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pucksandpower · 8 months ago

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Wild Goose Chase

Oscar Piastri x soulmate!Reader

Summary: in which Oscar is terrorized by the soulmate goose of enforcement … until he runs into you (literally)

Oscar Piastri is not one to get flustered. It’s kind of his thing — cool under pressure, calm in the face of chaos, composed when the world around him loses its mind. But right now, he’s seconds away from losing his.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters under his breath, scanning the area around the paddock, eyes darting from side to side.

The coast looks clear, but Oscar knows better by now. The stupid goose is lurking somewhere, probably eyeing him like he’s the world’s most wanted criminal. He barely makes it five steps before he hears the familiar, grating honk.

“Oh, come on!” Oscar yelps, whirling around to face the persistent bird. Sure enough, there it is, waddling towards him like it owns the place, beady eyes fixed on him with the intensity of a predator stalking its prey. “What do you want from me?”

The goose doesn’t answer, obviously. It just keeps coming, wings fluttering slightly as if gearing up to make his life a living hell for the umpteenth time that day. Oscar takes a cautious step back, then another, but the bird matches his pace, honking louder, as if it’s mocking him.

“This is ridiculous,” he mumbles, glancing around for any sign of help. But the paddock is nearly deserted — most of the crew are inside, probably watching the CCTV footage of his latest goose chase and having a good laugh at his expense. He sighs, resignation settling in as the goose inches closer, its beak snapping in a way that’s far more menacing than it has any right to be.

“Fine, you win,” Oscar concedes, hands held up in surrender. “But you’re not biting me again.”

He takes off, jogging towards the gate that leads out of the paddock, hoping to shake the bird off. It’s a fool’s hope, really. The goose gives chase, honking triumphantly as it gains on him. Oscar barely makes it through the gate before the bird nips at his ankles, forcing him into a full-on sprint down the sidewalk.

“I don’t even know where I’m going!” He shouts over his shoulder, like that might actually make the goose reconsider its life choices. It doesn’t. Of course, it doesn’t. The bird just keeps at it, relentless as ever, as if this is its sole mission in life.

Oscar rounds a corner, nearly colliding with a group of tourists who scatter like pigeons at the sight of the manic goose. He mutters an apology, hardly slowing down as he bolts across the street, narrowly avoiding a car. The goose, undeterred by traffic, flies over the vehicle and lands in front of him, honking like it’s conducting some kind of victory parade.

“Alright, alright, I get it! Just leave me alone!” Oscar’s practically pleading now, breath coming in short bursts as he darts into a nearby alleyway, hoping to lose the bird in the maze of narrow streets. But the goose follows, nipping at his heels like a relentless shadow.

He’s so busy looking back at the bird that he doesn’t notice you — at least not until he crashes into you, the impact sending you both sprawling to the ground. Time seems to slow as he twists mid-air, instinctively trying to cushion your fall with his own body. He hits the pavement first, the breath knocked out of him as you land on top of him in a tangle of limbs.

“Ow,” you groan, pushing yourself up on your elbows, blinking down at him in confusion. “What the hell was that?”

Oscar’s too winded to answer immediately. He blinks up at you, dazed, trying to process what just happened. The goose, victorious, waddles in front of you both, honking one last time before it saunters off as if it has better things to do.

“Did … did that goose just attack you?” You ask, incredulity coloring your voice as you roll off him and sit up.

Oscar finally catches his breath, nodding as he pushes himself into a sitting position beside you. “Yeah,” he pants, running a hand through his hair. “That’s … been happening a lot, actually.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “Seriously?”

“Unfortunately,” he replies, shooting the retreating goose a glare. “It’s like it has some kind of vendetta against me.”

You can’t help it — you laugh. It’s a startled, slightly hysterical sound, but it quickly turns into something genuine as you take in the absurdity of the situation. Oscar joins in, the tension in his shoulders easing as the laughter bubbles up between you.

“This is so weird,” you say, shaking your head as the laughter dies down. “I’ve never heard of a goose doing that before.”

“Neither have I,” Oscar agrees, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “But here we are.”

There’s a beat of silence as you both catch your breath, the ridiculousness of the situation settling in. Finally, you look at him, curiosity shining in your eyes. “So … what’s your deal? Did you, like, offend the goose gods or something?”

Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “Not that I know of. I’m just trying to do my job, and that bird’s decided it doesn’t like me.”

“And what’s your job?” You ask, genuinely curious now. “Are you, like, a bird whisperer or something?”

He laughs again, this time a bit more ruefully. “No, nothing like that. I’m a driver. For McLaren.”

You blink, clearly not recognizing the name. “Is that, like, a taxi service?”

Oscar blinks back at you, momentarily stunned into silence. “No, it’s … it’s Formula 1. Racing.”

Your eyes widen in realization. “Oh! Right, that makes sense. Sorry, I don’t really follow sports.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving off your apology with a grin. “Most people don’t get chased by geese for a living.”

You smile at that, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable. “So, what brings you here, then? Besides being terrorized by a bird, I mean.”

“Just in town for a race,” he replies, glancing around as if the goose might come back at any moment. “But, uh, I didn’t expect my biggest challenge this weekend to be a goose.”

You laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is happening right now. You’re probably the last person I’d expect to crash into on a random street.”

“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual,” Oscar says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But, I guess if I had to crash into someone, I’m glad it was you.”

You raise an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh? And why’s that?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the goose makes a reappearance, honking loudly as it charges at him again. His eyes widen in alarm, and he scrambles to his feet, pulling you up with him. “Because you might be able to help me get rid of this thing!”

You yelp in surprise as he grabs your hand, dragging you along as he takes off down the street. The goose gives chase once more, honking furiously as it flaps its wings in a bid to catch up.

“Do you even know where you’re going?” You shout, barely keeping pace with him as he pulls you around a corner.

“Not a clue!” Oscar admits, breathless but grinning as he glances back at you. “But it’s either this or let the goose win!”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation catching up to you again. “Okay, okay, I’m in! Let’s outsmart this goose!”

