Have been using the new Waze interface in Coolwalk for a few weeks and have just about given up on it, downgraded back to a previous version of Waze. My car is rotary only, and the app is barely usable with this.
​

• Half the time when you press a button, it doesn't respond.
• It's impossible to report things, the menu opens but you can't select anything within it.
• Trying to report something as there/not there is also impossible. When you try hover over the button, it jumps the select back to the search button.
• The 'Drive Now' menu takes up too much of the screen.
• The UI doesn't seem as polished as the old version, has departed too far from the interface in the phone app which is more familiar.
• Frequent app crashes, getting stuck in the search menu.

​
Anybody else have similar complaints/issues? I'm quite shocked that Google have released Waze in such a state; it behaves more like an early beta.

There were enough barrels, tubs, buckets, bottles, cups, gallon jugs, pots, pans, cauldrons, and empty cans to collect a shit ton of water.
We needed roughly 70,000 gallons of water just for one day.
Each person got at least three.
It was more water than we had to start with, but it was enough for the time being.
What was weird for me was that it only started raining after everything was in place. Thinking in terms of it being a miracle, it certainly seemed that way. I couldn't bring myself to just think in terms of it actually being a real miracle.
It was serendipitous.
But not a miracle.
That didn't stop Galax from preaching like it was.
"My brothers and sisters of the Warren, Bahamut provides!" It was such a raw, emotional statement, I had no doubt he firmly believed it happened.
I'm not the kind of asshole atheist who thinks all religion is evil and that it should be banned from the earth entirely. Nor do I think of people who believe in them as deluded fools who should get a grip and face reality.
Hope can be a powerful thing, it can keep a person going even when everything has completely collapsed. It was why the Book of Job was an entire thing in the Christian bible.
So when we gathered for a Council meeting, we were all delighted to learn that Locate Object did find an aquifer, and that the Artificers and Druids were getting right on digging a well.
"We'll go with the classic design, straight down until we hit water, then surround the hole with large stones. We've got plenty to work with from the catacombs, so once we get it set up and the pump finished, we can look for other aquifers." Rekka finished her report.
"I should also note that the more specific I was with my request, the narrower the result was. There are a few aquifers in the area that replenish themselves fairly quickly. We should have enough water to sustain us if we ration it." Merti stated. "If our Rangers have anything to report, we'd love to hear it."
"Nothing yet." Tatla replied. "The rain made it difficult to tell what was constant and what was a result of it."
"We have enough water for roughly six days." I said. "How long until the wells are done?"
"We're estimating around three days.' Rekka said. "And that's just for the first well. We're having to scrap electronics we considered too vital to just break down, one of them being an actual water pump that requires gasoline. I'm fairly certain I can get it to run off of just straight electricity. I have my Artificers working on windmills as we speak."
"Galax, is something wrong?" Tudru asked.
We all looked at the Cleric, who was sat hunched over in his seat, eyes closed, arms crossed, and claws softly tapping at his arm in a wave motion.
"I had a vision." He said.
"Sorry, what?" Dave interjected from across the room.
"When the rain fell, I was struck with a vision." Galax stated. "In my vision, seven songbirds sang to me an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me as a child. As they flew away, I gave chase, following their song until I was parched. And as they perched upon a branch, I saw the merest glimmer of dew upon the leaves, and drank it until I was quenched."
He looked up at us. "This repeated two more times. They would lead me away until I was thirsty, and they would bring me to a branch covered in dew, which was just enough to keep me going." He thumbed the pendant he wore and said, "In three days, we will run out of water, and it will rain once more. And three days after that, we will run out of water, and it will rain." He looked at us with this strange intensity in his eyes.
"I firmly believe Bahamut has granted me these visions to give proof of his miracle. I humbly ask the Council, on the third day, have the people put out their barrels, and catch the rain that will surely come."
"Galax, we don't have time to waste on religion." Tatla said. "We are entrusted with peoples' lives, having them put their barrels out in the hope of rain is not going to make it rain."
"I agree with Galax." I said. Everyone shot me an incredulous look. "Don't get me wrong, I don't believe in any Gods, but I know he does. If he's certain there's a miracle, we can afford to put some barrels out." I looked at the others. "Worst case scenario, we have the barrels out for the next time it rains."
Tatla nodded. "Very well." She said grudgingly.
"Until then." Galax stated. "Now, onto the next part of our agenda. Electricity. I have a proposal."
"Speak your proposal." Merti said.
"Ruuk, it has come to my attention you have access to the spell Witch Bolt. We have rechargeable battery cells that can handle both direct and alternating currents. We want to see how much power one casting of Witch Bolt can give."
I nodded. "I'll be happy to." I said.
For the time being, things were stable. Our crops were well-watered from the rain, and we had a fairly basic irrigation system set up so all we needed to do was load up a barrel and let it do its job. Trying Witch Bolt on a lightning rod definitely charged up half of the ten batteries, with a little metamagic, I could charge them all up no problem.
"What's the plan with these power cells?" I asked.
"Charging power tools." Galax said. "We've just had our first egg laying this morning, we're going to need a nursery."
I gasped. "Wait, someone's having kids?" I asked.
Galax nodded. "Our more nurturing kin are already tending to the eggs, but we need a place to keep them safe. It's the duty of the Warren to nurture them."
It didn't even occur to me until later that what he said was at odds with what we had believed to be the proper way to raise kids. But the idea of them being kept together and raised by everyone made sense in my brain. Maybe it was some kind of instinct? I wasn't certain.
I saw Tallyn helping people out the best way he could. Seeing him doing everything in his limited power to help others always brought a smile to my face, it made the fact that there were still so many unawakened all the more sad.
"Out hatchlings might not even have the benefit of someone who knows what they're doing." I muttered.
The days continued, until the prophesied third day. Everyone put out their barrels, as asked, and for a while, nothing.
Galax fell to his knees. "I was so certain..." He said softly.
"We'll just have to get into the reserve supply." I said.
As I walked away, I heart him speak. I looked back to see him, head to the ground and hands clasped together above praying. I felt sorry for him. I couldn't imagine having that much faith, only to be proven wrong.
There was a loud crash, followed by a deluge of rain. I watched as Galax unclasped his hands and held his arms out, singing, like he had the last time. I looked up, it had been bright and clear literally moments ago, yet now the sky was full of dark clouds.
For a moment, I wondered if Galax was actually right, but that couldn't be. He must have known in advance or done some kind of magic.
I cast Detect Magic, and it certainly was magical rain, but the aura was too powerful for any of us to have pulled off. I walked over to Galax, who stood up and hugged me.
"Thank you, my brother, my friend. Thank you for granting me this even in doubt. May Bahamut bless you."
He began preaching again, arms raised up to the sky, screaming with intense fervor. I watched as people began to gather around him, eyes wide, listening to every word. Here he was, stood in a rainstorm, speaking of his vision, speaking of how Bahamut had granted me the wisdom to test his miracle, and then he shared the rest of his omen.
"In three days time, Bahamut shall grant us rain once again. We shall be as parched seekers, and this shall be our dew!"
The cheer that rose up in the crowd, their excitement, it was infectious. For a moment, I forgot I was supposed to be the skeptical one, simply because for one moment, I convinced myself this really was a miracle.
The next few days progressed much the same, except now Galax was proselytizing in the street, inviting people to come to the temple, to give thanks to the Dragon God.
He approached me, one time that I was watching. He took my hand, and he said, "The time to be apart from the Warren has long passed, Ruuk. Come, even if faith does not grip your heart, you are worthy to be among us."
The day of the supposed third miracle, we placed our barrels out once more, and Galax spoke. "I shall begin praying, and my God will bless us with rain, for he sees our strife, and knows our pain. You are not required to pray."
He dropped to his knees and began imploring Bahamut to grace us with rain once more. One by one, the people in the crowd fell to their knees, echoing his words, staring at the clear, blue sky.
There wasn't a single cloud, yet I found myself getting on my knees and putting my hands together. "Alright, Bahamut." I said. "Give me absolutely zero reason to doubt now."
The clouds appeared from nowhere, blossoming out like someone had turned on a fog machine in the sky. I watched in astonishment as the sky grew darker, and lightning crashed through the heavens. Rain fell upon us, lightning struck the ground not far from us, not just once, but several times, all in the same spot.
"Alright." I said. "I believe."
It was such an alien feeling, faith. I'd had it once before, long ago, had realized that it was pointless and stupid. Yet as the lighting continued to strike the same spot over and over again, I found myself lowering myself to the ground, head to the dirt, utterly shaken by how much I revered the Dragon God in such a short amount of time.
​
[Navigation for 'Dragon Rising'- [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]]

I'm not even where to start, this is long I apologize in advance for errors, I'm on mobile...
Please bare with me as I have multiple chronic illnesses which cause my brain to be mushy 200% of the time... But I'll try to be as detailed as possible, I don't want to give too much away as this is a very serious issue and could get my husband in some serious trouble. Which he deserves to be in, BUT I'm currently waiting on a decision from social security disability so his full time employment means we have a home, food to eat and food for my 3 fur babies. He is supporting me and I do not have anything to fall back on in terms of support so I'm stuck still living with my husband.
The backstory: we've been together for almost ten years now, married for about 3. I have multiple slow progression painful chronic illnesses, I've been sick my whole life and he's taken on a huge responsibility being my partner... And I thought he accepted me for who I am not what I can offer. Mind you I'm not completely disabled, I'm able to do light housework, make his lunch for work, care for our pets and make simple dinners daily... So from chronic illness standards I'm doing pretty well for how progressed they are. Multiple of my illnesses causes severe pain so I take high dose pain meds to regulate myself on top of getting regular epidural steroid injections and ablations of the nerves in my spinal column to be able to walk. Back to the story, about 3 years into our relationship, the first time I noticed my meds were going missing I was on a low dose pain med called tramadol, he lied but eventually admitted to taking "a few". We moved forward but I had to hide my medication. The second time, fast forward a few years and we had moved into our new house. At this point I was taking lower dose Norco, but I was noticing I was light when I shouldn't have been. Confrontation again and I got a lock box. Third time I was spring cleaning and I found an empty checkbook full of my USED fentanyl patches, I had started using those due to not being able to keep my meds down completely. He had shaken them out of my sharps container then stored them away... Still not sure what he was going to do with them, it's basically skin cells by the time I take it off. I was ready to leave at this time but my parents had just moved 2 and a half hours away in a two bedroom small home. I had/have no where to go and no money to use to do anything about it... Things seemed fine for a couple years. The lock box was protecting my meds and things seemed ok... But I was still weary... Unfortunately my room in which I stored my lockbox got really cluttered due to many reasons so it became hard to use. Another part of me wanted to trust my husband. Stupid me, right?
Well to break down my dosage - I am prescribed a medium dose Norco 4x a day. Usually I only take 2-3 depending on pain and ration the rest in case of med shortage. But I was noticing my extra earrings were not as abundant as they should have been but I thought maybe I was taking a bit extra that month since it was winter. Due to recent medication shortages, my dose was increased but for 3x a day. Which I downgraded my dose to 2x a day to make sure I had extra as my pharmacy warned me they still can't get any in.
Come to the other day and I open my bottle to notice I only had a small handful... So I emptied the bottle and counted, i only had enough to take 2 a day for the next three days leaving me not only 3 Norco short for those days, but three days worth was completely gone... My heart sank because I knew what happened... I confronted my husband who lied about it at first but I asked him again and he finally admitted to taking "a few". I screamed at him for awhile before telling him to get out of my face and go to work, so he left. Sitting there I calculated not only did he steal about a months worth (1 a day) for May but he had to of stolen another two months worth during the previous months my meds weren't in the lock box... A MINIMUM of 90 Norco was taken from me when I absolutely needed them.
I wanted to file a police report that morning but was stopped by my mom who reminded me that I'm currently depending on him to survive. Only when social security goes through do I have any options of leaving... I currently pay about $315 a month on a student loan I'm not even able to use. It's not for not trying, I started working at the age of 14 but had to stop in 2020 due to multiple flare ups ending me up at 93 pounds plus in and out of the hospital on the regular.
Current situation, it's been 5 days, I asked him if he had anything to say to me at all, he said no. He still says I love you and tries to kiss me... I lean away in disgust... I'm disgusted with his audacity to take the medication that helps me be a person. I'm disgusted with myself that I do still love him but all feelings have been burned from his actions. It's obvious he has no respect for me and I'm not even sure if he married me because he loves me or if he just thought he'd have easy access to my medications for the rest of his life... Well my life. I feel obligated to continue my "wifely duties" such as making his lunch, picking up the house to the best of my abilities, make us dinner at night as he is the only one on the house so it's his, he's letting me stay despite my cold demeanor... Kinda keep the peace until I can figure a way out... It's selfish but so is he.
I do not have money to move on my own and I have to take my two large dogs and cat with me as he will neglect them, not intentionally, he has ADHD so he just forgets things. My parents said I could come up there but that means every doctors appointment I'm driving 5 hours both ways... And I have 5-7 a month. My best friend is in another state, my other bestie has 4 kids a husband and allergic to animals, 3rd friend lives with her aunt and uncle. I could crash at my brother's for a few days but not any longer... And my neighbor can't house my animals... That is my list of people, I have nobody else... Though who would want to roommate with someone who can't pay rent but can contribute to groceries, cook and light cleaning...
I'm not even sure why I'm posting... I'm very lost and confused. I've officially taken off my wedding band, I know I should file a report but he could lose his job which means he loses insurance meaning I lose insurance... I should leave him but I have nowhere to go... I told him the only way I'd even consider working on our relationship again is if he goes to therapy or rehab but he's said he'd go on the past just to not go or go once then never again...
My only plan I can think of is wait for social security to hopefully approve me then I can get my student loan waved, then I can look into low income apartments or housing... But who knows how long that's going to take, it's been in reconsideration since October of last year (22).
I'm gonna go potato now... Any helpful advice would be magical. Thank you

The global in-vehicle ethernet system is projected to grow at a significant CAGR during the forecast period. This In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market research report focuses more on a number of distinctive as well as foremost market sectors. It further focuses market segmentation. Industry-specific interviews are carried out with market players to foresee future business growth. Various facets of the industry are also depicted here under each industry sector. Future development visions and a wide range of subjects are covered in this In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market study report. All this crucial data greatly assists key players to establish their presence in the competitive market. It verifies and revalidates the knowledge provided in this global Market report. It also allows several organizations to learn more about a range of opportunities already available in the market and makes aware to firms about upcoming opportunities too. It ensures several firms to attain a long-standing business success by capturing all of the latest updates about market growth. Most important participants are able to employ such report as a great resource to attain a competitive advantage over the cut-throat market.
Get Free Sample link @ https://www.omrglobal.com/request-sample/in-vehicle-ethernet-system-market
With the help of apparent insights depicted here into a wide range of product and service releases by key competitors in the market, novice players are able to position themselves in the vast market. It is an indispensable need to get detailed idea to track future business growth and this In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market research report is the best medium to get that vision. It also aims at providing market environment along with covering complete market information. In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market research report also enables business owners to have firm grasp over what consumers exactly expect, their future demands, wants and preferences by offering detailed customer related data. It further discusses about key market players and ongoing latest trends.
This informative yet easy to understand In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market study report covers wide-ranging product launch wise latest trends, regulatory shifts and other important factors, which are expected to affect the overall industry growth for the approaching time span 2022-2028. It aims at providing detailed knowledge about what customers exactly want from which key players can make sound decision making for the growth of business. It also aims at measuring marketing effectiveness. SWOT Analysis technique is also employed to form the market research report to cover helpful opportunities, possible challenges and threats. Impact of new corona virus on the global economy is also shared in this In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market report. Collaborations, mergers and acquisitions like strategies are also covered in this market study report.
full report of In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market available @ https://www.omrglobal.com/industry-reports/in-vehicle-ethernet-system-market
· Market Coverage
· Market number available for – 2023-2029
· Base year- 2022
· Forecast period- 2023-2029
· Segment Covered- By Source, By Product Type, By Applications
· Competitive Landscape- Archer Daniels Midland Co., Ingredion Inc., Kerry Group Plc, Cargill
· Inc., and others
Global In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market – Segmentation
By Vehicle Type
​

• Passenger Cars
• Commercial Vehicles
• Farming & Off-Highway Vehicles

By Applications
​

• Advanced Driver Assistance Systems (ADAS)
• Infotainment
• On-Board Diagnostic
• Others

Global In-Vehicle Ethernet System Market – Segmentation by Region
North America
​

• United States
• Canada

Europe
​

• Germany
• United Kingdom
• France
• Spain
• Italy
• Rest of Europe

Asia-Pacific
​

• China
• Japan
• India
• Rest of Asia-Pacific

Rest of the World
​

• Middle East & Africa
• Latin America

The Report Covers
​

• Market value data analysis of 2018 and forecast to 2025.
• Annualized market revenues ($ million) for each market segment.
• Country-wise analysis of major geographical regions.
• Key companies operating in the global in-vehicle ethernet system market. Based on the availability of data, information related to products, and relevant news is also available in the report.
• Analysis of business strategies by identifying the key market segments positioned for strong growth in the future.
• Analysis of market-entry and market expansion strategies.
• Competitive strategies by identifying ‘who-stands-where’ in the market.

