#this is tame response compared to some ive seen

[revon-aurora-borealis]

are.... are people ok?

i dont understand why so many people get so offended that you reply to them after like 6 months of them posting a comment to the point they fucking insult you for it

and ive only ever had it from people on yt too, tumblr users dont care, reddit users dont care, twitter users dont care either

but yt users? theyll fucking tear you to shreds over it... why tf bro... i dont understand, i didnt kill your family bro just wtf bro

[sepublic]

Vapor for Brains

If we ever got a Metroid animated series, I'd love for it to be mostly episodic, with even individual episodes within each 'game' arc feeling self-contained, while still clearly contributing to the greater storyline.

In particular, I'd love for the Prime arc to have a humorous episode dedicated to the Space Pirate antics on Tallon IV, probably called something like "Vapor for Brains." It takes place before the Phazon Mines segment, or at least the battle with the Omega Pirate. It's like a workplace comedy/behind the scenes look at what the Space Pirates are up to, the incompetence of Science Team, etc., while Samus is going on her journey to destroy Phazon.

We get to see a glimpse of the outbreak on the Frigate Orpheon, that started off everything; Parasite Queen cameo, pirates frantic. Some try to flee through the escape pods, but there’s just one problem, as pointed out by @girlballs: Someone built a pipe over an escape pod shaft, rendering it unusable. And this may in fact be part of the reason some able-bodied pirates are still on the Orpheon when Samus arrives; They frustratedly decide they have no choice but to attempt to fight back the parasites as they wait for those on Tallon IV below to send reinforcements. But someone else beats them to the punch… And also just beats them.

There’s the obvious, iconic Morph Ball experiments; You see footage of a test subject in an isopod-like frame, Science Team gives them the clear to go. You hear a horrendous crunch as the subject disappears within a new shiny metal sphere. Science Team obliviously asks the subject what they think, and finally if they're okay. No response.

Just as a researcher is knocking on the morph ball prototype -which is still clearly massive compared to Samus'- you can see blood pouring out from below. The researcher notices and is perturbed, but in a sort of mild and apathetic way; Indifferent to the test subject's suffering and demise, but definitely displeased by the mess.

We also have science team's flippant insistence that Metroids can be tamed, as a way to compensate for Mother Brain no longer being around to control them; Leading to a montage of Space Pirates trying to get onto the Metroids' side, but failing. With two assistants dead, we get the iconic line by an unimpressed pirate, who was narrating the incident; Science team has vapor for brains.

Another scene, inspired by an observation made by @kosmonauttihai, involves Meta Ridley surveying the Phendrana region, while talking to a member of Science Team who is way too proud about the results of Project Metamorphosis; Ridley gripes that his cybernetics feel clunky and uncomfortable, but the researcher reassures him that it's all fine and good and will be worth it.

Ridley nods sagely; You seem like someone who knows what they're talking about, he reasons. The researcher confirms this gladly. At which point, Ridley goes for the incriminating question; Then tell me, I normally have four fingers; Why do my cybernetics only have three?

The researcher stammers, mouth agape, unable to answer as Ridley stares them dead in the eyes with a sadistic/sarcastic smile. After a second or two he straightens up, flexing his new wings as he declares he's going for a scan of the region, as well as to check on Thardus; He hopes that science team, in their brilliance, will figure out who made that 'creative decision'. Ridley flies off, and you see a callback to the scene from an earlier episode where Samus notices Ridley flying overhead in Phendrana.

Another scene involves some poor, excited, and delusional sod coming in with a massive tumor all over their face; An obvious Phazon mutation. Their commanders are horrified, demanding why they're being made to see this. The poor sod reads aloud that one in-game log about Space Pirates reporting 'beneficial mutations' to high command.

So you've seen one? High command asks. The poor sod insists that this tumor they can barely see around IS the beneficial mutation, desperately arguing that Actually, the added layers and skin from the tumor act as protection for their head, which is a vulnerable part of any creature's anatomy. So surely they qualify for the beneficial mutations, and thus receive better rations, right?

...Another scene, inspired by @nerdy-the-artist, has local pirates being tasked with increasing the Bombu patrols. They immediately gang up on newbie and give them the prestigious task of this; In order to 'guide' Bombus, you need to wield a high-energy coil for them to follow you with. It's important to turn this off before the Bombus reach you, because they will explode; Good luck.

There's a bit, leaning into more sympathetic and sad and not just dark humor, where a Space Pirate tries to keep their pet after the order comes out to dispose of all of them; It doesn't work out in the end. Or, maybe it does... The conclusion to this recurring storyline (maybe even the episode as a whole) is that the pet got into some Phazon and is now a horrific monstrosity. Congratulations, says high command. The pirate tries to go for a pet, relieved, only to get a hand bitten off.

There's also Metroid shenanigans; After the death of Mother Brain, we really see how hard it is to keep these things in line. I can't remember if it was Prime or Echoes that had the "Metroids are not pets/target practice and do not feed them" bit, but regardless. The Shadow Pirates find the Metroids completely unfazed by their camouflage, because they can sense energy signatures anyway.

There's also a bit about the SR388 specimen having disappeared; At first it seems a gag, but it's actually foreshadowing the revelation that Metroid Prime is the same Metroid found by the Space Pirates aboard the Marina, the Metroid that started it all. While hinting to the true origins of Metroid Prime, whom Samus and/or the Space Pirates speculate is the true source of Phazon, that it must've come from the mysterious SR388, and is a mutation/stage in an unforeseen lifecycle... Close, but not quite.

Another gag is Space Pirates trying Phazon recreationally, like a drug, after sneaking a bit away. The hallucination symptoms, which are played much more seriously in Corruption, are shown here; It's like the worst drug trip they've ever had. They go for it again anyway. We have a scene parodying Paranormal Activity and all those other ghost films; It's Space Pirates being terrorized by the Chozo ghosts. They are initially not believed, because of the aforementioned drug trip hallucinations.

Finally, my favorite gag by @coldgoldlazarus; High command is demanding the Beam Pirate Troopers be finished, but science team is struggling. Note that one of them, the researcher from the previous Meta Ridley scene, is nowhere to be seen. They're sweating, one of them says something outrageous like "Ridley's gonna eat our asses if we don't make this work!!!" in reference to his cannibalism; He does mention earlier that he'd really like to regenerate from his wounds ASAP, and get rid of this grating Meta frame. Another researcher adds helpfully, "We're gonna BE Ridley's ass if we don't make this work!"

At which point, one of them gets the bright idea to repurpose door technology as armor. They roll out the new Beam Pirate armor, which has Ridley and high command, as well as the subjects wielding the armor, skeptical. Science team promises, insists, that Yeah no TOTALLY this is what we promised. They all look like they have the same standard ammunition but trust us, that's an electrical burn from a Wave Beam, there's a difference between that and the Power Beam you just saw.

Ridley nodes sagely, and then demands one of the Ice Beam troopers shoot him; He's a sturdy guy, he can handle it. The trooper does this, and then turns to science team. This a reverse-engineered Ice Beam, despite it looking very different from Samus', correct? Science team nods. In pure Steamed Hams fashion: Yes, and you tell me this is an Ice Beam, despite the fact that I've been hit by one before, and it felt nothing like this, Ridley observes.

Science team stutters and doesn't know how to respond. Ridley/high command rolls their eyes and decides that Oh well, this door tech is at least an improvement in defensive technology. Short of what they demanded, but still; Which makes them wonder, why did it take so long for science team to consider this idea in general? Forget it.

Cut to the Beam Troopers nervously anticipating Samus, and they have a conversation to pass the time, and/or this happens after a disastrous run with the hunter. Someone becomes the Voice of Reason, inching back from the others the whole time: Why are we telegraphing which weakness we have? If our armor has a color corresponding to the beam that destroys it, wouldn't it be both cheaper and more practical to not display this feature? Likewise, shouldn't each patrol unit consist of multiple 'beam' types, and not just the one? The point is, they're doomed.

Throughout this whole rant, all of the other pirates have been silent; Finally, one of them dismissively, casually grunts, "Eh, shut up [Name]!" Samus shows up; They were indeed doomed.

Eventually we get a scene in which the Beam Trooper tech is finally figured out, they can actually shoot Ice, Wave, and Plasma beams for real this time. Maybe the lie from before actually did work out, so when a researcher excitedly contacts high command about figuring out the tech, high command asks: But didn't you already? Not wanting to admit the big scam, the researcher stammers, Um YEAH no I'm talking about a different beam! We figured out the... Spazer Beam.

Alright then, says high command. Can't wait to see a new unit of Spazer Troopers! The call is turned off and another researcher or the same one laments, AUGH you should've just said you were able to upgrade the pre-existing Beam Pirates, not that you discovered a new one! And considering the Spazer Beam's gimmick is its improved range, this is definitely something you can't gaslight high command on. Unless... They were to add an additional pair of cannons to a pre-existing one???

[dearlazerbunny]

Angel

Pairings: Kylo x Reader

Genre/Rating: G, some language

Words: 4,200

Summary: So this was requested a loooong time ago and I’ve honestly forgotten who requested this (if it was you, please let me know!) but they wanted some medical/mobster Kylo x Reader and goddamn it took me long enough but here it is 😂 hope y’all like it!

“We’ve got one coming in.” You nod and snap on a pair of gloves, waiting at the ER entrance for your next arrival. “Six foot two, approximately two hundred pounds. Banged up but conscious; gunshot wound to the left arm as well as some nasty lacerations…”

Your fellow nurse doesn’t get any more out before your patient is wheeled through the door. He’s so tall he barely fits on the gurney; his feet just barely hanging off the end. Through the lacerations and bruises you can see tattoos covering his biceps and forearms, plus more peeking out from the edge of his shirt where an EMT is attaching electrodes to him. The arm not closest to you seems to be hit the worst- someone is keeping pressure on the wound with a blood-soaked towel.

“Surgery?” You ask the doctor whose come over to supervise, and he nods.

“The room is being prepped. Take over for the EMTs, start an IV. We don’t want him to lose much more blood.”

You nod and grab a clean towel before tapping in, much to the relief of the emergency responder. “Hi there, my name is Y/N and I’m going to be taking care of you okay? Can you tell me your name?”

He blinks at you in the bright lights, seemingly registering your words at a slow pace. “Kylo.”

“Alright, Kylo, you’ve been in an accident, but we’re going to get you fixed up here in no time.” You look down at the towel, which again is already soaked through. You toss it and steal another from a passing cart. “Can you tell me what happened?” You try to keep him talking and conscious, as well as distract him from the obvious pain he must be in.  

He shakes his head, bewildered. “Damn car came out of nowhere. Started firing, no warning. Probably that fucking Resistance scum, I told Hux they needed to be dealt with…”

You don’t really understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth, but hey, as long as he’s talking, fine by you. You get him prepped for surgery and then join the team in the surgical room where everyone is waiting for him. As you begin to push the sedative into his IV, he actually reaches over and grabs your hand, making you still, unsure if he’s going to get violent.

“What are you giving me?” His eyes are wide and fearful, looking around at the masked doctors surrounding him. “What’s going to happen?”

Is he… scared? A big guy like this? “All this is is a sedative- we have to put you to sleep for the surgery. We’ve got to remove the bullet from your arm and then stitch up the wound. It’ll be okay, we’ve got the best surgeons around. No need to worry.”

You wait a few minutes for the medicine to kick in, but with what you gave him he’s simply woozy. You calculate another dosage based on his weight and give it to him again. He doesn’t grab you this time, just looks at you with a sleepy sort of smile as you push the medicine. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

It takes a moment before you realize he’s talking to you. “Will I be here? I don’t know which nurse will be assigned to you-”

He frowns. “But I want you.”  He says it with the tone of a petulant child, and even though it’s wildly unprofessional, the juxtaposition of such a whiny voice coming from such an intimidating person makes you giggle.

“I’ll see what I can do, okay Kylo?” You pat his arm that doesn’t have doctors swarming around it and that seems to reassure him enough to lull him into sleep.

You do end up assigned to him, slightly to your dismay. You’re a nurse, you’re not used to much rattling you anymore, but something about him scares you a bit. Your hospital is in the heart of the city, you get plenty of gang violence and whatnot, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen a patient quite this… intimidating. Nevertheless, you do your job, tending to his dressings and IV bags while waiting for him to wake up. He does so without warning, and while you’re working on the opposite side of the room you suddenly feel eyes on you. When you turn, your patient is awake and looking at you with hazy eyes.

You smile at him. “Hey there, Kylo. How are you feeling?”

He mumbles something that you don’t catch, so you move to his side. “What was that?”

“Are you an angel?”

You laugh, though not disparagingly. “Sorry, hon, just a hospital nurse. You’re lucky you didn’t see any angels yesterday, they almost lost you on the table a few times.”

His brow furrows, and he looks at his arm, which is bandaged heavily. “Blood loss?”

He says it so matter of factly, like he’s done this before, you can’t help but ask. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve done this a few times.” His speech is slow and tired sounding.

You try not to raise an eyebrow. Judging by all the scars on him, he definitely has, but you try not to think about that too hard. His eyelids are fluttering, probably about to be pulled back down by the sedatives lingering in his system. You pat his arm lightly. “You go back to sleep now, okay? You’ll wake up soon.” His eyes are on you the entire time as he nods back off.

You shake your head and head back to the nurse’s station. One of your coworkers sees you come from his room and nods towards the doorway. “How’s he, then? Scare the daylights out of you yet?”

You look at her, confused. “No. Why?”

“Considering he’s one of the most notorious gang members in the city…”

“He is?” I mean, he certainly looks the part, but his words don’t really seem to match his persona.

The other nurse nods. “You really don’t keep up with the news, do you? Kylo Ren, right hand man to Armitage Hux. Part of the big First Order gang that runs around on the north side of town. Didn’t you see his tattoos?”

“Yes, but I didn’t know what they meant…” the geometric designs, mostly in red and black, had gone over your head.

“Well, good luck with that. We’ve got security on call when you need them.” She says it very flatly, like she’s so sure you’ll need them, but you shake your head.

“He’s been surprisingly… sweet, so far.”

The other nurse laughs. “Yeah, right. Good one.” She gets a call on her pager and goes to answer it, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You glance back towards Kylo’s room. Would he really hurt you? For some reason, you don’t think that’ll be the case. He seems remarkably tame compared to some of the other gang members you’ve taken care of. But that also might just be the sedatives- you’d have to see how he was once the drugs were out of his system.

