving down upon the other side of the counter, her blades end meets with not the flesh of her foe; but the hard stone of the kitchen tile. “What!? Where did-?” Though she search across the kitchen for any sign of the scientist, she fails to realize that her prey hid right beside her; hiding within the counters cabinets. From the other side of those cabinets, Clara peeks out from the opposite doors; attempting to plan out another route of escape from her maniacal punk pursuer. From her limited view however, the only way she could find out from this once ridiculously overpriced hotel room be the front door. And there ain’t no way she’s got enough in her to lift a screen of that size out of the way. Why the hell did they even put TV’s that big in here anyway? Likely to inflict your guest UV radiation with screens that wide.

Before finishing these thoughts however, she hears the faint whisper of her name from her back. “Oh, Science wiz...” Glancing behind, she found Shoa glaring at her like a hungry wolf staring upon a cornered rabbit. “Peek a boo, bitch!” The scientist scuttles out from beneath the counter right before the punks swung her machete, its steel lodges within the aged wood of the cupboard. Rushing through the living room, Clara takes a peek back towards the kitchen; frightened of how easily Shoa breaks through the counters hard marble from right under it. Ain’t no way in hell she can take on a beast like her head on. Better to try and distract her long enough to push that TV aside. This plan cooking in her noggin, the scientist head straight into the suites bedroom; her punk pursuer hot on her tail.

Chasing straight after her prey, Shoa dashes straight through the bedroom door frame with a murderous smile. From within, she gazes upon the withered wood of the dresser; its lack of drawers lending very little in terms of hiding. “Ain’t no use hiding from me, ya traitorous scum.” Scanning across the room, she beheld the rustic pieces of metal décor laid strewn about the bedroom. Doubt any of them could pierce through her tough as hell skin, nor match up with her blade, so it’s not likely that bitch is planning a counterattack. “You’re just gonna wind up cornering yourself.” A look towards the bed, the surface sporting various fungus along its fibers. Pretty sure you can hear some kind of buzzing within the mattress itself. Probably would hear her squirming if she ducked under there. “Believe me. Those same mistakes wound up nearly costing me my hide.”

Her gaze then veers towards the closet set to the side; its doors barely reflecting her figure among the countless smudges and stains. With just a single punch, the punk shoves her arms straight through the ancient mirror; pulling the door right off its hinges. Unveiling what’s beyond the closet doors, a devilish smile stretches across Shoa’s cheeks; beholding a hooded figure huddled in the corner. Wrenching them out from the shadows, the punk flings the figure out from inside the closet; her machete ready to dig into her prey as they fall upon the floor. To her surprise however, the punk uncovers not the scientist that she seeks, but rather a scraggly bearded elder. Upon site of the murderous punk, the old man lets out a panicked wail and flees from the scene. “Learned that day that ya can’t hide in the same spot forever.”

From the closet, her glare ventures back towards the mold ridden bed; taking a tight grip of her blades handle. “Sometimes, ya have to move on!” Her blade held high, she swipes right through both the bed and its frame with a single slash. Cutting through the mattress, an entire nest of fly’s pour out from underneath its fibers; the punk covering her face as all of them swarm throughout the bedroom. Peeking out from between her fingers, Shoa watches as the nest of fly’s escape outside through the open window. Watching as the swarm flies off into the waning night, punk approaches the bedroom window with a curious thought popping into her mind. Did that bitch really just jump out the window? Peering out from beyond the broken glass of its frame, Shoa looks around to find nothing but the neighboring windows; one of which being open. Where the hell did she…

Outside the window, her ears catch the collapse of breaking furniture; a familiar voice grunting alongside the sound of crashing plastic. Oh hell no. Sprinting right out from the bedroom, the punk found the broken TV she had tossed moved aside; the door out into the hallway flung wide open. That sneaky motherfucker!

Racing through the musty hallway as fast as her legs could sprint, Clara aims to distance herself from her murderous punk pursuer as far as she can; the threatening tone of Shoa’s threats reaching her ears. “Can’t run forever, ya little science snake. I’ve been chasing people like this for over 10 years.” Glancing back, the scientist observes the punk tossing her machete through the corridor upon turning the corner. The blood soaked blade quickly closing in, Clara looks ahead and grabs whatever she could reach for. In her desperation, she snatches from the side of the hallway a small wooden pedestal, its elegant carvings decorated by the cracks and scratches of time. Shielding herself against Shoa’s pitched assault, the blade lodges itself halfway within the pedestals thick wood; near inches from the scientists head. After the impact, the scientist only line of defense crumbles within her arms; the blade clanging among the chunks of wood. Though tempting as it may be to wield the machete against its master, there be next to no time to dig it out from the corpse of the pedestal; witnessing the punk herself swiftly closing the distance. Instead, she makes haste away from the bloodthirsty terrorist; the punk herself effortlessly kicking away the wooden debris to retrieve her beloved weapon.

Running from the ferocious captain of the resistance like a rabbit fleeing from a vicious wolf, Clara soon corners herself within the confines of a dead end; nothing among her besides chunks of wood that once resembled a table. A hulking shadow blankets her her, the scientist glances back to find Shoa’s predatory gaze staring her down. “End of the line, cupcake.” With her prey cornered, the punk slowly encroaches forward with her blade at the ready; finishing her statement with: “Most of my prey just piss themselves when I’m chasing after their asses. It’s a nice change of pace to find someone with actual brains once in a while. If anything, this was fun while it lasted.”

Receding from her looming demise, Clara’s back rests against the remains of the broken table. Peeking back towards the table, she found very little to defend herself against the punks overwhelming might. Not a single scrap of wood here could hope to slow her down, much less stop her. Among the pieces however, she discovers what seemed to be an open air vent; one that looked like she could fit through. Just need time to dig through it.

From the furniture’s remains, Clara begins to chuck piece after piece towards the approaching punk; Shoa breaking away the oncoming parts of table to splinters with ease. “Come on, now. This is just sad.” With all her might, the scientist tosses the tables surface towards her pursuer; the punk catching the board right before the wood hit her face. “At least show some dignity, ya damn pansy!” she shouts, snapping the tables surface like a delicious crispy wafer. From beyond the wood however, she witnesses her prey scuttling into the tight open vent above the floor. Upon this site does Shoa immediately lunge towards the open vents; reaching her muscular arm out towards the escaping scientist. “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” The punks hulking figure proves far too big to fit through the open vent as Shoa stretches her arm as far as she could through the air ducts; her fingers mere inches from the scuttling scientist feet. Her muscles scraping against the rustic sheet metal, the punk fails to reach any further; forced to watch as her hooded prey eludes her. Drawing herself back out, an angered roar escapes from her lungs as she punches the dead end. “Fuck!”

Crawling deeper within the towers ventilation system, a relieved breath leaves Clara lips. Glad to have gotten away from that homicidal maniac in one piece. Figured the scientist would have wound up as one of those corpses you see in those serial killer movies. The kind that the main protagonist finds on a stormy night to tell them and the audience that shit is about to go down. Probably would have turned up way worse with that bitch staring as the villain.

Slinking through the air ducts, her little escape soon leads her to the towers vertical vents, glancing below to find the shadowy abyss to be as deep as the tower itself. God, again with this? How many times is she gonna have to act out this climb up a thousands of feet from instant death? Calming herself from her panic, the scientist takes in a deep breath. It ain’t no big deal, Clara. You’ve climbed taller. For hell’s sake, you’ve just climbed the elevator shaft and face of this very tower several minutes ago. Just tell yourself what you said all those other times. The ground is closer than you think. Climbing out from the horizontal ducts, Clara keeps her head held high as she puts her arms against the tunnels metal. Wedging limbs on both sides, she begins to inch her way up through the ascending air ducts.

Her climb up doesn’t take her far however, as she soon feels the steel sheets between her tremble. Their constant quaking causes Clara to loose her hold on the air ducts, the scientist quickly beginning to plummet down towards the abyss below. Thankfully, she manages to grasp onto one of the horizontal tunnels and puts a stop to her unplanned descent. Geez, its practically like a ridiculously oversized match of Jenga with this place, ain’t it? Who knows how long it’ll be before it finally just falls apart and crashes into the streets. Kind of irresponsible on the city’s part if you think about it.

Hanging from the air ducts edge, she witnesses the tunnels above caving in, their sheet metal walls crushing and crumbling in on itself. Afraid of being crushed against the collapsing metal, Clara scuttles within the vents that her palms have held onto.

Inch my inch do the tunnels mangling steel draw closer after Clara, the scientist crawling for dear life in hopes of finding away out from the collapsing ducts. Turning the corner, her eyes soon meet with a light shining at the end of the tunnel; a smile stretching across theher face. That same grin suddenly breaks upon reaching the end however; finding the air vents blocking her way out screwed on tight. A look back down the ducts, Clara witnesses the crushing sheet metal inching ever closer; the scientist beginning to bang against the vent in hopes of knocking it loose. Judging from the lack of maintenance through this place, the screws keeping these grates closed have to be rusty beyond belief. A hypothesis that shows to be on the mark, the vents loosening with each punch and pound the scientist throws at it. Hearing the scrapping metal of the crushing ducts closing in fast, Clara packs everything she got into her final strike and breaks the grate right off its frame. Clara scuttles out from the collapsing tunnels like an fleeing insect; crawling out before the crushing sheet metal could grab hold of her leg.

From the air ducts, the scientist scampers out to behind a bar; looking back to witness the tunnels she had rushed through scrunching shut. Having escaped from the ducts before the sheet metal could crunch upon her soft body; Clara’s goes limps against the counters open insides. Not really sure know many of these near death experiences she can take tonight. Really giving the nerves one hell of a workout. Her figure instantly tightens however upon the sudden sound of gunfire nearby. Dammit! What now!

Taking a glance over the bar, the scientist soon finds herself caught in the midst of an ensuing firefight; both factions of the resistance and the Canadians engaging one another throughout what seemed to be a built in restaurant. And from the look of the scene playing out, the restaurant isn’t the only things that’s getting destroyed. While only a couple of Canadians stand against the terrorist surrounding them, their numbers don’t mean a damn. Against the mounties unyielding defenses, their foes led based firearms proves completely ineffective; the resistance bullets simply ricocheting off the Canadian soldiers armored shells. With next to nothing slowing down their approach, one trooper races towards the terrorists; literally breaking through their cover and hoisting one off the floor. The soldier flings the resistance member away from his comrades and sends them flying across the restaurant. From the other side of the establishment, the terrorist crashes right into the drink dispenser. Upon impact does some of the terrorist weaponry scatter across the floor, their pistol sliding near the bar where the scientist hid.