For More Customized Data, Request for Report Customization @ https://www.omrglobal.com/report-customization/in-vehicle-ethernet-system-market
About Orion Market Research Orion Market Research (OMR) is a market research and consulting company known for its crisp and concise reports. The company is equipped with an experienced team of analysts and consultants. OMR offers quality syndicated research reports, customized research reports, consulting and other research-based services. The company also offer Digital Marketing services through its subsidiary OMR Digital and Software development and Consulting Services through another subsidiary Encanto Technologies.
Media Contact:
Company Name: Orion Market Research
Contact Person: Mr. Anurag Tiwari
Email: [email protected]
Contact no: +91 780-304-0404

First Prev Next Royal Road
u/KieveKRS providing the Trash certification of quality!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[Thank you for agreeing to teach them.]
Volta nodded, not entirely sure if it was for the best, but recognizing a request—or in this case, a thinly veiled order—for what it was.
Ever since she had taught Scarlet and the others her field, the occasional rotation of Lilhuns would be assigned to work under her for a time. It made her job easier, especially since the settlement was expanding at a ludicrous rate compared to what she had heard from the new members of the pack.
The Atmo that had joined were quickly treated and cared for, those who did not require so much time for recovery quickly accompanying the existing insects in their tasks. The largest, Mama, frequently assisted in construction and decoration of structures, so they worked with her. Once they had oriented how things progressed and their part in it, they were paired off with a construction group to be assigned a project. It was to the point where there were as many as five buildings nearing completion at once, the majority of them being accommodation for the new members of the pack.
The remaining question was regarding the insect kits. The answer? Well, there were four Atmo slightly smaller than the purple ‘Queen’ that had requested Volta instruct them, the pearlescent shimmer of her scaled carapace dancing in the sunbeams afforded by the skylight the den had been constructed with.
Teaching Violet—as well as the two Atmo that Volta had escorted to this pack—in the ways of sanitation had been an interesting endeavour, all things considered. They held a remarkable dexterity in those long edged appendages, but the lack of something to properly grasp with made finding a way to secure a rag onto the ends difficult. Luckily, Heralt was receptive to assisting her with creating something that would attach to the blades.
It was little more than a mop that secured to the joint and braced around the cutting edge gingerly, the ends of the stick using ‘ironwood’ springs to clamp onto fabric pads that would soak in the cleaning solution and allow them to do the floors and walls. Were it not for how shockingly efficient the task was performed, she would have been useless through the laughter at the sight.
Each Atmo kit held two of the devices on their limbs, allowing them to travel in pairs and simply finish large spaces within the time it would take her to prepare the next batch of cleaners to use. They had only started a short while ago and yet two dens had been finished, Scarlet assisting her in doing whatever furniture or ledges the Atmo were unsuited to completing. The odd pack member going through what Head Sahari called ‘versatility training’ listened to her instructions in an oddly compliant manner, giving the blue-furred female pause at the unusual experience.
All in all; the cleaner was guiding the five insects and three Lilhuns in the ways of cleanliness. Scarlet was primarily keeping an eye on those who interacted with the purple-coloured Atmo, her contributions to the other tasks proficient, despite the split attention. Before, she would have assumed the servant quietly acquiescing orders, but the dark red-furred female was particularly vigilant in matters pertaining to the kit now.
Volta wasn’t sure what happened to the other servants that regularly assisted her on a rotation—save for Kaslin, the female seeming to have been unofficially inducted as Grand…. Toril’s assistant alongside his mate, Tersa—but Faye, the mild-mannered deep gold-furred female, and Raine, the polite and excitable brown-furred female, had been absent for many suns now.
It was almost lonely, in a way.
Almost.
“That should be sufficient for this den,” she announced to the gaggle of Atmo kits and Lilhuns, careful to remind them not to bother the few ‘rock-worms’ that Ferra kept separate from the rest outside. There were only four, the largest one adorned in an odd script, but they were apparently a selection of favourites of the female. Regardless, it would not do to irritate a mate of Atrox.
The brown-furred male was responsible for the ghastly armour that the Grand Hunter wore on occasion, and she was not in a hurry to see if the disturbing tendencies of the male extended to how he displayed his displeasure.
“Where is our next destination?” Scarlet asked, her tail brushing up Volta’s spine in an uncomfortable way. It wasn’t that she disliked the touch, but the owner of it worried her. Something about the servant struck her as more than what was presented, and it was obvious that the female thought of it as immensely entertaining. That much was obvious, even without the sly grin.
“We have proceeded much faster than I was expecting,” the blue-furred female admitted, mentally checking over her itinerary while subtly batting away the offending appendage. “I suppose we should attempt the barracks while the pack is engaged, then rest for a time.”
[May I leave to check on the other Atmo?]
Volta paused, unsure why it was being requested rather than merely presented as a fact. Violet was—as far as it mattered—completely beyond the cleaner’s station, if only because she was an adopted kit of the Grand Hunter, as well as a sort of leadership figure for the insects. It was an enigmatic blend of positions where the purple insect could very well order Volta to do things, rather than ask. Though the hierarchy was not nepotistic in nature, it was safer to adhere to the wishes of the den-kit than it was to disobey.
“You may. What of the others?”
[I will leave them with you and Scarlet.]
The mentioned servant frowned. “I am to accompany you.”
Violet chittered her curious laugh. [These young ones are your task. I must attend to my own.]
Volta discreetly jabbed the female with a claw, glaring at her not to question the wishes of her better. The less attention drawn from the Grand Hunter, the better. Just picturing the disturbing mask and piercing gaze was enough to make her blanch.
Either reminded of her position, or merely interested in playful retaliation, Scarlet sighed quietly, bowing slightly to the insect. “As you wish, young mistress. Do call for me if I am required.”
[I will. Thank you, Scarlet, Volta.]
Volta lowered her head, watching the Queen leave before returning her attention to the group.
“We will do the first barracks, then determine if we are of time to do the second. The kits are to await the floors cleared of obstruction by the Lilhuns before cleaning them. We will manage it in sections so as not to disturb any who may be taking a break. In future—assuming you are to operate independently from myself—it would be best if you are used to working in groups.”
The Lilhuns nodded their understanding, the young Atmo hesitantly conferring with each other before approaching Scarlet to have their mops freed of soiled cloth and materials placed upon their carriages.
The Atmo had all been outfitted with a specially made platform that fitted over their wider base, clasping underneath past their six legs. It allowed them to transport much, their carrying capacity much larger than one would suspect from their size. The kits could comfortably haul all of the materials for the sun by themselves, and the adults had been the subject of idle speculation for mounted weapon platforms—assuming the fragmented conversation she had chanced upon was to be believed.
Volta inspected the odd section that the Lilhuns under her tutelage completed while she waited for packing to finish. She was not necessarily pleased with the results, but it was more important for them to understand the procedure to take for various locations at the moment. They had proven that they understood what to do for the dens, so next came teaching them how to approach high-traffic areas.
Once everyone had been prepared and the materials gathered, they left the den and started towards the barracks, glimpsing the Grand Hunter sparring with some of the pack in the open.
Ever since the Atmo were delivered by a trade caravan, the male had taken to training much of the pack personally, Huntress Pan taking over much of his more mundane work. Those who were deemed adequate were then pawed off to Head Tel for some specialized training, though Volta was not privy to what exactly it was meant to accomplish.
Regardless, Head Sahari was in charge of rotating out the pack amongst tasks, only a few specialists being directly assigned to any one occupation. By all rights, Volta herself should be training under the male, but the nature of her work meant that she was typically better off doing her job when such was under way. Given that the Grand Hunter was a rare case of someone fully understanding the importance of her specialty—and how little she wished to interact with the alien—she was thankfully spared.
Disregarding the events going on, she motioned for her group to follow her. There was work to do.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
“Two up!” he called out, wiping the sweat from his brow. The exertion cleared his mind, and the break from endless paperwork was appreciated. With the influx of members and various training being required, he had gotten rather exhausted mentally. Between the Wraiths being gone for two weeks since he told them to do recon around the Atmo traders, regular interaction with various caravans, planning out what they needed to do, and Robert still not calling him since the man had left to handle something, he had been pretty high-strung.
As always, there was more on his mind. Harrow had become more elusive regarding him ever since he had her transcribe the Union documents regarding the Lilhuns, their conversations vapid and brief. Jax didn’t have anything useful to say about it other than that she wanted time to sort her thoughts. Toril, Idee, Mi’low, and Bratik were given copies of the file to go over recently, since they were the closest thing he had to a counsel unfettered by a close relationship.
His own makeshift family took the news in an odd way. There was a lot to unpack.
Jax had become quiet, his muscles tensing. Harrow ended up staying away from her mate for a few days until he had stopped brooding about it. In the end; the guy just told Joseph that he would trust the Grand Hunter’s decisions regarding it, finding himself at a loss otherwise.
Sahari and Nalah were approached about the bonding information, the latter denying any bond to him, as well as Sahari confirming the same towards her blond-furred mate. The only line of reasoning that they could think of to make sense was that Nalah’s circumstances had messed with her in some way. The two seemed rather distressed by the assertion, but calmed somewhat when he mentioned that nothing would change between them regardless. Sahari could tell how conflicted he was about the whole thing, he just wanted to give them something to hang on to.
It was a bigger deal for them than he had initially internalized. In retrospect; something revered as a literal gift from their god being denied really should have been an obvious point of stress. As begrudging as his acceptance was, he was linked to the whole ‘Great Hunt’ business in their minds, so he was aware of how deeply that belief ran. He didn’t personally subscribe to the religion, but they never really bothered him with anything besides overseeing funeral rites—not that he would have refused anyway.
Pan seemed to mirror his feelings on the matter—a dark feeling of helplessness and sorrow. She had fallen quiet when she heard about the trials on the defectives, that particular section hitting her harder than the others. After an entire day of silence, all she had to say about it was that she loved him, and then spent the night burrowed between him and Tel, unable to sleep. He had a hard time as well, but it extended well past the initial night.
Tel had informed him that his restlessness had made it difficult for her to get any shut-eye, his shifting disturbing her, but it was said in a slightly concerned tone. Her general reaction was fairly subdued compared to the rest otherwise, her lifetime of being at either end of a gun numbing her to the reality of things. It was weird for him, but he was deeply thankful for it on some level.
She kept him sane, her cold response being a candid ‘Wish it, and I will end all who displease you.’
For once, her more violent background gave him something to grip onto. It resonated in him—loose, yet present. A door within him, chained and locked, was brought to mind as he really considered what he wanted for those involved. The traders who abused the Atmo, those who seemed so bent on hurting his friends, the Union ‘GUOS’ who called for the experiments... A thrumming settled in his fists, an itch that couldn’t be sated by just scratching.
A paw flew past his brow, his shifted posture allowing him to slip the claws that had been left exposed in the heat of the spar. His heart hammered, his sweat soaked his clothing, and his focus returned to the fight.
No Union, no traders, no worries. Just the two security members who had doubted Jax’s claims that the smaller Human had somehow bested the male in a fight, and were now bringing out their natural weapons on instinct.
Grabbing the wrist with his right hand and gripping the shoulder with his left, he pulled, using the rotational force to pivot on his left foot and haul the overeager Lilhun to the dirt, the appendage bending behind them sharply. A second fist came from the corner of his eye, the other combatant trying to use the momentary distraction to score a hit.
Using the gripped arm as a balance, Joseph leaned into the spin, firing the sole of his shoe into the head of the opportunistic attacker. The loud slap of his foot connecting with the larger male almost outdid the crumpled form crashing to the ground unconscious. It was only a dull sensation of mercy that stopped him from completing the spin while he maintained his iron grip on the arm of the thrown adversary, saving them a torn and dislocated shoulder.
Joseph breathed heavily, the adrenaline wearing out as Jax checked on the defeated. Minus some stiffness expected in one of them and a sore jaw for the other, they would be fine, albeit embarrassed for such a quick disposal in front of their usual teachers.
The sound of his rubber sole slapping on the ground some distance away killed off whatever motivation he had to continue, his shoes finally giving out.
“I would ask you not to disable my security, Grand Hunter,” Jax said with mock frustration, the black-furred male’s eyes following the two leaving with an expression of exasperation.
“Sorry,” Joseph breathed out, his heart hammering in his chest as his system wound down.
The Head of Security glanced down at him, his expression pensive. “As much as I enjoy my boasting of your prowess to be validated, I do worry that you see more than a spar in them.”
He drew his lips thin as he brushed his sweat-soaked hair back, his arm dropping to his side. He took a few moments to sort the thoughts that returned. “I probably should have called that kick, yeah.”
The larger Lilhun snorted. “They will be fine, it is not their health I am worried about.”
“I’m fine, Jax,” he snapped, averting his eyes when his friend seemed to have made his point. “I…. I’ll be fine. Just some things on my mind right now.”
“Joseph,” the black-furred male started, walking up to place a large paw on his shoulder. “We are here if you wish to talk.”
His breath died in his throat, his eyes closing in defeat. He felt the soreness in his hands surface, hours of constant fighting to soothe the burning in his blood that failed to abate. Bruises made themselves known, dehydration made his joints stiff, and lack of sleep clouded his mind. Jax was right, he was a bit of a mess.
“Grand Hunter,” Mi’low called, his tired glance in her direction revealing the female approaching. “We are ready to speak.”
Joseph placed a hand on Jax’s paw, patting it softly. “Talking will have to wait. Tell Harrow I said hi and that I’d like to hang out again. I miss it.”
The male looked at him apologetically, nodding as he was still unable to offer anything to ease the sting of a friend distancing themselves from the Human. “I will.”
The Human cycled a breath and faced the actress. “The rest?”
Mi’low nodded. “Where will we meet?”
Joseph waved an arm towards the base. “My place. More chairs.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Toril was wearing his usual smile, his eyes inspecting everything about the hub from the couch while Tersa stood nearby, her body language telling that she was wary about being in a new place without time to scout it. Bratik was in his wheelchair, Sorren holding his paw as he sat on the opposite side of the chemist. Idee—being the only one to spend time in the outpost regularly—simply thanked Kaslin for the water from her place between the two mated males. Mi’low had claimed a free chair, her legs crossed and back straight as she stayed away from the others on the couch. The Wraith handed Joseph his requested tea since Scarlet was babysitting the insects, then occupied a place out of the way, but close enough to act if things got heated.
He stayed standing rather than occupying his usual place on a table, his second choice of seating being filled up. He could have dragged over the Atmo couch, but he didn’t want to stress his body any more than he had already by lugging it. “So, everyone had plenty of time to read the documents.”
“Indeed,” Mi’low commented dryly, a glare shot in his direction. Idee nodded, though her expression fell as it was brought up. Toril maintained his detached look of amusement, but it didn’t escape Joseph’s notice that Tersa stiffened.
The Grand Hunter took a sip of his refreshment, enjoying the fleeting feeling of warmth from something other than exertion. “And what do we think?”
“We?” Sorren asked, the male not quite used to the Human using their tongue. Joseph’s mastery of the language was still spotty at times, but Kaslin could fill any gaps if needed.
“Yeah,” he replied plainly. “It has more to do with you than me. I just got the message.”
“I find it rather fascinating,” Toril opined cheerily, his energy at odds with the atmosphere of the room. “Such thorough study allows us many insights into facets of our own biology that we may never have known!”