…

That was your third shift in a row, so you were off for several days. During that time, you couldn’t help but wonder about the tall man with dark eyes laying in a hospital bed just a few blocks away. Had he given the other nurses any trouble? Was he already discharged? Tugging your hair into a bun to pull it out of your eyes, you secure it with a few extra pins. Just for good luck, whatever the situation may be.

As you walk through the recovery ward’s big double doors, the first thing you notice is the prevalence of security and a big, booming voice screaming something you can’t quite make out. Looks like the extra pins was a good idea. You wrangle your lanyard back onto your neck and rush in, only to find people swarmed in one particular room.

Kylo Ren’s room, if you remembered correctly.

Peeking over the shoulders of the policemen without trying to get in anyone’s way, you can see the man struggling against restraints on the bed that his hands and feet have been strapped into. Two people are trying to hold him down, though it doesn’t look like they’re having much success. A young nurse is running around with a vial and syringe in her hand, probably trying to get a sedative in him, but he’s thrashing about so much she can’t even stick him properly.

Without thinking, you rush into the room and pull the medicine from the other nurse’s hands. At first she recoils, but once she understands that someone else is taking over the situation she visibly relaxes and scurries out of the room. You shake your head. Some people just can’t handle emergencies.

Your practiced hands fill the syringe easily, and when you turn back to him- Kylo- you can finally make out the words tumbling out of his mouth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’ll kill you! Take these things off of me or I swear to do I’ll-”

“KYLO REN!” Honestly, you’re surprised at the voice that comes out of your mouth. It’s much more commanding than it sounds in your head. And it’s enough to get every head in the room to turn towards you, including Kylo, who actually stops squirming when he sees you. “If you don’t calm down I am legally authorized to sedate you for the safety and protection of yourself and others.” You expect him to howl in response, but his eyes just grow wide, and somehow he grows even stiller. “Do you understand?”

He frowns. Nods. Shakes his head, then nods again. “Yes- no. I mean. Gah!” He rattles the restraints again. “Can you please just take these off of me?”

Now that you don’t seem to be in any danger of him hitting you, you cautiously walk over to his bedside and check the straps on his wrists. “Well, first of all, they’re way too tight,” you mumble, seeing raw red strips of skin peek out from under the restraints. You look at the nearest policeman. “What did he do to get restrained?”

He looks at you like you’re crazy. “He’s a public danger.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Was he threatening anybody? Attempt to get out of bed?”

“N- no, but-”

You look at Kylo, who’s still staring at you. “If I take these off, are you going to be belligerent or will you settle down?”

“I just want the damn things off. I wake up and they’ve strapped me down for no reason.”

Staring at him a moment, you focus on his eyes. Big brown eyes, with a softness behind them you wouldn’t expect from someone of his… caliber. He seems sincere. And a little desperate. You nod, and start undoing the clasps, speaking as you do. “I’m afraid this is my patient, officers, and therefore I take full responsibility for my safety as well as his. I don’t think we’ll be needing you any further.” You look pointedly at said patient. “Will we?”

He looks almost remorseful as he shakes his head.

The officers still clearly don’t know what to make of this situation, but they leave nonetheless. The syringe of medicine is forgotten in the pocket of your scrubs as you undo all four of his restrictions. He rubs his wrist carefully as you work on his ankles, discarding the straps onto the floor. Jesus, who put these on? You can barely even get them undone.

“Thank you.”

You look up at Kylo, who still seems very focused on his wrist, and won’t meet your eyes. You tilt your head. Maybe he’ll talk to you?

“Can you tell me what happened?”

He exhales through his nose, controlled. “I woke up and I was strapped down. And you weren’t here. I kept asking for you and they said you were gone, and I-” he pauses, visibly upset. “I don’t do well with cuffs.”

“Let me see?” He doesn’t know what you mean until he sees you holding out your hand. Carefully, he places his larger hand in your small one, and you turn it over, inspecting the rub burns on his wrist. You keep expecting him to jump or flinch, but he seems perfectly content with you standing so closely beside him. His knuckles are scarred from old wounds, and his hands are rough, but you also don’t think they would hurt you. “You’ll be okay. Do you want me to get some dressing for your wrists, or would that be too restrictive?”

He thinks for a moment. “I think that would be okay.”

So you go about dressing and wrapping his wrists, making sure not to wind the bandages too tightly for fear of setting him off. It amazes you how calm he is when not thirty minutes ago he was going off the rails. He watches your fingers work like they’re hypnotizing him, just breathing and not saying a word. It’s almost peaceful in the little hospital room, just you and him, nobody talking but the silence saying multitudes.

…

“Favorite color.”

Kylo rolls his eyes. “That’s such a basic question.”

You snort. “Well, what am I supposed to ask? What’s your mom’s birthday?”

That makes him crack a smile. “Red. What’s your worst habit?”

“Oh geez, how am I supposed to know?” You’re leaning against the sink, barely skimming over his patient files, mostly focused on his grin and this silly game he’s initiated with you. As you flip a page, you glance at your nails, bitten to the quick. “Oh, biting my nails, definitely. Nervous habit.”

“Not from me, hopefully.”

“Um, no.” You continue to read, expecting another question, but the silence makes you look up. “What?”

His face softens. “You’re not afraid of me.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but it’s said like a wondrous sort of realization.

“Noooo? Should I be?”

Now it’s his turn to snort. “Probably. I’m three times your size and could snap you in half with one hand.” “Well, if for some reason you do, at least drop me off at the ER afterwards, deal?” You expect him to laugh again- you find yourself wanting to make him laugh- but he’s got a serious look on his face. “No, I’m not afraid of you, Kylo. If I was I wouldn’t be here.”

He shakes his head. “Every other hospital I’ve been to- and every other time here- people are too scared to even come in the room.”

“You don’t seem all that scary.” He gives you a disbelieving look, and you relent. “Okay, when you were yelling a few days ago, that was scary. But really…” you look at him, propped up in bed, bandaged within an inch of his life, hair going everywhere and eyes clear. “You’re pretty okay.”

He does smile this time. “You’re okay yourself.”

“I try.” You tuck his folder under your arm. “Do you need anything else?”

“Um.” He looks down at his sheets, fiddling with he edge. “Maybe. Could you… could I get something to help me sleep? I think-” he winces, just enough so that you can see it. “I think the nightmares are what made them restrain me, last time.”

Oh. “Yeah, I can do that. Sit tight okay?” He nods and you leave to put in an order for the pharmacy. As you do, you exhale to yourself and wonder how anyone could be scared of Kylo if they’d just sit down and talk to him.

An hour later, Kylo has phenergan in his system and you’re dimming the lights in the room, closing the blinds so that the starlight outside doesn’t shine in his eyes. “Leave it open,” he says, only slurring his words a little bit. “I like the stars.”

You can’t help but smile to yourself when your back is turned to him as you comply. Such a simple request to make him happy. His eyes are sinking as you walk back over to him. “I’m off for the next few days, and you’ll probably be discharged by then. It was really nice meeting you. And try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

You turn to go, and you think he’s asleep, but you feel a hand grab your wrist. He’s looking at you with sleepy eyes, and you can almost see the starlight reflected in them. “Don’t go.”

“Sorry, hon, I’ve gotta let you sleep.”

But instead of letting you leave he gently pulls you back over to the side of the bed. Even with the meds trying to take hold of him, the way he’s looking at you is so focused. Like you’re all he wants to see. You don’t say anything, just stand there and let him look, and you look back at him. Something brushes your cheek, and before you can recoil, you realize it’s his hand. The backs of his fingers are brushing your jawline, up to where your hair is tucked behind your ear, then playing with the strands that have fallen loose from your bun. And to your surprise, you lean into his touch, just ever so slightly. You don’t think anyone has touched you so tenderly before.

Kylo whispers something you don’t quite make out. “I can’t hear you, hon.”

“You really are an angel.” The words come soft and sweet, and wash over you like sunshine. Carefully, you take his hand and place it back to his side- but not before briefly entangling your fingers with his, lingering just a little too long.

“I think only for you.”

…

Kylo stands across the street from the hospital- your hospital- looking up at the windowed building about where he thinks the floor he stayed on was. With you. An ambulance passes, sirens wailing, heading for the ER entrance, and suddenly he’s back on the stretcher, opening his eyes and looking up at the most beautiful face he’s ever seen. And he’s- well. No stranger to women, let’s put it that way.

“This is disgusting.” A few feet away, perched on a bench, Kylo’s boss Armitage wears a suit and a hat pulled low over his trademark fiery hair. “You need to get your mind back on the job.”

Kylo barely acknowledges his words, only grunting in response. He’s still daydreaming about the time he made you laugh. When you came in and calmed him down just by being in the room. That had never happened before. When you wrapped his wrists so gently it pulled at a heart he thought had shriveled past recognition long ago.

Behind him, Armitage sighs. “Well, obviously this isn’t going away anytime soon. What do you need?”

Without moving, Kylo raises an eyebrow. “You mean that?”

“Fuck, if it means I can get your head back where it should be, sure. What do you need?”

He’d thought about asking Armitage for help. But help with… what, he didn’t know. How should he approach you? At the hospital? On your way home? Would you be happy to see him? Or would you think he was a creep? Kylo’s fingers twitch at the memory of your fingers wound through his. Even if you rejected him, he’d sooner go crazy over simply not knowing.

“Well…”

…

Jesus, it’s been a long day. A long week, really. You try to pull a pin out of your bun that has been digging into your scalp all day while simultaneously fumbling for your keys, already mentally falling into bed. But not before changing out of these scrubs. They’re covered in… well, you can’t honestly remember, but it’s not glitter and fairy dust, and even these are your back up scrubs you change into when the others get nasty. This is just the kind of week where you run out of back up scrubs, sadly.

The door opens, you drop your bag down the moment you step inside, not caring where it lands, then reach down to untie your tennis shoes when someone coughs. Wait.

What?

You freeze, still bent over, afraid to look up. Someone is in your apartment. From your awkward position you can see the silhouette of feet in the dark, casting a shadow over your hardwood floor. Someone is sitting on the couch in the dark in your apartment.

So while trying to casually continue to untie your shoes, even with your fingers shaking like hell,, you manage to quietly unzip the front pocket of your bag and pull out a small can of mace at the same time. One shoe comes off. Then the other. You stand, eyes trying to focus in the dark, but all you see is black and the small suggestion of gray, indicating a presence.

One… two… three…

You flip on the light switch with the mace squarely in front of you, shaking with adrenaline as you prepare for the intruder to leap at you. But… he doesn’t. He stays on the couch, and now his hands are in the air, eyes wide as he stares down the bottle of mace from a few feet away.

“Y/N, don’t-”

“Who-” you pause. Take in the curly hair, the brown eyes, the tattoos decorating his arms, one of which has a fresh surgical scar still healing on it. “-Kylo?”

“Um… hi.”

Relief sweeps through your body so fiercely you have to lean against the door for support. He must have seen you waver because he gets up in an instant, reaching for you. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay, I-”

“What the hell are you doing!?” You practically shriek, your voice an octave higher than its normal range. “What- what?! Kylo? I nearly attacked you!”

He winces, and backs up a few paces, like he’s afraid you still might. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea-”

He’s rambling as you get your breath back, and eventually your brain begins to process that Kylo Ren is standing in your apartment. It’s been two weeks since he was discharged from the hospital. And despite your hands still shaking and clutching the mace and your heart beating out of your chest… you’re happy to see him. Honestly happy to see him.

“Kylo- Kylo! Stop!” He does, shutting his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“Um- waiting for you.”

“In my apartment? In the dark? How did you even get in here?”

“I- you probably don’t want to know.”

Jesus Christ. “So you-” you blink and shake your head in disbelief, still not processing. “You broke into my apartment. To wait for me until I got home from work. Do you- do you need something? Why didn’t you just go to the hospital?”

“I needed to see you.”

Your brain goes into nurse mode, and you immediately step closer so you can see the still-healing wound on his arm. “Did it not close up properly? Is it infected? If so we need to get you on antibiotics-” you reach for his arm without thinking, and he intercepts you midair, grabbing your wrist like he did so many times in the hospital. The feeling is almost familiar. You look up at him. “What?”

“The scar is fine. I just-” he seems to be at a loss for words. The two of you stare at each other for a second. And then, ever so slowly, just like he did the last night you saw him, he lets his hand wander up to your cheek, stroking a piece of hair back behind your ear.

You suddenly realize the two of you are very, very close.

But you don’t move his hand away either.

“Just what?” Your voice is a little breathy, probably because your heart is once again racing at a million miles an hour. It ratchets up to a million and one when Kylo steps even closer and pulls you to him, letting his head dip towards yours so he can capture your lips in a kiss.

It’s gentle and incredibly hesitant, so soft you can hardly tell it’s there. But when you don’t move away his hand slides to the back of your neck and he kisses you deeper, making tingles run all up and down your spine.

Both of you are breathing hard when he finally pulls away. “I just needed to do that at least once,” he whispers, and before you can respond he’s shouldered past you and is halfway out the door.

“Kylo- Kylo! Wait!” You shut the door before he can leave, practically barring it with your body. “You can’t- you can’t just say nothing and then kiss me and then leave and-”

His eyes darken as he looks down at you. “Do you want me to stay?”

You hear yourself reply before your brain catches up with your mouth. “Yes.”

He smiles, a brilliant smile that’s become the quickest way to melt your heart. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Both of you blink. And you don’t really know if you or he’s the one who goes in first for the next kiss, but then, it really doesn’t matter now does it? Because the way he murmurs “my angel” against your lips has you reeling like you have just fallen from heaven.

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV

 Epilogue

           As they exited the courtroom for recess, Kally wished she hadn’t worn a skirt. Everything was miserable enough without having uncomfortable clothing on the list.

           Nikhil, Merry’s little brother, looked terrified. His gangly limbs looked awkward and stick-figure in his charcoal suit, like someone decided to stuff a scarecrow with dowel rods. Although Merry was pretending everything was fine, there was too much talk of foster homes. Neither sibling wanted to be split up again. With Merry’s emancipation, it was looking more and more likely. If Nikhil stayed at his Mom’s, then Merry would be close by and could do some proper mothering from a distance. But, Mrs. Blythe had missed out on too many court dates concerning Merry’s abusive stepfather.