You round another corner together, darting into a small park in the hopes of losing the bird in the greenery. The goose, however, is nothing if not persistent, and it’s not long before it spots you again, honking in triumph as it barrels towards you both.

“Any bright ideas?” You ask, glancing around frantically for an escape route.

Oscar scans the park, his mind racing. “There!” He says, pointing towards a small, man-made pond. “If we can get across that bridge, maybe we can lose it in the water.”

You nod, and the two of you take off towards the pond, the goose hot on your heels. As you reach the bridge, Oscar lets go of your hand, urging you to go first.

“Ladies first!” He shouts, grinning despite the situation.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you sprint across the bridge. Oscar follows close behind, and for a moment, it seems like the plan might work. But then the goose decides it’s had enough of running and takes flight, swooping low over the water and landing directly in front of you on the other side of the bridge.

“Seriously?” You exclaim, skidding to a halt as the bird blocks your path, its beady eyes glinting with what can only be described as malicious glee.

Oscar stops short beside you, hands on his knees as he catches his breath. “Okay, new plan,” he says between gasps for air. “We … we try to reason with it.”

You stare at him like he’s lost his mind. “Reason with a goose? Are you for real?”

“Do you have a better idea?” He shoots back, straightening up and taking a cautious step forward. “Hey, uh, Mr. Goose? We, uh, we come in peace. There’s no need for any more … biting or chasing or-” He flinches as the goose lets out a loud, aggressive honk, cutting him off mid-sentence.

You try not to laugh, but a snort escapes anyway, earning you a sidelong glance from Oscar. “I’m just saying,” you whisper, “this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever been a part of.��

“You and me both,” he mutters, still watching the goose warily. “Okay, new plan … again.”

“Run?” You suggest, but there’s no real conviction in your voice. It’s clear neither of you has much hope of outrunning the bird, especially now that it’s in full attack mode.

“Actually, I was thinking maybe we just …” Oscar hesitates, then sighs, “Sit down.”

“Sit down?” You’re incredulous, but he’s already lowering himself to the grass, crossing his legs like he’s about to meditate. The goose, now only a few feet away, seems puzzled by this new development. It tilts its head to the side, honking softly, almost as if it’s confused.

“Worth a try,” Oscar says, motioning for you to sit beside him. “I have no idea if this will work, but we’ve tried everything else.”

You give him a skeptical look but eventually lower yourself beside him, crossing your legs and mirroring his posture. The goose blinks, looking between the two of you, as if it’s trying to figure out what the catch is.

For a moment, nothing happens. The three of you sit there, locked in a bizarre standoff, with you and Oscar on one side and the goose on the other. Then, to your surprise, the bird takes a cautious step forward. Then another. And another, until it’s standing right in front of you both, its head tilted as if it’s studying you.

“What now?” You whisper, barely daring to breathe.

“I don’t know,” Oscar admits, his voice just as low. “Maybe … maybe it just wanted us to stop running.”

You exchange a glance, both of you too stunned to do much more than sit there and wait for whatever’s going to happen next. The goose seems to consider you for a long moment before it lets out a soft honk — nothing like the aggressive sounds from earlier. Then, with a final bob of its head, it turns and waddles away, disappearing into the bushes on the other side of the pond.

“Did that just happen?” You ask, still half-expecting the bird to reappear and resume its attack.

Oscar blinks, as if coming out of a daze. “I think … I think it gave up.”

You look at him, and then suddenly the absurdity of it all hits you like a tidal wave. You laugh, loud and unrestrained, doubling over as the stress and tension of the chase evaporate. Oscar joins in, his laughter rich and full, and before you know it, you’re both lying back on the grass, staring up at the sky, tears streaming down your faces.

“I can’t believe that actually worked,” Oscar says between fits of laughter, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Neither can I,” you manage to gasp out, wiping away the tears from your eyes. “What even was that? I feel like I’m in some kind of weird dream.”

“Tell me about it,” Oscar says, finally catching his breath. “I’ve faced some crazy stuff on the track, but this … this takes the cake.”

You both lie there in silence for a moment, the sky above you turning a soft shade of orange as the sun begins to set. The chaos of the day feels far away now, replaced by a strange sense of peace that settles over you both.

“I’m glad I crashed into you,” Oscar says suddenly, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

You turn your head to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, his eyes still on the sky. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I could’ve done without the goose situation, but … I don’t know. Maybe it was worth it.”

You smile, a warmth spreading through your chest. “I guess if a goose had to chase you down, it’s kind of nice that it led you here.”

“To you,” he adds, his eyes meeting yours, something unspoken passing between you.

The air between you shifts, the playful banter from earlier giving way to something more serious, more charged. For a moment, neither of you says anything, just holding each other’s gaze as the reality of what’s happened settles in.

“Do you think …” you start, then hesitate, unsure of how to put it into words. “Do you think the goose was trying to, I don’t know, tell us something?”

Oscar chuckles softly, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes as he nods. “Maybe. I mean, it’s a pretty crazy thought, but after everything that just happened … I don’t know. It’s almost like it was trying to push us together.”

“Like fate or something?” You suggest, half-joking, but there’s a hint of curiosity in your voice.

“Yeah,” Oscar agrees, the word hanging in the air between you, heavy with meaning. “Like fate.”

Another silence falls, this one filled with unspoken possibilities. Then, slowly, Oscar reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, tentative, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you.

“Maybe this is going to sound weird,” he says, his voice a little unsteady, “but I feel like I’ve been looking for something — or someone — for a long time. And today … I don’t know, it feels like maybe I found it.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, like he’s seeing you — really seeing you — for the first time. And it makes you wonder if maybe he’s right. Maybe all of this wasn’t just random. Maybe the goose, as ridiculous as it sounds, was trying to show you both something that you wouldn’t have seen otherwise.

“I think maybe I have too,” you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar’s eyes light up at your words, and he squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a way that’s both comforting and intimate. The connection between you is undeniable, and for the first time all day, the world feels like it’s stopped spinning out of control.