“By slaughtering our kin in the thousand,” Mi’low shot back, a slight snarl pulling her lip.
“As regretful as such is, we can not bring them back,” the chemist noted with a small nod. “We must simply use the information gleaned by our foes without repeating their atrocities.”
“You suggest ignoring their sins?”
“I suggest utilizing what they have learned and incorporating it to our advantage.”
“Or,” Joseph interjected, “we talk about it instead of getting into an argument.”
“Your people are not free of fault, Grand Hunter,” the crimson-furred female spat. He remained silent, already having spent far too long thinking about how none of it would have happened if Humans weren’t in the picture for them.
“You can not hold him as a factor, Mi’low,” Idee said softly, shifting in her seat to get comfortable and smiling apologetically at Sorren when she bumped him.
“Were it not for them, then we may not have lost our homes!”
“Were it not for him you would be little more than bones bleached by the sun, or so I hear.”
“We are not here to cast blame,” Bratik disputed quietly, his voice carrying through the room despite the low volume. “The Grand Hunter has saved each of us. Some from demise, others from the shackles of their station, and others from the fate of losing loved ones.”
Toril and Idee shared a glance as the male continued, Tersa paying attention to him for the first time.
“He seeks our counsel. Not our aimless ire to be spewed upon him for that which he himself had no knowledge of, nor involvement in. His kin were as much victims as our own.”
“Quite,” Toril concurred as the two females ceased their bickering reluctantly. “How would you like to address this, Grand Hunter?”
Joseph blinked, expecting the blame, but not Bratik defusing it so quickly. “Well, we have a few things to work off of. Years of experiments coinciding with missing persons after accepting a job, whoever tipped off your military taking info with them about Sol and the ‘blacklist’, whatever bond fuckery they discovered, and the defects.” He shrugged weakly. “Take your pick.”
“There are too many missing across too wide an area to recognize such a comparative few,” Idee stated, the others in the group silently agreeing.
He nodded, nursing his tea with small sips. “Figured that would be a sticking point. Plus, we don’t really know how long it was going on... or when it started... Not even if it was a bulk recruitment or slow trickle. I guess the missing people are something we’ll just have to keep unknown.”
“The bond information was rather enlightening,” Toril mentioned, his eyes rising to the ceiling as he thought about it. “Our peoples are wildly compatible.”
“As servants, perhaps,” came the scathing remark from the High Huntress. “What use is our gift if it is twisted to be mere subservience? To discard ourselves for some alien race?”
Sorren’s ear flicked. “It is hardly ‘twisted’ to protect that which the Hunt Mother has afforded us.”
“Are we to just accept that our bonds are better suited to that,” she emphasized with a pointed claw in Joseph’s direction, “rather than our kin?”
“Drop it,” the Grand Hunter ordered tiredly, his reflection in his beverage shaking as he shifted on his feet. “Arguing isn’t going to help anything.”
Mi’low held her disgusted expression. “You ask us to trust that which led to our downfall? We are yet another strike against your kin, no?”
He shook his head, his eyes buried in remains of the shimmering image he held in his hands. “I blame the sick fucks that did all this. If you can’t agree with that, then there’s not much reason to hold this meeting.”
“What is it you seek to accomplish?” Toril asked, amused by the theatrics. The rest seemed surprised by Mi’low’s pointed aggression, but the chemist was more interested in continuing.
“I have people looking to get me out of here,” Joseph informed them, laying his empty cup on the table with a soft clack. “People who will probably extend the offer to you. If they come, I need to know what we’re doing about it. The last thing I need is people acting like Mi’low and opening fire on whoever comes to drag us out of the mud.”
“Why would we?” Sorren asked, taking his mate’s paw as he gave a worried glance to the offended female.
“Because our people were tortured due to our interactions with them,” the chemist noted in a matter-of-fact tone, his pleasant demeanour remaining despite the morbid topic.
“Did our people not initiate contact with another species on less hostile terms?” Idee asked, her head tilted slightly.
“But no one lived to talk about it,” Joseph countered, gesturing with an upturned palm. “Plus, that’s assuming whoever was in charge of that call being the norm, rather than the exception.”
“You believe our people to act otherwise?” Bratik asked, his tone inquisitive rather than judgmental.
Joseph shrugged. “To be fair, I’ve almost been killed by more of your species than the wildlife. Granted, a few of those were just people being assholes, but still.”
“Many would see the opportunity as retribution for the Union,” Mi’low mentioned dryly.
Sorren’s face fell. “Then we should not propagate this knowledge?”
The Human glanced between each of them. “That’s why you’re here. My group knows because I trust them with it. I think we should keep this to ourselves, but if we do—and someone finds out—it would just cause a lot of issues. Alternatively; we tell everyone.”
“And suffer the consequences of that action as well,” Idee concluded dejectedly. Joseph returned a wry smile as Toril raised a paw, speaking when the Grand Hunter raised a brow at him.
“Perhaps we should withhold the information from the lesser station?”
“Like, just the Grand Hunters?” Joseph inquired cautiously. Toril tilted his head.
“Those who would be more diplomatically minded, perhaps.”
“I don’t exactly see some of them as what you would call ‘diplomatic’ and I’m not going on some voyage to visit everyone with the info in tow.”
“We are able to make copies,” Sorren offered. “Perhaps we could exchange the information using traders and gain something from it as well?”
Mi’low shook her head. “That is assuming they do not claim us manipulative nor seek to remove him. Some may very well move to strike us all down for ‘withholding’ the information, regardless of how readily we supply it.”
“Do your people know?” Bratik interjected, gathering the attention of the others. Joseph winced in uncertainty.
“I’m not sure. I’d guess my brother does, but I don’t know how sensitive things are. It could have been announced and there’s an intergalactic war, or it might be kept under wraps until conflict isn’t as likely. At least until it’s less likely to blow up in our faces, anyway.”
“They are of lesser force?”
“No clue,” he admitted. “Not my area. All I do know is that there are more species allied against us—or at least aren’t inclined to take a bullet—than are.”
“So our options are rather limited,” Idee concluded, receiving a series of agreements.
“We could,” Mi’low said after a few moments of contemplation, “distribute the information anonymously. Humans are not named directly in the document, and we need not divulge its origin.”
“So, what? Just pass people tablets and ask them to forget where they got it?” he probed, not entirely disagreeing with the idea, but skeptical all the same.
“Tersa may make additions to trader inventories without their knowledge,” Toril offered, the mentioned Blade frowning at him, but not protesting. “Or perhaps Trill’s kit, since she is devoted to yourself.”
“Eh. I guess that’s an option,” he conceded, sighing. “So, about the bond; any opinions? Notes?”
“Stay away from me,” Mi’low answered warily, earning a flat scowl.
“I meant something besides that. I’m not too keen on adding to the cluster-fuck I have going on anyway.”
Sorren smiled. “I am excited to meet your people—should I be so blessed. There are many who would never know the joy of the Hunt Mother’s gift otherwise.”
“I would not mind her words, Grand Hunter,” Toril chuckled. “She is a creature of dishonesty—including her own desires.”
The actress glowered at the chemist. “I preferred it when you were nomadic. It was much easier to ignore your presence. Your words were but some distant wind I need not soil my ears with.”
“Perhaps our meeting is best ended here,” Bratik interjected, waving his functional paw. The other arm was coming along, but still too stiff to use for much. “We should propagate the information through unsigned parcels to the Grand Hunters.”
“One last thing,” Joseph said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The information on Sol; anything ever get done with that?”
“We were capturing habitable planets in a particular direction, though the decision to do such was made by our superiors.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. Same issue we have now. Can’t let everyone know because chaos is a lot easier to manage when it’s directed. Between the religious connotations and the context around it; there’s no saying if it would lead to riots or worship. Rather not bring the problem to our door.”
“Wise,” Mi’low remarked sarcastically, her judgmental side-eye aimed between him and Sorren.
“Alright,” he said with a raised voice, ignoring the red-furred female to the best of his ability. “Drop off letters and lock myself in a room or something. Sounds like a plan.”
“That will not be required,” Sorren corrected with a laugh. “Though the documents confirmed a high percentile of successful bonds, there were many incompatible pairings. It is unlikely that your informant included every variation of failure, but the bond seems to be as selective as usual, just more receptive to those who meet the criteria. I would speculate that the majority of those who would bond to you by now, have. Barring the new additions, of course. I doubt you will need to worry about bonding to half a species by yourself.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he muttered. “Okay, you’re free to go back to your work. You know who to talk to if something comes up.”
The gathering dispersed, Toril requiring Tersa to drag him by the ear before he got too distracted. Mi’low stayed behind, waiting for everyone else to leave.
“Thoughts?” he asked, glancing over at her. She shook her head as she dropped the antagonistic persona.
“Two attribute you to their religion, Toril is too interested in your species to act against your best interest, and Idee rather enjoys her time here—as well as sympathizes with your position. Tersa’s allegiance is with Toril, so she will follow him, as well as your tentative arrangement as a superior over her.”
“So, we’re good?”
“We are,” she confirmed. He looked at her for a long moment.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Going to try and kill me again?” he questioned wryly.
The High Huntress snorted. “Unfortunately, my pack has ostensibly become yours, and with it, my fate. They would rather watch me go than follow. It seems your influence extends past our biology.”
Without an opportunity for him to ask what she meant, she headed to the exit, pausing in the doorway when he called out to her.
“Mi’low?” Her ear tipped back towards him. “Thanks. For putting yourself on the block like that. I know how risky that could have been for you.”
She afforded a single nod before letting it close behind her.
“’Past our biology’, huh?” he muttered, eyeing the empty cup on the table.
He considered bothering Tel, since she would likely offer him a distraction for a while.
Sighing at his remaining intact shoe flopping as he stepped, he decided to do exactly that.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
“How are we holding up?”
Tech leaned back in her chair, yawning widely. “Communications have been down for a while, navigation software is pointing everywhere at once, and if it wasn’t for me, everything else would be dark too.”
“All hail Tech Ops,” Comms quipped, struggling to make his system do much more than transmit static on a loop.
Willin rolled his eyes at Tech’s boasting, but she was probably right to do so. They had aligned themselves in the right direction and simply let navigation go, communications discreetly blinking out as they got close without warning. All they had left was the actual piloting and onboard support systems, both of them hanging by a thread until Tech could run diagnostics to see if she could counter them properly. She might be able to eventually, but she didn’t seem confident beyond keeping the crew mobile and alive.
“How’s it look down there?”
Nav had long since given up making sense of their controls, opting to keep watch for whatever they were approaching. Since they had gotten within visual range, they had occupied themselves using whatever scanning equipment Tech managed to keep shielded. They leaned over the readouts, brows raising before furrowing at the information.
“It appears that they have remained fairly close together. I am reading several AEC distress signatures... Why am I able to?”
Tech raised a paw. “Right here. The jamming is consistent with the United Military’s algorithms, though boosted past what we have the equipment to manage. Can’t override it for you or Comms, but it was never meant to counter the low-frequency of a distress pulse, since that would get lost in normal noise anyway. I took the liberty of limiting the scope of collected data to increase the sensitivity.”
“Not much frequency pollution on an untapped planet,” Willin remarked dryly, his screen mirroring what Nav was looking at. Thirty-eight sources, most of them repeating the initial call-signs. Two seemed to have retained some power, though not much, implying a makeshift solution. There would normally be more to glean, but the measures taken to make picking them out at all possible had stifled it.
“Orders?” Nav asked after a moment. Willin considered it, scouring the somewhat distorted visual feed.
“Let’s get closer first.”
“Understood.”
He adjusted his uniform as they drew near, Tech frowning as more of her fail-safe measures ironically failed. Quick action saved them from listing aimlessly, but any chance of copying the survivor’s distress call faded. The AEC’s were effectively invisible until Tech had dealt with the issue preemptively, and their beacon wasn’t any stronger.
Detriment of a scout craft, he supposed. Help would have to deal with not knowing where his ship had gone until they were up to their necks in the warp-spike’s field. Hopefully, the EW fleet would manage it better.
“Just outside of atmosphere,” Nav reported, activating the scanning equipment again. Normally, it would be able to tell them everything down to the rough number of wildlife in an area, but all the interference gave them little more than confirmation that life existed.
“Well, there goes any advanced recon,” Willin muttered, ignoring Comms silently debating if he should bother Tech to duplicate the feed again. Noticing, she did anyway, the male gesturing their thanks. “Tech, can you get us population density?”
“I’m good, Leader, but not that good.”
“Leader,” Nav called, highlighting a few points on the feed. Whatever it was that they were trying to show him, he didn’t see it. “These areas are likely settlements.”
“Structures?”
“Affirmative. It is subtle, but there.”
He nodded, trusting their judgment. “Which is the largest?”
The feed zoomed in, losing most of the clarity—not that there was much to begin with. “Location coincides with an AEC still actively reporting.”
“They set up around it.”
“Likely, Leader.”
Willin exhaled slowly. “Take us down nearby. I’d say to hide us, but that’s hard to do with open skies.”
“The planet suffers constant rain,” Tech added, her screen already reverting back to a simplistic game while she waited for someone else to need something. “We could descend under the cover of it.”
“Any idea how long?”
Her monitor flickered. “One local sun.”
“Then we spend the time gearing up,” he ordered, waving to have Nav and Comms’ screens defaulted. “You two will make sure our defence armaments ship-board are active and loaded. Tech, queue up whatever armour and equipment we might need for a diplomatic mission.”
She turned in her chair, her head tilting questioningly. “Just us?”
“Just us. We’ll want someone here to keep things warm in case we need to leave quickly. Can you get Comms’ station capable of short-wave?”
She nodded after a moment, her eyes losing focus as she consulted her implant. “We’ll lose the fabricator during, but we should have enough for life-support and in-atmosphere flight. Weapons will have to be swapped out with it too.”
“That bad?”
The purple-furred female shrugged. “It’s that or I take down the defences and we lose it all.” She frowned at her screens. “Even this is pushing it.”
“Can you take down the purifier once we’re down there? Switch to external flow?”
“As long as you don’t mind alien air, sure. It won’t give us more to work with, but it should make it less taxing to keep what we have.”
Willin scratched at his ear. “Do it. They lived here this long, doubt we’ll join the Void breathing it too.”
“Will do.”
He shifted his attention back to Nav. “Set course to that settlement. Keep us above the clouds until it gets bad enough to obscure us.”
Nav signalled their agreement, the scenery shifting slowly as they picked a cloud to shadow in the meantime. Comms looked at Willin expectantly, forcing him to come up with something for the male to do.
“Comms, I want you to monitor anything this place has coming in or out. Set up surveillance.”
The male raised a brow. “My systems are inoperable, Leader.”
“If you try to do anything big, yes,” Willin corrected. “Just keep us informed if something goes through. We don’t need to know what happened, just that it did.”
“Keeping track of possible communications between settlements?”
Willin bobbed his head to the side. “Whatever we learn, it’s more than we know.”
“Understood. I will try to arrange a passive probe.”
The group set about their tasks as he brought up a still-frame of the settlement Nav spotted. It was blocky, blurry, and the chromatic aberration on the edges hurt to look at, but it was a settlement. A large AEC surrounded by silver constructions, all laid out in a slightly haphazard way. He couldn’t judge it too harshly, however. There was a method to the madness. Narrow pathways hidden between dens, each leading to the AEC like a system of routes for select Lilhuns to reach anywhere they may be needed as quickly as possible.
The AEC itself seemed modified, large solar panels placed where a solid hull would be expected, the semi-transparent material likely acting to illuminate the interior. Many of the buildings around it were larger than those beyond, some appearing to be two or three levels.
From sheer volume of dens, Willin figured this was a contender for the largest settlement. His best estimate placed the number of inhabitants in the range of three hundred or so. If the other settlements were even close, then the initial guess of a thousand survivors was woefully short.
That made things complicated, yet so much simpler.
He awaited the distant storm clouds rolling over the landscape, thankful Tech had prioritized the water-proof gear.
He hated being soaked.
Next
A/N: 500k words. Half a fucking million.