           When Nikhil went to use the bathroom, all of Merry’s feigned confidence deflated. She collapsed onto one of the benches in the eerily sterile, white hallway. Kally had to wonder why all government buildings thought white was a good idea. What a comforting color when you’re settling a violent family dispute.

           “They’re not going to let me take care of him,” Merry said.

           Her voice was as hollow as her expression. No humming. No “sweetie” or “bae.” Even her outfit looked really… not Merry: a conservative business suit that couldn’t cover her curves and her wavy hair twisted up into a bun.

           Kally wished she knew what to do. Pax would have cracked a joke, but she hadn’t seen him since their chaotic Christmas dinner. Calex probably would have known best, but he hadn’t been able to come back from Britain. He’d fought hard to scrounge up enough money for a flight, but his side job didn’t make enough extra to helping his father with the funeral debts, contribute to rent, and pay for a ticket.

           Merry had teased him on the phone, had told him it was fine.

           Now, Merry’s face was pale. There wasn’t a trace of a smile on her lips. Kally could tell she hadn’t been sleeping.  

           “I did a lot of research with Malcolm about the laws for this,” Merry continued, her eyes distantly staring at the sunlight trickling through the window. A beautiful backdrop of a parking lot. “If an older, emancipated sibling can provide for their younger sibling, they’ll sometimes let them live together, but, I disappeared when he needed me… They’re going to keep him in permanent foster care. He doesn’t even like his temporary foster family.”

           Merry’s eyes glistened.

           Kally took Merry’s hand and squeezed it. “Hey, we’re going to make sure you can see Nik.”

           Merry’s eyes focused. She forced a smile. Although Kally hadn’t seen Merry nearly as much as she would have liked—something about being grounded for eternity as punishment for “running away” for a few months and drowning under makeup school work—Kally could tell Merry hadn’t been taking any of what happened well. Not that any of them could, but what happened to Hiro haunted Merry. Merry did not like that she had the power to drive people insane. It especially terrified Kally when Pollux gave her a call on the camp phone to say that Merry was second guessing whether she could have driven her own father to beat her.

           With the two months of distance between them and the Battle of Saturnalia, Kally almost wished these monsters were the kind she could hit with a light javelin.

           Then, the recess ended, and everyone was allowed back into the courtroom. Kally made sure not to look Merry’s adoptive father or her mother in the face. She was afraid she’d punch both of them for what they’d done to their children and that didn’t seem like a great idea with so many deputies patrolling the halls.

           The judge, an elderly, possibly senile Hispanic man named Justice Jose, shuffled back into the courtroom. For the entire proceedings, Kally had feared he would pass out. He and his two deputies had been glistening with sweat and clearly sick.

           Now, however, he looked much better. Color had returned to his wrinkled complexion. She’d heard Nikhil make a half-hearted joke about the judge really needing to go to the bathroom when he called recess so close to the final hearing. Maybe Nikhil had been right. No upset stomachs allowed in the courtroom.

           There was something different about him though, something Kally probably shouldn’t have even noticed because it was so subtle: he was wearing thin, black gloves.

           When Kally glanced at his two deputies, something else weird happened. Already, she couldn’t really remember what they looked like. Now, she struggled to look them in the face at all, and not because she’d broken the law several times in the last few months.

           Each time she did look at one, she immediately forgot his features, beyond the fact that the deputy was tall and a male. Hadn’t one of them been a female before?

           Kally was so distracted, she didn’t register the court formalities. She was so conditioned to standing and sitting at mass, the motions blurred past.

           But, her mind sharpened when Jose said, “I think we’ve heard enough from the different parties. Normally, I might go through an explanation to Mr. Sukumar Priya and Mrs. Blythe as to why I find them unfit to raise Nikhil, but I believe we have covered that amply.”

           Merry blinked and glanced over at Kally. This judge had been very wordy, like Homeric epic wordy, before.

           “From her financial records and the amount of maturity and responsibility that this merry girl has illustrated—”

           Merry’s eyes widened. During the entire proceedings, they’d been referring to her by her legal name, either Maari or Ms. Blythe. The judge looked like he’d held off a smile at the comment.

           “—she clearly is the best option to take care of her little brother. We will set up another home inspection and check in the next month after.”

           Kally almost didn’t hear anything else.

           Merry’s jaw dropped. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

           Kally felt the same happen to her. She didn’t even catch the judge delegating the decision’s write up to a clerk, who looked confused and skeptical. Jose signed a paper and said, “This court is adjourned.”

***

           They were celebrating as they left the courthouse. Kally’s older brother, John, would be driving around to pick them up, and she knew she could bully him into taking them for dessert. He’d been a lot more protective and attentive since she’d been back, especially after the massive fight that Kally had with their mother. And the fact that Kally could barely move the first month with her broken ribs.

           When they turned to the parking garage, Kally froze.

           On the sidewalk, facing away from her, there was a person wearing a silk burgundy suit. His hair was gelled back into a perfect, short ponytail.

           Reflexively, Kally’s hand shot into her messenger bag. Her chest constricted, and she felt her rib pain return with her panic.

           She stepped in front of Merry and Nikhil, withdrawing her Argonaut statue.

           There was no way—she wouldn’t be able to—he couldn’t be alive—

           “Kall! Merry!”

           Kally’s vision had tunneled. She had noticed two figures standing on either side of Mr. Burgundy Suit, like henchmen, but she hadn’t registered them beyond the matching dress shirts.

           One of the two henchies—the tallest one—had broken off, rapidly walking towards her with a broad grin.

           There was no muzzle or straight jacket, but Kally still took a step backwards, horrified this might be a trick.

           His black hair had grown out. Instead of the military style cut he used to have, the bangs hung long, and would have concealed his dark eyes if the bangs weren’t so fluffy. The once-neatly trimmed goatee was longer too, giving him a look crossed between a disheveled, adventurer and a rock star. The scarification gleamed on his bronzed skin.

           Mr. Burgundy Suit whirled towards his rogue underling. “Axel! This isn’t the dramatic reunion we agreed to! We’ll never get this valuable opportunity back!”

           Axel ignored him. He also ignored the way Kally squeaked when he picked her up by the waist for a bear hug.

           Kally felt her cheeks warm up. The suspicion dissolved and she hugged Axel back tightly. “You guys are okay,” she whispered.

           Axel nodded. He held her for an instant longer, then slowly lowered her feet back to the ground.

           There had been no word from them since Christmas. Lapis hadn’t even come after Merry like he’d promised. They had no idea if the Romans had captured them, other than a quick message from Nico and Will assuring her that Frank had no progress on his hunt. But, she’d been wondering if the Romans and Greeks were covering things up or if any gods with a taste for Pax vendettas had achieved vengeance or if the Pax boys had disappeared into the forests of Belize like a bad folk tale monster.

           Kally was genuinely torn between giving each of them a kiss on the check or slugging them hard in the diaphragm. She’d probably have to do both.

           Axel gave Merry a warm smile. “It’s good to see you, Merry. And you must be Nikhil. I heard you two just had a major victory.”

           Nikhil had taken a step behind his sister, practically vanishing. He made a grunt noise. Kally felt bad. He’d gone through too much today to meet these maniacs. Though this was pretty tame compared to the first time she’d met the Pax brothers. Not enough flaming cars.

           Not that we need flaming cars, she thought, in case any Fates were listening.

           Merry’s eyes went glassy again. This time, though, she swayed softly to a tune she was humming. “You dodgy, wonderful works of nature.”

           Kally didn’t quite understand until Pax came over. Her stomach twisted to see him in that familiar burgundy suit with his hair slicked back. One resilient lock still popped out in the front, like a flag that said, I will never be tamed!

           Then, she saw what Merry had: Pax wore a pair of thin, black gloves. The same ones Jose had been wearing.

           There was no way for them to know about the verdict unless they were in the courtroom itself. Well, unless they had threatened the first person out of the courtroom, which is something they would do.

           Pax stopped a few feet away from Kally, giving her his most devilish smile.

           Behind him, a tall, gangly figure approached in a similar burgundy dress shirt with black tie.

           Last time Kally saw Alabaster, he’d been sickly pale and trying to hide his want as everyone else shoveled Christmas food into their mouths. Everything he ate had to be puréed.

           Although Alabaster was still pale like her—he’d always burn within ten minutes of sun contact—there was more color to his freckled cheeks. A thin scar traced where his jawbone had protruded the skin a few months ago. His wry smile looked far less painful as he said, “It’s good to see you Kally.”

           He could talk. Kally didn’t see any wires or anything.

           When he turned to Merry, he merely nodded his head and said, “Ol’Sissy.”

           “Proof that Kally has questionable taste in men,” Merry retorted, folding her arms and looking him up and down like the most disappointed of matchmakers.

           “Aw, Merry! I think Witch-Boy looks hot in a suit and tie,” Pax said with a wink.

           Both Kally and Alabaster blushed. Pax wasn’t wrong. They all looked good in a creepy Santiago’s men wore these when they were being evil way, and it made Kally want to slap them harder and demand where they’d been.

           “Who are these guys? They look like Agents of Shield villains,” Nikhil muttered from behind Merry.

           “We’re the psychopaths that kidnapped your sister and her hot friend,” Pax said.

           “So, demigods,” Nikhil said. He’d been taking some time getting used to the new knowledge of the world, but Merry, Dionysus, and Chiron agreed it was necessary if Merry wanted to have any hand in her brother’s life.

           “Fifty percent,” Pax agreed, gesturing towards Alabaster and himself. He pointed a thumb to Axel, and waggled it between them. “The other fifty is primordial awesome.”

           Axel shook his head, smiling.

           “You’re weird,” Nikhil said. His shoulder relaxed a little and he took a timid step out from behind his sister.

           She completely sidestepped to leave him fully exposed. Merry: ever the coddling caretaker.

           Pax wiped a fake tear from his eye. “We only just started talking and he already knows me so well.”

           “You must be Pax,” Nikhil said, pointing a finger.

           “I was story worthy?” Pax asked. If he were an anime character, his eyes would have sparkled.

           “You were warning worthy,” Merry said. “I know you didn’t just wear those to give Kally and me a heart attack.” She gestured at Pax’s suit and Axel and Alabaster’s burgundy dress shirts.

           “We’re rebranding,” Pax said.

           The stiffness of his smile made the unease return to Kally’s stomach. Something inside Kally said that Pax shouldn’t have been the one to answer that question. He hated those suits. He had sobbed to her when his father made him jell his hair back for their violent family reunion.

           The unease turned to nausea when she realized how much Pax really did look like his father. The more his face had matured from cute to handsome, the closer it got. With the stiffness of that smile, the way his shoulders were held back, and the disquieting confidence—

           Kally shook off the thought.

           Another one immediately clouded her mind. He was answering for Axel and Alabaster. They stood on either side of him like a pair of bodyguards. Pax also hadn’t tried to hug her or touch her at all. Weird to think that boundary respect would be foreboding but—

           “There are a few changes we’re excited to—”

           Merry’s eyes went wide. She held up a hand to cut Pax off. “Stop everything.” She took a step closer to Axel, rising on her tiptoes to examine him thoroughly. Kally wondered if she’d picked up on the same oddities and was about to call one of them out on it.

“Your neck.” She pointed a finger into his chest. “What beautiful creature got a hold of it?”

           Kally feared she meant that someone had strangled Axel. When she saw what Merry meant, Kally’s hand shot up to cover her lips, a habit that she’d been trying to break.

           There were at least four bruises, two just under his ear and two peeking out from his collar, with skin discoloration speckling the skin beside it. Kally couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed them before. They were—

“Are those hickeys?” the words blurted out of Kally’s mouth before she could choke them back.

Really. Obvious. Hickeys.

           Axel’s smile turned to a cocky smirk. He cracked his neck and glanced innocently off to the side. He didn’t even blush.

           “Witness his open defiance of societal standards,” Pax said, making a grand show-man gesture.

           “No,” Merry said in clear disbelief at Axel’s shamelessness. Her grin was enormous.

           Pax pouted and folded his arms across his chest. The perfect posture caved as he slouched gloomily. “He won’t spill. The worst part from this devious fiend? Yesterday, I was gone all day on boring business stuff, and he had a peace meeting with a praetor in the afternoon, and went to a Green Day concert with Grace at night. And Bast has constant access to the house. Could have been an actual empousa for all I know.”

           “I know who it was,” Alabaster said, feigning disinterest as he checked over some spell pouches along his belt.

           “You’re bluffing,” Pax said, “You just want something to hold over my head.”

           “You’re upset because you have no way to find out if I’m bluffing and can’t make me talk if I’m not,” Alabaster said.

           From the way Alabaster and Axel exchanged a glance, she could tell how much they enjoyed dangling this in front of Pax.

           The youngest whined and huffed.

           Kally’s worries melted at their ridiculousness. This was still them. Though, what had Pax meant by business stuff? Alabaster may be capable of becoming a reasonable member of society, but the Pax boys had spent most of their time training and doing street performances before she met them.

           “Oh Mr. Stoic, don’t you go thinking you can hide this from Auntie Merry,” Merry said and folded her arms across her chest. Unlike Pax, she looked more like a mob boss or a proper Queen of Gossip with the motion. Kally was always terrified of how Merry could twist people’s personal info—or assumed personal info—against them.

           Axel pulled out a packet of gum from his pocket. He gave her a grin as he withdrew a piece and slowly folded it into his mouth. “Gentlemen,” Axel said, “Do not kiss and tell.” He looked so proud of himself.

           He offered the gum out to the group.

           Nikhil timidly reached forward and took a piece. “Looking at your neck, I don’t think the person you’re interested in wants anything to do with someone who is gentle,” the kid said.

           Merry gave the most genuine laugh that Kally had heard since everything happened during the Festival of Saturnalia.

           A slight blush finally lit up Axel’s cheeks. Maybe he had to hear it from a fourteen-year-old.

           Kally could tell her face had gone bright red. She often forgot Axel was a Pax boy. When she first met them, Axel was always restrained by the stress of running from their psychotic father and New Rome, of struggling to keep his little brother safe and fed, of crumbling under the guilt of a failed army. He looked so much more relaxed, so much… younger, and, with the new hair, almost wild.