“Maple leaved bastards!” one of them screams, charging forth whilst holding up one of the tables. The terrorist rams into one of the troops with all his might, pinning them against the wall to give his comrades a fighting chance and allows them to rush towards the rest of the forces. Lunging after the couple of mounties, the other terrorist unload whatever they had stocked against the two. Try as their cooperation might to pierce through their armored hides, their combined efforts prove no match for the northern soldiers might; the troop racing through the hailstorm of led and decimating the opposing forces. One of the soldiers quash a couple of the retreating terrorist by grabbing hold of ones leg and swinging her against her comrades like a living bat. After thwacking her teammates away, the Canadian trooper slams the terrorist against the tiled floor.

One of the resistance members attempts to snatch the laser rifle off one of the soldiers backs, grasping the barrel of their futuristic firearms. Swiping the rifle, the terrorist aims the barrel towards its master; the Canadian turning back as he readies to fire. Pulling the trigger, the kickback causing him to misfire; a stream of deadly plasma streaking past the soldiers head. Bursting through the restaurant wall, the blast causes the tower to tremor once more; the quaking making the resistance member to loose his grip of the plasma based firearms. As the building calms its trembling; the armored soldier swiftly acts fast and lunges towards the bastard that swiped their weapon. Approaching the reckless resistance member, the soldier snaps his neck with only a single punch; retrieving their plasma rifle set beside their fallen corpse.

“No!” the one holding the soldiers against the wall screams. Though he held out for as long as he could, the Canadian troops ultimately break through the terrorist’s hold; shattering the tabling holding them back to pieces. Knocked back by the soldiers superb strength; the resistance member retreats away from their approach.

Watching them flee from the armored forces, Clara finds past all the brutality the open exit; the scientist ticket out from this merciless display of Canadian carnage. Gotta think of something to get past all this soon. Once those mounties are finished dealing with those terrorist, they might scope her out next. To that end, the scientist searches behind the bar for whatever could aid her escape; most of which she finds being worthless empty bottles, peanut shells, and the occasional cork opener. Nothing really that helpful given the situation she’s in. Might be able to smash the bottles over the terrorists heads, though it probably wouldn’t even put a dent in the mounties armored helms. Not even the glass shards could scrape through those bullet proof shells. Gonna need something with a lot more punch behind it to stop them.

Her eyes trailing across the bars underside; Clara picks up the faint reflection of light from underneath a set of blinds. Pulling back the shroud, the scientist uncovers a steel barrel hiding behind a set of black curtains. Whoa! How’d the raiders missed this big boy? Just a 15 gallon keg of unfiltered alcohol sitting around here? Is it even full? A question that the scientist tempts to answer by putting her ear against the kegs side and knocking. With each tap of its steel, she heard little of an echo reach her ear; telling her that the barrel was full to the brim. Hard to believe that this puppy still packing a full tank. Figured it would have been drank out by any desperate alcoholic willing to brave through this unstable tower; all just for the comfort sensation of a final buzz in this apocalyptic hellscape. Still, the question stands. Just what kind of beverage would they be getting plastered off their asses from?

Inspecting the keg on all sides revealed not a single hint of its contents; its steel surface free from any distinct print. Glancing its lid reveal nothing either, simply the unbroken seal keeping the booze sealed tight. Looking upon its bottom finally revealed to the scientist what the steel barrel hid inside. “Absolut: Century of Sweden Vodka.” Damn! They got the heavy stuff here. Practically have an alcoholic bomb stashed behind this bars aging mahogany. The perfect solution for clearing out a whole bar full of homicidal maniacs. Just gotta find a way to light it.

The scientist takes a swift peak beyond the bar; wondering what among the show of Carnage could help her detonate her newfound payload. The rifles off the soldiers back might do the trick, one shot of plasma aimed towards the keg should be more then enough to blow the whole bar apart. Might be far too risky to try and snatch one of them of the troops back though, especially with what one of the resistance members try to pull; probably not gonna let anybody try that shit again. The terrorist weapons on the other hand are practically everywhere; if not on their corpses, then some lying across the tile. Alas, none of their led might not have enough in them to pierce through the kegs steel shell; much less give enough of a spark to set its contents ablaze. Need something stronger to light its liquid fuse.

The scientist decides to seek answers above the chaos; taking note of the light fixture lining the roof that once illuminated this brewery. Their fragile florescent glass might have enough leftover electricity trapped within to ignite the flames of her super molotov. One of the terrorists guns would have no problem breaking the bulbs; and she knows just where to get one of them.

Ducking back down the bar, Clara peeks out from side; her eyes glued towards the little pistol left lying close to the counter. Having found the perfect kick starter to her little plan; she start to inch out from the counter and reached towards the tiny firearms. Though she attempts to slowly reach for the weapon; her approaching grip is halted by a wayward bullet nearly striking her hand. Glancing back towards the carnage; the scientist had witnessed one of the terrorist squirming under a soldiers arm; unloading his uzi’s ammo on the Canadian keeping him in a stranglehold. Though no matter how much led he unloads onto the trooper; his bullets simply bounce off the soldiers armor; ricocheting all throughout the restaurant. The led that flies across the brewery winds up striking a couple of his comrades, forcing the resistance group to take cover from. His uncontrolled fury is swiftly put to an end; the Canadian trooper grasping at the terrorists face and snapping the mans neck in one fell swoop. Once dispatched their foes unkempt led fury, the soldier hurls his limp corpse towards his alleys with enough force to break their cover to pieces. Having bared site to all of this urges Clara to cut the careful crap and quickly crawl towards the abandoned pistol. Swiping the small firearms off the floor; the scientist quickly withdraws back behind the bar.

Once back within the safety of the counter; she turns her attention back to her newfound molotov; snatching one of the cork openers off the floor as she approaches the steel barrel. Dragging the keg out from under the cabinet, Clara starts repeatedly shoving the long screw into its top; hoping to unseal the Russian nectar trap within its shell. As she constantly jabs the steel barrels opening; her ears can’t help but catch the panicking screams echoing over the counter. Taking a quick glance over the counter reveals the resistance forces dwindling; several of the terrorist left alive now hoping over their friends bodies littered throughout the floor in hopes of distancing from their foe. The scientist watches a resistance members trip right over one of their comrades; turning back to watch one of the mounties leaping right over the countless corpses; their boot aimed right towards the terrorists head. Try as she might to scuttle away from the descending Canadian; the resistance member is quite literally stamped out beneath the troopers armored heel. Serving as a clear indication of how much time she has left, the display of brutality urges Clara to frantically jabs the steel barrels top before the mounties turn their sites to her.

At last, the scientist punches through the kegs top; releasing the vodka’s aroma into the air. A single whiff of the alcohols aging stench is all it takes to repulse her. Ugh, god! This stuff is rancid beyond all types of nasty! Smells worse than a burning nuclear reactor. How long has this barrel been hiding in here? This vodka has probably rotted away years ago. Still, even if its contents are no good to consume, its doubtful that time has chipped away its volatile qualities. A certainty that the scientist keeps in mind as she start to drag the keg full of rotten alcohol towards the other side of the bar.

Peeking out from behind the side of the counter, the scientist gauges the best route for her cylinder bomb to travel. She knew that to reach the below the lights, she’d have to plan a path for the keg free from the bodies littering the restaurant. With a single finger, she traces where the vodka would spill on the floor; drawing away from any obstructions until she reaches the underside of the lights. A path set, she places the steel barrel on its side and takes aim; the vodka within spilling out onto the brewery’s tile. Wishing to not waste any alcohol, Clara waits not another second and pushes the barrel out into the untamed chaos; the kegs contents trailing behind as it rolls past the brawling factions. Both the Canadians and the terrorists prove far too distracted fighting among each other to notice the seemingly random steel barrel cruising across the restaurant. Though its travel don’t go unhindered, as its edge lightly taps a cadavers elbow; the steel barrel inching off course from the bulbs set above. Even then, the vodka pouring out spills just mere inches away from the lights; the bulbs sparks could still connect.

With time and vodka of the essence, the scientist aims her freshly pilfered pistol towards the lights above. As Clara attempts to line her firearms barrel towards the bulbs, she found her grip refusing to cease trembling. Can’t get a clear shot of the fixtures with her grasp shivering like this. And who knows how many bullets are left in this thing. Need to prop her hands onto something to quell her aim.

Glancing at the bars counter top showed the scientist that despite a few cracks, was still stood smooth as silk; perfectly leveled from corner to corner. A fact that she takes full advantage of by propping her arms against its marble to stabilize her aim. Resting her arms upon the bars surface, her quivering aim is mediated; the scientist able to line up the barrel of her gun towards the ceiling.

Clara at last, fires her weapon towards the light fixtures; the single bullet fired shattering the bulbs. Fluttering among the falling shards of glass; a few tiny sparks erupt out from the bulbs socket; gently making their way down towards the tail of rotten vodka below. Though happy to see that her hypothesis proved correct, the scientist soon realizes that her little plan had baited the attention of everyone in the brewery. Both the terrorists and the Canadians halting their life and death outing all at once to gaze upon their unexpected interruption. Clara herself stands completely idle; finding everyone’s eyes glued to her. In this frozen moment, she discovers the sparks closing in upon the trail of alcohol and swiftly ducks underneath the counter. As soon as the scientist moves do the Canadian forces race towards the bar; all too distracted to stop the bits of leftover electricity from landing within the puddle of vodka. The spark immediately ignites the streamlet of clear alcohol; the fire erupting swiftly trailing towards the discarded steel barrel. Right when the mounties rest their grips upon the bars marble do the flames creep inside the keg; detonating the scientist’s massive molotov in a blaze of glory. Concealed behind the safety of the bar, Clara is spared from the fiery wrath of her own machinations; feeling the counter tremble at her back from the force of the burst.

The storms raging fury calming, the crackle of flames are all that remain; not a single whisper stirs among them. Coming out from over the counter, she bares witness to the fruits of her scheme. The entire restaurant bathed in a sea of scorch marks with small, but countless flames lit among them. Along it all lied the bodies of the resistance and Canadian forces; burns and bits of steel scattered across their skin and armor. Holy crap, didn’t think that her little makeshift molotov would be this strong. Figured the worst it do is knock everyone onto their asses. Vodka in there must have been stronger than she anticipated. Guess that’s Russian alcohol for ya.