Cover Art!
Just because you’re transported to another world, doesn’t mean you’ll escape from your pain.
Abused by her parents, thirteen-year-old Frances only wants to be safe and for her life not to hurt so much. And when she and her class are transported to the magical world of Durannon to fight the monsters invading the human kingdoms and defeat the self-titled Demon King, Frances is presented with a golden opportunity. If she succeeds, Frances will have the home she never had. If she fails, Frances will be summoned back to the home she escaped.
Yet, despite her newfound magic and friends, Frances finds that trauma is not so easily lost. She is dogged by her abuse and its physical and invisible scars. Not only does she have to learn magic, she has to survive the nightmares of her past, and wrestle with her feelings of doubt and self-loathing.
If she can heal from her trauma, though, she might be able to defeat the Demon King and maybe, just maybe, she can find a home for herself.
Teaser: The Traditionalists last stand...
[The Beginning] [<=Chapter 188] [Chapter Index and Blurb] [Chapter 189 on June 5 or now on patreon]
The Fractured Song Index
Discord Channel Just let me know when you arrive in the server that you’re a Patreon so you can access your special channel.
The first sign that something wasn’t quite the same about the Greenway was when Frances, Timur and their company spotted horsemen in the far distance. They would have assumed this was Thorgoth’s scouts, but these horsemen retreated toward the Greenway and entered into the broken fortifications.
So the group entered into the Greenway fully armored and armed, ready for a fight. They rode into the underground highway, travelled for a full second day and saw nothing the matter.
Then they entered Kairon Aoun.
The ancient goblin city of Kairon Aoun had been built as a defensive city facing north. As such, the city in the great cavern it was carved out of was stepped into four tiers. To access each of the levels, the attacker would have to fight their way up a ramp that ran up the side of the rammed-earth foundation of each tier.
Every tier’s edge was also faced with a brick curtain wall with machicolations built into the ramparts. This was so that stones and other objects could be dropped, wherein they would fall down the steeply stoped sides and slam into the attackers. Many of these ramparts had fallen into disrepair when Morgan, Hattie and Frances had last passed through here.
Except, the moment Frances and her company rode through the Greenway and into the city, they could see it was alive with activity. New ramparts were being built atop of the old. In the distance, they could see old houses had been demolished and cannon batteries had been set up. Holes in the walls were being patched.
“What’s even lighting this whole thing?” Tara whispered.
Morgan pointed at the ceiling. “The ventilation shafts provide some light. I’m not sure how they ended up lighting the entire place up, though.”
“Combination of mirrors through said shafts and a goodly amount of torches,” said Timur. He glanced at Frances. “Did you know about this?”
“No I did not, let’s hope they recognize us as friendly. Colonel Tara, we’ll take the lead,” said Frances, touching her heels to her horse.
The gatehouse on the lowest level, which was protected by a low, thick wall, now swung open and a wing of cavalry rode out, Erisdalian and Lightning Battalion standards flying high.
Timur immediately recognized the troll that lead the group. “Aloudin! It’s me! We’re back!”
Captain Aloudin, eyes wide, broke his horse into a gallop. Riding ahead of the cavalry, he only stopped so that he could slap his hand into Timur’s. “Your Highness, it is good to see you. Though, you really ought not to take such risks! Who are these new arrivals?”
The prince chuckled, squeezing his friend’s hand tightly. “One of those rumored orphan brigades who decided to defect.” Timur gestured behind him. “This is Colonel Tara, who risked her life along with her troops to help us escape.”
Riding up, Tara unsheathed her saber, which she presented it to Aloudin, only for the troll to gently push it back to her.
“There’s no need for that, Colonel. We do things quite differently around here.”
Tara sighed, returning her blade to her scabbard. “I’m beginning to see that. Makes me wonder why I didn’t try to leave earlier.”
“The first step is always the hardest,” said Frances. She shook Aloudin’s hand as well. “What’s going on here, Aloudin? I know our long term goal was to fortify Kairon-Aoun, but we hadn’t the manpower to spare.”
The captain pursed his lips before they twisted into something between a grimace and a smirk. “We got some important news and new orders. I’ll show you. Follow me.”
One thing that Ayax and Elizabeth hadn’t accounted for when they ran up into the attic was the lack of a water source, and any way to dispose of waste.
So by the next day of their hiding, the trio stuck in the attack were wearing cloth masks, thirsty as hell, and hoping the odor wasn’t going to alert anybody.
“This shit stinks,” Leila growled.
Elizabeth touched a hand to Leila’s cheek. The girl’s color had returned and after some very reluctant healing by Ayax, she was now able to sit up. “You’re right, but I think you’re much better now.”
“I feel better.” Leila staggered to her feet, pushing the covers off of her. “Does Janize know you found me?”
Ayax snorted. “We told her while you were napping. She’s pissed.” The troll walked over. “Do you think you’re ready to move?”
“I take it you’ve come up with something?” Leila asked.
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Yes. You need to convince Janice we need to launch the attack now.”
“Excuse me what? Are you insane? We haven’t—” Leila rubbed her sweat-matted hair with her bandaged hands. “Wait, how long have I been captured?’
“ A week. You were out for one of those days,” said Ayax.
“Then you’re right. Darius will have to make a move now that he knows I’ve disappeared. Wait, Janize doesn’t—Of course she doens’t. She’s cautious by nature. Get her on the mirror right now!”
“You could use please,” said Elizabeth, handing Leila her mirror.
“Leila—”
“Janize, there’s no time. You need to barricade yourself in a safe place with as many guards as possible, perhaps the throneroom and get the attack started by tonight.”
Frowning, the queen’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the mirror with a mixture of confusion. “Love, we haven’t finished preparing—”
“There’s no time! Darius and Scarlet know I’ve been rescued. They’ll attack as soon as they get everything in order because they know you can move to arrest them!” Leila put her hands up to the mirror. “Love, they’ll stop at nothing until you’re dead.”
Janize’s eyes widened and she whispered, “What did they—”
“It doesn’t matter, Janize. Please, you need to issue the orders now!”
The queen exhaled slowly. “Alright. Ayax, Elizabeth, are your forces in place?”
Elizabeth, relaxing a little, smiled. “Martin and Ginger found a way to get to the Water Tower and to deploy reinforcements into the palace. We still need your troops to ensure the Water Tower’s guns are silent and for the main gates of the citadel to be opened to us.”
“It will be done. How are you getting out of Darius’s mansion?” Janize asked.
“When the attack takes place we’ll break out and support the attack,” said Ayax, arms crossed.
Janize pursed her lips. “Then we are going for tonight?”
The three exchanged a glance and all nodded.
“Go for tonight,” said Elizabeth. “Good hunting.”
“Good hunting.” Janize leaned forward, peering intently through the mirror. “Leila, stay alive. No matter what they did to you, you’re still mine you hear me? I still want you by my side.”
Leila blinked. She blinked again furiously and pressed her bandaged hands to her eyes. “I…Janize, thank you.”
Janize smiled. “I love you, dear. See you soon.”
Ayax had turned from the exchange. When the mirror was shut off, she let out a long, shuddering exhale.
“You are terribly lucky to have her,” she said.
Standing up, Elizabeth took Ayax’s elbow, squeezing it gently. The troll placed a hand around Elizabeth’s side, hugging her tightly.
Leila could only bow her head. “I know.”
“Because I probably would have killed you if it weren’t for her,” hissed the troll. She swallowed. “And not because of our agreement.”
The Otherworlder looked up. “Why then?”
Biting her lip Ayax stammered, “I couldn’t kill someone who doesn’t want to hurt me when they have a loved one. There’s no…no justice in that.”
With that, Ayax walked to the corner of the attack. Elizabeth gave Leila a look. “When you’re ready, we ought to call George and the Otherworlders, give them a heads up and communicate our plans.” Elizabeth then ran after Ayax, interweaving her fingers with the troll. They left Leila standing in her corner, in her own thoughts.
Half-choking, her hate-filled grunts punctuated by hacking coughs, Jessica followed Ginger down the sewer.
“I hate you. I hate you so fucking much!” she hissed.
Half-gagging herself from the smell, Ginger glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “Hey, I just suggested it to you. You wanted to help rescue Leila.”
Two middle-fingers was Jessica’s response along with a chuckle from the Erisdalians that were part of Jessica’s unit and new band of comrades.
Ginger joined them in their chuckling. She knew she could rely on Jessica and the rest of her group. Besides, their attack was going to be much easier than what her fiance was going to be doing up high.
Taking cover behind a slightly holed house, Martin examined the area in front of the citadel.
The Lightning Battalion’s batteries had been keeping up a very long barrage. Mortars and long cannon had pounded the makeshift defense line of houses on Castle Way. After hours of bombardment, they’d breached the line.
The result was flat, rubble-covered broken ground that led up to the moat in front of the citadel and main palace within. They had no hope of knocking down every house. Houses still stood on the flanks of the Citadel, covering the road that led up to the castle’s side gate. There were also a number of houses standing on the main approach, though, this actually was better for their plans. The remaining stone foundations of the houses and charred remains in the gap would be able to cover the advance.
The bigger problem was the walls in front of them were mostly intact and the gatehouse’s drawbridge was up. Their mages could cast smoke or illusion spells to screen their approach, but that would do no good if the drawbridge was still up and the gatehouse in enemy hands.
Martin breathed in and out slowly. No, they were entirely reliant on Janize keeping up her end of the bargain.
Sitting in the throne room, Janize steepled her fingers, eyes focused on the steps to the dais.
Was her decision correct? Was she making the right choice? Had she considered everything?
Those thoughts ran in her head as she studied the carpet. The sounds of her guards and knights preparing the throne room and ensuring the main entrance was secured echoed in her ear. Yet she did her best to ignore them.
If she went through with this, she knew she’d never sit on Erisdale’s throne again. Her brother would be the last to sit on the throne and then it would be House of Conthwaite, the house of a knight and later, his offspring with a common soldier.
How had it come to this? Why had she put herself here?
The image of a fierce Otherworlder came to mind, along with the litany of decisions she’d made. Siding with Darius, rejecting the Alavari as monsters, falling in love and then realizing where she’d gone wrong. The news of the dragons in Thorgoth’s employ.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe there was still hope. At the very least, she still had Leila.
The Otherworlder, George marched up to the dais and bowed. “Your Majesty, we’re ready to open the gates. The Water Tower’s received their orders.”
Janize sighed. “To think that there was a route to the citadel through the sewers.”
George chuckled. “At least we’re making them suffer for it.”
The queen pursed her lips. “Tell me, George. You fought against Ayax and Elizabeth at Lehrbach. You sided against them. All the Otherworlders here sided against them. Why are you willing to fight alongside them once again?”
The teen—no, young man looked away, towards the windows that lit the hall.
“I think after a year of fighting with Darius in earnest, we all realized we’d made a mistake. We’re not from your world, but we learnt enough in our own that this… what Darius was doing is wrong and no different from the worst villains from our world. We weren’t fighting Alavari, we were fighting other humans. We just…didn’t know what to do about it. So when you and Leila told us about the plan, and that we would have a chance to actually fight Thorgoth, to protect people from a world ending threat, we all jumped on it.”
Janize snorted. “You’re going to have a heck of a time convincing the other Otherworlders.”
George sighed. “We all know that, but hey, they are going to need us. I mean we are going to be fighting literal dragons.”
“That is true.” Janize closed her eyes and nodded. “Carry it out, George. Get those gates open and signal the Water Tower.”
George saluted. “Yes, Your Majesty. It’s been an honor and a pleasure.”
Through her spyglass, wrapped warmly in her bright orange cloak, the Erlenbergian mage, Ophelia Voidsailor watched the coast with her spyglass.
Despite the years Erlenberg had fought Alavaria along the northern front, and through all the naval battles on the eastern coast, Ophelia still wore orange. It’d become her calling card of sorts and she knew it gave the crew of her ship comfort to see her strut around. Honestly, she was getting a little tired of the color, but she liked the attention more.
Beside her, looking through his own spyglass, the one-eyed Eustace Windwhistler glanced at the sky. “It’s about time,” said Edana’s brother.
“I know—I see it!” Ophelia exclaimed. Before her eyes, the Water Tower, the main obstacle to the Erlenbergian fleets advance, had lowered the red banner of the traditionalist. A blue banner was being run up and more blue flares were being fired into the sky by some mage.
Eustace looked through his spyglass and nodded. “Signal to the fleet! Follow my lead. We are attacking!”
Flags ran up and down on the galloen Stormcaller, which had been named as such much to her namesake’s consternation and embarrassment. Behind Eustace and Ophelia’s warship, the long lineof Erlenbergian ships of the line ran flags up and down in acknowledgement. The entire line then followed the Stormcaller as it swung starboard toward the bay.
Underneath the Water Tower, Ginger found a ladder had been dropped into the sewer. Gingerly taking the rungs, she climbed up and was helped up by several red-uniformed harbour guardsmen. A petite woman with a musket slung over her shoulder handed Ginger a clean rag.
“Wow you stink, but I’m glad to see you. Captain Belinda of the Harbour Guard.”
“Ginger, yes, that Ginger. Are Darius’s troops reacting?”
“They are indeed. Several regiments have filed out of the Citadel and are making their way here as we speak. How many have you brought?” Belinda asked.
“A whole regiment of crack musketeers are behind me to help you secure the tower. The Erlenbergian fleet is landing marines. We’ll be fine, I’m just worried about the main assault,” said Ginger. She wiped her face and hands. “Show me the battlements. I’ll get my soldiers set up along with yours.”
“This way,” said Belinda, guiding Ginger out.
Ayax and Elizabeth silently crept down the drop-down attic stairs. Behind them, carrying a spare wand, Leila limped as quietly as she could. They could hear shouting in the mansion and the scurrying of people on the lower floors.
The trio paused to quickly grab a drink of water from a nearby pitcher left by the servants for any houseguests, before continuing on. From what they could tell, someone was having a heated discussion in the foye.
As they got closer to the staircase, they soon could figure out who.
“Janize is making her move and the Lightning Battalion must be close behind. The Erlenbergian fleet is moving in and the Water Tower is not firing on them.”
“There’s no need to panic—” “Scarlet, your fucking plan has accelerated Janize and the Lightning Battalion’s timetable! We’re fucked. We’re all probably dead.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. The three heard Scarlet growl, “Alright, I was…overly optimistic that the Lightning Battalion and Janize would split due to that report, but we only need to secure Janize and the Citadel and our position will still be quite strong.”
“I disagree, but Janize won’t have long. My troops led by Vulpina are converging on the throne room as we speak. Otherworlders or not, she can’t hold for long.” Darius chuckled dryly. “We might all die in the attempt to oust her, and hell she may be killed, but we won’t let her have the last laugh.”
Ayax turned to the two humans with her. “Liz, Leila, go. I’ll try to pin them down here.”
Elizabeth blinked. “Wait, but Ayax—”
“Liz, if we lose Janize, we’ll lose the civil war. You got to go.”
Elizabeth briefly closed her eyes and nodded. Grabbing onto Ayax, she drew her troll close to her and into a brief, fierce kiss. “Come back to me, alright?”
Ayax managed a smirk. “Always.”
Elizabeth turned to Leila. “Let’s go—what are you—” The Otherworlder had knelt on the ground her head bowed.
“Ayax, I’m sorry. I promise you can do whatever you want to me after you save Janize, but please, let me save her first,” said Leila, she lowered her head, but Ayax quickly grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her up. It was easy as the girl was still very light.
“This is not the time. I accept your promise, but we’ll talk later. Now go!” Ayax hissed.
Nodding, Elizabeth grabbed Leila and the pair took off in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Ayax took a deep breath and walked up toward the balcony overlooking the foye.
Darius was pacing, whilst Scarlet was biting her finger, one hand gripped tightly around her staff.
“What if they breach the gatehouse?” Scarlet asked.
“There’s no way that force assembling outside can breach the gatehouse. They’ll need—”
“Earl Darius, Master Scarlet, I have waited a long time for this moment.” Ayax leaned casually against the railing, noting the fine, polished grain. “Do you know who I am?”
Darius, eyes staring up at her, took a step back. “Ayax the Blackgale.”
“Daughter of Allaniel the Valorous, who you had murdered,” Ayax hissed.
Scarlet ripped her heavy cloak off and gripped her staff in both hands, which had a number of rings on the fingers. Her eyes narrowed at Ayax. “So it was you who rescued Leila. I thought you would kill her.”
“You certainly tempted me, but she was just the instrument. It was you two who had my parents killed.” Raising her staff, Ayax growled. “Prepare to die.”
Scarlet waved the earl off. “Darius, go, deal with Janize. I can handle her.”
Darius arched an eyebrow even as he grabbed the main door’s handle. “Are you sure?”
Scarlet smirked. “She’s no Frances Stormcaller. Just an angry little troll.”
“I’m a pissed off troll.” Ayax leapt over the railing, throwing several spell cards at Scarlet. The woman waved her hand, magical rings activating to form a barrier. The cards slammed into it, sparking and banging. It would have knocked her back, but the barrier dissipated the force.
No matter, Ayax landed nimbly on the carpet and whirling her staff, slammed it into Scarlet’s barrier. Darius had run for it, slamming the doors behind him. Ayaxs’s blow sent Scarlet smashing through those closed doors, nearly throwing her onto Darius.
The Red Order Mage picked herself off the grown, dusting off her robes. “Ah I see the familial resemblance now you monster. You and your adoptive ‘cousin’ are just fucking irritating.”
Ayax was about to quip back, but found herself pursing her lips as a thought ran through her head. “You know, if you were just a little nicer, just a bit more understanding, you could have gotten along with Frances. It’s really hard to not get along with her.”
Scarlet’s snarl faded and she grimaced. “She wouldn’t have been my student, but Edana’s. Now are you going to kill me, Blackgale, one of the people who helped murder your parents, or are you going to talk me to death?”
Ayax flinched, feeling the swirling vortex of power bubble in her very core as her fury sparked. At the same time, a serene, piercing idea just echoed through her head. It was not really a revelation, more of an observation she’d noticed about Leila, Darius and now Scarlet.
“You all are awfully insistent on dying. Why don’t you all just…give up? Live?” Ayax asked. The pair were circling now, ready to let loose with spells at any sign of weakness or an opening.
Scarlet snorted. “Would you let me and Darius live?”
Ayax paused, watching Scarlet continue to circle. When the troll didn’t move, only followed her with her eyes, the mage stopped and tried to circle in the other direction. Still Ayax didn’t move, she just remained still, staff at the ready.
“If you all surrendered and submitted to a trial, I would,” said Ayax. There was still turmoil, rage, roiling in her heart. Yet, she was starting to feel another emotion that calmed her, despite how odd it felt.
The Red Order Mage blinked, before she sneered. “Then you are a naive fool.” She twirled her staff, the ends bursting into flame as she sang. Fireballs tore toward Ayax.
The troll dodged, not flamboyantly. She just stepped out of the way, shuffling and stepping from side to side. No fancy shielding required, no complicated jumps needed. Scarlet cast, and continued to cast. Whips of crimson magic were followed by cobblestones torn from the road. Ayax had to briefly block those with a quick shield, before twisting out of the way.
Shifting her grip on her staff, Ayax pulled her weapon to her side, as if she was drawing a sword. Crying out a string of Word of Powers, she whipped it across.
The staff suddenly extended, dark-blue magic lengthening it until a incredibly long, thin rod of magic crashed into Scarlet’s side. It sent her tumbling through a hedge and onto the lawn of Darius’s mansion.
Leaping over said hedgerow, Ayax rolled to a perfect landing on the other side. Scarlet had staggered to her feet, wiping blood from the scratches on her arm and face. She was already wincing as she touched her side.
Ayax thought she would be taking pleasure from this. Well, part of her was. She was happy she was kicking Scarlet’s butt. Yet, the part of her that was choosing to be calm, to think and be a good person felt an entirely different emotion.
Pity.
Pity for how pointless this whole battle was, pity for how this woman and her allies had hurt so many and seemed so unhappy with their lives. There was disgust and anger, and yet when Ayax thought about what she had, and what Scarlet lacked, she found that anger seeping away.
“Scarlet, this is your last chance. Surrender now,” said Ayax.
“To you? Not to Edana Firehand, or even Frances Stormcaller? But to their lackey? A second-rate battle mage?” Scarlet spat on the ground and raised her staff again. “I’d rather fucking die.”
The troll sighed. “So be it.”
Author’s Note: Ayax is getting ahold of her anger. It hasn’t been easy to figure out how her feelings changed but I decided to approach it from the idea that she’s matured as a person and has started to take more perspectives, something that she’s always struggled with.