           She never considered how much of a terror Axel could be without those worries. Especially if he put all of his efforts towards charming over one girl. Kally had always assumed it would be Reyna, but Pax’s grumpiness and Merry’s conniving grin made her wonder.  Thalia hadn’t revoked her vows, had she? Not like Kally would have heard about it. She didn’t even know if Thalia and Euna had been talking.

           Anger threatened to bubble when she realized they had been keeping in touch with some of their other friends and not her.

           “Merry, lunch is on me if you can weasel information out of him. That’s usually my forte, but, alas…” Pax glared at his brother. “I’ve been a weasel failure.”

           “You can try,” Axel said. He pinched the gum between his front teeth and pulled it forward with his pointer and middle finger, the same way someone might hold a cigarette, then slipped it back into his mouth.

           “This guy is cool,” Nikhil said.

           “You’re forbidden from looking at him as role model material,” Merry said. “And don’t think you can distract us from the fancy get-ups with this information, at least not for long.”

           “Can’t I?” Axel asked, raising an eyebrow.

           “It’s dangerous when these two agree to work together,” Alabaster said, voicing exactly what Kally was thinking. “Shall we move this conversation to a restaurant? We passed an acceptable-looking ramen house on the way here, and I think Ajax just offered your celebratory lunch on him.”

           That felt too smooth. That ramen house was a spot Merry and Kally enjoyed visiting when they had spare cash from birthdays and could con one of their parents or Kally’s siblings into taking them. They hadn’t been able to go with Merry pooling all her extra cash to get a place for Nikhil. Mr. D was helping, but they all knew it would look suspicious if Merry didn’t come across as financially responsible on her records.

           Merry clucked her tongue. “As suspicious as ever boys.”

           “We’ll need to invite John,” Kally warned, desperately wanting to go, even if this whole thing felt weird. When it came to them, when did anything ever not feel weird? Plus, she still needed to punch all three of them for keeping out of contact for so long.

           “Augh, your brother is an ass,” Nikhil grumbled.

           “Language, sweetie. Remember the rule? SAT hot word with every cuss,” Merry said.

           “Fine. He’s a supercilious ass,” Nikhil said.

           “There’s my smart boy,” Merry said. She tried to pinch his cheek. Nikhil batted her away, clearly embarrassed around the older boys.

           Pax stood up straighter with excitement. “We’ll just have Alabaster talk to John. He’s white. White people like white people, right?”

           Considering John was a walking stereotype of racism, this was a scenario that Kally couldn’t scold Pax for saying that. It still made Kally cringe with secondhand embarrassment. She wanted to point out that John thought that Alabaster was a city-slicker pansy. The only thing that pissed her brother off more than race was the amount of money someone had.

           “I would like to think that Merry can do an exquisite job of broadening his horizons without my assistance,” Alabaster said.

           Merry’s jaw jutted to the side. Both she and Kally cringed at the old discomfort they felt whenever Kally brought Merry to her house. “That stubborn hunbun—”

           “Supercilious ass,” Nikhil said, looking proud of himself. Kally couldn’t help but notice that he’d put his hands into his pockets the same way Axel had.

           “—has commented that he doesn’t view me as Desi anymore, like it’s a compliment,” Merry’s voice was tight. “Though, I think it’ll do him some good to spend more time with you two. I heard he has a certain respect for Mr. Stoic.”

           Axel looked amused. The first time Axel met John, he’d sent John  running faster than a drunken centaur in fear. Kally had to hope, with Axel’s presence demanding respect, Merry’s wit, and Pax’s playfulness, John would become more open-minded over time.

           Alabaster, Axel, and Pax offered to escort them to the designated space that Merry, Nikhil, and Kally had agreed to meet John. They ought to start moving anyway, considering the matching style of the boy’s dress was drawing attention from the deputies just inside the courthouse.

           “So whose nicked money is paying for our lunch?” Merry hummed as they walked. Kally was ecstatic to see a slight dance in Merry’s step again.

           Pax inhaled sharply. “Merry, the person who this money belongs to is a perfectly respectable member of society. They would be offended that you insinuated otherwise.”

           Everyone laughed, though the ones coming from Axel and Alabaster sounded dark.

           Kally swallowed. At least for today, she wanted to have a “normal” lunch with them, as normal as they could handle.[1] Merry had her brother. Kally knew the boys were alive. Would they run out of conversation if they avoided anything serious for this round? Between Merry trying to worm information out of Axel and Pax teasing John, Kally felt the normalcy of the conversation was fabricated. She wondered if they could keep it to normal conversations, if they could make it through a meal without having a dragon attack. By the end of the day, Kally was shocked to find out that they could.

***

One chapter left before the series is done T.T Seriously guys, thank you so much for reading this far and dealing with all of my nonsense. *Pax sniffles* Okay, okay, saving it for next week. Tune in for the last chapter, Epilogue Part II!!!!

***

Footnote:

[1] Melbeta note, “I’m imagining as she says this a monster just bursts through the shop and causes destruction.” Jack, “That’s the movie version.”

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 12 - Soon

Author's Note: Firstly, Happy Halloween everyone! :D I hope you're all having a fantastic day/night. I know I am. It's my favorite holiday and as such, I figured I'd try and get a chapter or two done in time for today, so here you go!

Surprisingly, I'm not going to add any warnings for this one (and yes, you should be worried if there's nothing bad happening in this chapter). Of all of the chapters in the story, this one has to be the most tame. There isn't any gore, and while there is some angst, it's nothing compared to what has already happened in the story. Not a lot happens in this chapter - it's more dialogue based than anything - but it is crucial to what'll end up happening next. Consider this chapter like a break for you guys - it's giving you guys a chance to breathe and get yourselves mentally prepared for what's to come in the last couple of chapters. Because believe me, when I release Part 13...ha...haha.....hahaha...hahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! >:D

Consider this your warning!

Listen to this playlist while reading.

Enjoy!

 Useless – that’s exactly how he felt. Completely and utterly useless.

He hadn’t a clue where he was right now, not when he was currently swimming in a never-ending sea of darkness. Everything was black in his wake; how was he to know where he was or what was going on if the shadows were blinding him? All he had to go off of were the horrid noises that were causing his blood to run ice cold.

These sounds – they were haunting. He felt as though there was significance to each and every one, like he had heard them before somewhere at some point. Gun shots were blaring, sounding as though a mass shooting was taking place. The horrific screams of innocent people echoed throughout this darkened hell he was encased in – every single one of them begging and pleading for their lives.  And it wasn’t just adults who were getting harmed, children were as well. He could tell from the pitch of the cries for help, as well as the terrified whimpers and sobs that accompanied them.

What was going on? Why couldn’t he see anything? Why was he hearing these nightmare-inducing things? He felt so helpless – so weak and scared. He may not have been able to see what was going on, but he had an idea and it was sending tremors of fear down his spine. He wanted to do something, he wanted to save these people and try and stop whoever was responsible for the massacre. But he couldn’t do anything, not when the dark had a hold on his mind and soul. He longed to yell out into the endless abyss and put an end to this hell. However, he couldn’t. All that expelled from his lips were his own laboured shaky breaths of panic, increasing in speed as his heart followed suit. The poor organ was beating away at his ribcage so brutally his chest was beginning to ache. The rush of blood in his ears pumped so loudly to the point of blocking out the screams of the murderer’s victims.

All he could hear now was the rush of blood.

And all he could feel was something moving…

Something was moving inside of him.  

He could feel something squirming and slithering around, resonating inside his head and slowly making its way down his spine, weaving throughout his entire body. An overwhelming sensation surged through him, bringing new life to his being. He gasped as his vision pulsed, a very brief glimpse of figures illuminating before his eyes. With each released breath, a flash of his surroundings would occur, but not for long. Everything was still very much blacker than black, but the figures around him – they were all glowing. It was almost as if he had some kind of sonar or sensory overload all of a sudden. However, there was something incredibly disturbing about this newly acquired “gift of sight”.

Everything that was highlighted – the victims, anything in the background such as trees and parked cars, the shooter, who for some strange reason was a completely blurred out manifestation – was blood red. With each pulse of his vision, thin lines of red produced from them all; branching out in every which direction, slowly but surely fogging up his brain with nothing but bloodshed. He could hear his laboured breaths dying down into demented, inhuman laughter. He could feel his body tensing up, his hands balling up into fists. He is holding something in his right hand. There’s a faint clicking sound. His index finger – it’s resting on a trigger, hesitating to add pressure. His hand is shaking – from fear, anger, sadness, who knows? But he can feel it in his gut. There’s a horrendous sense of dread manifesting deep inside of him, growing in size at an alarming rate and constricting his lungs tightly. And yet…And yet he needs to do this.

He WANTS to.

All he sees is red as he raises the gun, another jolt of adrenaline striking him like a bolt of lightning. His vision throbs black for a second – a set of sickly green eyes and a deathly white grin piercing through the eternal darkness – but it appears so quickly, he barely has the time to process the image.

His fingertip is starting to apply pressure to the trigger, tempted to put an end to this. 

He makes out faint laughter in the back of his mind, taunting him and hissing insidious truths to him repeatedly to the point of driving him insane. He growls and yells out in distress, bashing the gun against his head violently in a desperate attempt to block out this evil that’s pestering him. But there’s no point. He’s going to give in and he knows it. He KNOWS it. 

His heart stutters, skipping over a couple of beats. He pulls the trigger as he hears the terrified cries of his children. 

All he sees is red. Blood red. 

He’s covered in it. 

There’s so much of it – so much red.  

And this thing inside of him, whatever it is that’s swimming through his veins – it’s pleased. It’s grinning with delight, knowing he’s made a right. 

And the worst part is he believes this. 

Body jolting with a start, Chase’s eyes flew open and he gasped in alarm, getting forced out of the horrifying nightmare he’d just had. Almost immediately a searing pain channeled through his head and he groaned, shutting his eyes tightly for a second. He hesitantly reopened them, staring up at a cream-colored ceiling. He felt incredibly tired and out of it, and he could very vaguely make out the soft beeping of a heart monitor coming from somewhere off to his right. Brows furrowing out of puzzlement, the American slowly turned his head in the direction of where the sound was coming from and spotted a heart monitor a foot away from the bed he was settled in. He blinked in confusion and glanced down at himself, finally taking notice of where he was. He was tucked under blankets in what looked like a hospital bed, and he was wearing a gown, having been stripped of his grey T-shirt and black skinny jeans. He was hooked up to an IV, as well as the heart monitor, and there was a nasal cannula wrapped over his head, supplying oxygen for him.  

His right temple throbbed sharply and he winced, clenching his teeth and letting out a hiss of agony. What had happened? Why was he in the hospital? Had the doctor brought him here? And if he had, why? Chase shut his eyes and tried to recall the events that had taken place before he had woken up, but everything was a blur. All he could remember was how he had been given permission from Jack to have some screen time on the channel, and thus, he and his cameraman immediately set out to record a video of him doing some sick shots. Everything after that had gone black – he hadn’t the slightest idea what would’ve led him into getting admitted to the hospital. And as if he didn’t already have enough questions on his mind, he couldn’t help but get haunted by visions of what he’d seen and heard in his nightmare. What had that all been about? 

He released a groan of frustration as he blinked tiredly. He was far too drained of energy to be putting up with thoughts like these right now.  

Sharp pain panged against his skull horribly once more, worse than before, and he whimpered, reflexively lifting a hand up to gently touch the side of his head. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his head, blood staining the right side of them. The fabric was slightly warm and damp and question fell upon him. What –  

“Ah, look who decided to vake up.” 

The green-haired American nearly had a heart attack at hearing the German voice. He jolted and his eyes darted to the door to see Dr. Henrik von Schneeplestein standing there, clipboard in hand and a petite hopeful smile upon his face. Chase let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping in. He hadn’t heard the door open; he’d been too caught up in his own questions.

“Doc?” He questioned, his voice soft and giving proof of just how tired he was. How long had he been out for? 

The doctor only smiled and nodded in response, turning to close the door behind him. A dull ache came from Chase’s right temple and he gasped, moving his hand to touch the bandages once again. He went to move, going to give a try at sitting up, but his vision instantly began to swim and the ache he felt in his head only grew worse. He winced and groaned in agony as he heard Schneeple approach the bed. 

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t do zhat.” He saw the doctor out of the corner of his eye, feeling his hand gently push on his shoulder and insist he lay back down. “You’re in very bad condition. Ve vouldn’t vant it getting any vorse.” 

Chase let out a defeated sigh as he settled back down onto the bed, taking his hand away from his head. 

“It’s best zhat you take it easy. No need to strain yourself.” 

Chase blinked groggily before turning his attention up onto the doctor. His brows furrowed in confusion, tearing his eyes away as he struggled to conjure up the memories of what had happened. 

“What…What happened? Where am I?” 

The smile from Schneeple’s face fell away immediately.

“You know vhere you are, Chase.”

 “Yeah, but…but what happened?” The American asked. His eyes shifted back to the German. “Why am I here?”

  Now it was Henrik’s turn to be overcome by question. He frowned, staring at his patient with perplexity.

 “Vait, you…you don’t remember vhat happened?” He inquired.

 Chase shook his head, eyes locked with the good doctor’s. Henrik knew Chase quite well – they were really close friends, actually. They got along and were always there for each other. Henrik KNEW Chase. He knew the man was a child at heart and would never keep any secrets from him. So when he looked deep into his friend’s eyes, he could only see innocence gleaming in them, accompanied with a hybrid of fear and confusion. Chase wasn’t lying to him – the doctor knew this for a fact. Chase would never lie to him, especially if it involved something as serious as this. The German’s eyes narrowed before he glanced down at his clipboard, flipping over the top page and scanning through his notes quickly. His expression only became more puzzled. He peered over the edge of his glasses back at his recovering patient. He shook his head slightly.

  “You don’t remember anyzhing – anyzhing at all?”

 Chase took a moment to really think and try his hardest to bring about the memories that were seemingly long-lost, staring off into space, but nothing was coming to him. No matter how hard he tried, everything was remaining a blurry mess. He couldn’t even recall anything that he had heard or felt. He most certainly didn’t remember getting a head wound either. He shook his head again, returning his tired gaze to the doctor.

  “No…No, I don’t remember anything.” He blinked, his brows weaving out of worry now. “What happened, Doc?”