Snapping her out from her pondering be another quake; the entire tower trembling hard enough to make the scientist lose her balance. Tempting to fall upon the scorched tile, her hands catch the burnt edges of the bars surface; holding onto the marble until the tower calms down. Guess this place doesn’t have much time before it winds up as nothing but a pile of rubble and glass spread across the block. Better get a move on before she ends up among the wreckage. With no one left to stop her, she races out from the burnt remains of the restaurant to resume her climb.

#faded land #lillaxtrigger

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berniesrevolution · 6 years ago

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Marxists have long understood that the workplace is the primary strategic site of class struggle, and that class struggle is essential for cohering a radicalized working-class majority with the capacity and will to overthrow capitalism in favor of socialism. At the same time, Marxists recognize our moral responsibility to oppose — and the strategic necessity to fight — all forms of exploitation and oppression.

In the United States today, a revitalized socialist Left is giving these questions of strategy new importance and prompting people across the political spectrum to more clearly articulate a position toward the respective roles of race and class in their politics.

On one part of that spectrum, as Briahna Gray writes in The Intercept, Democratic Senator Kamala Harris targets the Left’s supposed “class reductionism”; on another, socialists debate if and how the fundamental Marxist insight of class centrality can be used to formulate strategies to fight racial and gender oppression. In a recent review of Asad Haider’s book Mistaken Identity, Melissa Naschek writes that Haider rightly points to the ways in which “the ideology and rhetoric of ‘identity’ has been used as a weapon against the working class.” But while Marxists must defend class politics from both the radical and mainstream variants of what Gray in her piece calls “race reductionism,” fights for universalist class-wide demands and fights against particular racial oppressions are not mutually exclusive (as Naschek’s piece seems to imply). Indeed, in order for the socialist project to succeed, socialists must link these struggles together.

Both Gray and Naschek refer to the 1966 “Freedom Budget for All Americans,” a project championed by black socialists and Civil Rights leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr., Bayard Rustin, and A. Philip Randolph. We also find the Freedom Budget to be a good touchstone for considering these questions. We draw three important lessons from it and from recent debates about the role of struggles against oppression in the socialist movement. First, fights against racial oppression and social oppressions generally — for immigrant rights, abortion rights, an end to police brutality, etc. — are not a distraction from the socialist project. They are essential to it. Second, purportedly “race-blind” demands — such as Medicare or All, a federal jobs guarantee, and fully-funded public education — are in fact essential elements of any program to combat both the effects and the causes of racism. And finally, these universal class demands provide vehicles for building the mass, multiracial working-class movement needed to end both exploitation and oppression.

FIGHTING OPPRESSION HEAD-ON

Democratic socialists must grasp the importance of struggles against particular oppressions — including deportations, racist police violence, mass incarceration, and abortion restrictions — as part of, not in conflict with, the process of building a socialist movement.

In order to consolidate the victories over Jim Crow and legal segregation, for example, Civil Rights leaders knew that they needed to build on them by connecting the fight for racial justice with a fight for economic justice based on universal economic demands. But this extension of their fight into so-called “race-blind” demands does not imply that they dropped their struggle for racial justice. Rather, these struggles were intimately linked.

In more recent history, workplace fights have openly and directly linked racial justice demands and universal economic demands. In 2012, the Chicago Teachers’ Union strike highlighted the fight for racial justice as part of its broader working-class push for better schools and better working conditions. In their current push toward a strike, the United Teachers of Los Angeles have put forward a similar message. Earlier this year in Oklahoma, teachers on strike explicitly connected their universal and redistributive demands to the fight against mass incarceration, carrying signs reading “Schools Not Jails.” And, just weeks ago, millions saw the power of workers to directly combat racism thanks to a viral video recorded by Indianapolis welder Antoine Dangerfield. In the video, scores of Latino workers walk out of a UPS warehouse to protest racist treatment by their manager — and succeeded in getting that manager fired.

On an electoral level, the popular campaigns of politicians like Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez have shown how a focus on broad working-class issues like health care, education, and jobs can be effectively combined with more specific demands like abolishing ICE or ending cash bail. Houston DSA member Franklin Bynum, who is running for a judgeship there, has made ending cash bail and fighting racist sentencing a core part of his campaign. In an interview in Jacobin he explains that racism and poverty “maintain each other in the sense that, for instance, you have neighborhoods segregated by race, certain ones are targeted by police, people there are marked with criminal records, which drives them further into poverty and so on.” Meanwhile, the resources spent on excessive policing could be spent instead to lift people out of poverty and make much of the carceral apparatus obsolete. Finally, DSA member Jovanka Beckles’s campaign for California state assembly demands universal solutions like housing, healthcare, and education while also standing up for immigrants and offering ambitious reforms to the state’s criminal justice system.

FIGHTING OPPRESSION THROUGH REDISTRIBUTION

In “Beware the Race Reductionist” Gray takes aim at the now-familiar argument that while financial reforms or Medicare for All or a federal jobs guarantee might be broadly beneficial, their framing as “race-blind” policies for the whole working class ignores or even harms specifically oppressed groups in society.

This argument is perhaps best encapsulated by a now-famous Hillary Clinton quip from 2016: “If we broke up the big banks tomorrow, would that end racism? Would that end sexism? Would that end discrimination against the LGBT community? Would that make people feel more welcoming to immigrants overnight?” The series of questions was one of many centrist attacks on Bernie Sanders’s campaign. Later that year, Representative Jim Clyburn claimed that tuition-free public college would harm historically black institutions, and by extension black people. As Gray puts it, this “attack on progressivism under the pretext of anti-bigotry” implies that “if a policy doesn’t resolve racism ‘first,’ it’s at worst racist, and at best not worth pursuing.”

But as Gray makes clear, because of the lasting material effects of slavery, segregation, and racial domination in the United States, black people would actually benefit more than their white counterparts from redistributive programs. Black people have more student debt than any other demographic group and are forced to drop out of college for financial reasons at much higher rates — something that a federal tuition-free public college and university program would directly address. The 2008 financial crisis devastated the fortunes of black people by wiping out 40 percent of black wealth. It is therefore misguided, as Gray argues, to cast financial reform as incidental or unrelated to the interests of black people. Finally, black and Latinx people remain uninsured at far higher rates than whites, even after the implementation of the Affordable Care Act. Citing the demand for universal health care in the Movement for Black Lives platform, Gray writes that healthcare is an “existential” issue for African Americans. In this case, the reason healthcare is “not perceived as a ‘person of color issue’ is a matter of marketing, not substance.”

In fact, as Gray argues by quoting Touré Reed, “the principal beneficiaries of universal policies would be poor and working class people who would disproportionately be black and brown… Dismissing such policies on the grounds that they aren’t addressing systemic racism is a sleight of hand.”

FIGHTING OPPRESSION WITH A MASS MOVEMENT

In their book A Freedom Budget For All Americans, Paul Le Blanc and Michael Yates recount how Civil Rights leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr., Bayard Rustin, and A. Philip Randolph sought to link the struggles for racial and economic equality within a comprehensive program they call “The Strategy.” Though we don’t share the “realignment” goal of transforming the Democratic Party advocated by Rustin and Randolph, the Freedom Budget demonstrates a compelling approach to linking race and class in an organic and strategic manner. To quote Le Blanc and Yates:

The consciousness and momentum of this crusade against the Jim Crow system could stand as a preliminary stage for confronting the other aspects of institutional racism, which would require a more fundamental social and economic transformation.

This transformation could only be realized effectively by attacking racism’s underlying economic roots, which in turn could only be done effectively by developing a broader program for economic justice: decent jobs, housing, education, and health care for all, as a matter of right. Though such a program would be initiated by blacks, it would be powerfully relevant to a majority of whites. The resulting interracial coalition for economic justice would have the dual function of eliminating the roots of institutional racism and creating an atmosphere of idealism and common struggle that would help to further push back various forms of individual racism. If there was abundance and a decent life for every person, then the fearful competition for scarce resources, an essential breeding ground and one of the material bases of racism, would be eliminated, and this would strengthen the sense of interracial solidarity generated through the shared struggle for a better life for all people.

One way to restate ‘The Strategy’ is to note that it projected (1) a mass struggle against segregation and second-class citizenship; and (2) tackling issues of economic justice, channeling the struggle against the Jim Crow system into an even more massive struggle (through a coming together of the anti-racist and labor movements) for jobs for all, an end to poverty, and democratic regulation of the economy, which would involve a transition from capitalism to socialism.

The Freedom Budget represented a radical reform agenda, demanding, as Randolph wrote, “that in this, the richest and most productive society ever known to man, the scourge of poverty can and must be abolished.” For socialists like Rustin, Randolph, and King, the Budget represented a practical agenda pointing beyond capitalism. That is why the Freedom Budget was not directed exclusively at fighting the racial oppression of black people, but rather sought to build a multiracial working-class movement for comprehensive social transformation.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #the call #bernie sanders #alexandria ocasio cortez #DSA #Democratic Socialists of America #race and class #working class #intersectionality #democratic socialism #socialism

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fahrni · 2 years ago

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Saturday Morning Coffee

I’m sitting on the porch this morning, what’s left of it, enjoying a cool breeze and my morning coffee. The dogs are being their usual lazy selves, just chillin with me.

For the past week I’ve lived in the fog of COVID. It’s staying power is surprising. I felt pretty good a few days back only to hit a wall the next day.

Anywho, I hope you enjoy the links.

The Bulwark: “‘Team Normal’ is the latest example of a delusion that was ingrained deep within the Republican ruling class during the Trump era. It was filled with, as I categorized them in Why We Did It, “messiahs” and “junior messiahs” who told themselves they were one of the good ones, trying to nudge things in the right direction—from the inside.”

Times Union - Maureen Dowd: “It never for a moment crossed Donald Trump’s mind that an American president committing sedition would be a debilitating, corrosive thing for the country. It was just another way for the Emperor of Chaos to burnish his title.”

Politico: “In the three-page document, attorney Greg Jacob concluded that if Pence were to embrace Trump’s demand that he single-handedly block or delay the counting of electoral votes on Jan. 6, he would be breaking multiple provisions of the Electoral Count Act, the law that has governed the transfer of power since 1887.”

We’re three days into a seven day presentation of crimes committed by and for the Trump Administration.