“So what now?” You ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Well,” Oscar says, a grin spreading across his face, “how about we get out of here? Maybe go somewhere the goose can’t follow us.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement as you both stand up, brushing the grass from your clothes. “I like that idea.”

Oscar doesn’t let go of your hand as you start to walk away from the park, the warmth of his palm against yours sending a thrill through you. As you leave the park behind, you glance back over your shoulder one last time, half-expecting to see the goose watching you, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

Maybe it’s gone for good. Or maybe it’s just done what it needed to do — bringing you and Oscar together in the most bizarre, unexpected way imaginable.

“So,” you say as you walk side by side, your steps in sync, “where do we go from here?”

Oscar looks at you, his smile soft and genuine. “Wherever we want.”

And just like that, the world feels right again.

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blueiscoool · 3 months ago

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Thieves use Explosives to Steal Gold 'Masterpieces' From Dutch Museum

Thieves have stolen four ancient artifacts, including an approximately 2,500-year-old gold helmet, after using explosives to break into a museum in the Netherlands.

The daring heist took place at Drents Museum in Assen during the early hours of Saturday morning, according to Dutch police, who said they received a report of an explosion at 3:45 a.m. local time.

CCTV footage released by police shows the suspects opening an exterior door before a blast sends sparks and smoke into the air. The thieves made off with three gold bracelets, dating from around 50 BC, as well as the 5th-century BC Helmet of Cotofenesti, a historically important artifact on loan from the National History Museum of Romania in Bucharest.

The items were part of an exhibition about the Dacians, an ancient society that occupied much of present-day Romania before being conquered by the Romans. On show since July, “Dacia: Empire of Gold and Silver” featured treasures borrowed from institutions across Romania.

In a press release on its website, Drents Museum described the Helmet of Cotofenesti — which was discovered in a Romanian village almost a century ago — as a ��masterpiece.” Its design features mythological scenes and a pair of eyes, located above the wearers’, that were thought to deter enemies during battle while protecting against the “evil eye.”

The exhibition was set to conclude Sunday, though Drents Museum remained closed through the weekend due to the robbery. Its premises were damaged by the explosion, though no injuries were reported, the museum said.

Dutch police announced that they are working with global police agency Interpol and had, as of Sunday, received more than 50 tip-offs. Investigators are currently looking for information about a gray car that was stolen from the nearby city of Alkmaar earlier in the week and was discovered around four miles from the crime scene, on fire, shortly after the overnight heist.

Police believe the suspects abandoned the vehicle, which had stolen license plates, and fled in a different getaway car.

In a press statement, Drents Museum’s general director Harry Tupan, described the incident as a “dark day” — both for his institution and the National History Museum of Romania.

“We are intensely shocked by the events last night at the museum,” he added. “In its 170-year existence, there has never been such a major incident. It also gives us enormous sadness towards our colleagues in Romania.”

By Oscar Holland.

#Thieves use Explosives to Steal Gold 'Masterpieces' From Dutch Museum #Drents Museum #Dacian Treasure #Helmet of Cotofenesti #Dacia: Empire of Gold and Silver #gold #gold treasure #stolen #stolen art #looted #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #Dacians

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thisisjustfanfic · 20 days ago

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Cleaning up the Timeline

{You spend some time with Ever...}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Violence, Angst, k!dnapping, bl0od, t0rture, g0re,

Chapter 19: Ever

There’s a distinct feeling. Losing something. A sort of unfathomable confusion as your brain tries to convince you that what you’re seeing isn’t true. It was just here, your mind reasons, this is where it’s supposed to be!

Only it’s not there. It’s gone.

You’re gone.

Xavier had seen, with distinct, horrific clarity when the wyrmlord had hit you with its tail and sent you flying. The sound of the glass and the hole in the shop window is something he’s not likely to forget for a long, long time. Imprinted in the way traumatic things are. Both hazy like smoke but engraved with a heated blade into one’s psyche.

Reinforcements arrived, and Xavier left his battle with the oversized lizard to go to you. The other Hunters and the one other Unicorn member that arrived could handle it, Xavier was running the instant he saw them. Leaping across rubble and the remnants of the fountain you adored.

He lunged over the ledge and through the open window of the flower shop. An overflowing amount of fresh spring flowers coverings the walls and now, the floor. Pieces of stems and leaves scattered among the shards of glass. Blood coated some of the pieces and there was a splatter pattern along the bottom part of the check out counter.

The pale yellow of the kickboard dotted with speckles of your blood, a sign of where you’d landed. Only…you weren’t there.

Xavier called out your name. And when nothing answered, he called out again. Again and again, rising in volume and desperation the longer you refused to answer him. There wasn’t enough blood to be deadly, but you were hurt at the very least. This was not what this patrol was supposed to be!

Xavier’s breaths are short and tight, fighting out of him like little gasps as he tries to come to some conclusion as to what happened. He grits his teeth, forces himself to take a deep breath through his nose, and focuses.

There’s glass everywhere, and blood dotting the place among the petals from the dozens of destroyed flowers. But when he takes the second to really look at it, he sees the trail. A little line of dotted blood and a shift in the glass. A struggle?

It leads behind the counter. There’s a smudged handprint that’s missing the palm– your fingerless gloves. He hovers his own hand over the print and finds it matches the size of your hand. The ghosting feeling of your palm in his makes his stomach turn.

He follows the dragged glass through the back of the store. The line of blood is distant and barely followable, but he finds each droplet like a breadcrumb you’ve left behind.

When he meets the backdoor, he shoves it open. Back into the shadowy, damp alleyway. A dumpster on one side, and wide enough to fit a truck, but there’s nothing.

Xavier pulls out his phone from inside his coat, thanking the gods that it’s not broken from the skirmish and dials the first number he can.

Xavier looks down at the ground of the alleyway and sees the tire tracks of something recent. With the phone still to his ear, he runs down the alley towards the street.

“Yello’?” Rafayel answers, “Aren’t you supposed to be working right now? What a slacker.”

“Rafayel.” Xavier bites out, and the edge in his tone cuts through Rafayel’s nonchalance.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Rafayel’s asking quickly, and Xavier hears the clatter of what can only be paintbrushes scattering to the ground.