 Henrik stood there for a long minute, alternating between taking looks at his clipboard and his dear friend. He didn’t know if telling him the truth right at this very moment was the best idea. After all, Chase had just woken up. The man was dazed and drained – he had little to no energy at all. The news may have been incredibly important, but the American needed rest more than anything. If Schneeple told him, there’d be no telling how he’d react. The last thing he needed was for Chase to be stressed out…and yet…

  The German doctor turned and set his clipboard down on a nearby table, avoiding having to make eye contact with his patient.

  “You shot yourself, Chase.” He wasn’t going to sugar-coat it – how could he with something as serious as that? “You…You shot yourself, zhat’s vhat happened.”

  A wave of heart-wrenching silence flooded into the room and it remained lingering there for what felt like hours. He could make out the shaky uneven breaths of his patient, only proving to him that the man honestly didn’t know what he’d done.

 “What?” Chase’s voice cracked, evidently letting some of his fear slip through.

 Henrik whirled around to face him, staring at him sternly. He was breathing rather deeply now and his jaw was locked tight. It seemed as though he was struggling to keep his emotions at bay. He didn’t want to get angry at his friend, especially with just how weak and disoriented he was, but Schneeple couldn’t bear it. He was hurt and pissed off and he couldn’t hide that from Chase.

 “You heard me. You tried to blow your brains out, Chase. Vhy? Vhy zee fuck vould you do zhat? Vhy zee FUCK vould you do somezhing like zhat?!” The mad man slammed a fist down violently on the nearby table, the loud bang causing Chase to jump and widen his eyes in surprise.

  “I…I don’t – .”

  “Your cameraman, vhatever zee fuck his name is, said you had been on zee phone vith Stacy before zee incident. Somezhing about you two getting a divorce and her getting custody over zee kids?”

 Chase could only stare at the doctor with confusion. Everything he was saying wasn’t making any sense to him. Had that all really happened? Had he been on the phone with Stacy? Had Stacy said those things to him? His heart clenched tightly in his chest and he suddenly found himself having a difficult time breathing properly, as though there was a weight pressing down on his chest and crushing his lungs. He heard Henrik scoff.

  “I should’ve known Stacy vould’ve been your undoing, but Chase, vhy? VHY?! Vhy zee FUCK vould you resort to somezhing so drastic – so horrible and selfish?” The doctor continued on with his rant. “I mean, I get it. I knew – VE all knew zhings veren’t going so vell between you and Stacy. Ve knew you vere going zhrough a hard time and you never vanted to talk about it vith any of us. You like to zhink everyzhing is happy and vonderful and perfect. Everyzhing in your mind is perfect, even vhen everyzhing goes to shit. So vhy?” He glared daggers at the perplexed man. “Vhy vould you resort to suicide, Chase? Vhat zee fuck could’ve possibly made you zhink zhat vas zee only reasonable solution?!”

  The American’s heart constricted again and he tore his gaze away from the doctor, shutting his eyes tightly as he struggled to take out the wall that was keeping his memories from him. Slowly but surely, fragments were coming to him. Nothing major, but the things his friend was saying were most certainly triggering him.

 “You know me, Chase. You know me and I know you. Ve have been friends for some time now, ve never keep secrets from each other. If you vere hurting, if zee pain was getting to you zhat badly, vhy didn’t you say anyzhing? Vhy didn’t you come to any of us – vhy didn’t you come to me?!” Henrik shouted. And although the German was furious and lashing out at him, when Chase turned to look up at him, he could see pain as clear as day swirling within the doctor’s eyes. It was leaking into his words as well.

  “You KNOW me, Chase. Vhat, did you zhink you vere zee only one going zhrough hell?” Henrik leaned forward a bit, never taking his eyes off of his friend. “My vife and kids left me months ago for someone else. Zhey don’t vant anyzhing to do vith me. Zhey zhink I’m a failure. I haven’t seen zeem in vhat has seemed like ages.” He shook his head and bit his bottom lip, turning his gaze away and trying to stave off any tears from coming to his eyes. After a brief moment to collect himself, his eyes fell back onto Chase and this time, the American could see the tears welling up. “You zhink you’re zee only one in pain? Bullshit.” He spat.

 Chase searched his eyes, his mouth hanging open agape. He had never seen Henrik this angry and this hurt before. Yes, he knew things hadn’t been well for the German and his family, but Henrik rarely spoke about just how much it had all been tearing him up inside. Chase licked his lips and went to speak, but he didn’t get a chance – Henrik carried on with his spiel.

  “Did you not zhink about anyone else vhen you put zhat gun to your head? Did you not once zhink about zee consequences of vhat the effects vould’ve been on any one of us? Did you not zhink about Marvin, Jackieboy Man, or Jack? Did you not zhink about vhat your death vould’ve done to any of zhem? For fuck sake, vhat about your children? Zhey still love you, Chase, and you had no problem putting a gun to your head and pulling zhe trigger – during a recording, no less?! Jesus fucking Christ, Chase – vhat zee fuck vas going zhrough your head?!”

�� Chase didn’t know what to say. He was at a loss for words. He could very vaguely remember parts of what had happened – like how he had been on the phone with Stacy, how he’d been filming a video with his cameraman and his friend, Chad – but everything else was still all indecipherable. He couldn’t recall having ever shot himself, let alone come up with a good enough reason as to why he would’ve been driven to such an over-exaggerated reaction to his wife’s words. None of this made any sense to the poor man. He could feel tears welling up in his own eyes. He was so horribly confused and he wished he could remember exactly why he had done what he’d done. He watched his friend look away from him and stand up straight, struggling to calm himself down and keep himself from crying.

  “Vhy?” He asked in such a soft voice, Chase barely even heard it over the beeping of the heart monitor. The doctor glanced back at him, nothing but hurt and sadness shining in his eyes. The anger was long gone now. “Vhy didn’t you say anyzhing?” He said in a pleading tone, desperately wanting an answer.

  Chase shook his head and struggled to speak up. “I-I don’t know. I don’t remember shooting myself, I don’t, I - .” He felt a tear run down his cheek and he tore his gaze away from Henrik. He shook his head again and gave a very nervous chuckle before eyeing the doctor. “I don’t know why I would’ve done such a thing, man, I don’t. I really don’t.” He sniffled. “I mean, I vaguely remember speaking with Stacy, and yeah, things have been absolute shit between us. But…” His brows furrowed. “But trying to kill myself?” He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, eyes roaming the room. “Fucking Christ, man…” Another lone tear raced down his face as he closed his eyes. He reopened them, staring up at Henrik with sadness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 Henrik huffed and pulled his glasses away to wipe at his teary eyes. “As you should be.” He let out a breath as he put his glasses back on. “You should consider yourself lucky. If I hadn’t found you in time, you probably vouldn’t have made it.”

 Chase sighed deeply in an attempt to relax his nerves. He sniffed and wiped his eyes clear of tears. He went to open his mouth and question the doctor on how bad the gunshot had been, when suddenly the door burst open and rushing in came a familiar green-haired man with a look of panic clear across his face.

 “Alright, what happened?! Where’s - ?!” Immediately, Jack’s attention shifted to the American lying in the bed, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Chase! Jesus Christ, you’re alive!” And without another word, he bolted to the man’s side and pulled him into a tight hug.

  Chase winced at feeling his head throb when the Irishman went to hug him, the pain sharp and excruciating to the point he wanted to yelp. He let out a whimper and that was Schneeplestein’s cue to step in. He set a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

 “Take it easy zhere. He’s just starting to recover; ve don’t need him getting any broken bones.”

 The Irishman made out another pained whimper leave the ego he had his arms around and instantly pulled away. 

“Oh jeez, sorry.” He gave an apologetic smile. “Didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Chase coughed and waved a hand at him, brushing it off as nothing. “Nah, bro, it’s cool.”

“It’s not ‘cool’, Chase. You call zhat ‘cool’?” Henrik pointed at the bloodied bandages around the American’s head.

  Jack turned to look at the German doctor, a look of shame coming upon his face.

  “I’m sorry for showing up so late. I came as fast as I could.”

  “It’s quite alright, don’t vorry about it.”

  Jack’s eyes widened with bewilderment. “Don’t worry about – ? Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” He took a brief glance at Chase. “What happened? I mean, I had felt something was wrong with one of you guys, but fuck, I didn’t think it was this bad.” He let his eyes fall back onto Chase, more specifically his right temple.

“You vant to know vhat happened?” Henrik motioned at Chase with an expression of annoyance. “Zhis idiot tried to blow his brains out, ZHAT’S vhat happened.” He then went on to grumble a few obscenities under his breath about his friend’s stupidity.

 The Irishman’s face went white as a sheet as he cocked his head in Chase’s direction. His eyes were as wide as saucers.

 “You did what?” He didn’t sound angry, like Henrik had been. He was more so stunned and horrified. “Chase…”

Chase wasn’t looking at either of the men; he had his attention elsewhere, his facial expression reading nothing but shame. Jack shook his head, refusing to believe such a ludicrous thing. Chase was a lively lovable man, it was VERY rare for him to ever feel down or get upset. The Irishman couldn’t even imagine him attempting suicide. 

“No…No, that can’t be true.” He turned back to the doctor. “Surely you must be joking.”

But the look upon Schneeplestein’s face was cold and solemn, no hint of a smile or glee in sight. Jack swallowed the lump in his throat, hesitant to ask.

  “Why?” He honestly didn’t want to know what could’ve driven his friend over the edge.

  “Stacy” is all that Henrik had to say for the YouTuber to understand. Jack returned his attention back to the man in the hospital bed, who was still pretending like both of the men weren’t there in the room talking about him. Jack neared the bed, his expression softening; knowing Chase was probably already going through his own personal mental hell at the moment.

 “Chase, why would – ?”

  “Save it, dude.” Chase held up a hand to cut off his words. “I don’t want to hear it. The doc here already chewed me out; I don’t need you giving me hell too.” He sounded a tad bit agitated.

  Jack took a glance at Henrik to verify and the German doctor gave a nod. “It’s true; I gave him shit for it before you showed up.”

  The YouTuber looked back at Chase with worry and stepped forward to take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Chase, what’s going on?”

 Chase finally turned his head to look at his friend, his expression morphing into one of uncertainty and sorrow. He stared at Jack for a long moment, took a glance at Henrik – who was standing right behind Jack with his arms crossed – and then looked back at the Irishman. His eyes wandered as he expelled a breath, slowly shaking his head.

  “Look, I’ll admit it. Things between Stacy and I haven’t been so great for the last month or so. She wanted some space and I gave her that. I was a good husband and father; I gave her and the kids exactly what they needed.” He returned his gaze to his friend – his creator. “And what does she do? She phones me up while I’m working and decides to drop a bomb on me right there and then.” He said with hurt apparent in his voice. “She goes on about how I’m too careless and immature, that I’m a child and am a danger to the kids. She wants to get a divorce and plans to take the kids away from me, and she doesn’t want me around them ever again.” He scoffed, a light chuckle coming from him as though it was all a joke to him. “Who does that?”

 Henrik sighed with exasperation, running a hand over his face, while Jack seemed to be more sympathetic.

 “Chase, listen. I’m sorry for the way things have worked out, I really am.”

  “I love her, bro.” The poor man, he truly sounded heartbroken. His baby blue eyes were filled with anguish; he gave off the appearance of a kicked puppy. “I mean, I really love her – her and the kids. I can’t lose them, Jack. They mean too much to me.”

  “And that just might be your undoing there, Chase.” The Irishman admitted sourly. He released a sigh at seeing the American’s horrified expression. “Listen, I know you love her, Chase – we all do. You’ve always had a big heart, but while that is your greatest strength, it might also be your greatest weakness. You get a bit,” He stopped himself, taking a moment to choose the proper wording, “clingy at times. That’s not necessarily a bad thing!” He quickly reassured, not wanting to bring Chase down even more. “But sometimes, people need space, and maybe…maybe that’s all Stacy needs. She just needs space.”

 Chase still looked doubtful and like he was in pain – both physical and mental. Jack leaned forward, keeping his eyes fixed onto his friend. He was hoping he’d look at him and believe his words.

 “Look, Chase, you need to face the cold-hard truth: Stacy has been taking a toll on you for quite some time and you need to let her go.”

At hearing this, the American immediately went to object, shaking his head slowly. “No, no, I can’t, I – .” 

“I know you love her, but Chase, really think about this. Everything you two have been going through for the past month has led up to where you are now.” Jack pointed out. “You’re developing an unhealthy obsession for her and it needs to stop – for your sake, as well as your children’s.”

“N-No, no, you’re wrong, you’re – .” 

“Oh for fuck sake, Chase, enough of zhis cowardice crap already!” Schneeple unexpectedly lashed out, throwing both his creator and his friend completely off-guard and making them both jump.

Jack frowned, having not expected the doctor to snap and be so harsh.

  “Henrik – .”

 “No, he needs to hear zhis, Jack. He needs to face facts and zhere’s no better time to do zhat zhan right now. I mean, look at him!” The mad doctor shot an arm out, motioning at his patient. “Look at vhat all of zhis did to him! He nearly died, Jack!”

  Before the Irishman could even begin to get a response out, the German locked eyes with the emotionally abused man lying in bed.

 “She’s all you’ve been moaning and groaning about over and over again. You’ve been sounding like a broken record! Stacy zhis and Stacy zhat. Enough is enough, Chase! You keep complaining about how zee relationship is going and yet you’re not doing anyzhing to fix it; you’re standing off to the sidelines, hoping a miracle vill happen.” Henrik spat, the truth coming out rather harsh. He knew it was all getting to the man and hurting him further, but he had had enough of seeing his friend in such a wounded mental state. He was doing this for his own good.

  “You’ve been avoiding her like zee plague, Chase. You’ll speak to her over zee phone, but God forbid you von’t actually go and see her in person.” 

“But I can’t.” Chase said. “She doesn’t want to see me anymore.” 

“Fuck zhat! Zhat’s not an excuse!” The doctor snapped. “She may not vant to see you, but you clearly do, and zee only vay you two are going to be able to vork zhings out is if you go to her and speak to each ozher, face to face, like normal adults.”

Chase stared at him for an agonizingly long minute, a feeling of melancholy swelling deep within his already broken heart. He couldn’t deny the truth. Henrik was right; he had been avoiding the main problem for a long time now. He would only ever talk to Stacy over the phone, never in person. He was fearful of what consequences he’d face if he were to ever see her again – what she would say and how she’d say it. She had already torn holes into him every time they spoke to each other. He didn’t know how much more he’d be able to take, let alone just how much worse it’d get.