Trumpism needs to be burned to the ground. It has no place in the United States.

Trump, at a minimum, must be disqualified from running for any public office. He is a danger to the Republic.

No matter how this plays out I feel like we’re a stones throw away from civil war. It seems unavoidable. I hope I’m wrong.

Platformer: _“Will Twitter’s mostly remote workforce be able to continue working from home? Maybe, if they’re ‘excellent,’ Musk said, according to Bloomberg’s live blog. But it’s “much better if you are on location physically,” he said, according to the New York Times’ Mike Isaac.”_

Apple employees - Tim, we think Apple's culture needs to change Tim - I need to hear to your thoughts so Apple remains the best place to work. Space X employees - Elon, we think some of your public statements hurt our company culture. Elon - You're all fired.

— Michael Gartenberg (@Gartenberg) June 17, 2022

Axios: “Our thought bubble: If Musk had anything new to tell the world about his plans, he didn’t choose to share it with his future employees, and rather than wooing them, he threw down a gauntlet: ‘If someone is getting useful things done, great. if not, why are they at the company?’”

So the guy who flirted with buying this site to 'defend free speech' just fired a bunch of his spaceship employees for speaking out to criticize his behavior and failing leadership? Got it.

— Tristan Snell (@TristanSnell) June 17, 2022

As the boss you can do whatever the heck you want, especially if your company is privately held.

I don’t think this will end well for Musk. The “excellent” employees may bail out right along with the “normal” employees.

Heck, it may never come to Musk having any influence over Twitter staffing or the company as a whole. He balked at completing his agreed upon deal.

Here’s hoping he fails, pays Twitter a bunch of money because of his failure, and slinks away, back to his cave.

Linux Journal: “Linus coded in seclusion for a brief time, then shared his new conception with the world. Within days of beginning the project in June of 2005, Linus’ git revision control system had become fully self-hosting. Within weeks, it was ready to host Linux kernel development. Within a couple months, it reached full functionality.”

The amount of amazing software created by Linus Torvalds is incredible. Every project I’ve worked on for years and years has used git as its revision control system.

Heck, I’d imagine most software development teams use it in some capacity. Wild.

Oh, yeah, and he created that little OS called Linux. Minor stuff.😳

Vox: “Andres is back to the office three days a week, and like many knowledge workers, he’s not happy about it. He says that while he and the other executive assistants at his Boston law firm have been forced back, the attorneys haven’t been following the rules. That’s partly because the rules don’t quite make sense, and people in all types of jobs are only coming in because they have to, not because there’s a good reason to go in.”

Last week at WillowTree our remote only branch had a quarterly on-site, our first. I was really excited about it. It was like going back to school after summer. I was all in.

I finally got to meet folks I had never met face to face, hug some necks, and enjoy pairing with people on code, all in person.

All-in-all it was a great week.

The Friday I tested positive for COVID. It absolutely sucks and makes me want to stay home forever, never returning to the office.

All this time I’ve been so cautious. I masked early on when others didn’t, then one day I let my guard down and didn’t mask. After that I just threw caution to the wind like everybody else and went maskless.

Of course I was the ONLY person at the on-site to get COVID. Yep, as of today I’m the only reported case. While that is very comforting, it’s also surprising.

Anywho. Being back at work with people was nice. I still prefer my home office, with my home food, and my short commute. Sounds like others do as well.

I’m grateful WillowTree saw the benefit of having remote employees. 🧡

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thebibliomancer · 7 years ago

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Essential Avengers: Avengers #187: The Call of the Mountain Thing!

September, 1979

Still a great title.

And a pretty great cover.

Chthon!Wanda front and center with the Avengers floating upside down lightly napping around her as the sky catches fire.

Shit gonna go down, most probably.

How did we come to this?

Last time: An old man kidnapped Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver by stuffing their souls into some dolls. He was thwarted by the Avengers but the twins decided to go on vacation with the old man anyway on a journey to rediscover their mysterious origins. They traveled to their homeland of Transia, a small country between Romania and Serbia full of quaint villages and angry mobs. Modred, the Wi-Fi Wizard, lured Wanda up the mountain where he shot her in the back twice and enabled his master Chthon to possess her body. Chthon’s first order of business: put on an eviller, sexier outfit.

Meanwhile, Quicksilver fell down a mountain and right into a rich spring of exposition and retcons when he met Bova, the cow-woman midwife who helped birth him. She explained to him what his real backstory was, dropped hints that his real dad was Magneto, and cooked him a hot meal. Upon learning that Wanda is now evil and sexy, Quicksilver rescued Django Maximoff (aforementioned kidnapper and the twins real dad in terms of who actually raised them) from some trees and called the Avengers for help. But alas, Pietro and Django were exploded and then captured by the possessed Wanda.

So that brings us to now.

Which is the Avengers arriving in, or rather over, Transia.

QUINJET!

God. That is a huge windshield.

Anyway, the Avengers have arrived but the weather is still going bonkers and the Quinjet is going crazy too. Although the art doesn’t really reflect this, three engines are out and the instruments are going crazy.

So. Yeah. They’re going to crash.

In the finest tradition of Quinjets.

Cap realizes that they have to bail. Good thing that three of them can fly and one of them has a rocket belt.

Oh yeah, the roster for today is: Captain America, Ms Marvel (subbing in for Wanda), Falcon, Beast, the Wasp, and Wonder Man (subbing in for Iron Man).

We’re not very far into Gyrich’s new government mandated roster and the auxiliary Avengers have already been in more than the people he wanted.

Beast decides to stay on the Quinjet, wrestling the controls to make sure it doesn’t land on anyone.

But Wonder Man decides ‘nah.’ He picks up Beast, slaps his rocket belt on him, and throws him out of the Quinjet.

Because, hey. Wonder Man is indestructible. If anyone is going to stay at the helm of a crashing ship it makes sense for it to be him.

Beast is less than enthused. Mostly because his unfamiliarity with the rocket belt leaves him flying upside in peak comedic fashion.

Anyway, in the Quinjet, Wonder Man wrestles with the controls, having second thoughts about this brave thing he did (and good job, Wonder Man! What with your insecurities and fear of dying!).

Finally, it just becomes impossible to keep the Quinjet airborn anymore so it becomes more earthbound.

With a FWAWHOOMP.

The Avengers watch the crash with Cap basically going ‘welp hope he really was indestructible anyway lets get a move on.’

In fairness, he’s either entirely okay, dead, or incredibly inconvenienced so that’s a 2/3rds chance that there’s no point in checking on him.

Cap tells the Avengers that they’ll head to the village. Its the most likely place for Quicksilver to have placed his call from.

But then Modred shoots Cap in the back.

GODDAMMIT MODRED, ALWAYS WITH THE SHOOTING IN THE BACK

Luckily Cap had his shield and even magical attack must yield but it still knocked him off his feet.

Modred the DICK tells the Avengers that he’s here to fetch them to be disciples of the great Lord Chthon but Cap says nuts to that. And also “Avengers assemble!”

Falcon and Ms Marvel are the closest so they rush Modred first. Modred responds by conjuring up a shower of rocks from the ground which Falcon finds very off-putting.

Falcon: “Wha--? Holy crud! Just when it finally stops rainin’, this dude conjures up a shower of rocks!”

Ms Marvel: “Don’t talk about it, Falcon. Just do your job!”

Falcon: “Swell. For a minute there, I forgot I was the new kid on the block. But maybe I can make an impression on these high-and-mighty Avengers -- by layin’ in the first punch!”

And Falcon has finally thrown a punch as an Avenger! Shame that he now feels that the other Avengers are looking down on him just because Ms Marvel (herself a new kid on the block) snapped at him.

Also shame that Modred completely no-sells the punch. And then uses Leaf Storm against Falcon. Despite it being a grass type move it is Super Effective anyway.

... So basically Modred gestures and a bunch of leaves just clump around Falcon until he falls over and I guess he’s out of the fight. Defeated by leaves. How ignominious his first issues have been.

Meanwhile, elsewhere: Beast was so bad at rocket belt that he actually crashes into a snowbank far away from everyone else.

Which makes me notice. None of the other Avengers wondered where he was! They were about to set off towards the village and Falcon was concerned about Wonder Man who was in the crashed Quinjet but nobody was like ‘shouldn’t Beast have joined us by now?’ or ‘should we wait for Hank McCoy, the best Hank in our lives?’

You’re not the only one going unappreciated, Falcon.

So, Beast crashes into a snowbank and spots something shiny.

Maybe its part of the Quinj-OHNOOOOOOOOPE ITS A SKULL

Its a non-human skull. Looks animalian even. But it was wearing armor. What a puzzlement.

And Beast sits on the side of the mountain thinkering on that puzzlement.

Meanwhile, Modred, the Wi-Fi Wizard, continues to throw rocks.

Cap can block the rocks with his mighty shield and Ms Carol Marvel is good at aerial maneuvering so she’s dodging and weaving through the motion lines towards Modred.

So instead he hits her with lightning.

Yer a jerk, Modred.

I’m a bit surprised that a single lightning bolt took her out though. In the recent Avengers Annual #8 she tanked an electrical attack by Dr. Spectrum and then punched her through the wall.

Then again, a point is made much down the line that for all of Carol Marvel’s ability to absorb and redirect energy, she has trouble with magic.

So. Sure.

Cap thinks to himself, hey, sure Modred took down Falcon and Ms. Marvel like nothing but dangit he’s up against an old war-horse full of guile and stuff.

So he cleverly throws his shield to the side, relying on its mighty boomerang-ish qualities to make Modred yield upside the back of the head.

But magic is bullshit and a tree snags Cap’s shield out of thin air.

So Cap jump kicks Modred right in the wi-fi.

The second good hit on Modred all issue. Falcon got the first. Yay, Falcon!

But just like Cap, the minor thrill of hitting this jerk is quickly eclipsed by what a jerk he is and how much bullshit magic is.

Modred hits Cap with hurricane force winds that create a vacuum so Cap can’t breath and passes out.

Also, the THWIP gesture is magical. I wonder if Spidey knows.

Meanwhile, the crashed Quinjet.

Actually crashed in largely one piece. From the FWAWHOOMP, I assumed the crash site would be worse but Wonder Man did a good job.

Although he’s not exactly thinking ‘any landing you can walk away from.’ He’s actually grousing that the FAA would take away his license if he had one. Which I’m not sure if that’s actually true. Landing a disabled plane in any reasonable shape doesn’t seem like they’d penalize it. Although flying without a license...