Hello all, ever since I can first remember I have always been fond of aviation and one passion I have is reading about plane crashes and near crashes to know what happened, why it happened and what changes were made to make the aviation industry safer.
Many years ago I happened to read the Wikipedia page about the Kano air disaster in 1973. I never thought much of it but recently I read through it and wanted to read the accident report which would give information about the background of the flight, the pilots' experience, how many people were onboard, what happened, and any recommendations made. It turns out that despite this being the worst civilian plane crash at the time with 176 fatalities, Nigeria's worst plane crash, and probably investigators from the United States (NTSB) assisted in the investigation because it was an American made plane, if an accident report was issued, it has likely been lost. I asked for any references on the aircrashinvestigation subreddit and got some additional sources but not really useful.

What happened

For anyone unfamiliar with the story, this is what I do know about the flight, some parts are just educated guesses. Early morning on January 22nd 1973, an Alia Royal Jordanian Airlines Boeing 707 was chartered by Nigeria Airways to fly 193 Muslim pilgrims from Jeddah, Saudia Arabia back home to Lagos as part of the Hajj. The 707 was just two years old at the time. There were 9 crew members onboard for a total of 202 people onboard. As far as I know there doesn't appear to be any information on what the flight number was. The Captain of the flight was 53 year old John Waterman, an American with over 22,000 hours total air time. He lived in Beirut, Lebanon with his wife and children and had been flying in the Middle East for 20 years . The remaining 8 crew members probably were the co-pilot and the flight engineer with 6 flight attendants. The airplane likely departed for Lagos at dawn and at some point during the flight the pilots received information that there was bad weather at Lagos and they had to divert to Kano, Nigeria.
According to a source I found, hot winds from the Sahara, called harmattan, a cool dry wind that blows from the northeast or east in the western Sahara, were present at Kano that morning. Large amounts of dust and sand are collected that the sky becomes hazy and visibility drastically reduces. Harmattan is the strongest from late November to mid-March. Just after 0900 local time (the plane would have been in the air for probably 4 hours by now), the pilots began their approach to Kano. On final approach they encountered the harmattan and had to go around for another attempt. On their second approach at 0930 local time, the plane touched down nose wheel first, instead of its main wheels first. The nose wheel struck a depression on the runway and collapsed. Then the right main gear collapsed, followed by the left gear: both collapses ruptured the fuel tanks. The plane then spun 180 degrees and slid off the runway. A fire then broke out which completely destroyed the airplane and only 26 people (23 passengers and 3 crew members) out of the 202 people onboard survived (One source in 1975 says that 33 people survived). Among the survivors was Captain Waterman. Since he survived the crash, it's quite likely that the co-pilot and the flight engineer also survived.
A short video of the remains of the aircraft taken later: 1973 Kano air disaster Alia Royal Jordanian Airlines Boeing 707 [JY-ADO] crash Aftermath Footage - YouTube
Two weeks after the crash the Jordanian authorities insisted that a depression in the runway was to blame while the Nigerians insisted that pilot error was the cause as Waterman had ignored orders from the tower not to land due to the strong winds.
In 1975, the Nigerian government tribunal who investigated the crash recommended that Captain Waterman be prosecuted for culpable homicide and be banned from ever flying into Nigeria again as he piloted the airplane in a reckless manner. The Nigerian government agreed with the tribunals findings. I was not able to find any information on whether Waterman was prosecuted or what happened to him afterwards. However, I have found no information on whether a depression in the runway was to blame or the nose wheel broke off because he landed the plane too hard and nose wheel first.
Getting back to my question, it looks like an investigation was conducted, but their findings were never put into an accident report and if they were they were never submitted to the International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO).
If anyone has more information about this crash or is able to find any additional sources I would love to read them.
Sources I found about the Kano Air disaster:

1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kano_air_disaster
2. https://www.baaa-acro.com/crash/crash-boeing-707-3d3c-kano-176-killed
3. https://aviation-safety.net/database/record.php?id=19730122-0
4. https://content.time.com/time/subscribearticle/0,33009,906816,00.html
5. https://www.nytimes.com/1973/01/23/archives/pilgrims-jet-crashes-in-nigeria-180-are-feared-dead-a-record-180.html
6. https://www.nytimes.com/1975/09/18/archives/us-pilot-blamed-for-crash-that-killed-157-in-nigeria.html

Thank you

Barber’s Star, 2382

Captain Jayme Dawson sat at the centre of the bridge of the destroyer NFNS Anders T. Christian and grinned to himself with a proprietary satisfaction at his crew’s performance during the drill he’d just run them through; tensions along the border had been growing for months, and he’d be damned before he’d give his people anything less than their best chance at survival. Destroyer Squadron 193, part of the task force sent to defend Barber’s Star, was picketing the system and watching the hyper limit. The Christian’s closest fellows, her sister ships Invincible and Redoubtable, were each a quarter of the way around the system in different directions, millions of kilometres away. Were she to encounter any trouble, the Christian would be on her own for hours.
Dawson saw his sensors officer stiffen in her seat, and rose an eyebrow. “Share with the class, Ensign?” he asked, pulling up the tactical plot on one of his own displays…and nearly had a much more unseemly reaction. Even as she was reading out the situation in a shaking voice, he was running through his options in his mind. “Th-three light cruisers just jumped in, Sir. They aren’t broadcasting any identification—power spike. They’re raising shields.”
A corner of his mind noted how much professionalism she managed to regain by the end of her report, but he had more important things to worry about. Those cruisers were not supposed to be in-system, and clearly had intentions far from peaceful. “Comms, get word to Admiral Miranda and broadcast the standard challenge. Ops, get me shields, and bring the weapons up; looks like we won’t be able to get out of this one if they turn out to be hostile.”
The look he gave at his crew was the grin of a cornered wolf. When they returned it with similar expressions of their own to the beat of the General Quarters alarm, he felt a strange assurance they wouldn’t disappear into the black alone.
​
Admiral Carmen Miranda listened to the briefing with an incredulity she couldn’t hide even behind the habitual snacking she partook in. After she squawked her distress, the Christian had engaged the cruisers and her signal had abruptly cut off. She’d made the obvious and prudent assumption Dawson had been defeated and his ship destroyed and sent a small force out to reconnoitre the area. Expecting to find the wreckage of a destroyer, they’d found a field of debris surrounding three light cruisers floating dead in space. Lifeboats screamed for help. The enemy’s lifeboats. He’d sent his report off to FLEETCOM at Charlemagne. The raiders had been defeated, themselves…but where was the Christian?
​