 Jack took a brief glance at Henrik, biting his lip before proceeding to look at Chase.

  “He’s right, Chase. You’ve been avoiding Stacy for some time now and it needs to stop. You two need to get together and work things out face to face – that’s the only way all of this pain you’re feeling will go away. And if things don’t work out,” He sighed softly and shrugged, “then you’re just going to have to accept that. Sometimes, things aren’t always the way you’d hoped they’d be, Chase. Believe me on this.” He said with as much sincerity as he possibly could, hoping like hell he’d gotten his point across.

 Chase kept his attention fully on the Irishman, taking in his words of advice and running it all through his head. He really didn’t want to lose Stacy or the kids, but the guys had a point – he did have a problem and the only way it’d get solved is if he went and faced his wife. Henrik stepped forward, searching Chase’s eyes for any sign of understanding.

  “Chase, please. Promise me you vill go and see Stacy and vork zhings out.”

 “Doc, I don’t – .” 

“Chase…I haven’t seen my vife and kids in over six months.” There was a tremor of heartache and what almost sounded like regret in his voice. “I made many mistakes in zee past, so many of vhich I regret. I’m still trying to make up for zhem and make zhings vork, but no matter vhat I do, my family doesn’t trust me anymore. I’m nozhing to zhem.” He leaned forward, shaking his head. “Don’t make zee same mistakes I did.” His tone of voice was firm, and although it was that way, it came out sounding desperate, like he was pleading the man to make things right.

The American could feel the pain radiating off of the doctor and it was suffocating. His brows weaved together out of sorrow, pitying his friend and wishing there was something he could say to cheer him up. He could feel Jack’s eyes boring into him and it made the man give him his undivided attention.

 “Chase, please, promise me – promise us – that when you have fully recovered, when you leave this hospital, you will go and see Stacy.” The Irishman was staring intently at the ego, wanting him to make a promise here and now that’d he do exactly what was expected of him. He couldn’t afford to have one of the egos become damaged beyond repair.

 Chase sighed deeply and looked anywhere but at Jack, doubt and anxiety corrupting his mind.

 “I don’t know. I don’t know if I – .” His voice trembled ever so slightly, coming off like a nervous child afraid to confront their worst fear.

  “Chase…”

 After letting his eyes wander around the room once, the American locked eyes with the YouTuber.

 “Promise you will see her.” 

He could feel both Jack and Henrik’s eyes boring into him, waiting impatiently for his answer. And although he wanted to say no, he knew there was only truly one right answer. He looked away, feeling defeated and giving a pitiful nod in agreement.

“Alright, I’ll…I’ll at least consider it. I’ll give it some thought – some REAL thought, okay?” 

That was better than nothing; no point in pushing him any further, especially with just how tired the American was beginning to look. His eyes were struggling to stay open now, sleep threatening to take him under once again. Dull pain throbbed in his right temple and he winced, a soft hiss slipping through his teeth. Henrik patted him on the shoulder.

“Alright, vell, don’t zhink about it too much right now. Right now, you need to rest. Vith an injury as bad as yours, you’re going to need as much as possible. Now go to sleep.” He turned his attention to the Irishman. “Jack, could I have a vord vith you outside please?”

 “Of course.” The YouTuber stood up from the bed and went to head for the door before taking a glance back at Chase. He gave a playful scowl. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. I don’t need any of you guys dying on me anytime soon.” 

Chase’s eyes had already fluttered closed, but a small smile played at his lips at hearing what his close friend had to say. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Henrik gently nudged his shoulder. “I’ll be right outside if you need anyzhing.” He reassured before heading over to Jack, both of them exiting the room. He closed the door behind them as they left.

 From out in the hall, the German doctor stood in front of a window, looking into the room he’d just left and watching Chase fall asleep. Jack was by his side, but his attention wasn’t on Chase, it was on Henrik.  

“Alright, what is it? What do you need to talk to me about?” He asked, crossing his arms and taking glances back into the recovery room. “It’s about Chase, isn’t it?”

Schneeple didn’t respond. He kept his eyes locked on Chase with a look made up of concern and confusion on his face. Jack’s eyes narrowed, not liking the odd silence or the focused expression Henrik was wearing. That look on his face was the very same one reminiscent of a doctor about to tell a set of parents that their child had just died. The Irishman shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

“Henrik?"

  The German dropped his head and sighed deeply, moving a hand up to pull away his glasses while his other hand passed over his face, evidently stressed out from whatever it was that was on his mind.

  “I don’t know vhat to tell you, Jack.” 

Jack blinked, more confused than anything. 

“What? Tell me what?”

The silence returned with a vengeance as the doctor lifted his head, slipping his glasses back on. He wasn’t making eye contact with the Irishman. Jack released an exasperated breath, uncrossing his arms and getting a tad put off by his friend’s behavior.

  “Damn it, Henrik, come on. What’s going on?” Jack demanded, having enough of the long dreadful wait. 

The German doctor kept his eyes fixed back out on Chase one more, seeming to be in a state of thought, like he was fighting with himself on whether or not it’d be a good idea to tell the man. He shook his head slowly.

“I don’t know how he survived, Jack.” 

A wave of perplexity came over the YouTuber, not taking his eyes off of the doctor.

“What?” He scoffed. “What do you mean you ‘don’t know’?”

  “I mean, I don’t know.” Finally, he turned his head to look at the Irishman. “He shot himself, Jack. Zee gun he used, zee velocity, zee range – none of it adds up. He put a gun to his head – he shot himself point-blank. The bullet should’ve gone in and out of his head or at zee very least should’ve gotten stuck somevhere in his brain.”  Bewilderment was shining bright in his eyes. “But it didn’t.” 

“So…So what? The bullet didn’t go as deep as it should’ve?”

“No, it didn’t.”

 “How deep did it go?”

 Henrik blinked and gave his friend an odd look. Why would Jack want to know about a crucial detail like that? Well then again, Chase had just survived a gunshot to the head. Jack had nearly lost an ego who had tried to commit suicide. The man deserved to know how bad the injury had been.

  “It didn’t go all zhat deep. It only got lodged between his scalp and skull.”

 “And you managed to take it out? There wasn’t any damage to his skull, was there?”

 Okay, that was an oddly specific question to ask. Henrik’s eyes narrowed.

  “No…” He answered slowly. “No, zhere vasn’t too much damage. I mean, zhere vas a bit of fracturing, but nozhing incredibly fatal or threatening. Believe me, if he starts to show signs of brain damage, I’ll operate on him immediately and be forced to put a metal plate in his head.” He tore his gaze away and shook his head slowly. “I honestly don’t know how he survived, Jack. None of zhis should’ve happened, and quite frankly, I haven’t zee slightest idea vhat to make of it.”

 Jack gave him an inquisitive look. “But isn’t that a good thing? He survived, didn’t he?”

 Henrik huffed. “Vell, yes, but – .”

  “But what?”

 “I’m just…” The doctor sighed deeply, taking a glance back into the recovering room. “I’m just vorried about him, zhat’s all.” 

This only raised more questions for the Irishman.

“Worried? Why?” He too looked into the room, eyeing Chase. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” 

Henrik didn’t say anything and it immediately made the YouTuber jerk his head in his direction, stunned that the man wasn’t replying. His heart stuttered with trepidation, his mind conjuring up dreadful conclusions.

“Oh no…Oh no, no, no, how bad is it?” He demanded, his eyes blown wide with horror. “How much time does he have left?” 

That got the doctor’s attention. His face scrunched up with confusion as he turned to face Jack. Where had that question come from?

“Vhat?”

 “How long does he have?”

 “Who said anyzhing about him dying?” The German retorted back, having no idea as to why the Irishman would jump to such a ridiculous conclusion.

 “So he’ll be alright then?”

 Henrik released an exasperated sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Hypothetically, yes, he’ll be okay. Zhere vasn’t nearly as much damage as vhat I vould’ve expected zhere to be, and I honestly don’t know vhy zhat is. It’s a miracle really, as far as I’m concerned.” He paused, finding himself slowly drifting off into a state of memory. “But…But zhere vas somezhing…” 

Jack’s brows furrowed out of question, noticing how his friend’s behavior was off.

“What? What was there?” He asked, searching the ego’s eyes for the answer. 

Henrik barely heard him given just how far gone he’d become. Flashes of when he had operated on Chase flickered spastically before his eyes, remembering all too well of what hell he had endured. There was one part in particular that was standing out to him: when he had extracted the bullet from his head. He had been interrupted by countless hallucinations each and every time he had gone to try and remove the bullet, and one of those times was rather haunting. When he had gone to pull the bullet out, inky sludge had bubbled out of the wound and a long thick string of it had been attached to the bullet, getting stretched the more he pulled. At one point, it had almost looked like the black ooze had come from inside the bullet and was leaking, but he had just thought his eyes were playing games with him. That stuff, whatever it had been, wasn’t normal. He’d never seen such a substance before and he couldn’t even begin to put together a logical explanation as to what it was and why it had been in Chase’s head. He felt a shiver go up his spine at the reminder.

Should he tell Jack? He deserved to know the truth – he was their creator after all. If something was wrong with one of them, he had every right to know. But then again, that sludge Henrik had seen – how could he tell if it had been real or not? Those hallucinations he had had were so incredibly vivid, he couldn’t differentiate reality from illusion. When the nightmare had come to an end and he finally took the bullet out of Chase’s head, there hadn’t been any black ooze. Maybe it had all just been his own mind playing a horrible prank on him. And if that was the case, there wasn’t any point in telling Jack. There was no reason to make him even more worried than he already was. The good doctor scoffed and shook his head, locking his eyes back onto Jack.

  “Nozhing. It’s nozhing. Sorry, I zoned out zhere for a moment.” He sighed and gave the Irishman a reassuring smile. “He’ll be alright, Jack. I know he vill.”

 “So you aren’t worried about him.”

 Henrik frowned. What the hell was that? The way he said those words – he made them sound like he had just proven a point. His voice had fallen cold and flat and he didn’t sound like himself. Schneeple felt as though he was getting cornered and accused of something. He blinked and gave him an incredulous look.

  “Jack, he’s my patient – my dear friend. He just tried to blow his brains out a few hours ago. Vhy vouldn’t I be vorried about him?”

 The Irishman shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know, I just…” He trailed off, taking a glance back at Chase, “He’s not like himself, Henrik. He’s not nearly as chipper and happy-go-lucky as he used to be.”

  “You don’t zhink I’ve realized zhat?”

 “He hasn’t…” He licked his lips, hesitating to ask, “He hasn’t shown any…out of the ordinary symptoms, has he?” He took a side-glance at the doctor.

 “Symptoms?” Now Henrik was getting agitated. “Of vhat? Jack, I’m zee doctor here. Don’t you zhink if zhere vere anyzhing wrong vith him, I’d let you know?”

 Jack nodded. “Yes, yes, I know.” He sighed. “I know you would tell me. I just…I’m just really concerned about him is all. I mean, I know that technically none of you guys can get sick because come on, why the hell would I want to do that to any of you? But who knows?” He stared out at Chase, a look of worry upon his pale face. “Maybe something got inside him.”

 Henrik expelled a breath and patted his creator’s shoulder gently. “I know you’re vorried, Jack. Ve all are. Zee other two came by earlier vhen he was still out, and oh boy, vere zhey ever distraught. For Christ’s sake, Marvin vouldn’t stop crying. I had to talk him into showing me one of his absurd magic tricks to get him to cheer up.” 

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at that, especially what with the noticeable annoyance in the German’s words. He returned his gaze to the good doctor, searching his eyes for reassurance that the American in the other room would truly be okay.

“Jack, please, believe me…Chase is going to make it zhrough zhis.” He too was searching his friend’s eyes for any sign of him understanding what he was saying. He could only hope the man would believe him.

  After an uncomfortable amount of prolonged eye contact, Jack finally exhaled softly and nodded in understanding. “Alright…Alright, I believe you.”  

Henrik gave a small smile at hearing this. “Good. Now I hate to cut zhis short, but I have to go and deal vith some important papervork and I need to contact his cameraman about zee whole incident. But,” He took a look back at his slumbering patient, “I don’t vant to leave him alone.”

“I could watch over him for a little while.” Jack volunteered, standing up straight and looking eager to take some stress off of the German’s shoulders.

  Schneeple glanced at him with uncertainty. “Really? I don’t vant to be a bozher or anyzhing. If you need to go and deal vith somezhing important, I – .”

“Henrik, stop.” The YouTuber put an end to his babbling. “What’s important is what’s happening right now. I honestly have no problem with staying here and keeping an eye on him.” He beamed happily. “What’re friends for?”

 The doctor still seemed a bit unsure, but he knew how Jack was – there was no way of reasoning with him once he had his mind set on something. He let out a defeated breath. 

“Alright, if you insist.” He smiled in return as he began to walk backward, about to head off for his office. “Zhank you. And I svear, I’ll try to be as quick as possible.” 

Jack chuckled and waved a hand off at him. “Take your time. I don’t have anywhere else to be right at the moment.” He tore his gaze away and looked back into Chase’s room, his smile faltering. Henrik noticed. 

“Jack, relax. He vill be alright.” His words bounced off of the walls of the hallway as he turned and sprinted for his office. 

The Irishman watched him race down the hall in a hurry to go and complete his work. He scoffed and glanced back into the recovery room. He locked his eyes onto Chase, watching the man sleep soundly. For a fleeting moment, the lights in the room flickered, and as soon as that happened, the American jerked under the covers. His face twisted up into one of pain, his body slowly twisting and turning in the blankets, trying to both stop the agony and get himself comfortable. A faint whimper could be heard slipping from his lips, but it didn’t just carry pain – fear was lingering there as well. 

A deeply unsettling chuckle bubbled out from deep within the Irishman’s throat, finding amusement in seeing his friend in agony. The corner of his lips tugged up into an awfully devilish smirk, the light above him flickering before burning out completely. Two sickeningly pale green eyes glowed brightly from out there in the dark patch of the hallway. He cocked his head slightly, staring at Chase with a look that read nothing but malicious intent. And when he spoke, his voice – it came out scratchy and distorted. 

It sounded like someone who had gotten their windpipe cut open. 

“He won’t be for long.”