Anyway, Wonder Man sees a big ball of light flying towards him but he’s no sooner recognized it as Wanda (or sexy, evil Chthon!Wanda anyway) than she has paralyzed him with magic and carried him away for nefarious reasons.

Back at the Modred and Modred gloats about having defeated all of the Avengers.

Yup. Beat Falcon with leaves, Carol with magical lightning, and Cap with a stiff breeze. With Wonder Man and Quicksilver captured by possessed Wanda and Beast thinkering on a mountain somewhere, that’s every single Avenger yesiree.

And then Wasp blasts Modred unconscious to punish him for forgetting she exists because she can’t punish the narrative or the writers. They remain forever frustratingly out of reach.

Although, She-Hulk becomes her bestie later on. Hook your bestie up with some writer punching, She-Hulk.

Wasp’s own victory is as shortlived as Modred’s as she gets shot in the back by Chthon!Wanda.

We just can’t have nice things.

Chthon!Wanda pink energy floats the defeated Avengers up Wundagore mountain and probably to where that alter was.

An alter seems a good place to do what Chthon!Wanda is getting ready to do.

Step one in conquering the world using the power of the Darkhold is creating a circle of upside-down floaty people.

Step two is doing some expositing. Why should Bova (the cow-woman midwife who delivered both the twins and some amazingly convoluted backstory in previous issues) have all the fun?

Chthon reveals (to Modred who presumably already knows?) that Chthon and his sister were the last of the Earth-Spirits that came before the gods. But while his sister infused her essence in all living things and became Mother Earth (Thor’s mom?), Chthon feared death and fled to a nether plane, leaving behind the Darkhold (scribed in words of FIRE) to provide a gateway for his eventual return.

It was not a plan without some setbacks.

Although the Darkhold is an indestructible tome that was used and miused by various people throughout the years while Chthon bided his time, in the sixth century the Darkhold was found by Morgan le Fey of Arthurian significance.

And obviously a person like Morgan le Fey when confronted with an evil book that was a gateway to a banished spirit on a nether plane would immediately try to summon said banished spirit to serve her.

So. That didn’t go well.

Upon realizing that Chthon was not, in fact, controllable as such, Morgan and co tried to shove Chthon back into the nether plane. They weren’t able to do that but at least they shoved Chthon into a mountain and decided close enough for magical work.

Around this time Magnus, a member of Morgan le Fey’s coterie, decided hey maybe this Darkhold is actually... bad news? And stole it to hide in an enchanted tower where no one with evil intent could enter.

Did you catch the immediate loophole there?

Yeah. Those with benevolent intentions could enter the tower.

Geez. This sounds like a quest in a fantasy story and/or video game. I mean, I guess this is a fantasy story. With high tech knights in a little bit but definitely fantasy. But like... this is a very Skyrim sidequest.

Anyway, Modred (before he was as much of a dick) entered the tower to use the Darkhold for good reasons and “paid for that folly with his soul!”

So I guess Chthon isn’t telling this story to Modred despite him being the only one conscious to listen to it because Chthon referred to Modred as ‘him’ instead of ‘you.’ I guess Chthon is just talking to himself.

Anyway. The Darkhold was later removed from the tower by St. Brenden and again passed through many hands through many years until it landed with Gregor Russoff. Who managed to curse his own name with the Darkhold’s evil.

He was the werewolf that I mentioned in previous posts that killed Jessica Drew’s mom.

Anyway, to fund his new hobby of EVIL, Russoff sold off part of his estate to some scientists, which included Wundagore mountain. Because people can just own mountains. Casually. People can just casually own mountains.

Obviously, one of the buyers was Herberet Wyndham, later to be known as the High Evolutionary.

The scientists found uranium in them thar hills and used that wealth to build Wundagore (the city).

Chthon was pretty confused about all this ‘science’ and ‘genetic abominations that were part man and yet part animal.’ But you don’t have to understand stuff to capitalize on it.

But Chthon wasn’t able to do that either. Magnus, the renegade tower building ex-follower of Morgan le Fey, ended up as a colleague of the High Evolutionary and taught the New Men chivalry, which rendered them unsuitable for Chthon’s purposes.

Chthon attacked Wundagore anyway, through his host the Other, but ended up vanquished “by the combined might of sixth century sorcery and twentieth century science.” And also by animal-people in armor, riding ‘atomic steeds.’

Which is. I mean. A giant screaming demon face fought with magic, technology, and the Knights of Wundagore.

That’s a prime contender for a ‘greatest story scarcely told’ moment.

These events do seem to get fleshed out a little bit more but only in the far off year 1988 in an X-Men annual during the Evolutionary War.

But even in defeat (by animal-men taught chivalry by an ancient wizard and riding atomic hoverbikes), Chthon planned for future victory.

It just so happened that a child was born in Wundagore the night of Chthon’s defeat. And as Chthon was resealed into the mountain, he imbued baby Wanda with latent magical potential to complement her powerful mutant gift.

Way to screw everything up, Magda. You bring a fetus to a demon mountain and you wander off into the snow to die? You’re the worst.

Although I suppose a question here is why just Wanda? Why not hedge your bets and imbue both Wanda and Pietro? As we’re about to see, Chthon had to kick and scream to get Wanda to this very situation that he needed her to be in and with double babies at least he would have had options.

Well, I know the reason is that this is a development from Wanda learning magic which was a development from her codename containing witch. But in story, why did Chthon put all his eggs in the Wanda basket?

Maybe he had has his heart set on that evil, sexy outfit. But if you think Pietro couldn’t rock that ensemble, Chthon, you need to be more open-minded.

Anyway, apparently even sealed in a mountain, Chthon had enough influence over Wanda to dampen her mutant powers several times in hopes that she would decide to learn magic to make up for it.

But it was only her introduction to Agatha Harkness that Wanda learned of her magical potential. And lets not forget that she almost immediately got possessed by Mephisto there so maybe learning magic was a bad idea.

It has gotten her possessed two and a half times by this point. Mephisto, Chthon, and I’m counting the Serpent Crown as half.

Maybe Agatha Harkness should have taught her ways to defend herself against possession before declaring that there was nothing further she could teach her.

Anyway, with Wanda now knowing magic and still having her science-spawned mutant powers, she was at least worthy of being Chthon’s dual-natured host. Because if science and magic beat him once, why, he’d just combine the two for his own good! Eat it, High Evolutionary and Magnus!

The last detail of getting Modred as a servant was taken care of by contriving a battle between Modred and the Other to gain complete control over the Wi-Fi Wizard and then having Modred trick Magnus into being half a world away when Chthon rose again.

Chthon!Wanda: “And now I have completely subjugated the soul of Wanda Frank, her body, her scientific and sorcerous abilities belong only to Chthon! And with them, I shall bend all of nature to my will!”

Now the only thing that can stop Chthon is natural light.

Because that chalk white complexion cannot stand up against any UV rays.

That’s just a headcanon but. She’s snow white.

Anyway, Modred senses something approaching interrupting this long exposition slash backstory dump told for noone’s benefit except the audience and Chthon who just loves to hear himself talk.

AND THE INTERLOPER IS A KNIGHT OF WUNDEGORE!

Or actually Beast who dug a skeleton out of a snowbank and stole its clothes, as ya do. He didn’t even know the connection to what was going on. Having heard the entire backstory that Chthon told somehow despite only now having approached close enough to make Modred’s sorcerous senses tingle, he realizes that it was a good idea because of the psychological impact on Chthon!

So I guess prior to overhearing that, Beast just put on a suit of armor he found in a snowbank because this whole alter on a mountain thing was so Skyrim he couldn’t help but loot a dead body?

Anyway, Knight Beast skewers the Darkhold with his lance.

Modred attempts to magic at him but thankfully Modred needs a stanza before getting around to anything which leads him to being SHHUK’d right in the throat with Cap’s shield.

Beast’s flashy entrance was enough to distract Chthon and loosen the bonds on the Avengers. And its a very flashy entrance. That is some snazzy golden armor.

Around this point we get to learn that apparently the primary diet of an ancient Earth-Spirit who had been sealed into a mountain is the scenery. Because Chthon gets downright hammy.

Some examples: “Wha -- no! A knight of Wuuuuundegore!” , “You triiiiicked me!” , “Yesssss! Hurt meeeee! It will only make the paaaaain of your chastisement that much sweeeeeter!” , “Weak souls taste looooovely!”

Aside from the chalky complexion, Chthon also goes increasingly more monster face as this goes on eventually looking like Voldemort with luxurious red hair.

Anyway, with the Avengers free and Chthon promising punishment for Beast’s trickery, Quicksilver just punches Chthon right in the face. Zero hesitation. Usually in these situations you get a dilemma like ‘but thats my friend/teammate/sister! I can’t hurt him/her/them!’ but Quicksilver just runs right up and pops Chthon one.

Good job, Pietro.

Meanwhile, Django Maximoff has an actual heart attack.

What is with Pietro and Wanda’s father figures having heart attacks? And how afraid should Magneto be??

But before Django falls down, he realizes that he’s still carrying that doll he used when he tried to kidnap Scarlet Witch before. He laments the loss of the Nivashi Talisman. If only he still had that he could kidnap Wanda’s soul again. BUT FOR GOOD REASONS THIS TIME.

But... he does? The doll starts moving and speaking with Wanda’s voice.

And then Django falls down in startlement and also having an actual heart attack.

Quicksilver jumps to some conclusions and realizes that the Nivashi Talisman was bullshit, the magic was within Django all along! Or rather, it was the wood that the dolls were carved from that was magical!

Like the Puppetmaster’s radioactive clay, the wood of Wundagore was exposed to the uranium in the mountain and as everyone knows, radiation is basically magic.

Leaping to some other conclusions, Quicksilver grabs the doll and tries to will a swap between Wanda and Chthon’s soul - to trap Chthon in the doll and put Wanda back in her ever-Voldemorting body.

But it doesn’t work because sometimes grabbing a magical doll and hoping for the best just doesn’t pay off.

Quicksilver: “Damn! It’s not working! Nothing is happening!”

Chthon: “Of coooooorse not, mortal! Your will is too weeeeeak! But I don’t mind -- weak souls taste looooovely!”

Quicksilver gives up and apologizes to Wanda for failing but now its Ms Marvel’s time to jump to some conclusions.