“She’s gone.” Xavier breathes, unable to believe the words are leaving his lips. “Get Sylus. Check the CCTV of every camera around my position.”

“What do you mean she’s gone!?” Rafayel’s voice is a roar, and there’s a pant in it that tells Xavier that he’s running.

“There was a Wanderer. I lost sight of her for a second. A second!”

Xavier makes himself dizzy from looking every which way, searching for a vehicle he doesn’t know the make, model or color of. Like some divine intervention might tell him which one has you. He’s running down the street anyway, as fast as his feet can take him.

The Lightblade hunter runs twenty blocks one way before doubling back, and he can’t breathe by the time Sylus pulls up on his oversized motorbike. Xavier’s hands are shaking, and it feels like his ribs are caving into his chest.

Sylus tosses Xavier a helmet without a word, muttering about showing him where to go. Xavier robotically hops on the back of the bike and they take off.

“Caleb warned us!” It’s extremely rare to hear Zayne raise his voice, and so even the slightest raise in volume strikes all the harder, “He warned her to not leave the house! We should have never–”

“You’re the one who promised her nonsense!’ Rafayel snarls, pointing an accusing finger in Zayne’s direction, “You told her we wouldn’t just sit by. That she could look for him! Now look!”

“Fighting amongst ourselves will do little,” Xavier says and while his words are diplomatic, his voice is a wreck of malice. Tensions are running higher than they ever have. Thick enough in the air to cut with a knife. Layers of fear, disappointment, and rage making up the layers of this shit cake they’ve found themselves in.

Sylus is the only one sitting. Head in his hands on the couch of their home, Mephisto sat on the coffee table in front of him. He hadn’t said a word since they’d gotten back.

They’d spent three hours scouring the crime scene. Scanning for prints, footsteps, DNA. The tire tracks were analyzed. Sylus knew the make, the model, the year. The type of tire and when they’d last been replaced. He knew the VIN number and he knew the time to the very last second that you were thrown into the van.

He knew too much. The grainy footage from the flower shop revealed too much agonizing detail of what happened. They were quick. Professionals. They’d been lingering at the edges of the square an hour before the Wanderer attack, and poised to take you the moment an opportunity arose.

Snatched away as easily as a ripe fruit from the branch. Sylus was replaying the images in his mind even without Mephisto’s screen. Over and over again. The way you’d fought them. The callous way they’d shoved that gag into your mouth.

“She was supposed to be at a safehouse,” Sylus lifts his head. He doesn’t raise his voice. There is no fire. No anger. Only the cold vacuum of a void inside him. “A million miles away from here.”

“Do we have any leads?” Zayne asks, turning to Sylus– a man who usually has answers.

“Beyond knowing what time and where she was taken from, not much.” Sylus admits, feeling nauseous.

“She has my scale,” Rafayel says sternly, “I can’t track her with it, but it should keep her safe. As long as she’s wearing it.”

“A scale?” Zayne looks properly aghast, “A good luck charm will not protect her from these people!”

Rafayel has to bite his tongue from lashing back at Zayne. It is not just a good luck charm but a powerful talisman. You owning that scale was owning Rafayel. To wield that scale is to hold the leash on of the most powerful deities in existence. The power residing in a singular scale enough to ward off malice– those who would seek to do you harm will suddenly find themselves deciding against it. The allure of the scale lulling them in docility.

“What do they want with her?” Xavier barks, “Why take her?”

“She seemed to believe it was Ever. They’re a biotechnical company. Josephine, her Gran, had connections there. We learned this after the explosion. It’s…I only have conjecture. Nothing concrete!” Zayne runs a hand through his hair, pushing back charcoal strands.

“If we have nothing else, then we run with conjecture.” Sylus says as he stands. He goes over to Zayne and places an anchoring hand on the back of his neck, the skin there ice cold. “Tell us what you’re thinking.”

Zayne takes in a breath, and Sylus watches as the ice crawling across his skin spreads just a little further.

“She has an aether core in her heart. Josephine used to work with– or for – Ever. I think…I think Josephine took her in because she was one of the experiments. And it’s not that big of a leap to think Caleb was too. Experiments on Evol and the protocores. If– and this is if– If Josephine defected and took those two with her, then Ever would likely want their investments back.”

“Investments…” Rafayel murmurs, “Why didn’t you mention any of this?!”

“Because it’s speculation!” Zayne uncharacteristically bites right back. “Her history is not mine to share. It’s none of any of our business.”

“It is our business when her life is in danger!” Flames lick at the tips of Rafayel’s fingers as he swipes his hand across himself.

“She hasn’t exactly been hiding.” Xavier places his hand to his lips contemplatively, “Why come for her now? What’s changed?”

“Nothing will get solved if we hang around here!” Rafayel rushes over to the entryway, grabbing a light jacket and throwing it over his shoulders, “I’m going out to look for her.”

“Wait!” Sylus snaps, “Go, do what you can, but we agree to meet back here– six am. If you find her, send a text, but if you haven’t we meet back here, no matter what.”

Rafayel takes a second to pause, and then nods. Disappearing out of the house and slamming the door behind him.

Zayne places a hand to Sylus’ back, “I’m going to head to the hospital, put a lookout at emergency rooms for her. If– when she escapes, she might end up there. I also have some colleagues I can contact for help.”

Sylus nods and kisses Zayne’s temple before he goes. Which leaves the two fair haired men standing uncomfortably in the too-cold living room.

An ominous feeling falls over the room. If any one else were there, they’d break out in inexplicable goosebumps. The hair-raising feeling of death that a prey detects before the predator's jaw clamps down on their neck.

“How much–” Xavier clears his throat and speaks very quietly, like you somehow might hear him, wherever you are, “How many lives is too many?”

Sylus snorts. The question lingers in the air for a moment, the two of them silently debating the answer. How many lives is yours worth? How much destruction is worth getting you back? How far can they go and be forgiven?