Barber’s Star, 2495

NFMS Hera’s Dream wallowed through normal space, as was the merchant ship’s wont and lot in life. The uneventful flight had left the Second Mate Sammy Ortega, officer of the watch, yawning. He hated routes like these, and glanced at the plot with a well-hidden resentment; Nine (the creatively-named ninth planet of the system) was on the outskirts of the Barber’s Star system, and it left him and his captain’s ship vulnerably near the hyper limit for nearly two-thirds of the trip. The perfect place to get jumped by pirates. Still, though, the system had grown into a defence nexus since the War of ‘82, and it needed the precious metals Hera’s Dream carried. It also meant that Fleet ships weren’t exactly rare in the system.
None of that, however, was much consolation when four pirate ships lit off their drives and began to burn hard to intercept the ponderous fleet supply ship travelling with no protection but the light asteroid shielding that allowed it to travel at a small percentage of light speed. Even before Johny Nelson, the man sitting at the sensor console, could give his trembling report, red icons littered the plot as the pirates’ fire-control radars swept across the unarmed ship’s hull.
“They’re hailing us, Sammy,” Nelson said quietly, the shake in his voice flattening into a disbelieving facsimile of a person’s speech.
Gritting his teeth, Ortega told him to accept the signal. A slovenly face grinned back at him through the command chair’s display when they made the connection. “Cut thrust and prepare to be boarded. Any resistance will be met with force,” he stated, then grinned savagely and licked his lips. “A lot of force.”
The connection closed even while the overwhelmed second mate opened his mouth to respond; before he could turn to the wide-eyed woman at the helm to order their acceleration halted, to give in to the pirate’s demands, Nelson stiffened. “Another contact, Sammy,” he reported. “I don’t think it’s a pirate—the vector’s all wrong. And she’s fast, Sammy.”
“A fleet patrol?” Ortega asked.
“No IFF,” Nelson replied.
“Get her on the horn, Johny,” Ortega ordered.
“Nothing on the comms…huh? That’s weird,” Nelson said, then leaned forward. A strange dread filled Ortega; why wouldn’t she answer hailing? Nelson’s eyes widened. “She’s got her shields up, Sammy!” he exclaimed.
The plot said she had enough power to be a destroyer, but even a true warship of her class should be cautious about engaging this many pirates! On she came nonetheless, shields glowing a curiously menacing red. On she came, hundreds of thousands of kilometres from either the Hera’s Dream or any of the pirate ships. On she came, speeding toward the centre of the pirate “formation.”
When the first beams reached out, Ortega reflected on the courage of that single ship. It was a rare thing, shown by very few even within the navies protecting the disparate human planets. Even as he snapped orders to the woman at the helm, who obeyed in a sort of fugue state incurred by the stress of the situation, he contemplated the stranger’s fearless behaviour.
Like a tiger to its meat, he thought to himself.
The unknown ship flew incredibly; Ortega thought that the helmsman must’ve lived that ship, for how she pirouetted and slipped mere metres aside to avoid the pirates’ beams. Never did that ship fear their guns or numbers, and when their beams inevitably impacted, the entire bridge crew of the Hera’s Dream cringed, expecting those ruby-red shields to collapse. To their astonishment, they held strong, and hot lances of fury struck out from that unyielding bubble, rending the aether. The crew could only watch and shake their heads as this strange, astounding ship cut the pirates to bloody shreds.
Just as quickly as the stranger had shown up and begun to fight the pirates, then the fighting was all done; the pirate fleet was shattered, and the unknown ship had won. Ortega instructed Nelson to attempt to hail the stranger again to thank them, but once again their hailing went unanswered.
“She’s matching velocity,” Nelson reported, his voice filled with the awe and stunned surprise the rest of the crew were feeling. She pulled alongside close enough the hull-mounted cameras could get a good look at her when she dropped her shields.
When she did, the only sound on the bridge was that of three souls collectively inhaling.
The hull of that strange ship was irrevocably marred by the scars of some long-ago encounter; thirty holes ran clear through her, and a large gash left one side missing much of its hull panelling. Every spacer aboard the Hera’s Dream looking knew, without a doubt, that when the ship sustained those grievous wounds everyone aboard had died.
“Mr. Ortega,” the helmswoman said, finally gaining her voice. When his eyes met hers, she gave him a shell-shocked grin. “Have you ever heard the tale of Dawson’s Christian?” she asked, then pointed at the monitor. Ortega was confused for a brief moment, before his eyes returned to the feed and widened.
Painted in white lettering across what seemed to be the only surviving hull space on their side, they could see the ship’s name…Anders T. Christian. That realisation seemed to course through not only them, but also the stranger; instead of flying away, though, the hull itself began to fade from reality before their very eyes. The stunned, silent crew of the Hera’s Dream laid witness to the grizzly sight that was the view of the outer compartments of the shattered ship. Bodies laid askew, floating in the zero-G vacuum, limbs burned off by the edges of beams or torn off by flying shrapnel.
Mercifully, further detail was hidden by the dead crew’s shipsuits.
The bulkheads began to shimmer from perception as the bridge crew aboard Hera’s Dream began to tremble.
The last thing to slip from view were the bones…dead white bones of Jayme Dawson and his crew.
There are stories of the Dutchman, the Celeste and Barnham’s Pride, stories of the Horseman and the Lady at his side…

Kuiper Yard, Sol, 2500

“...but the tale that chills my spirit,” Ortega finished, “and I swear to God it’s true, is the tale of Jayme Dawson and his crew.”
The spacers sitting around the table shared disbelieving glances, but in their years since working aboard Sammy Ortega’s ship, they’d never heard him tell any tall tales. Besides.
It was comforting to know that merchants had a protector.
Even if it was just a vengeful ghost.
————————————————————————————
ِ A short story I wrote based on the song Dawson's Christian. Highly recommend y'all give it a listen. Critique is welcome.

Hey folks,
I'm going to be running a 1:1 CPR game for my wife soon. This will be a one-shot that will hopefully lead into a full campaign. As such, I want it to be the coolest version of Cyberpunk that I can, so I can hopefully stop running D&D 5E. Ergo, I figured this community would be a good one to proofread my intended design and offer suggestions. I've got thick skin; all advice in good faith is good advice to me.
Context: We've never played RED before, though my wife is a fan of the Cyberpunk 2077 game. She is interested in taking the Nomad role out for a spin, so I grabbed the Nomad pregen off the R. Tal website. I've spent the last few days reading the book cover to cover and running some mock combats with myself (you are allowed to make one (1) joke about me playing with myself before I inundate you with compliments - you have been warned!).
However, she's going to want to create her own character if we decide the system's worth playing, so the pregen character won't be played after this session.
Adventure Summary: Arasaka's back in town, baby! A small team of Arasaka employees have infiltrated back into Night City and set up a small covert base in the Unreclaimed Perimeter. Their goal is to locate and kidnap small children who exhibit certain neural mutations that allow them to be used as "Suns" - so-called because they resist Black ICE programs like R.A.B.I.D.s. By kidnapping and training them, the Corporation can start re-building the Internet with a complete monopoly. To this end, Arasaka mercenaries took out the local gangers, buying off some and murdering the rest. The bought-out gangers are now working local security for the Arasaka base.
Arasaka's forces consist of the bought-out gangers (stats as boosterganger, CPR, p 412), Arasaka mercenaries (stats as security operative, CPR, p 413, fanatically loyal and will fight to the death), and a single Arasaka cyber-ninja (stats as security officer, CPR, p 415, fanatically loyal and will fight to the death).
Setup: Player's caravan has just arrived on the outskirts of Night City. The leadership has asked her to grab a couple of local edgerunners and secure the perimeter, just to make sure nothing unpleasant has set up shop in the area while the caravan was peregrinating.
She'll have two NPCs with her, a Solo (Rebekah, mid-30's, gymnast, favors melee weapons and krav maga, which I'm using as reskinned karate) and a Netrunner (Whestley, 13 year old Black kid with a mullet and a gap in his teeth). These two are bullet sponges so I can use more mooks and also a way to show off how important hacking is to the setting. I run these guys like Dragon Age's companions, so they're not taking spotlight from the PC, but rather enabling them to get through obstacles they wouldn't otherwise be able to.
Scene 1: Briefing from caravan leadership, introduction to her companions. Head out into the perimeter in her car. Build paranoia by:

• Highlighting that there used to be other minor gangs in this area, but someone's cleared them out recently (info from Rebekah)
• Mentioning that the local data streams are all being misdirected to avoid giving away a single destination, indicating that someone is using a lot of data traffic, and that the user has resources to cloak their presence (if there's a better way to phrase this in-world, let me know; info from Whestley)
• Finding a recent site of murdered gangers; nearby is a dead merc (no roll to notice)
  • Weaponstech DV 9 to see that the merc is carrying an Arasaka WSA autopistol
  • Reveal Object DV 13 to notice the Arasaka logo tattooed on the dead merc's neck
  • Free frag grenade, plus 140 eddies (mercs carried bribe money to recruit local gangers)

Revelations: Someone is out there, with suspected ties to Arasaka, and looking to secure the location for some purpose that may be inimical to the Nomads. If they report in, the leadership tells them to follow up and find out what exactly is going on, but that they'll have a few outriders mounted up and ready to go if the team runs into trouble.
Scene 2: The team goes on the hunt. There are a few ways to try tracking these guys down. The player might ask Whestley to trace those data streams, or they might start asking any of the remaining residents if they know anything about these newcomers. Alternatively, they might hide out and simply observe.
Whestley can't locate the base without unmasking those data streams, which requires a network key from a merc commo device. Never let an NPC solve a major problem for the player.
The locals know where the base is, but they also know that the mercs send out patrols. Lately, those patrols have consisted of a few local gangers who spend more time at Pat's (nearby saloon) than on actual reconaissance. Those patrols pass by about once every four to six hours.
Hiding and observing, the PCs watch the patrol stop to hassle the nearby residents; apparently these guys want the remaining residents to vacate the neighborhood. When the residents refuse, one of the patrol starts beating a little old lady, which should be a fairly good indicator that this dude is Not A Good Guy.
(To be clear, this patrol is three of the bought-out gangers in a dune buggy; with surprise and luck, they won't even get a shot off at the team).
Revelations: Regardless of how they handle things, the crew at least knows where the base is, even if they try to just tail the patrol back to the base.
If they jump the patrol, they grab a commo device, a base pass, a dune buggy, and a crude map showing the base's location, in addition to two shotguns and half a dozen grenades. In addition, all three of the patrolling gangers are sporting brand-new Arasaka WSA autopistols.
Whestley can use the commo device to accomplish 1d3 exploits getting them inside (since I'm not learning the actual Netrunning rules until I have a PC who wants to use them, I'm basically going to give Whestley a limited-use "hack" that can remove a single tech-based problem), as well as pinpointing the base entrance.
If they save the old lady, the locals will be happy to tell the team about a few kids who've gone missing in the area; one turned up a few weeks back dead in a ditch with needle marks and surgery scars.
Scene 3: Assaulting the base! The team can do some light recon on the base perimeter. They find overhead drones (spotting for the automated grenade launcher), an automated grenade launcher (more than enough to total any vehicle that comes within 400m), and a gateway to the subterranean base (which can only be opened by a base pass).
In addition, there's three gangers sitting near a campfire, playing Go Fish. They won't be fooled by disguises; they know each member of their gang by face (PCs know this).
A ventilation shaft cut into the side of the base gate lets the PCs avoid engaging the defenses, though the drones will still spot them unless they take some effort to counter thermal imaging.
Skills and relevant information:

• DV 15 Basic Tech: "That's a VTOL-capable base gate; there might be a ventilation shaft that could be another way in!"
• DV 11 AV Tech OR Aero Tech: "Those drones carry thermals; they're going to see us coming unless we counter that capability."
• DV 13 Electronic Security: "The base pass also emits a friendly IFF signal, which will prevent the grenade launcher from firing until someone overrides it." (the obvious source of an override code is the three gangers outside)
• DV 17 Wilderness Survival: "There are some escaped designer birds roosting nearby. Panicking them into taking flight could trick that grenade launcher into spuriously firing, or potentially crash one or two of the drones." (DV 15 Animal Handling to trick the launcher, DV 20 Animal Handling to down those drones; +3 to roll if succeeded on Wilderness Survival roll first)
• DV 15 Perception: "Fresh divots in the sand here - something only recently took off from the base gate - an AV?"

Inside, most of the Arasaka mercs are away on a snatch and grab, so once the PCs are past the gateway, resistance is sparse. There are secondary cameras inside the gateway, so the Arasaka cyber-ninja knows they're coming 5 minutes after the team enters the complex. If the gangers are still alive on the surface, they will head down the base gateway and try to pin the team down in the hangar.
Once inside, there are four main areas: the hangar, the labs, the barracks, and the command center.
The Hangar is the first one up, and is mostly empty. There's three slots for AVs, two of which are empty, and a launch area in the middle. Two small offices adjoin the launch area, and a door leads onward. There's a lot of gas the Nomads could use, along with an AV that's been left with its engine in mid-rebuild. A small map of the base is located in one of the offices, drawn on Arasaka-branded notebook paper. The computers are for maintenance and solitaire, and have limited hookups to the rest of the network (if they take 10 minutes, Whestley can gain 1 exploit).
From here, there are two paths forward. One leads to the labs, one leads to the barracks. In the barracks, two Arasaka mercs are dressing rapidly (half armor). The team can refill on ammo, and there's one dose of speedheal available. Two flashbangs are next to a poster of a J-Pop idol singer. The team can proceed to the command center, the labs, or go back to the hangar.
In the labs, there are four children being run against a single R.A.B.I.D program. Whestley is appalled, and one of the kids dies in front of the PCs, thrashing in the grip of malicious code. Whestley can spend 3 exploits to lock the RABID away from the kids, long enough for the team to unhook these kids and get them out.
Also in here is a cyberdeck chip that gives Whestley 1 exploit, a dose of speedheal (in case they missed the one in the barracks), and a laser katana (as Heavy Melee Weapon, allows the wielder to add their DEX stat to damage dealt for 1 minute per day).
As soon as the PCs either save the kids, or decide not to, the cyber-ninja strikes. Accompanied by two mercs, the cyberninja goes for Rebekah first. The ninja tries to break the legs of any kid they manage to unhook, the better to slow the party down. The mercs are very careful not to fire if the kids are anywhere near their targets, so they may close to melee range.
The ninja and the mercs fight to the death.
Once the ninja and mercs are dead, an alert is triggered - the other mercs are only 15 minutes out and returning fast!
In the command center, the PCs can find all the relevant documentation for the project...locked behind an Arasaka-created infinity code that requires a code-key to decrypt (only found in the Arasaka HQ in Tokyo). If the ninja has not previously struck, they will attack the PCs as the PCs enter this area (see the labs for details on the cyber-ninja battle).
Aftermath: Once the Nomads are apprised of the threat, they "Nope!" right the f*** out of there. It's not their problem and they want nothing to do with Arasaka, dead kids, and Black ICE experiments. Anything the crew discovered gets turned over to NCPD.

​

I’m going to paste below a post written by a dear friend of mine about an experience she recently had in Waterville. She is looking for more victims and has already been contacted by many. 🔗 to the original FB post at the bottom. We would appreciate anyone who is able to share the original post or help otherwise shed light on this growing problem.

TRIGGER WARNING: S.A.