Clearly the problem is that none of the Avengers are trained magicians and can’t stand up to Chthon alone! But with the power of FRIENDSHIP maybe, just maybe, they can Care Bear Stare Chthon into defeat!

So the Avengers all touch Quicksilver and he tries again.

But this time, with TEAMWORK and wishing really hard, a powerful pink energy glow suffuses the Avengers.

“And thus ensues a literal battle of wills, as six struggling heroes pool their concentration into a phalanx of sorcerous thought, hoping to restore a soul -- and in the process, save a world! On the receiving end of that emotional barrage, Chthon gloats -- but it is an exultation short-lived, for he had underestimated that force which some humans call ‘good’ and others call ‘love.’ And thus the very heavens shriek with Chthon’s anger as his essence is torn forcibly from its newly-conquered vessel to replace the soul of Wanda Frank, trapped in an effigy of carven wood.”

Okay but be that as it may, they basically do a Care Bear Stare.

Jury is out on which Avenger is which bear.

(Cap is Patriotism Bear)

And as Wanda regains her rapidly un-Voldemorting body (I also notice that her evil, sexy costume turns back to normal. Interesting morality indicator...), she yells at Quicksilver to do something with the doll.

So he throws it off the mountain.

Good job, Pietro.

Throwing cursed objects into the distance means they’ll never return to harm anyone ever again.

Okay. I shouldn’t be snide. He throws Chthon!Doll into the crater where Wundagore city was and then Wanda uses a “combination hex bolt and mutant blast” to collapse the mountain on top of the doll.

I thought her hex bolts were her mutant power but whatever.

So Chthon has gone from being trapped in a nether plane to being sealed inside a mountain to being sealed inside a Scarlet Witch action figure underneath a mountain.

I can’t tell if that’s a lateral move or not.

Chthon ain’t pleased either way.

But alas. This victory came at a price. Although Django Maximoff’s magic and belief gave them the key to victory, he died of his heart attack. And never once did he stop loving the twins or ever get their names right.

Wanda and Pietro decide to bury him in the forest that he loved so much.

Dammit, he died too soon!

He may not have been the biological father but he’s the one that helped raise Wanda and Pietro and there’s so much dad stuff he could have done with them! Like awkward thanksgiving dinners with Magneto!

This story makes a big deal about setting up a new, real backstory for the twins and then quickly gets rid of any complications of that new backstory. Django really raised them? He dead now.

Making the Whizzer their dad at least kept the Whizzer around as a possible dadly figure. Also he’s had like five heart attacks and he’s still ticking. Give me back Django!

Anyway.

There’s the question of what to do with Modred. He was so linked to Chthon that without the demon to guide him, he’s become as mindless as an infant.

And there’s no way the Avengers are going to take care of him. They didn’t take care of teaching Loki to poop again when he lost his mind and he was Thor’s brother. Of course they’re going to pawn Modred off on Bova, cow-woman midwife.

She doesn’t mind though. Caring for children is what she was created for and teaching an ancient wizard to poop again is close enough for her.

And with no follow-up to see if Bova has adequate childcare facilities or has adult child proofed her home, the Avengers head off to return home.

Luckily Wonder Man crashed the Quinjet in mostly one piece because they’re not going to be able to borrow a jet in Transia. I don’t think there’s even a train station.

Also, Beast is still wearing the Knight of Wundagore armor and still has the very evil and corruptive Darkhold book just impaled on the lance.

I’m... are you just going to take that home, Beast??!

I think part of the Darkhold is later going to end up in Doctor Doom’s hands and after that the whole thing ends up in the Vatican but its unclear what Beast did with it in the interim.

Anyway, that's the end of a story that we can call Yesterday Quest or perhaps Wanda and Pietro Return Home And It Was Awful But At Least They Met Bova.

I think I’ve been pretty clear about what I think about it. Every time they change the Maximoff’s backstory they just make it even more spaghetti nonsense but this spaghetti nonsense was entertaining and brought us a lot of good stuff like Bova the cow-woman midwife, the High Evolutionary desperately trying to get rid of some babies, the Avengers using the Care Bear Stare, Cap going all the way over Gyrich’s head to the president, Wasp getting to Do A Thing, and Quicksilver falling down a mountain.

I don’t think stuff like Wanda’s magical potential needed a big backstory explanation and it just raises questions about why Pietro wasn’t also tapped as a potential host body and while this isn’t the first time Wanda ends up possessed (its the second and a half) I think it does contribute to an unfortunate trend of Wanda being possessed or going evil and sexy that writers really need to just get over.

I do think its a shame that Falcon still has not had a good showing in the book. Beast got several issues dedicated to what a good Avenger he would be. And I know that Falcon doesn’t even want to be here but he also wants to look good and the more he’s made to look ineffectual the more I can’t help but feel that this is an intentional tactic. It feels like Michelinie had an anti-affirmative action agenda to push and Falcon is both the catspaw and victim of that agenda.

Just let Falcon do cool stuff. I know he’s not long for this team. JUST LET HIM BE COOL.

Aside from that, its neat to see the backup Avengers concept so immediately put into action. With Iron Man busy with his own biz in Demon in a Bottle, Wonder Man is tapped to fill his spot on the team.

Setting up a flexible roster like that offers a lot of interesting possibilities for mixing things up.

Next time: David Michelinie takes a break from writing for a few issues and the Elements of Doom!

Which weirdly have nothing to do with Victor von.

Follow @essential-avengers if you like Bova, think Quicksilver could rock Wanda’s evil sexy costume, or just enjoy this liveblog.

#Avengers #Chthon #Scarlet Witch #Quicksilver #Django Maximoff #Captain America #Ms Marvel #Carol Danvers #Beast #the Wasp #Falcon #Bova the cow midwife #essential avengers #Essential marvel liveblogging #and now wanda's backstory is known and will probably never change again

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dipulb3 · 4 years ago

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As spring thaws the Minnesota ice, a new pipeline battle fires up

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/as-spring-thaws-the-minnesota-ice-a-new-pipeline-battle-fires-up/

As spring thaws the Minnesota ice, a new pipeline battle fires up

Originally built in the 1960s, the Enbridge Line 3 crude oil pipeline snakes 1,097 miles from the tar sands of Canada to Superior, Wisconsin. Of the roughly 340 miles through Minnesota, the replacement pipeline includes new sections and added capacity and is cutting through some of the most pristine woods and wetlands in North America. In little camps along the way, a small-but-growing group of protesters is out to stop them, driven by ancient prophesy and the promises of a new President.

In Ojibwe tribal lore, an environmental moment of reckoning was predicted in the time of the Seventh Fire, when “the light skinned race will be given a choice between two roads,” one green and lush, the other black and charred. A wrong choice, it was warned, would “cause much suffering and death to all the Earth’s people.” The Ojibwe are of the largest groups of Native Americans north of Mexico with tribal members stretching from present-day Ontario in eastern Canada all the way into Montana.

As a half-dozen female tribal elders sing and pray alongside the frozen Mississippi, it’s obvious that for some bands, the fight is sacred and eternal. The question is how many will join them in the face of tougher legal challenges, increased pressure from police and the limits of the pandemic.

“There have been over 130 people arrested so far in just the last few months,” tribal attorney and activist Tara Houska told Appradab. Some are physically arrested at construction sites, but police also watch social media feeds to identify trespassing protesters and send summons in the mail. Before we walked the frozen river, Houska attended her hearing with a judge over Zoom and was ordered to post $6,000 bail.

“They seem to think that it’s going to deter us from protecting the land. They are fundamentally missing the point of what water protectors are doing, which is willing to put ourselves our freedom, our bodies, our personal comfort on the line for something greater than ourselves,” Houska said.

After living in Washington and fighting Dakota Access and Keystone XL, she is now hoping this movement helps convince the Biden administration that the Army Corps of Engineers and Environmental Protection Agency during the Trump administration were shoddy in their environmental impact studies and too hasty in issuing permits.

But Canadian pipeline giant Enbridge insists that it passed every federal, state and tribal test. The company has been rushing to complete the pipeline before politics or the courts can stop it. Of those 340 miles cutting through The Land of 10,000 Lakes, more than 40% is already in the ground.

“Line 3 is not like the Keystone XL pipeline,” Enbridge Chief Communications Officer Mike Fernandez told Appradab. “It already exists. And it already is an energy lifeline for literally millions of people in the US and in Canada. And the reality is, even as we see great growth in renewables, we’re still going to need some fossil fuels 40 years to come.”

But since Biden has built the first White House with a climate agenda at every agency, the biggest argument against the pipeline may be over the kind of energy running through Line 3. Unlike liquid Texas crude hidden in pockets of rock, Alberta’s oil is part of the Canadian soil under the boreal forest. It can’t be pumped unless it is steamed. As a result, it is the dirtiest and most destructive fossil fuel after coal.

A trip to the tar sands boggles the mind with its scale. Massive, man-made pits crawl with massive dump trucks, filled with what feels like sticky cookie dough and smells like asphalt.

Tens of thousands of tons are moved into massive processing plants each day where the goop is boiled and blasted with Athabasca River water heated with natural gas. To separate the flammable bitumen from the dirt and clay, it takes six gallons of fresh water to produce one gallon of tar sands gasoline and the lakes needed to hold the resulting toxic waste are among the biggest man-made creations in history.

The sheer amount of energy required to turn sticky earth into liquid fuel not only makes Alberta tar sand more expensive, it produces 15% more planet-cooking carbon pollution, according to the Union of Concerned Scientists.

But to the workers building Line 3, pipelines are safer and cleaner than moving oil by truck or train. And if you stop Line 3, they argue, it does nothing to stop the world’s voracious demand for the kind of fuels that burn.

“I think, frankly, people have been drawn to pipelines because it’s easy to fight pipelines,” said Kevin Pranis with the Laborers International Union of North America as cranes lifted 25,000-pound pipes as long as city buses.

“The truth is that the carbon emissions aren’t coming from pipelines. They’re coming from cars. And so if you really wanted to go directly to the source, you can protest car dealerships, you can protest gas stations. But the problem is, people like car dealerships and they like gas stations and they would be pretty angry about that.”

While most of the 5,200 people building Line 3 are from oil states like Texas and Louisiana, “some 400 will be Native Americans,” Fernandez told me. “We met with all of the First Nations along that pipeline. We listened, and as a consequence there are 320 or so route modifications.”

Enbridge’s tribal relations suffered in February, when two men working on Line 3 were caught in a human trafficking sting set up to protect underage Indigenous girls.