Sylus adjusts the bracelet at his wrist, the weight of it feeling a little more heavy today, “Do what you must, my prince. And I’ll do the same. What the others don’t know won't hurt them.”

A sharp sting in your arm, and then you’re awake. The zing of some synthetic drug that drags you, kicking and screaming from unconscious into sharp alertness.

The room is blinding and silver. The fluorescent lights above you sting your eyes and when you try to lift your arm, you find it strapped at your side. Flat on your back on a hard exam table– not even the half-inch cushion you usually get in a doctors office between you and cold steel. Straps keep you secured to the surface across your chest, your stomach, and your thighs.

“Take some deep breaths,” A cool voice says from beside you, and when you try to move your head you find another strap across your forehead. You strain your eyes to find a nurse in silver scrubs, dark blue stitching along the sleeves and her face covered in a white surgical mask. “That’s it. You’re safe now. Just relax…”

Her voice is soothing, but you’re not soothed. You’re strapped down in a brightly lit room on a cold table with an IV in your wrist and probes attached to your chest. You’ve been stripped down and changed into a buttoned up tank top and loose pants. Sterile and white.

“Where–” You’re shocked they haven’t gagged you, “Where am I?”

The nurse holds a tablet in her hands, and focuses on tapping away at your chart, “You’re safe. I’m sure they’ll explain everything, now– how do you feel? Any lightheadedness? Nausea?”

You lick at your bone dry lips and struggle a little against the harsh bindings, “I’m…These hurt. Can you take them out? Can I sit up?”

The nurse’s eyes crinkle in amusement, “They’re for your own safety, miss. Don’t try and fight them. You’ve have a very busy day. Now, again, how are you feeling?”

You grit your teeth, “I feel like I was kidnapped and now I’ve got some nurse asking me if I’m okay while I’m strapped down like a frog for dissection!”

The nurse’s expression is hard to determine under the mask, but she seems contemplative, “Aggression. I’ll note that down here…”

She taps away nonchalantly on tablet and the sound of her fingertips grates on your sanity, “Hey! Where the hell am I? Is this Ever? Do you work for Ever?”

The nurse looks up, “The doctor will be in shortly. You can ask him your questions...”

You thrash against the straps, wiggling your shoulders with enough force the table underneath you jumps an inch. With a satisfying squeal, the nurse scuttles back and shuffles out of the room.

You spend the next immeasurable amount of time trying to wiggle out of these straps. It could’ve been ten minutes, or it could have been hours– the unchanging lights and the lack of any clocks make it torturous, and maybe that’s the point.

When someone else enters, it’s a sharply dressed woman with a charcoal grey skirt suit and glossy black heels. Her golden blond hair is swept up into an elegant chignon and the Ever emblem on her chest shines with neon blue and chrome.

“Good morning!” She greets like the two of you have just run into each other getting coffee. She comes up to the side of your bed and you see the sparkle of her silver earrings from where they dangle on her ears. She’s so put together you’re sure there has to be glue involved somewhere. She smiles tightly at you, red lipstick stretching over pearly white teeth, “It is so good to finally meet you. The previous head of the department never shut up about you, and to finally get to meet you– in the flesh! It’s just– Wow! Such an honor!”

“Wish I could say the same.” You hiss sardonically, “But I find it hard to be cheerful while I’m strapped down.”

“Oh that, you'll have to forgive me for that. We weren’t sure how you’d react to coming out of it, we have the reports from when you were younger, but you know how it is! Times change, and all that.”

She’s annoyingly chipper. A saccharine sort of friendly that makes you want to trip her in the hallway just to make her stop smiling for half a second.

“Wouldn’t have to worry about any of that if you hadn’t have snatched me off the street.” You bite and the woman doesn’t even blink.

“An unfortunate circumstance. We sought more civil avenues, but found them all blocked for one reason or another. Josephine was a pioneer, but also so horribly stubborn! Anywho! I should introduce myself. I’m Carlee Antham, Head of Bioengineering and Biotechnology here. I run the place, so to speak. So, you’ll be seeing a lot of me. Oh! And my colleague, Dr. Riston Clark. He’s the head scientist. We’ll be taking care of you.”

“Yeah? And who do I talk to about getting out of here?” You resist the urge to spit at this woman, greeting you like a hotel hostess. “You can’t keep me imprisoned here.”

Carlee smiles sheepishly and folds her hands together, “Technically, dear, you’re the property of the Ever corporation? You’re proprietary! Your DNA and your aether core and all that belong to the company and therefore, laws pertaining to unlawful imprisonment don’t apply.” She places a hand to the side of her mouth like she’s telling you a secret, “Took our legal team two years to check all the loopholes. What a headache!”

She laughs and reaches out to pat you on the shoulder, “So, nope. You’re here to stay, which is such fun! I’ve been dying to meet you– did I say that already? Well, anywho! I’ll be off. Dr. Clark will be in shortly and then we’ll get you all set up in your room!”

You growl low in your throat, “You can’t keep me here! I have people! People who will find me! They’ll kill you!”

Carlee, who had been in the middle of turning towards the turn, turns back to you on her little kitten heel, “Pardon? Kill me? That’s…well that’s quite harsh don’t you think? No, no, no. Don’t worry about any of that. This facility is impenetrable, and our security team is unmatched. So, let me assure you,” The woman’s voice drops into a near whisper and she leans over you to make sure you hear every syllable, “Should anyone attempt to infiltrate this place, it will be their own doom.”

She smiles, and this time? You do spit at her. Hawing back as much saliva as you can to lob it smack against her cheek. Carlee screeches in disgust and wipes it away, stumbling back and utterly aghast at what you’ve done.

“We’ll see, bitch.” You bark, “Do your worst!”

Her worst comes in the form of a Dr. Riston Clark. An tall, skeletal man. Ironically, he’s exactly what you would have pictured when thinking of a mad scientist. And later, if you survive this, you’ll laugh about it.

Dr. Clark doesn’t bother with long winded, friendly introductions. He has work to do, it seems. Such busy, important work that he’s so engrossed in he doesn’t even look at you. At least, not at your face. He examines the vitals the probes pick up and takes a dozen vials of blood from your restrained arm.