----
​
‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’ Easter Sunday, on a sunny afternoon, 10 minutes from my home; I was drugged, raped, sodomized, robbed & left for dead like a piece of trash. Law enforcement then found me, in another county, 50 minutes from my home, heading in the opposite direction, unable to tell them where I lived, unable to answer or follow simple commands, telling them over & over again that I could not see, all while holding my hands over my ears…a 55-year-old woman, with no criminal background, in a ditch on a sunny Easter Sunday. Was I then taken to the ER? Did I then receive immediate medical attention & doctors discovered that I had been drugged & raped? No, I was handcuffed, arrested & thrown in jail. Fourteen hours later I came to in a cell, not knowing where I was, why I was there, raped, sodomized, actively bleeding, I couldn’t see clearly & had no peripheral vision. I was told I was being charged with OUI & refusal of test, Failure to Stop & Failure to Sign the Summons documents for those first two charges. OUI & refusal of test? I was clearly drugged; I have watched the dash cam. Failure to stop? I was driving 30 miles an hour in a ditch!?! Failure to Sign a Summons? I did not even know my own address & I could not see. To add to this, as I sat in that jail cell drugged & bleeding, my bank account was systematically being emptied.
I have been through rape exams, sobbing breakdowns, interviews, medications, sobbing breakdowns, blood tests, sobbing breakdowns, urine tests, sobbing breakdowns, vaginal exams, more interviews & more sobbing breakdowns. I have obtained legal counsel, a trauma therapist, have reported this to local police, the sheriff’s department, the district attorney’s office; I have supplied easily over 200 pieces of documentation, evidence, bank statements, lab results, affidavits, photos, names of other women that have been drugged, raped & left in the same ‘Rape Basement’ as me. To date I still have not heard from the sheriff’s department or the DA’s office; it has now been 48 days since this happened to me.
Additionally, I requested to speak with the chief of Waterville PD & was denied, I asked to speak to the head of Waterville Detectives & was denied, I asked for them to give my statement & evidence to the head of detectives & that was also declined. I asked if they had a specialized Sexual Assault Detective & was told only cases of child rape go to that individual. I asked why my case had not been assigned to a detective & they told me it had been assigned to a patrol officer & a detective could help out if needed. I then attempted to report this crime to the County Sheriff's Department & the Maine State Police & they told me that they could not take my statement due to not having jurisdiction over it & sent me back to Waterville PD.
The fiscal out of pocket cost for me to date is $12,738.64 & that amount is still rising. I am burning through my EBT time, I am struggling to work, leave my home & my vehicle is undrivable. This also does not include the ongoing cost of trauma therapy & the cost of the added bonus of now having an incurable STD that for the rest of my life I will need to take medication for. To which I might add; I had to share my sexual activity with law enforcement; which it has been 10 years since I was sexually active (not that if I was sexually active it should matter).
The last time I have actually heard from law enforcement that was conducting this investigation was 13 days ago when an officer called to ask me if “I drank daily, If I drank to the point of black out & how often did I drink?” To which I supplied each & every date in the past year that I have had a beer along with each receipt & picture of me during that time having the beer. I do not have a history of alcohol addiction, I do not have a history of drug addiction, I have never received any alcohol nor drug rehabilitation services (not that if I had, that should make this rape somehow different).
I also must point out that officer asked me these questions AFTER speaking to the staff at the ‘Rape Basement’ that I believe drugged me. Staffs response was that “I walked in drugged & I went down into ‘Rape Basement’ on my own & that they ‘found’ me there & asked me to leave”. That would mean that I went to a 2pm show at the Waterville Opera House, walked out of that theater production & then decided to become a totally different person. That I then drugged myself, raped myself, sodomized myself, gave myself a genital-to-genital STD & then found my own way into the ‘Rape Basement’ that I had no prior knowledge of!?! This same ‘Rape Basement’ establishment also stated to police that they did not serve me any drink or food; yet I have supplied law enforcement with the charge on my credit card that supports the opposite. A portion of the $12,738.64 price of my ‘Drugged, Raped, Sodomized, Robbed & Arrested’ experience was the $9.06 that I paid the ‘Rape Basement’ establishment for my drugged beer.
To date this crime has cost me my sanity, my safety, my peace, my joy, my kindness, countless hours of sleep, isolating myself in my home with a loaded gun by my side, my trust & faith in the world, basically my life as I have known it.
I recently went very public with this experience; I have since also reached out to the media. As I shared this story, numerous others came forward with similar experiences. Posts of this were being deleted as fast as victims responded to them. We are now speaking to each other & have created open posts on our own facebook pages. We learned that this is apparently ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• When I learnt that one woman had been drugged & had called for help from the very same basement as me; I became physically ill. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• Another women shared that when she was 23, she was drugged & lost 14 hours of her life & woke up at an entirely different location. She reported it to the local police & was told it was going to be investigated; she is still waiting to hear back from them…she is now 28 years old. She also shared that she has a high school reunion coming up, yet she is fearful to go because it is being held in Waterville. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• Another woman feared reporting to the police that she had been drugged because she was on an organ donor list & feared that she would be denied a lifesaving operation if she disclosed the experience. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• Men have come forward that they too have been drugged & assaulted & have woken up at completely different locations from where they began. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• One woman started at a restaurant & then came to drugged, robbed, wearing completely different clothing, in an abandoned building. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• Tragically yet another woman shared that her young brother was found dead in these same horror show ‘Rape Basements’ that other victims speak of; these ‘Rape Basements’ that I too was in. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• Others have shared that (for a price) you can have a woman drugged & then have unfettered access to her & then they will ‘let her go’ when you are done. When I have shared this information; I have heard from numerous individuals that casually state, “Yes that has been going on for years”. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
• One Maine Liquor Enforcement Officer states that they tried to shed light on this years ago, yet the drugging & raping of women is bad business for a college town; then this person stated they do not wish to be named due to fear of repercussion. ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
So yesterday we (the victims of this) all made some noise, we all started to shine a light on it…& overnight the responses came. Public posts have been deleted or turned off; 2am phone calls from the owners of these ‘Rape Basement’ establishments were made threatening victims to take posts down, to stop speaking. Many victims that were raising their voices yesterday are now silent today. I have also learned that I am not the only victim scared & carrying a firearm. It has also come to my knowledge today that two of these owners of these establishments were convicted of human trafficking taking place within these ‘Rape Basements’ & sent to prison. They are now out & back in business from the same exact ‘Rape Basements’ we the victims are being found in!?! ‘The Waterville Secret that Everyone Knows’.
I do not know what else to do, I do not know where else to go, I do not know what else to say! I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared…I am! I am afraid to leave my home, I am afraid to speak out, I am afraid to demand justice…yet most of all; I am terrified of being silent.
​
​
https://www.facebook.com/pamela.boivin.7/posts/pfbid02YSkQ1vVX1ghBY9XmBoGC7n345fhUaChCwRfAX38y3hE248xKnvteuficnsyJcx1Ml

This is the best tl;dr I could make, original reduced by 60%. (I'm a bot)

Matthew Dupre, 38, is wanted for the alleged murder of suspected criminal Jimi Sandhu, who was shot dead in February 2022, Thailand's central investigation bureau commissioner, Jirabhop Bhuridej, told reporters.
At the time of Sandhu's killing, Thai police identified two assailants dressed in hooded sweatshirts and face coverings who fled to Canada two days after the shooting.
Dupre is believed to have acted alongside Gene Lahrkamp, another Canadian veteran who was killed in a plane crash in rural Ontario while on the run from police.
On Monday, police footage showed Dupre in handcuffs and surrounded by police on an airplane.
A Thai air force craft was used after commercial airlines declined requests for transport over safety concerns, Thai police said.
"We have to get hold of the suspect so that he be prosecuted under the Thai judicial system," state prosecutor Intranee Sumawong said, adding that Dupre would not face a death penalty under the extradition bill.

Summary Source FAQ Feedback Top keywords: police^#1 Thai^#2 Dupre^#3 Canada^#4 killed^#5
Post found in /worldnews.
NOTICE: This thread is for discussing the submission topic. Please do not discuss the concept of the autotldr bot here.

Since everyone really liked by potential cyberpunk Orion plot points (sarcasm) here is some basic outline for starting sequences of the rockerboy, cop and media lifepath in 2077
Rockerboy:
V is a street performer trying to make a name for him(her)self but so is the next guy. Looking for inspiration you wander around night city seeing the corruption and decadence that pollute this machine call night city. Until you see a small garden being cared for by an orphan girl but you’re not the only one who notices and as a couple of Arasaka soldiers get to the garden before you and demand that the girl take down this garden for violating “property rights” and “unlicensed terraforming” the girl tries to explain that this is how she can survive and not die of starvation but the soldiers and having it and neither is V and (s)he jumps to the defense of the girl where a fistfight ensues. And depending on the players skill and either lose the fight and have one of the Arasaka soldiers shoot the girl after she tries to get them to stop kicking V while (s)he’s down. Or V wins the fistfight and one an ncpd officer on patrol notices the commotion and seeing that a couple of Arasaka soldiers are beaten to hell, the cop opens fire the bullets miss V but hit the girl, killing her instantly. V tries to escape but reaches a dead end and is surrounded until an old friend named Jackie Welles shoots the cops in the back of their heads. After some dialogue between the two, V has the inspiration to write a song called “orchid in the desert”. V preforms the song at the El Coyote but despite the applause and praise, barely anything changed right afterwards and that when Jackie tells V that change is to be fought for and the montage starts playing.
Cop:
V thought (s)he could make a difference in night city by becoming a police officer but the cops seem to only be protecting the corpos rather than the everyday citizen but undeterred V still think (s)he can change the ncpd for the better. While V is on patrol (s)he gets a dispatch saying that there’s someone escaping after a van was robbed. After a vehicle chase V finds the thief wearing a mask but after a chase V catches this thief to learn that his name is Jackie Welles. V asks him how many times had (s)he arrested his childhood friend instead of say a 6th street soldier or someone actually dangerous. After Jackie telling V that (s)he can’t make a difference in the ncpd since they only enforce the corruption and V tells Jackie (s)he’s heard it a thousand times but just after V puts Jackie in the cars back seat an explosion goes off not far from where V is. V tells Jackie to stay while V heads out on foot to the commotion and some tyger claws gang members have robbed a warehouse. V calls for backup and a firefight ensues between V and the tyger claws gang members. After V takes out most of the gang members, V takes a hit to the back of the head and the tyger claw in charge of this stick up crew is about to shoot v until the leader gets shot in the back of the head by Jackie Welles. more ncpd officers arrive and Jackie escapes just as more cars arrive however the lieutenant of the group of ncpd tells V that these tyger claws had corpo immunity and pointed out that V let his suspect escape and accuses V of deliberately letting Jackie escape due to them being childhood friends. Despite V’s protests and attempts to explain the situation the lieutenant is not having it and tells V that as of now (s)he is kicked off the force on the grounds of overstepping the boundaries of the law and violation of more regulations. But after V reluctantly hands over his/her badge and gun, the lieutenant orders a net runner to seize his/her earnings, making V broke. After the ncpd leave V on the ground Jackie shows up after watching the commotion and tells V that now (s)he knows the fate of “justice” in vice city and tells V that he’s starving and offers V to come eat at el coyote. And the montage starts.
Media:
V is now a reporter for WNS news and wanting to make a name for him/herself decides to investigate the “secure your soul” program despite that Arasaka is the owner of WNS news V still continues his/her investigation. Until a lead comes up on a potential testing ground, but it’s heavily guarded. So V hires a grew consisting of A netrunner, a techie and a solo named Jackie Welles. After sneaking through the guards V and his/her crew enters a very high tech facility with high tech net running equipment. The crew find a port and V orders the netrunner to download the data onto a cyberdeck. After reaching 99% download, the netrunner screams while having a seizure but the netrunner survives. When questioned the netrunner states that she saw a blinding light but she’s fine. The crew continues their infiltration of the facility when they directly enter the testing area there’s a platoon sized army of Arasaka soldiers waiting for them and it’s revealed that the netrunner betrayed them. After a firefight, the techie is cut off leaving on V and Jackie to fight their way out. After losing the pursuing Arasaka forces, After some dialogue, V tells Jackie that (s)he has nowhere else to go. That’s when Jackie offers V a place at el coyote. Then the montage plays.
Hopefully you guys like my vague ideas for opening sequences of 3 new life paths and I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Grants Pass people are so classy sometimes.

Given Democrats’ all-out assault on traditional values and the American way of life, a single-minded focus on the economy—especially at the expense of major social and cultural issues at top of mind for many Americans—isn’t the winning strategy some Republicans might believe.
[...]
For much of the last year, no cultural issues have dominated the political airwaves more than the rise of Critical Race Theory (CRT) and gender ideology in K-12 education. Virginia Governor Glenn Youngkin’s victory last November [...] should serve as a clear sign for conservative candidates everywhere not to hide from the culture wars, but rather to embrace them.
- Seamus Brennan, May 12, 2022

Oftentimes, there are long political traditions that have been dead for years but continue shambling to the frontlines like reanimated corpses, only to be exposed as frauds. Politics doesn't listen to tradition. My favorite example of this is Professor Helmut Norpoth's Primary Model, which basically predicts Presidential elections based on who had the harder time in the primary.
Obviously, this model heavily favors incumbents, who are generally not challenged. It hedges by saying that an incumbent who is facing issues in the primary is in serious trouble. Indeed, it has a fair track record. When George H. W. Bush was rattled in the primary by Pat Buchanan, it was a sign that his tax increases would ultimately come back to bite him. Jimmy Carter's near-defeat to Ted Kennedy foreshadowed that liberals would ultimately defect to moderate Republican John Anderson.
The model gave Donald Trump a 91% chance of winning in 2020, and we all know how that turned out. Political realities change, and sometimes strong predictors for who is going to win are either incidental or outdated. Or both.
Let's keep in mind a tale of two midterms: in 2018 and in 2022, the incumbent President was unpopular and held a trifecta, having passed parts of his agenda but not others. Tradition dictated he was in for an ass-whooping in the midterm.
But the actual picture was far more complex. While Republicans lost the House in 2018 and the year is generally characterized as a blue wave, they actually gained in the Senate. Against all odds, too. Polls showed Missouri and Indiana as pretty close, even blue-leaning, races. Mississippi and Tennessee were supposed to be super competitive. But even as Democrats triumphed nationally, Republicans redoubled their totals with the base and even managed to gain in the Senate.
The Democrats' surprise 2022 overperformance was much more dramatic. Republicans, frankly, got whooped considering the circumstances. Every single incumbent Democrat Senator held on, and one seat, Pennsylvania, flipped despite polls giving Republican Mehmet Oz a lead going into election day. Democrats came very close to winning two seats they'd written off, North Carolina and Wisconsin. Lofty Republican ambitions in New Hampshire, Washington, and Colorado went up in smoke.
What's interesting about both of these elections is that there's one very important thing that doesn't make sense: the economy. Biden and Trump were both unpopular, but things were pretty good when Trump was President. In fact, with the exception of Bill Clinton, it's difficult to imagine any President that was dealt as good of a hand as Trump after World War Two. Under Trump, the economy was better than ever, and it remains the backbone of his electoral strength. Biden, meanwhile, had one of the more difficult terms in recent history. He broke several records when it came to disapproval, at one point being further in the toilet than his predecessor.
The Presidential elections were interesting, too. In 2016, President Obama was just generally popular and the economy was mostly on the right track. However, it was here that Donald Trump managed a huge overperformance that ultimately swept him to the Presidency. True, it is not unheard of for an incumbent party to fumble the ball and narrowly lose to an outsider (2000), but it's certainly rare. Then in 2020, when the country was at the most miserable and leaderless point in recent history, Trump overperformed again and nearly kept the Presidency.
So why did Trump overperform when Obama was popular, get whooped outside of his base when he was in charge and managing an economy most people were begrudgingly pleased with, and then noticeably overperform while having the worst hand of any incumbent since Herbert Hoover? And why did Biden, a well-known, establishment politician, underperform when all the stars had aligned for him but proved surprisingly resilient when everything was against him?
I think the answer is that it's really not about the economy anymore, or at least that the economy occupies a much smaller place in voters' minds than it used to. Another interpretation would be that the economy is now seen largely through a partisan lense-- by which I mean, the Democrats' (they're usually on the ass-end of economy questions these days) dissatisfaction with Biden's economy won't stop them from voting, and even if they are begrudgingly pleased with Trump's economy they'll still vote against him.
A consequence of this is that wave elections are over. In 2010, Obama had a trifecta and entered office with high expectations. However, key parts of his agenda flopped, and in the worst way possible. He managed to trigger the right while deflating his own base. In the 2010 midterms, the right turned out in full force, the left stayed home, and the center figured they weren't happy with the way things were so they might as well give the opposition a shot. Even states like Hawaii and Massachusetts saw breakout Republican success. This is basically the anatomy of a wave election before everything changed, thanks to Trump, and I doubt we're going back.
The matter is of particular importance because right now Trump is the overwhelming favorite to win the Republican nomination. We will get the 2024 election nobody wanted-- a rematch.
In 2020, Trump held an absolutely terrible hand. He attracted withering criticism from many sides due to his response to the COVID-19 pandemic, and conventional wisdom dictated that nice moderate Joe Biden would win just on virtue of that alone. The COVID-19 pandemic and the ensuing economic crash had theoretically robbed Trump of the one thing he could actually tout, and that was an America where he hadn't managed to break anything. The nice, unifying Joe Biden was supposed to sweep him away in an election that resembled 1980, 1992, or 1932. At the end of the day it looked quite a bit more like 1948. Trump ran a bitter, divisive, unpresidential campaign to the fiery end, rallying his base and throwing crude but workable talking points to the suburbanites. He was narrowly edged out after a week of vote-counting in a few key states.
The fact of the matter is, "cultural" issues and a healthy dose of partisanship have at least partially supplanted the economy. At least partially, Trump kept his strength with economy voters because it was impossible to blame him for the country closing down. In 2010, many voters might've abandoned President Obama because he hadn't brought the prosperity he'd promised. In 2020, many voters toughed it out with Trump because (for better or for worse) they were too partisan to blame him for the country's ills. Democrats were destined to do a lot better in 2022 than in 2010 just on this virtue alone. The public now sees not voting like letting cancer win because your doctor didn't cure it in time.
Similarly, culture issues are eclipsing the economy in importance. In 2018, the Trump Administration's shenanigans mostly dictated which way the country voted. Republicans enjoyed miniature waves in a lot of red states, and got absolutely buried in purple and blue states. Similarly, in 2022, when the main issues were Trump's ongoing attempts to subvert the electoral process and red states banning abortion, Democrats were surprisingly resilient. But in solid blue states where those concerns were distant, cultural issues like crime gave Republicans surprise gains. The most infamous was New York, but Republicans also took the House because of strength in states like California and Oregon.
I'm going to close this post by saying that we'll be entering 2024 with the roles basically reversed-- Biden will be the divisive, unpopular incumbent overseeing a shitty America. Trump will be the guy on the outside talking a big game with no real suggestions and banking on dissatisfaction winning out. I had friends tell me the Democrats' 2022 messaging was just January 6th and abortion, and the general expectation (myself included) was that nobody would care about Lake's open declarations that she would overturn the 2024 election if Biden won it, or that abortion really wouldn't weigh on the Wisconsin Republicans.
2024 will be a bitterly partisan race where people will indeed care. If the Republicans nominate Donald Trump, people will care. They will blow yet another perfectly winnable race and hand a desperately unpopular President another term.