 Part 11 - In Your Head

Part 13 - Home

 @gridhorizon @jse-fandom-protection-squad @septic-obsessed @darkcurious @butterlover328 @steffid101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @no-strings-puppet @haveaverynicetime @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @jack-a-yote @lil-gib @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @randomcrystals @vity-dream

[endeavorsreward]

Excerpt (Bk. I, Ch. 2)

1996 OV / 1233 ZA

Month of Scorpio

Ramza Beoulve, age sixteen, was leaning against a column in the meeting hall of the Royal Military Akademy at Gariland, watching his class gossip like scullery maids.

“Another wain was struck last night on its way to Eagrose.”

“The Corpse Brigade again?”

Ramza sighed and looked down at his feet. They should not even be gathered there. Drills had been interrupted by an immediate summons, and already some three score of them were assembled here, pulling each other's hair and tugging on breeches, whispering furtive theories when answers would only come in but minutes.

They were all between fifteen and twenty, two-thirds men, and largely noble. The Royal Akademy was the most respected training school in Ivalice, where the scions of western nobility were trained in chivalry and the ways of combat. Squires all, knights apprentice, after years of boarded living, and still children all as well, as they showed at the slightest disruption in routine. His brothers would be disappointed, and so Ramza attempted his best to look stately and prepared.

An outside observer might note his features, at least, did not betray him: blond hair pulled back neatly in a tail to reveal his noble brow and chin, showing even now through the last remnants of babyfat; he was lean and androgynous, and his eyes were kind, but his posture rigid and controlled like an animal's—or, indeed, like that of a knight of the Northern Sky. He had but a single, errant lock of hair out of place, one he'd never been able to tame for long.

The young man on his haunches beside him, however, felt no similar compunction to present. Delita Heiral was mending a glove with needle and thread, watching the clucking hens with interest. It was in principle the responsibility of each squire to care for their own kit; though Ramza hadn't the skill with a needle that Delita had, and he often did the sewing for them both. Delita's eyes bore an intense stare that Ramza knew well—he'd already made his conclusions, and was now taking in what he heard, weighing in the opinions of others he respected less to test against his theories.

He'd had a great many years to know that look, because Ramza and Delita had grown up near as brothers might, within the same home.

“Ramza? What think you of all this?” A woman one year his junior with her long blonde hair tied back beneath the blue kerchief of a field al-chemist approached, head all but bowed, her hands playing with the heavy bag tied 'round her waist, which held her implements of healing. Her face was the bright red of tomato plants. “Could the Corpse Brigade really have reached Gallionne?”

He grunted. His elder brother Zalbaag, who led the Order of the Northern Sky, had muttered as much across the table at shared dinner last. Banditry was to be expected of Dorter and eastward into Lesalia, where peasants toiled harder and the palace could be seen above the horizon, but Gallionne, the emerald of Ivalice?

Another squire, this one male, approached also to her side, arms crossed. He was fit of body but fat in the face, like a baby riding on a man's shoulders. This one's name he could recall: Cuthbert Fawkes, a third son like himself, though Ramza suspected Cuthbert's blood at least was true. The young man actually gave Delita a sort of half-nod before addressing Ramza and the young chemist. “I hear that the deserts are less patrolled and more wild.” This one was wincing, and Ramza could see in him already the Fear, the quake that the knights of Gariland had attempted to drill out of one and all.

Ramza sighed. Most of the incidents of the past six months were believed to be the work of a company of felons and former sellswords known as the Corpse Brigade.  It was oft said the only good brigand was a dead brigand, and the Order of the Northern Sky would like naught more than to see the Brigade made corpses for true. But as yet, it was all the knighthood could do to keep the outlaws in check.

“I do wonder where all this leads.” He looked to Delita. “What do you make of this?”

Delita hesitated, looking at the other two students, as though they'd silence him. But when he saw they merely awaited his opinion, He took the needle from his teeth and licked his lips. Delita was not an unattractive boy, but he had none of Ramza's strong countenance; his eyes were slightly sunken and his skin not nearly so fair. He was already at sixteen a man of little sleep and too many thoughts. And unlike many at Gariland, his hands were callused from work. “I'm not sure. I have my guesses, but...”

Ramza frowned. “I'm listening.”

“I think Duke Larg is coming to Gariland.”

Their liege lord? “Duke Larg? Why?”

Delita shook his head. “Not just the duke. The Marquis Elmdore de Limberry, too.”

The other two squires were now looking at them both with open mouths, and Ramza rubbed at his eye. He'd known Delita long enough to assume he was correct, but he couldn't imagine how the man had come to this knowledge. “That's the first I've heard of it. This has not the sound of a state visit.” Limberry was the literal other side of Ivalice, at the border with Zelmonia, and the Marquis was well known as a figure that was... larger than life, as they say. Cuthbert looked to the girl, as if she could corroborate any of this, but she just kept looking at Ramza, as though it had been his supposition in the first place. He was not altogether comfortable with the awe she was directing at him.

Delita, on the other hand, was now looking at something else, some collection of boys on the other side of the crowd. “All of Ivalice is in turmoil. The Order's supposed to be keeping things under control, but the fact is, they number too few.”

This he knew, had even just been thinking, but the way Delita said it... “And they mean to bolster their numbers with us?”

The crowd parted and three boys approached their group. Ramza recognized the one at the vanguard, Gembert Rickeman, a second son whose grandfather had attended Denamda IV and had fallen out of favor from making a particularly vulgar bon mot at the new queen's expense within earshot of the wrong viscount. He was eyeing up Delita like a roast laid at the table's head. Delita stood, and Ramza turned to the other two squires. “Perhaps we may continue this later.”

The girl stepped back at his prompting, but Cuthbert was fixed in place and shuddering. A poor cadet, this one.

Delita turned his back on the looming Gembert and indicated the chemist, who was rejoining a group of friends to one corner. “I think you've an admirer.”

“I suspect I haven't.” Ramza sniffed, keeping one eye over Delita's shoulder and the sputtering Gembert. “Lord Brother may, however.”

“Ah, so you did know!” Delita grinned. “I admit to being impressed. You never seem to know what's going on with anybody.”

“I... wait, what?” He looked away from Gembert, back to the girl. “Who was that?”

“Her name is... hm...” Delita made a vague motion with his hand, as though pulling the name from the aether. “Dorothea Ingram! That was what it was. She was but knee-high, I think, when our Zalbaag helped end the Siege of Limberry—speaking of the devils—and I believe he made quite an impression on her! Indeed, I hear he may well have personally...” Cuthbert twitched, and Delita sidestepped just as a punch Gembert was throwing at the back of his head was about to connect. Ramza crossed his arms as the oaf hurtled forward fist-first at his own face. Gembert squeaked and tried to correct before dishonoring his entire family, falling onto his arse in front of his entire Akademy class to uproarious laughter.

As Gembert's two henchmen picked him up from the floor, Ramza gave Delita a wry look. “A cruel jape.”

Delita shrugged and grinned. “I trusted in your martial prowess, ere it did connect.”

Gembert, for his part, had not yet had enough, however. He leaned in close and snarled in Delita's face. “My shame at nearly striking a son of House Beoulve is nothing compared to the shame of Gariland, for letting standards fall so low to admit a stablehand as candidate for knighthood.”

Ramza grabbed Gembert's shoulder and jerked it towards him. “Delita is of House Beoulve, Rickeman, or are you to tell us that the word of my father is false?”

Cuthbert made a sound like merp and went cross-eyed.

Gembert shrugged off Ramza's grip. “Perhaps it's true, then, what they say, in that masters in time resemble their pets, Ramza. As your half-common blood beats faster through your heart by the day.”

A few people gasped. Dorothea, who was not so far from the confrontation—and indeed had returned closer as it had grown heated—was about to lunge in herself to confront the boor when Cuthbert suddenly found himself, taking her gently by the arms and rotating her away. Maybe there was yet hope for him.

Ramza, though, found his fists tightening. He could easily outmatch Gembert in swordplay, and there were near sixty witnesses to the offense. But then, rescue came from an unlikely source.

“Really, Gembert, how droll.” A tall man a few years Ramza's senior, unaccountably pretty, tracing a finger down his own cheek, appeared from nowhere at all, humming to himself. “How much further can you embarrass yourself? I'd say before your peers, but you and I both know that you haven't had peers in these halls in at least a decade or more, hm?”

Ramza cast a glance at Delita, who looked sick. They'd been saved by Osric Wineburg.

***

As the story went:

The Wineburgs were a high noble family of Lesalia through much of the Fifty Years War, with Osric's own grandfather serving with distinction, most notably in the Battle of Warjilis, when Ordallian ships had rounded Cape Ripoli and discharged invaders in the dead of night with a mind to occupying the church seat in Lionel.

They were, of many generations back, from Romandan stock, but had been loyal Ivalicians for so long that it had been of no concern until Osric's father, who had a barony in Grogh Heights, had been of a mind to entreat the Romandans to unseat Ondoria III in hopes of elevating his own station, and had passed messages covert to very distant cousins across the Rhana Strait. But Osric's mother had been loyal to the crown, and had done the unthinkable, cutting the man's throat in bed. By all rights, they had together doomed their house, and she had thrown herself at Ondoria's feet and begged mercy only for her infant son. Ondoria, who had been healthier then, had dismissed Osric's mother from the court immediately; he'd then mumbled offhand to the attendant Dukes Larg and Goltanna that in truth, he'd taken the woman to bed himself a year or two previous, and that the child was likely his own. Rumor told that Queen Louveria, who had sat to his side, had rolled her eyes openly.

Not a man nor woman in Ivalice believed the king. But it had saved the Wineburg name. Osric's mother, who had slain her husband, was sent gently off to a nunnery to live out her days, and Osric was treated with the due respect of a royal bastard. He'd never be in line for succession, of course, but he had traded off the name of the king ever since. If the Beoulves were, in a sense, royalty of Ivalice in all but name, Osric Wineburg was the exact opposite. And similiarly inverse, Osric had all the attendant arrogance without the Beoulve deeds to back them.

Ramza hated him; Delita hated him more.

***

Osric clapped Ramza on the shoulder as Gembert stalked off to find some other lesser noble to sneer at; Ramza didn't look him in the eye.

“Men like Rickeman don't understand, Ramza. You must take pity on them.” He chuckled. “After all, Heiral here would understand better than anyone—a chocobo you ride into battle, you can't help but view fondly. And they, too, shall serve, until they're put out to pasture.” Before Ramza could offer a retort, however, a knight at the hall's entrance clapped his sword against his shield.

“Form up!”

And so the cadets of Gariland gathered into even parallel lines, standing at attention, as their instructor entered and took the podium at the room's head. Master Bordam Darlavon took in the sight of the assembled students and nodded. The whole class breathed in...

“There comes in every man's time a moment, a call to be answered...”

...And everyone let that air go out at the same time. Ramza's shoulders slumped. Delita's head sagged. He could see Cuthbert's face collapse. Someone even let out a moan.

Master Darlavon was not known, to put it mildly, for being concise.

“...as, indeed, so, with great alacrity, our fathers stood upon the...”

He had served in the war, yes—commissioned as aide-de-camp for a single tour of duty, he had seen little combat. He was perhaps well versed in matters historickal and theoretickal but was not what one might call a leader of men.

“...as even peace might try a soul, when weighed against the ambition of...”

Ramza turned his head as much as might be not considered disrespectful of his instructor's attention, and found Dorothea, who was staring right at him. He snapped his gaze forward again with a wince.

“...bravery instead of the heart, each of we sons of Ivalice...”

If Duke Larg and the Marquis were in Gallionne, they were likely meeting with Ramza's eldest brother Dycedarg, who was the Duke's closest friend and advisor. They were moving history as if a lever, with the Beoulve name as a great fulcrum. Ramza, meanwhile, was here. What was he yet doing to honor his father's will?

“...bonds of fire and blood forged today will serve you in statesmanhood...”

He looked again to Delita, who was brother enough as well. When Delita and his sister's parents had died, his father Barbaneth had taken them into his fold without a second thought. Their origin hadn't mattered to him, and it had never mattered to Ramza, either. Men like Gembert Rickeman merely struck where they thought their betters were weakest, that was all.

“...to remember these times as the greatest you'll ever have...”

And so on and again and again and so on, for a quarter-hour or more, until even Darlavon was starting to nod off at the dais, and someone at the hall's entrance cleared his throat.

“Hm?” Darlavon blinked, then seemed to realize that this had been an urgent summons in some epoch past. “Your full attention to a knight of the realm with full honors, Ser Folcurt Reeda Lynde.”

A man in armor with gold plate and filigree walked up the aisle between the cadets. Ramrod straight in posture, gleaming in refracted sunlight, with the strong set jawline of a most chivalric tradition. This was Lord Brother Zalbaag's most trusted and celebrated lieutenant. He gave Ramza the slightest of curt nods as he passed, and Ramza felt the eyes of five dozen cadets upon him.

Ser Folcurt very tenderly extricated Master Darlavon from his death-grip upon the podium, and leaned in to address the flock.

“The Order of the Northern Sky has an assignment for its knights apprentice.” A half-breath for the import to sink in, and then, before they could begin to react: “As I'm sure you're already aware, the number of brigands roaming Gallionne is on the rise. Among them, the Corpse Brigade... a seditious lot with a grudge against the Crown. Rogues such as they must be dealt with. The Order has been commanded to undertake an operation to eliminate the Brigade—an operation of a grand scale.” He held up his hand. “We will not be acting alone. The Order will be joined by, among others, His Excellency Duke Larg's royal guard, stationed at Eagrose. This will leave Eagrose Castle undermanned. Your task will be to proceed there, and support us from the rear by bolstering its defenses.”

There was the softest murmur as the cadets began to take in the responsibility of protecting their Liege Lord and the people of Eagrose Castle. Delita looked back towards him, and Ramza's lips set. Yes, Delita, you were right, you are always right... A knight came jogging up to the podium, a junior, with one hand on the pommel of her sword, and Ser Folcurt stepped down to listen to her whisper. He responded with a few quiet words, and she dashed right back out. He looked to the crowd.

“The time to take up arms is upon you, young apprentices!” He slapped his gauntleted hand once against the podium, out of emphasis rather than emotion. “I've just received word that a band of thieves routed by our knights flees here to Gariland, seeking refuge. We will move to stop them, and finish the task of our brothers. You, young apprentices, will accompany us. This is but a squall before the storm of battle. Prepare yourselves at once! Dismissed!”