Then, a pair of large men in charcoal coveralls come in. The Ever emblem is on their back, a slightly darker gray than the rest of their outfit. They unstrap you slowly, and you can tell through their build alone that they’re the muscle here to restrain you the minute you act up. And act up you do.

The instant you’ve got movement, you’re clocking the closest guy in the nose, shoving his nasal bridge up into his skull and grinning at the satisfactory crunch that sounds.

The other guy holds you down, and try as you might, they’re a little stronger than you. A little.

It has to be days right? Days that you’ve been here. Or maybe weeks?

All you know is they’ve taken samples of you. Blood. Urine. Saliva. Flesh. You’re missing little one inch squares long your left arm and your back. Dr.Clark assures it’s only to get a baseline– they need to start from scratch since the last time you were here.

You were here before? That doesn’t sound right. But something about these rooms. The sights, the smells, they ring like the memory of dreams you don’t recall.

You’re allowed to rest, and you sleep so soundly on the hard mattress like its feather down with utter exhaustion. That’s one day, you think.

On the second day, you’re able to get a bite into one of the assistants when they strap you up to more machines. A good piece of flesh that you spit out at their feet and nearly make it to the door before the goons are on you again. This time, they pull your shoulder out of its socket, and you’re left to stew with that pain for the duration of the test. A lesson learned, Dr. Clark coos.

That day sucks. They pump you full of something that makes your Evol explode. Like an untamed supernova inside of you it lashes out in bands of searing energy like solar flares. It hurts. God, you’re Evol is going to tear you apart. Each burst of energy makes your skin burn, bubbling with burns from something like radiation.

Dr. Clark just watches. Watches and takes notes and hum in satisfaction when you finally collapse.

You get to sleep again after that. Another day. That’s two?

You’re in a medical wing the next day, and the folks there are a little nicer. The nurses are gentle when they insert an IV, and they even warn you it’ll sting when they inject you with some cloudy liquid into you. Though, of course, no one answers any of your questions.

Though that day, you finally get to meet Dr. Clark properly. He comes into your cramped little room that reeks of sterility with his white coat and badge with a picture of him that looks a decade younger.

“How are you feeling?” He asks without looking at you. His gray eyes examining the tablet with your medical chart on it. You’re not a person to this man. Not even a patient. You’re a number.

”Like shit.” You answer honestly. Your head is swimming a little and it takes effort to even lift your head. You’ve been sedated— mildly, but you recognize the sensation. “Are you here to monologue, Dr. Evil?”

The tight lips of Dr. Clark twitch upwards, “Unfortunately not, miss. I’ve come to check in on your mental state. I’ve found— in my practice— that if the subject loses the will to go on, then the results of our excersizes will be affected.”

”So, you’re making sure I still want to live?” You huff dryly, “How kind of you.”

”I can be kind.” Clark hums, finally lifting his head to look at you. His downturned eyes level you with a lazy kind of attention. “You bonded well with the last head scientist. I’ve read through her notes. You loved her dearly.”

You go to sit up, but only manage a few inches before you fall back limply onto the hospital bed. The beeping of your heart monitor picks up for a moment, and then a sharp sting in your arm sends your eyes rolling back.

”Oh, I apologize. Any increase in cortisol detected will result in an increase in sedation.” Clark walks over to examine the glass vials attached to your IV drip, “You’ve been exhibiting signs of increased distress for the past two days. Higher than desired. Try not to stress so much.”

”You…Yo—‘ve be-en…” Your lips can barely form the words, forming around cotton and the resinous sleepiness of whatever drug they’ve got you hopped up on, “You— cu..ut…me…”

”You mean the tissue samples?” Clark says with a birdlike tilt to his head. It makes you think of Mephisto. That brainless cyborg bird that never lets you get away with anything. You’d give anything to see that stupid crow.

Clark inspects the IV port in your hand, and it stings when he does. “Be grateful for such small samples. We needed to see how your flesh reacts to different stimuli. I could have used the main source.”

You laugh, but it comes out in tiny, ineffectual wheezes. ”F-Fu~uc-k…y-you~u…”

Clark scowls and steps away, “Behave, and this won’t have to be so difficult. You’re a part of something bigger than you. Bigger than all of us. Get some rest. We’ll be back to it tomorrow.”

You wake up back in your room. The little grey space with a single can light in the ceiling, a bed, and a toilet. A utilitarian solitary confinement.

Without any mirrors, it’s hard to check for any scars. You’re not sure what all they did to you yesterday but you want to make sure they didn’t steal any organs while they were at it.

You spend that day in your room. Stuck. Maybe it was a day. But it could have been more. The seamless grey walls of your cell are like the untouched slate of chalkboard. You can scratch little marks with your nails if you try, and so you spend the next uncountable number of hours making shapes. Drawing little cats and crows and fish.

The next day, they have to drag you from the bed, and you kick and bite at them the whole time. By the time you reach some new room, your handlers are just as bruised as you are.

This room is small. Lined dark metal walls with a single chair in the center. You’re shoved into it and strapped into it on your wrists and ankles. There’s a table in front of you, a tiny surface that lies empty.

Once you’re secure, one of the handlers, who you’ve named Knuckles in your head, gives you one good strike across your jaw for making their jobs harder. Kicking a puppy while it’s down. You spit the blood that rises in your mouth at him, and the other one– Stinky, you’ve called him– drags Knuckles away.

There’s a two-way mirror on the wall facing you. You can see the slight distortion at the edges. It’s a mirror to you, but you know Dr. Clark and his imps are behind it. His voice comes through a speaker in the ceiling.

“We’re trying a new series of tests today.” Dr. Clark explains most magnanimously. How kind of him to actually explain what he plans to do before he cuts you open. “You will be shown a series of protocores. Resonate with them, and we will measure the results.”

“And if I don’t?” You ask around the blood pooling in your mouth. You spit it down onto the ground at your feet and feel for the wound on the inside of your cheek. “What’ll you do if I refuse?”

A beat passes, “Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.”