“The two individuals that that were arrested have been fired.” Fernandez said. “We don’t tolerate that kind of activity or behavior and it’s prompted us to go to one of the contractors to say ‘This is our expectation, that they be trained to a certain level.'”

Follow the pipeline route, and feelings can change by the tribe or the mile.

“You think that people that are scrambling at home, running out of gas with no heat, are thinking about climate change?” said Jim Jones. “They’re thinking about how they’re going to heat their home and put food on the table.”

As a member of the Leech Lake Band of the Ojibwe and a former expert in cultural anthropology for the state, Enbridge hired Jones to walk the pipeline route and ensure no violation of Indigenous spaces or ruins.

“I’m at peace that I’ve done the best I can to protect what’s important to us,” he said. “And I can honestly tell you, as of today, nothing of historic context has been unearthed or disturbed.”

After the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa struck a deal with Enbridge to run a part of Line 3 through their reservation, tribal leaders said they were put in an impossible position. Some tribes worked with Enbridge on the route, while others like Winona LaDuke of the White Earth Band of Ojibwe have nothing but scorn for Enbridge.

LaDuke laughed when told of Jones’s promise. “He’s looking for pot charts and arrowheads. We’re live people.”

LaDuke is a longtime environmental activist who twice ran for vice president on Ralph Nader’s Green Party ticket, but after fighting for Indigenous rights against extractive energy companies for years, she never imagined the fight would come to her.

“Enbridge wants to criminalize us,” she said. “I’m a grandmother, you know, graduated from Harvard, ran twice for vice president, at what point did I become a criminal? I’m just asking, ‘How much risk should we as Americans take so a Canadian multinational can get a little richer at the end of the tar sands era?'”

She helped convince a sympathetic local to sell them a little piece of land where the pipeline intersects the Mississippi and as the weather warms, the protesters hope their number of tents, yurts and fly-fishing shanties will grow faster than Enbridge can drill under the frozen Mississippi.

“Our people say ‘Don’t pick a fight with Mother Nature. You can’t win, and we’re getting we’re getting pounded. So why would you pipe the equivalent of 50 new coal fired power plants with this?” LaDuke said, pointing at Line 3.

“The tar sands is the gun. This is the trigger.”

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weareinstrangetimes · 4 years ago

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This Day In History - Jan 20, 2021 | a work in progress...

Immediately after the inauguration of Joseph R Biden as the 46th President of The United States of America, the Republican Party, along with the right wing disinformation network and their allies abroad and whatever nook and cranny they can be found in will attempt to re-write history. They will point the finger of blame for everything they are responsible for including their complicity in the corruption, deceit, atrocities, breaking of all norms, denigrating the Constitution, insurrection and attempted sedition based on the lies and conspiracy theories by their nice leader and traitor-in-chief.

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A post from October with a lot of research, graphs, and links, topped with a video from Meidas Touch

The Trump Depression: The Economy Does Better Under the Democrats

One of the rare occasions when DJT has told the truth.

https://weareinstrangetimes.tumblr.com/post/633392690647711746/the-trump-depression-the-economy-does-better

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The National Debt.

Trump’s most enduring legacy could be the historic rise in the national debt

COVID-19

One Year, 400,000 Coronavirus Deaths: How the U.S. Guaranteed Its Own Failure

Cremation Limits Lifted In LA Due To 'Backlog' As COVID-19 Deaths Skyrocket

~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I continuously see posts in FB, and shared from one person to another, in many edited forms, that are to be their “reminder” of where we are currently, for posterity. Most of them will have some personal points of fact in them such as the current price of gasoline in their area. Most of them contain the usual false or misleading talking points used by the GOP and the right wing disinformation circles. They aren’t outrageously nonsensical enough to have come from the duck pond people, so they mostly are just the usual disinformation from the Republicans. Case in point: Facebook post I am making this post so it will show back up as a future memory on my timeline:Today is Biden's Inauguration ...Gasoline is currently $2.17 per gallon in Checotah OK. Interest rates are 2.25% for a 30 year mortgage. The stock market closed at 31,188.38 +257.86 (0.83%) today even though we have been fighting COVID for 11 months. Our GDP growth for the 3rd Qtr was 33.1 percent. We had the best economy ever until COVID and it is recovering well. We have not had any new wars or conflicts in the last 4 years. North Korea has been under control and has not been testing any missiles. ISIS has not been heard from for over 3 years. The housing market is the strongest it has been in years. Homes have appreciated at an unbelievable rate and sell well. Wood prices are high with 2x2x8' going around $5.66/stud at Home Depot... And let’s not forget that peace deals in the Middle East were signed by 4 countries—unprecedented! Unemployment sits at 6.7% in spite of COVID.

Point - Counter Point

My reply: The 33% gain in GDP is true. That is still 10% below the Q1 level after the 31.4% drop in Q2. And even farther below the Q4 2019 level. The reason for the 33% gain from a 31.4% loss is due to the stimulus pumped into the economy from the Cares Act that Nancy Pelosi worked so hard on getting. https://www.brookings.edu/.../dont-let-flashy-3rd.../

Below is a running tracking of the GDP from 1947 to the latest data. There are two major drops in the GDP. One starting in Q3 2008, and another dramatic one beginning Q1 2020.

Reply to me: plus adding manufacturing that was outsourced to offshore manufacturing, lowering tax rates on business, and a multitude of other things. If you think this new stimulus bill they passed will benefit us we'll see since they seem more interested in sending money to other countries including enemies.

My Response:

Which manufacturing jobs were those? I know there has always been a lot of "talk" about it. Many corporations took advantage of their tax windfall to buy back their own stocks. Some who did upgrades added automation which resulted in loss of jobs for human workers, that robots could do. Some of those high profile corporations that were on display at the White House who gave out $1000 bonuses (to high ranking employees) laid workers off and scaled back which more than made up for it. Many CEOs and upper management received raises and very little went to the working class employees. There were a few companies that actually did increase wages and benefits to their employees, and Kudos to them. But I think they were in the minority.

The money going to foreign countries is not anything new and it was also included in the previous years budgets. It was part of the annual budget, in the defense portion, and was not part of the stimulus bill. They combined voting on them to try to get them both passed. The House voted on them separately and the Senate was to vote on the combined bill. The talking points are merely political, knowing full well that the majority of the population were not going to do any research.

N Korea? While exchanging love letters they were continuing their nuclear war head development under the cloud of a love affair. They had already perfected and tested their long range missiles within the last 4 years. Missiles that could reach the Western United States.

Peace treaties between non-warring countries? A nice political ploy. Bebe was returning the favor for the previous administration's help with his re-election. The two peoples still at odds are Israel and the Palestinians. The Palestinians were left out. The Palestinians want the same thing that Israel has always wanted and rightly so. Their own homeland/country and recognition on the world stage. The conflicts in that region, aside from with Iran, were with Qatar, (where we have a strategically shared air base and thousands of troops, and the other strategic partners in the region. Why? Because Jared Kushner got turned down when he was asking Qatar to bail out his failing 666 5th Ave property. It was revenge. So, that's like throwing gas on a pile of wood, lighting it, and then offering water to put the fire out. Those "peace treaties" were nothing more than normalization and cooperation agreements with some promised "deals" thrown in.

Point - Counter Point Another post being passed around in FB.

I've heard everyone else's hatred, rhetoric and blatant lies for the past four years, so now I'm expressing my opinion. If you don't like it, you know where the delete button is. Let me be clear, I'm not a Biden fan. I think he's corrupt, a liar, a racist fanatic, he's in bed with China and probably suffers dementia. He has done nothing to improve anything in his 47 year political career. But what has Trump done in the past 4 years?The ′′ arrogant ′′ in the White House negotiated four Middle East Peace Accords, something that 71 years of endless political intervention and war failed to produce.The White House ′′ buffoon ′′ is the first president to not involve us in an outside war since Eisenhower.The ′′ racist ′′ in the White House has had the biggest impact on the economy, bringing jobs and reducing unemployment among the black and Latina population of ANY other president. Never. Ever.The ′′ liar ′′ in the White House has exposed profound, widespread and long-standing corruption in the FBI, CIA, NSA, and Republican and Democratic parties.The White House ′′ White Supremacist ′′ turned NATO around and made them start paying their debts.The White House's ′′ dumb ′′ neutralized North Koreans and prevented them from sending missiles to Japan and threatening the Western US.The ′′ xenophobic ′′ in the White House changed our relationship with the Chinese, brought hundreds of businesses back to the US and revived the economy.This same ′′ clown ′′ reduced taxes, increased the standard deduction in his IRS statement from $ 12,500 to $ 24,400 for married couples and prompted the stock market to rise to record levels, positively impacting retirement accounts of tens of millions of citizens.The ′′ idiot ′′ in the White House accelerated the development of multiple COVID vaccines that are now available or will be soon. And yet we still don't have a vaccine for SARS, bird flu, ebola, or a number of diseases that emerged during previous administrations.The ′′ orange man ′′ in the White House rebuilt our military, which the Obama administration paralyzed and fired 214 key generals and admirals in their first year of term.Got it you don't like it. Many of you hate and despise him completely. How special of you. He is serving you and the WHOLE American people. What are you doing besides insulting him and laughing that he got the China virus Some of you even expected COVID to be the cause of her disappearance. (Ah, the left. The party of ′′ tolerance ′′Please re-educate me on what Biden has accomplished for America in his 47 years in office, as well as enriching the entire Biden family. BTW where's Hunter?I'll take the ′′ clown ′′ any day versus a corrupt, hypocritical, racist, fork-tongue liar. I want a strong leader who isn't afraid to kick butts when necessary. I don't need a father figure. I don't need a liar. That's what Hollywood, CNN, MSNBC, ABC, NBC, CBS and The New York Times are for.Call me dumb, racist, super diffuser or part of the basket of deplorables. I don't care!God bless Donald Trump, the best and least appreciated president in US history.

Reply:

Counterpoint part 1: I realize you are not the author of that post. I have seen this post re-posted many times in various forms here in FB including by friends and I didn't respond. But since this is my post I will. I have also seen it at a site where gamers, musicians, music enthusiasts and creative folks hang out. It did not originate from there. The origin I believe is in part anyway from the same conspiracy theorist group that also makes up wild and crazy claims of former heads of state and officials being arrested, that never are. And people dying, who are still alive. And a dead person secretly being alive and running a crusade, who is still dead. And pizza joints having basements with trafficking rings, that have no basements. And miracle cures for COVID that are not proven and can cause more damage if not used for what they were intended for, even if you have a really cool pillow and a clean aquarium. And, and, and ... 5G, windmills, George Soros, Bill Gates, Forest Gump, Mr. Magoo, and voodoo doctors doing it with little green men in their dreams.