Wait, battle here?

The cadets began to scatter. Some moved with purpose; others with panic. Someone bowled Cuthbert Fawkes over in a dash for the door, and Ramza had to catch him before he spilled out, got trampled in the rush. Delita came up to them both, and he looked stunned. There would be fighting in the streets of Gariland, and it would happen that day.

“I...” Cuthbert croaked out, but then stopped. Ramza nodded. It was fine to feel it, the Fear—Ramza felt it, Delita felt it—but there need be no words, for they'd serve nothing.

Knights stationed outside were shouting out assignments and postings, forming companies on the spot of green cadets. Ramza was about to join them, when a shadow fell over them and Ser Folcurt was there.

“Ramza Beoulve.”

“Ser Folcurt.” He bowed slightly, but Folcurt waved it off.

“Ser Zalbaag expects great things to come of you.” They all walked towards the door together. “I'm personally stationing you at the cadet vanguard. Choose your men and position yourselves in the east side of town, the merchant's quarter. Do you know where in that area is best?”

Ramza nodded slowly. “Down the way from Darbinian's Smithy, the streets funnel and then split where the river becomes a small canal; we can winnow them there.” He glanced to Delita for confirmation, who nodded—his thoughts exactly. Good.

Ser Folcurt actually smiled. “Good man. Get your unit out there; you have a few hours before they reach the city.” He headed towards the other knights. “Good luck. May we all live another day.”

Cuthbert grabbed his own face and started exhaling rapidly. “I don't know if I'm ready.”

Ramza nodded, took the man's arm. “I can swear to keep you safe, or you can find a group farther from the vanguard, it's your choice.” They had not been given formal companies yet, nobody had been promoted to squire-command. This was Ser Folcurt making a rapid judgment call. He wasn't concerned, so Ramza tried not to be, either. They weren't herding a stampede, this was a band of thieves being run to ground. Likely the knight had thought this practical training. He looked to Delita. “How do you fare?”

“I find it peculiar.” Delita was rubbing his chin. “The summons was all-class and urgent, but no mages in training were in attendance.”

“Oh... that's simple enough.” Cuthbert rubbed at his arm, from where Ramza had held him. “They're too difficult to rouse. Meditations and the like. Before they announced the thieves, they likely intended to inform them as their sessions finished.”

“But that means,” Delita said slowly, “the mages are not yet assigned to companies.”

He frowned. “You don't know any mages.

“Indeed I do not,” Delita allowed, “But we know of one.”

Ramza groaned. “Tell me, Delita, you do not mean who I think.”

[superlonelightfan-blog]

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NO.2 lid, in the large event you dont want the particular coals which are put on best regarding baking for you to slide off, it must have the flanged lid. NO.3 handle, you have got to possess to move the dutch oven about using the handle, therefore it must have any easy metal bail, as well as wire handle that needs to always be able to be sturdy. Two most favored brands and also higher top quality equipment with the cast iron dutch ovens available around the market are generally Lodge along with Camp Chef. Absolutely No make the difference which brand names you select is a excellent choice. My selection will be the Lodge, just simply because its the very first cast iron dutch ovens that I bought also it functions perfectly. From the particular perspective in which I hold, your first dutch oven could potentially become the 12, eight qt., Lodge Deep Dutch Oven. This features a lot more features compared to regular, shallower dutch ovens since in the added depth. When you select to select it, just retain in mind, what will allow it to be cook a bit differently when baking may be the added length between your lid and also food. The Actual Lodge portable camp stove may always be the pot that does it all. The Particular flanged lid holds hot coals and inverts pertaining to use as a griddle. The Particular integral legs enable the oven to always be able to sit perfectly over your campfire. Lodge is manufactured within the USA and it has been creating cast iron cookware within South Pittsburgh, Tennessee (pop. 3,300) since 1896. with over 120 many many years of experience, his or her cast iron is renowned for its substantial quality design, lifetime durability, along with cooking versatility. Lodge can be a lot a lot more than merely a business; its the family. Your Lodge loved ones founded the company within 1896, and consequently they still own it today. Through environmental responsibility in order to community development, their particular heads and hearts are generally rooted in Ame rica. Lodge recognizes that cooking is about greater than exactly the food; its concerning the memories. whether you are roasting a chicken in the oven, or perhaps cooking chili over the actual campfire, Lodge provides anyone covered using the included Camp Dutch Oven Cooking 101 cookbook. The good seasoning tends to always be able to make all associated with the difference. Lodge provides pre-seasoned cookware with no synthetic chemicals; just soy based vegetable oil. the a lot more you utilize your iron, the particular much better your seasoning becomes. https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/G/01/kitchen/aplusdiy/B00008GKDW/CampDutchOvenMain.jpg The Lodge portable "camp stove" will become the pot in which will it all. The Particular flanged lid holds hot coals and also inverts for use as a griddle. The Particular integral legs permit the oven in order to sit perfectly more than hot coals. Consists Of Camp Dutch Oven Cooking 101 book. Through colonial hearth fires towards the campfires of Lewis along with Clark, surefire camp ovens fed the actual colonists, helped tame the particular wilderness, as well as do their reveal throughout settling your American West. Cast iron cookware offers long been treasures as desired heirlooms, a great deal so that, when Lewis along with Clark returned through their own journey west, their particular reliable cast iron pots were among the couple of objects which makes it back for you to civilization. Whats the actual options that arrive with the certain dutch oven coming from The Particular Lodge? Made of cast iron Pre-seasoned as well as ready to use Multi-functional cookware Virtually non-stick surface Brutally difficult for decades regarding cooking Easy to clean-hand wash, dry, rub with cooking oil The Lodge Surefire Dutch Oven is truly a multi-functional cookware that works well wonders using slow-cooking recipes. This comes with a tight-fitting lid that helps secure nutrition and also flavor. This kind of pre-seasoned Dutch Oven functions being a charm straight out in the box. Created of cast iron, this Dutch Oven evenly distributes heat from the bottom by means of your sidewalls. Also, it retains heat better so in which your delicious meal remains heat to find a lengthy time. Sporting a stylish black color, the cast iron Dutch Oven looks good inside the majority of kitchens and it doubles up being an superb way in order to obtain nutritional iron. This features loop handles for convenient handling as well as the oven can be an simple task to clean as well as maintain. More details: Tightly controlled metal chemistry as well as exacting mold tolerances deliver steady top quality pertaining to even heating and also superior cooking performance. Heavy gauge wire bale can always be utilized pertaining to hanging the oven more than the actual hearth or even campfire. Three integral legs enable the oven to become perfectly spaced over hot coals. Flanged to contain hot coals on the actual top therefore the oven can end up being used pertaining to baking, stewing, and roasting. The Particular versatile lid may be inverted pertaining to use as a griddle. The correct device pertaining to searing, sauteing, simmering, braising, baking, roasting, and frying. Cast-Iron can be a kind of cookware developed more than a new millennia in the actual past remains as well-liked these days as when it was used to prepare meals a huge assortment of a extended time ago. cast Iron is actually certainly one of just a couple of metals compatible along with induction stovetops. Unparalleled within heat retention and even heating. At house inside the oven, around the stove, around the grill or older your campfire. Skillet may become used about a variety of heat resources including gas, electric as well as induction. Seasoned certain can be also utilized on the grill or open fire and coals regarding camp cooking. begin heating cookware on low along with gradually deliver heat up to medium or medium/high. Usually remove cookware in the stovetop right after cooking. Hand wash, dry, rub with cooking oil. It is extremely important to replenish the particular seasoning of your surefire cookware by generating use of the thin layer associated with oil following each and also every cleaning. Seasoning is surely an on-going process. The Actual more you use cast iron, the particular seasoning is improved. Pre-Seasoned: Seasoned to acquire a natural, easy-release finish that improves using use. Seasoning is a necessary step in creating use of surefire cookware. Oil is actually baked to the pores with the iron at the foundry to always be able to avoid rusting and to eventually supply a natural, non-stick cooking surface. Unlike synthetically coated cookware, it is possible to restore your cooking surface involving cast iron. Lodge utilizes a proprietary soy-based vegetable oil to always be able to season our cookware. Your oil contains zero animal body fat or even peanut oil. The Particular seasoning will be useful application as well as slight inconsistencies may seem within the seasoning finish. The Particular inconsistencies won't affect cooking performance. How to use the certain dutch oven in the proper way? Use the hot water to rinse without the particular soap, along with dry thoroughly. Prior To cooking, apply vegetable oil for the cooking surface of your pan along with pre-heat the particular pan slowly (always start upon low heat, and enhancing the temperature slowly). Throughout order in order to keep your pan via sticking, anyone shouldnt cook very cold food in it. once the actual utensil is actually properly pre-heated, you're ready in order to cook. Precisely what anyone should keep in your mind carefully is the handles will grow for you to be very hot in the oven, and about the stove top. Usually work using an oven mitt to stop burns when getting rid of pans via oven as well as stove top. Since for me, I dont similar to baking along with my cast iron dutch oven, Id rather utilize it regarding stews, chili along together with other liquid based dishes, so that it far better pertaining to me. Simply No matter what dimension can you choose, I do wish to inform you that the 12version could be a choice. The idea depends about the size, the particular surefire dutch oven could assist a person to cook many kinds involving dishes. However, the tiny 1 will limit your ability associated with cooking. Lid Lifter A great lid lifter is actually among probably the particular most important elements of the actual certain dutch oven when you are cooking outdoor. I prefer the actual deluxe lid lifter than the standard hook edition that are each produced by the Lodge simply because regarding the soundness involving it when pulling the actual lid off of one's dutch oven. Dont be concerned in regards in order to the Lid that is going to be swinging and dumping coals in your stew once you seize the actual lid this way. And absolutely, its the Lodge Brand. In case you would like to test anything else, then go and acquire it, however what I can assure a person is actually The Actual Lodge, since Ive used it till now. https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/31nwfX8tnJL.jpg A lid lifter can be essential to safe camp Dutch oven cooking. Your T bar design lifts hot lids regarding coals helping move Dutch ovens coming from fire for you to table. Fantastic for lifting, rotating, as well as shifting any hot lid. made of 9 mm bar stock with good temperature black finish as well as heat diffusing spiral handle. Features hanging loop at any stretch along with fits most Lodge Dutch ovens. Measures 14 x 4.5 inches. This particular is really a smartly designed tool. I was a small skeptical initially paying this much, nevertheless when you utilize it you will know why it's truly a required item. two issues I love about this lifter - The Actual cross brace in the hook end and the cross brace at the handle end. the brace about the hook finish enables you to rest the handle along with your lid while anyone are shifting items about about the fire or perhaps have to have a spare hand for one thing else. Only hook it around the lid and you realize right where it is usually to come back to (don't leave it as well long, silly, you may burn up the hand). The idea helps as well to become able to keep the lid from tipping towards the facet when checking your current vittles, helps keep ashes/ coals through falling in. Great! Your cross brace at the handle end is a nice surprise too. one associated with my ovens is a deep 12 inch. That weighs a new lot. I may pick the complete oven up through its wire loop by simply using this handle if I hook any finger as well as a pair of under that will cross brace. Significantly a lot more secure than gripping the particular handle alone. Zero need for an additional pot lifter or anything, this does it all. Lid Stand There is no need for you to always be able to definitely prepare the lid stand, nevertheless if you wish to set your own lid on a unclean, irregular surface, it will most likely be handy having a lid stand. Its low cost sufficient for any family, so that will as for me, its the worthwhile acquire because its truly helpful and also little sufficient to carry in when Im about camping. I bought 2 of those and also use them at the grill and then bring them in the home and use them once again to keep your hot pot or pan safely off the actual table. These People occupy small space after they tend to be put away after use. Helpful product. 1 thing I don't like is that usually whenever you go to place something just just like a dutch oven lid on the rack, your rack will sometimes partly close. An Individual have to be watchful to make certain the particular rack remains totally open up or the object you are putting around the rack may slide off the actual stand. This could ruin the day. I have got found out that placing a dish towel down first after which putting your stand together with the dishtowel does assist using this problem. 55 Gallon Drum Cover Within winter, the actual cold wet ground will sap the actual heat coming from my coals and set my coals out just about all together in a new few instances, that is the biggest difficulty I had together with my dutch oven. Within order to solve this problem, I purchased a $14 steel drum include and also drilled 1/4 inch holes 1 1/2 for you to 2 " apart inside the middle instead of buying a fancy cooking table. A New small air can easily flow into my coals through the actual holes, and also its helpful to assist me conserve a constant, hot temperature. Wisk Broom Ashes will build up around the top of your own dutch oven and underneath along with that may smother your current coals. Besides, when you are slow cooking for very long intervals associated with time, any wisk broom will offer you a large help. Tripod To become honest, Ive by zero means utilized a tripod however it actually looks cool. It can keep your dutch oven far far from the heat source. https://m.media-amazon.com/images/S/aplus-media/vc/cf62b61d-b8f8-4071-8d58-bfa2b729e608.jpg Heavy duty strong steel construction and nickel plated chain using 'S' hook for straightforward cooking height adjustment. Sturdy 3-leg design for max stability. Outstanding with regard to hanging Dutch ovens, tea pots, coffee pots, etc. more than a new cooking fire. Furthermore works ideal for hanging lanterns, suspending water jugs, drying clothes, and lots of uses. Safe, simple set up as well as storage. The tripod seems to be built fantastic along with would function perfectly in the event you are a in-ground fire pit. That was obviously a bit shorter than I necessary for my higher than ground fire pit so I bought 3 cinder blocks and hang these below the actual legs to obtain a little more height. My Lodge dutch oven has a spiral handle (helps ensure that it stays cool and also much easier to handle) which usually doesn't allow the supplied hook to install to the dutch oven, I went towards the neighborhood hardware store along with bought 1 foot of chain and the couple hooks. This specific permits me to place any hook about both sides of the spiral piece and then make use involving the tripod supplied hook to connect for the chain. Others Gloves -- probably the most important thing to keep a person safe will be the gloves. I often go out in order to possess a outdoor cooking with my loved ones as well as buddies by making use of the dutch oven. so I can perform many test in which what tools I want for your outdoor cooking, along with I learn the most required as well as essential instrument will be the gloves. A New excellent set of gloves can protect from burning and also allow it for you to be an straightforward job to move your coals or even the dutch oven. see morehttp://ecookercool.com/