One of the research assistants walks in. A glass cylinder with a floating pink protocore inside it. With a gentle touch, the short assistant with coke-bottle glasses sits it down on the pedestal in front of you. They give you an almost empathetic glance before they scurry out.

The protocore floats in its chamber lazily. It’s a weak one, and you can barely feel the shift in its energy at all.

“Now, Resonate with it.” Clark commands.

For a moment, you debate disobeying. Maybe struggling against the straps at your wrists and ankles again. Maybe spitting again. Maybe screaming and crying and begging. But now…it’s only been two days and you’re so tired.

Faith is a funny thing. The entire premise of it is believing in something you can’t see, touch or hear. Can’t prove beyond a longing in your heart. You have faith in your boys. They’ll find you. You know they will. But it’s faith. Faith and hope and fucking pixie dust and all that.

So, you do it. Obey and stay alive. Give them enough time to find you. What a waste it would be if you’re dead when they get here.

You reach out with your Evol to resonate with the protocore. Its energy touches yours and it's a disgruntled feeling from the crystalline substance. It fights against you for a moment, but then the connection is made. A tether between you and this piece of the cosmos. A chip from a star that fell out of the Deepspace tunnel.

It’s unremarkable. And so are the others. A dozen or so protocores you resonate with. Each one is a little bit spicier than the last. Your body aches in protest from being stuck in this chair for hours and from the overuse of your Evol. What an uncomfortable day, but at least they aren’t cutting into you anymore. Silver linings, you guess.

A red one is brought in, and you feel it before you see it. The assistant carrying it is wearing thick gloves, like oven mitts. And when you resonate with it, you feel like your skin is on fire, burning from the inside and by the time it's over you’re drenched with sweat. Blistering burns wind up your arms, bubbled flesh like someone has poured something corrosive over them.

What’s the point? You’re aching mind weeps. Why? What could they be measuring if not how long you’ll last before you’re torn apart? If death is the outcome it’s not happening soon enough because each one is some new, fresh, horror.

Somehow, when the last one is brought in, you know it's the last one. The molecules in the air bend and twist to conform around this palm-sized crystal the color of the night sky. As the assistant sits it down, the dim lighting refracts around it. It shimmers in multi colors like an oil slick, but hits your eyes wrong. Like it’s being lit from a different source that you can’t see.

You can’t tear your eyes away from it. The pressurized energy expands around the core and into the room around you. Your ears pop and it takes a little more effort to breathe than it had before.

If Clark gives you the command to resonate, you don’t hear it. Because you’re already doing it. Drawn in by this inexplicable pull that laces around your marrow. Every nerve in your body tuned into the protocore like it was some missing part of you, and at long last, you’ve found it again.

The connection between your Evol and the protocore is violent. The smacking of two magnets sliding across space and directly into each other with such force they disintegrate. A scream, tears through your throat, but your ears don’t register it. They’ve long since gone deaf with the static of what can only be the cosmos.

The stars are speaking to you. Whispering to you in hushed lovely tones like life-long friends. Your body wittles down to its very atoms– no longer locked in their quantum space but free to float in the void between universes. And you…remember.

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h265-4k-mdvr-vehicle-camera-dvr · 6 months ago

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Ultimate Waterproof Test: HD1080P 180° Vehicle CCTV camera #ip69k #CarCamera in Action #cnmztind

🌧️🚘 How Waterproof Is Your Car Camera? Join us as we put our IP69K-rated car cameras to the ultimate test in a high-pressure car wash! Watch as we see firsthand how these cameras stand up against powerful water jets while delivering crystal-clear video quality. If you want to know what makes a car camera truly reliable, don’t miss this video! Hit that like button and subscribe for more product tests and tips!

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rightnewshindi · 24 days ago

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हाई सिक्योरिटी रजिस्ट्रेशन प्लेट अब सभी वाहनों के लिए अनिवार्य, चालान से बचने के लिए तुरंत लगवाएं

Solan News: प्रदेश में निजी और कमर्शियल सभी प्रकार के वाहनों के लिए हाई सिक्योरिटी रजिस्ट्रेशन प्लेट (एचएसआरपी) लगाना अब अनिवार्य कर दिया गया है। इस नियम का पालन न करने पर वाहन मालिकों को भारी चालान का सामना करना पड़ सकता है। इसके लिए प्रदेश में जल्द ही ई-डिटेक्शन सिस्टम लागू होने जा रहा है, जो सड़क सुरक्षा को बढ़ाने और नियमों के उल्लंघन पर नजर रखने में मदद करेगा। ई-डिटेक्शन सिस्टम और चालान की…

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smartiots · 23 days ago

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Gate Automation in Bangalore

Automated gates have become a necessity in residential communities, commercial spaces, and industrial premises in Bangalore. Gate automation in Bangalore systems enhance security, convenience, and control over entry points. For more details visit here :- https://smartiotss.livejournal.com/1279.html

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townpostin · 10 months ago

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Scooty Theft Suspect Arrested in Karandih

Police Recover Stolen Vehicle Near Suspect’s Residence A scooty theft suspect was arrested in Jamshedpur after police recovered the stolen vehicle near his home. JAMSHEDPUR – Police have arrested R Prasad, a resident of Jharkhand Basti, in connection with the theft of a scooty from the Karandih area. Acting on a tip-off, authorities recovered the stolen vehicle near Prasad’s home on…

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bywons · 8 months ago

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CRIMES COMMITTED AGAINST WOMEN, ITS HER FAULT?

RG KAR MEDICAL COLLEGE&HOSPITAL, THE HEINOUS ACTS

NOTE: THIS POST HAS INFO SOLELY BASED ON MY OWN RESEARCH, SOURCES FROM THE NEWS AND INTERNET SO CREDS OF SS TO THE OWNERS. if you have any other information regarding this case, please please do feel free to reblog this and share them, as i can't compile everything in one post due to the case being an ongoing one. I would appreciate if you could read all of it, I tried to keep it short and compact and easy enough for everyone to understand. Of course, I have to keep a few names and specific political parties and critism out of this for obvious reasons of this post being taken down, but trust me, karma is real.