Do they ever question why everything they believe is bunk? Do they ever get angry for being deceived? Do they ever feel foolish for looking foolish for posting such foolish nonsense? No. They just pass it off and wait for the next wild tale to spread and swear by.

There are those who praise so-called Peace Treaties between nations that are not at war, leaving out the 1 culture that is affected and wants their own sovereignty and homeland, in every one of those so called "peace treaties". They suggest he should get a Nobel Peace Prize, and some even think he has been awarded it because he puts a fake facsimile of the medal in some of his posts. Those "peace treaties" I don't think were any more than cooperation and normalization agreements, and in some cases containing agreements to make financial transactions.

The guy they tout as not having involved us in any wars has brought us very close to nuclear conflicts with his loud mouth and nasty tweets. The one guy who was the most imminent danger learned quickly that he could dupe the the mad Tweeter by giving him praise. In turn, he received what his father and grand father, also dictators before him, could never get from a U.S. President. What they got, with very little in return, was their most coveted prize, an audience with the Tweeter which gave them credibility and legitimacy in the eyes of their own subservient population. And they got an end to our annual readiness maneuvers with their Southern neighbor and our other strategic allies which was their second most coveted prize. Then while exchanging love letters with the mad Tweeter, they were able to secretly continue with their nuclear warhead development. And since they already have long range missile capability to reach the United States (tested during the mad Tweeter's reign) they are not only a major threat to our allies in the South Pacific, they are an imminent threat to the mainland U.S.

The "buffoon" (referenced in the list of fables) in question also abandoned our allies that were instrumental in fighting ISIL (who is not completely eliminated) leaving them to be threatened with genocide (our betrayed allies) by another despot whose country hosts real estate developments the mad Tweeter has his name on (Trump Towers), and another crazed dictator who has been guilty of genocide and using chemical weapons in his own country on his own citizens. Those allies were also guarding the prisons that the ISIL prisoners were housed in, and they were allowed to escape. In fact his claims of completely eliminating ISIL himself 100% can be debunked by his own State Department. https://www.factcheck.org/.../trumps-isis-claim-goes-to.../ That was in 2017 and 2018. So, if ISIL (ISIS) was 100% defeated by 2018, why were we still fighting them in late 2019? Trump walks back claim of defeating ‘100% of the ISIS caliphate’ https://www.rollcall.com/.../trump-walks-back-claim-of.../ The claims by the right wing propagandists and Trump regarding unemployment for Blacks, and Latinos can be corrected by simply doing some research. AP FACT CHECK: Trump on unemployment for blacks, Latinos https://apnews.com/article/e1afa3f19a054540a7c34ca193bdd9ae Quote from the fable: "The White House ′′ White Supremacist ′′ turned NATO around and made them start paying their debts." What he did was weaken our alliances, playing right in the hands of one of our most dangerous adversaries, the guy who helped him to get into office. Something he has done throughout his term. And, his alt-facts and those of the right wing deceivers are easily fact checked. FactChecking Trump’s NATO Remarks https://www.factcheck.org/.../factchecking-trumps-nato.../ Trump made many claims about bringing jobs back to the U.S. and creating new jobs. Many of those things he was taking credit for early on were things that were already in the works long before he was helped into the White House. 2017: https://www.factcheck.org/.../trump-jobs-returning.../ 2020: We can reshore manufacturing jobs, but Trump hasn’t done it https://www.epi.org/publica.../reshoring-manufacturing-jobs/

There are a lot of claims around the GOP tax cuts. Sure, the standard deduction was increased. So has the cost of living due to illegal trade wars and prices sky rocketing. And many deductions for those who itemized were eliminated. Many are still waiting for their "post cards" so they can file their taxes. Those who really benefitted were those who are not in a month to month struggle to make ends meet. The corporate tax cuts that the Trump and GOP promoters said would trickle down and benefit the working class family wage earners was not realized. Corporations used their GOP granted socialism to buy back their own stocks. And many of those who touted handing big bonuses out in turn laid other workers off or eliminated jobs which more than made up for it.

The stock market has been used by Trump and his mouthpieces as an economic indicator. While some people do benefit with returns on their retirement plans and stock portfolios, it is not a barometer of how working families are getting along, many who have to work multiple jobs just to pay rent and eat. And not everybody dabbles in the stock market. There have been ups and downs in the market. There was one period in March of 2020, where all gains in the market were wiped out back to February 2017. What happens in that type of situation? Those companies that can wrangle it buy back their own shares at lower prices which artificially gives the market another instant boost.

Counterpoint part 2:>>> Let's talk about infrastructure week. Still waiting on that one since February or March of 2017. We'll have to wait until real President-elect Joe Biden takes office.

How about Operation Warp Speed and vaccine development. Accelerated vaccine development is a good thing, and because there were decades of research behind it and technological advances it was possible to accomplish. Joe Biden even acknowledged Trump, or at least Operation Warp Speed as a positive move. We can at least give him credit for that, since he botched the response with delays, denial, disinformation, and creating a herd mentality to push back on safety and mitigation in order to recklessly reach herd immunity through infection and death.> It should be noted that the first vaccine that was approved was from Pfizer, and they did not participate in Operation Warp Speed where the others received funding. They funded themselves although Trump deceitfully takes credit. And those 20,000,000 vaccine doses that Trump, Pence and the Trump administration were promising by the end of December 2020? As of January 8th, 6.6 million initial doses have been administered according to NBC News MAP Covid-19 vaccination tracker across the U.S. https://www.nbcnews.com/.../map-covid-19-vaccination...

After Trump "wanted to play it down" the U.S. as of Friday, January 8 2021, has surpassed 22 million COVID-19 cases, with a record 269,420 new cases, and over 372,000 deaths (Jan 9). https://www.nbcnews.com/.../u-s-covid-19-cases-hit-22...

Trump and his enablers and apologists often talk about how he rebuilt the "depleted military" that he inherited from President Obama. As with most Trump claims, it is Mostly False. Quote from the fable: "The ′′ orange man ′′ in the White House rebuilt our military, which the Obama administration paralyzed and fired 214 key generals and admirals in their first year of term. "Regarding the firing of the Generals, I saw another figure, 197, that was posted in a publication for retired folks in The Villages in Florida. Others have said it first appeared in the alt-right fake news Breitbart site. As with most things that roll around like a marble in an empty box in the right wing disinformation arena things are just made up, or facts spun and twisted like a taffy pretzel. In 2010, President Obama did replace his top Afghanistan war commander, Gen. Stanley A. McChrystal due to in-bickering in his national security team. He replaced McChrystal with his boss and mentor, Gen. David H. Petraeus. https://www.nytimes.com/.../24/us/politics/24mcchrystal.html There have been other firings, replacements, and retirements. Most absences are for good reason and there is no wholesale purging as the right wing conspiracy theorists would lead you to believe. https://skeptoid.com/.../24/president-obama-purge-military/ Quoted from Snopes: "The U.S. national defense budget was slightly reduced during Obama's second term, in large part due to efforts by Congress to limit government spending and the withdrawal of troops from the Middle East. "Who controlled both the House and Senate? The Republican Party. https://www.snopes.com/.../trump-inherit-depleted-military/ AP FACT CHECK: Trump's Overblown Boasts About Military, Vets https://www.usnews.com/.../ap-fact-check-trumps-overblown... General Michael Flynn was also fired in 2014 from his position as head of the Defense Intelligence Agency under Obama. Too many connections with RU it seems. And something I didn't previously know, was after he was fired he became a contributor to RT (government funded, Russia Today). https://themoscowproject.org/collusion/flynn-fired-dia/ I had always thought he was fired due to his overt Islamophobia which didn't sit well with some of our allies. He was advising Trump in 2016 on foreign policy and national security and subsequently during his campaign transition. Then he was appointed National Security Adviser in the administration (despite warnings not to), and he brought much of his baggage with him. It was discovered that he had previous contacts with the Russian Ambassador to the U.S. and was accused of trying to undermine U.S. policy. He was also accused of being a lobbyist for the same country where Trump's name is licensed on the Trump Towers Istanbul (that's 2 of them). All this while receiving classified briefings. He was fired or asked to resign just 3 weeks into Trump's term. https://apnews.com/article/ce90066b4e20483da79adf21910da0c7

Another quote from the fable list: "The buffoon in the White House has exposed the deep, widespread, and long-standing corruption in the FBI, the CIA, the NSA, and the Republican and Democratic parties." While there have been some procedural errors and some ethical issues, most of them are small compared with the real issues at hand. Now, the "buffoon" has not exposed anything. All the noise is to cover up and deflect from the corruption and high crimes and misdemeanors of said buffoon and his accomplices, enablers and apologists. That is the way the GOP does things.

"47 years" seems to be one of the fall backs when they run out of any other fables, or simply can't think of anything else to say. That would bring us back to 1973 making him 31 years old at that time. Joe Biden was a U.S. Senator representing Delaware from 1973 to 2009, re-elected several times. He was Vice President in the Obama Administration from 2009 to 2017, two full terms. He ran for president in 1988 and 2008.He has been on the Senate Judiciary Committee, Senate Foreign Relations Committee. In his early years he worked on consumer protection, environmental issues, and greater government accountability, arms control. He has worked as a public servant most of his adult life. He has probably done a lot more in his 47 years since being elected U.S. Senator than most people asking what he has done. While some of his views and policies in the past were controversial at the time, like most people, he has evolved and adapted to the changes in culture and public opinion. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Biden...

The person who wrote the fable list states he will take the ′′ clown ′′ any day versus a corrupt, hypocritical, racist, fork-tongue liar. The Impeached "clown" in fact is all of the above and has been identified as a pathological liar and probably the most documented liar in history. The "clown" is also labeled as racist, corrupt, a con-artist, a xenophobe and a bigot among other things too numerous to list. Many people have said that. Also, unindicted co-conspirator, Individual 1, in crimes another person is serving prison time for. Individual 1 was only ‘not indicted’ due to Justice Department policies on not indicting a sitting president for crimes committed.

to be continued....

#national debt

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