Do tell me if I lack anything, will try my best to add it or make another post about it. WE WANT JUSTICE.

01 TAKE HER NAME, DON'T FORGET HER

Dr. Moumita Debnath, a junior female doctor, a 2nd year PGT at R G KAR medical college and hospital was gang r4ped and m4rdered in the college seminar hall, while she was in a 36 hr shift, in 9th of August, 2024, Kolkata.

R G KAR, a reputed college and hospital, only allowing the top of brains to enter its premises, has now lost it's name to this heinous crime. Moumita debnath's perpetrators live to this day and the college authorities are yet to pay any heed. Why?

That poor girl was bleeding from her eyes, vagina, with disfigured limbs and broken collarbones, bite marks, broken pelvic girdle and hyoid bone several other signs of struggle and violence ( attached report below ) Even her legs were forcefully coaxed apart, that her bones were broken. 150 gms of sperm was have been discovered from her body, when a male individual can only transfer a maximum of 15 gms. Can you imagine her pain? What did she do to deserve this pain and suffering, this heinous crime against her? Can you imagine how her parents must have felt to hear the news?

Oh, I forgot. This absolute blood boiling, gut wrenching and demonic of an act was immediately announced as a "SU3CIDE" upon initial FIR, and to her parents, by authorities. Can't you see? How they tried to coarctate the matter by calling it a su3cide?

How can a girl with extreme signs of violence and r4pe on her body, with little to no clothes, broken limbs, bleeding eyes, commit a su4cide? THIS IS A BLOT ON THE AUTHORITIES WHO ARE CLEARING VIEWING THIS MATTER AS A JOKE no girl in that condition can commit a su3cide, do you really think people are THAT DUMB?? that we won't notice you trying to cover up this case??

02 TAMPER THE EVIDENCE, HIDE THE CRIMINAL

Dr. Moumita Debnath's body was cremated without her parents' approval/permission. They were kept waiting for 3 fucking hours. As if to get rid of her body as soon as they can with minimal autopsy, before CBI could even start investigation.

As soon as this case was handed over from WBPD ( west bengal police department ) to CBI ( central bereau of intelligence ) mobs have barged in and LITERALLY DAMAGED THE WALLS BESIDE THE SEMINAR HALL ( the crime scene ) inside the college premises. And for what? Come on we know it all, for removal of some obvious evidence.

On 14th august, during the middle of the night which was during the ‘RAAT DOKHOLE MEYERA’ ( girls reclaim the night ) rally, in RG KAR, mobs yet again managed to infiltrate the college premises to cause damage again, this time targeting specific cctv cameras as well. They also vandalised public property and vehicles in a "profesional" way. — “MBBS student Anupam Roy, an eyewitness to the mob attack, said the mob's act was deliberate with the clandestine motive of ending their agitation.” — from Hindustan Times.

They even CAUSED HARM TO THE WASHROOMS OF THE FLOOR WHERE EVIDENCE COULD'VE BEEN FOUND. The motive of the mob is obvious— to tamper the evidence in order to protect the perpetrators.

03. POLITICS BEFORE BASIC LAW & ORDER?

Political parties are busy blaming each other and throwing dirt on names, meanwhile also trying to hide the perpetrators and start protests against opposition parties. Is your political position and meaningless arguments more valuable than a girl's life which been lost so brutally? Can we not keep politics aside, just for a moment and try to bring the girl justice? These thick skinned selfish monsters don't feel the pain of her parents, the emotions of helpless women and the crime they're commiting themselves.

They are slowly shifting away from the main matter of bringing her justice, trying to coarctate is slowly by heavy politics. Well the public is not dumb, we can see it all and understand how our CM doesn't even care about this situation.

SHAME ON YOU, the authorities, you're are only hope in this city in this state and you're acting this way?! Do you not have spines? Is money and votes everything to you? How low is too low and why is it the west bengal government?

They even have an accused suspect in custody ( Sanjoy Roy ) whom everybody is calling a scapegoat, which he possibly could be regarding the governments recent inactivities towards the situation. They are even giving out orders to resist rallies and protests, such a fucking disgrace, cause then vandalism and tampering of evidence is right but not raising your voice against it?

04. HAPPY INDEPENDENCE?

This year marks the 77th independent year for India, but are we really? Women are not safe at night walking along the streets their own ancestors fought for, women are not safe in their own workplace working shifts, women are not safe in public transport, in their homes, neighbourhood, schools, colleges, NOWHERE ARE WE ALLOWED TO HAVE A PEACEFUL BREATHE. But for how long? It's been 12 years since we witnessed a similar, horrible and atrocious crime as NIRBHAYA, only for it to happen again. This shows how weak, corrupted, and unjust Indian judiciary system has become, and as an Indian myself, it ashames me deeply to admit this. We are failing as a society, still not being able to create a safe environment for our women.

But time has come now to raise our voice and fists together against this oppressive, corrupt government and snatch our own freedom ourselves. DONT YOU EVER FORGET ABOUT HER, TAKE AND HER NAME AND PROMISE YOURSELF TO BRING HER JUSTICE. If we forget and give up, god knows how many others will die like this without any justice. Justice is ours and we will have it, there is no point of being 'independent' if we have to do candle marches every other day, mourn for our women every other day, be scared of letting our daughter out every other day.

This is time, we rise up as one.

We want the actual criminals to be punished a hundred times more cruelly than Dr. Moumita Debnath was k!lied.

WE WANT JUSTICE. BRUTAL PUNISHMENT TO THE CRIMINALS.

ALL EYES ON RG KAR. ALL EYES ON DOCTORS. JUSTICE FOR MOUMITA DEBNATH.

tagging few of my moots. @leaderwon @rainytapestry @fertilizedtoesw @atrirose @hoonvrs @flwrstqr @mioons @dioll @okwonyo @okwons @heeblurs @weoris @junislqve @jlheon @sainns @hyeinism @fleurre @soov @isoobie @boyfhee @jjunae @onlyjjong @wonfilms @kissofhoon @voikiraz @koishua

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