(Pt. 1) An additional thanks to u/An_Insufferable_NEWT for letting me borrow one of his characters.
...And now for the conclusion.
​
= = =
​
Evelra swore. They had come here to uplift humanity from barbarism, not let the powers that be enable humanity’s worst elements while the selfsame Noble cunts indulged in their own pubescent masturbatory power fantasies. Fuck this. She thought to herself with a growl and flicked her comms channel to all units.
​
“All forces, this is Captain Evelra. The goddess-damned governess’s private militia have opened fire on the civies. Arrest those brother-fucking [bastards] on sight before they can fuck this mess up any further!” She barked over the comms, a bit of local English slipping into her words. She couldn’t call them stiffs; the latter had more class than this.
​
“Capt, we’ve got three APCs in militia markings barreling down the road in front of the Governess’s mansion from the west. ETA 30 seconds. This is about to get messy.” Prex’s voice cut in with a false calm lent by years of experience.
​
Evelra could feel the material of her suit creak as her hands briefly tightened into hardened fists. “All west side Pods converge on Pod 7, support Lieutenant Eleynor. Eastern Pods, evac the civies. And Prex? Keep the late arrivals occupied. Don’t let these fuckers get another shot off.” She growled, her Second giving a brief click of acknowledgement over the comms before switching channels to give orders of her own.
​
Turning back to face Isaiah, Evelra reached a hand down to grab the elder by his medical exoskeleton and hoisted him to his feet. “Looks like the Governess ran out of patience. Get your people out of here, we’ll deal with this.” She explained brusquely, jabbing one finger towards the eastern side of the boulevard. She could apologize for womanhandling him later, right now every second counted.
​
The moment she was sure he had his feet under him, the marine captain let go and tried to move on Eleynor’s position with all due haste. “Out of the way! MOVE!” Evelra shouted as she strode forward, the sea of humans doing their best to get out of her path. Already, people were starting to scramble as panic spread like wildfire. She could hear the cries of terror and confusion all around her; shouted orders from the protest organizers and her own marines were almost inaudible against the din as they tried to control the chaos.
​
As she neared pod 7’s position, a horrifying scene unfolded before her. In the shadow of the buildings, at least a dozen of the protesters were currently on fire. Harsh yellow and orange flames rose from the flailing figures to form hazy gray clouds of smoke that hung heavy in the air. Even more humans were covered in burn marks and charred clothes. One woman just sat there, trembling and numb from shock as she stared her bloody arm; the melted remains of her synthetic shirt peeling away with boiled skin. Amidst the chaos, the other protesters were doing everything from trying to help the wounded and burning to running in panic and terror; the latter creating a solid wave of bodies in front of Evelra as they stumbled over one another to flee the danger.
​
From out of sight, she saw one of the Governess’ militia-kitted thugs go flying; only to watch them get back up and charge in to fight whom Evelra assumed to be Pod 7. Shil’vati might be stronger, but when equally equipped, outnumbered and against human reflexes she knew that fight wasn’t going to end well for her girls if the rest of the western Pods didn’t reach them soon. Then, one of the militiamen stepped forward towards the crowd.
​
As he strode boldly through the mayhem, Evelra could only watch while one of the protesters tried to confront him; the tide of humans preventing the marine captain from intervening. Inaudible words were exchanged, the protester shouting something as they gesticulated wildly. The Governess’ thug merely responded with two swift strikes of his rifle butt, first to the gut, then to the back of the head, the other man dropping like an anchor. In the distance, out of the corner of her eye, she numbly noted that the rest of the governess’ thugs had arrived and were using their APCs as cover between them and the Pods under Prexith’s command.
​
Evelra felt her gut sink as the militiamen shouldered his rifle once more, stepping out of the building’s shadow to take aim at the crowd. “EVERYBODY DOWN!” The marine captain roared as she planted her feet and pulled her sidearm in one smooth, practiced motion. Drawing a bead on the Governess’ thug, the panicked crowd tried to clear out of her way; but there were just too many people. She wasn’t going to make it in time. No, no more. Not-
​
The militiaman’s head disappeared.
​
A split second later, the now infamously familiar thunderous crack and echoing roar of a large bore human chemical ballistic rifle rolled over them as the corpse spasmed on its feet; a shockwave visibly rippling through the suit it was wearing. “SNIPER!” Somebody bellowed. It might have been her, but in that moment she honestly couldn’t tell. As the headless body crumpled to the ground in a fountain of red, the same gun roared out again… and again. In the distance she could see two sudden sprays of red splatter up the sides of the Militia APCs, one right after the other.
​
The echoes of gunfire galvanized the crowd into a further panic, a stampede of human protesters slamming into Evelra in their attempt to get away from the violence. For a moment, the marine captain thought she was going to get dragged under by the wave, but then they rolled past her, leaving her staggering into the clear. With the screaming of the crowd now behind her and her ears still ringing from gunshots it was oddly quiet once more, save for the groans of the wounded.
​
Not letting herself fall into the lull, Evelra kept moving forward only to nearly gag at the smell as she approached the corner of the building. Like a Blue Grail left in the summer sun for a week, the air was heavy with a putrid smoke, reminiscent of the scent of death itself. Quickly sealing her helmet, she took a shuddering breath of fresh air before looking up just in time to see a pair of the Governess’s thugs get bodily tackled into the pavement by Eleynor. The rest of treasonous Militia were either surrendering or trying to run like the Deep-Minder itself was behind them as more Marine Pods came charging around nearby street corners.
​
Watching the last treasonous bastards eat pavement, the marine captain strode up to the Militaman’s corpse and picked up his blood-stained rifle. Quickly turning the weapon over in her hands, Evelra took one look at its settings and nearly threw the gun away in disgust. Medium power, maximum dispersal. Against even the most basic of modern armor, such settings would be practically useless; but would make for a decent, if imprecise, fire starter. Which is exactly what they’d done. Of course, leave it to the humans to figure out how to turn the most basic of weapons into a tool of terror. She thought bitterly, adjusting the beam spread back to something more logical before strapping it’s sling to her harness.
​
Now properly armed for anything else the Deep-Minder might decide to throw at her, Evelra flicked open her wrist-mounted omnipad, the integrated AR display in her helmet seamlessly linking to it. A couple quick taps later and the captain had an outgoing call. As the phone line rang in her ear, she tried not to tap her foot, every second feeling like ten.
​
“911, what’s your emer-”
​
Before the woman on the other end could even finish her sentence, Evelra interrupted her. “This is Captain Evelra of the Imperial Marines, 4032nd company. We have at least a dozen, I repeat, at least a dozen critically injured burn victims at the corner of 3rd and Main. I need emergency Medivac for the critically wounded.” She barked into the mic.
​
There was a momentary pause on the other end accompanied by the sounds of a physical keyboard before shortly being followed by a muffled “Fuck.” Evelra shifted impatiently as one second dragged into the next. “Is something the matter?” The marine growled.
​
“Ahh… No ma’am.” The other woman’s voice was uncertain for a moment before steadying back out. “Just bypassing some red tape. Consider it done. ETA, ten minutes.” She said with a thermocast firmness. Evelra briefly considered hounding the woman for what exactly she meant by ‘red tape’ but decided against it. She sounded confident in her statement and ultimately there was nothing else Evelra could do about it at the moment.
​
“I’m going to hold you to that.” The marine captain growled before hanging up. One down. Looking up, she glanced over the growing crowd of Marines. Already, some of her girls were pulling out medkits and burn patches as they moved to help injured protesters; her AR display highlighting their ranks and names.
​
“Sergeant Quixana!” Evelra barked over the din.
“Ma’am!” The medic shouted back over one shoulder, barely looking up from the burn victim she was currently treating.
​
“We have civilian medivac for the burn victims inbound, ETA ten minutes. You have command over Triage. Anyone in critical condition they can’t airlift out is your responsibility. Clear?” She commanded, watching the Governess’s thugs like a shark as her girls disarmed and secured them. At this point, Evelra honestly didn’t expect them to try anything else; but as always with humans, one never quite knew what they’d do.
​
“Affirmative!” Quixana replied. Taking a moment to ensure the woman she was treating wasn’t in immediate danger, the medic ushered another marine over to help and began shouting orders of her own. Two down. Satisfied that the situation was under control, Evelra keyed into her comms again.
​
“Prex, Sitrep.”
​
A couple moments later, the other woman’s voice came to life in her earpiece. “After the gunshots went off, the little fuckers started stumbling over each other to try and surrender. What in the Deep just happened?” Despite the horror around her, Evelra gave a short, mirthless chuckle. “Seems a certain… somebody decided to more than just ‘play’ at being security. And seeing as I still have my head, they’re not a complete bloodthirsty idiot.”
​
“You certain it’s… them?” Prex asked, a hint of dubiousness in her voice.
​
“Given that there’s one of the Governess’s thugs sans their head while I still have mine? Yeah. About as certain as I can be. Fits what little we know about their M.O.” Evelra shot back.
​
There were several long moments of silence before her subordinate let out a low whistle. “Make that three. I’ve got two more over here. Definitely explains why the little Turoxes were so fucking panicky. What now Cap?”
​
“How many of your Pods do you need to secure your prisoners?” Evelra asked.
​
“Less than half. They’re more terrified of stepping back into the sights of that sniper than anything else, I think.” Prexith snorted, a dry hint of amusement in her voice.
​
“Take as many as you think you can spare from guard duty and go arrest the Governess. Alive. Though preventing her from causing any more damage takes priority. Clear?” Evelra’s voice was firm, the unspoken message clear. Try not to kill the bitch if at all possible, but ice her tits if she’s going to make this a problem.
​
“As a laser lens. Prex out.”
​
When the line clicked dead, the marine captain took a deep breath and tried to center herself. Now came the hard part.
​
Politics.
​
= = =
​
Evelra stopped outside the governess’ office and took a deep breath to steady herself. Within two hours of getting the fiasco under control, one Agent Lohun had arrived… along with three Pods of Death’s Head Commandos. Upon giving him her report, the petite male had thanked her and politely requested that she remain in her quarters until further notice. The marine captain had known better than to try and test those particular boundaries. It was only now, three days later, that she’d been summoned once more.
​
In spite of the not quite lockdown state that was currently in effect, word still traveled. Her orders to arrest the governess had been upheld and the bitch had been transferred out to some Interior facility goddess knows where. A minimal local press release had happened; condemning the governess’ actions and requesting cooperation with the authorities as they investigated the incident. Things were still tense, but the daily gathering of thousands of protesters had dwindled to a hundred or so of the most stubborn.
​
With a little shake to clear her head, Evelra opened the office door and stepped through. Behind the governess’ massive polished wooden desk sat Lohun. The petite male was almost comically out of place; his simple take on the Interior uniform clashing with the room’s ostentatious opulence. Rumor had it that since he was investigating the room’s previous owner, he’d simply co-opted the office rather than bother to set up another workspace elsewhere. Looking up from his omnipad and what she assumed was a proverbial mountain of reports, the Agent gave her a tired nod of acknowledgement.
​
“Good. You’re here. Please, take a seat Captain D’saari.” He said, gesturing to a much simpler chair in front of the desk. Wincing internally at his usage of her long-abandoned family name, Evelra complied and settled into the offered seat in silence as she tried not to look at the silent woman in the corner with the three-eyed skull mask. Lohun gave his omnipad one last glance before setting it down and letting his carefully focused gaze settle onto her.
​
“Six deaths.” He stated simply, letting the fact hang there in the air for a moment. “Only half of which were not the aggressors in this situation. That could have gone much, much worse. A job well done Captain.”
​
Evelra gave an awkward shrug. “Without the… unsolicited fire support it would have been. My girls just did the mop up.”
​
Lohun hummed, double-checking something on his omni-pad. “About that. The audio logs between you and your second indicated a certain familiarity with this assumed insurgent sniper, yet I can’t find any combat reports that you two share featuring any opposition with this kind of firepower. Care to explain what I’m missing here?” He asked calmly, a polite smile on his face; the Commando in the corner shifting her weight slightly.
​
Right. That.
​
A bundle of nerves did somersaults in her gut as she felt her throat go dry. “Ah, yeah. About… one local year ago we had a human male turn up dead. Clear signs of abuse. Autopsy report indicated he had both Nightfel and Viagra in him at the time of death. I had my suspicions, but the ensuing investigation never turned up any evidence.” The marine captain grimaced, scratching at one tusk with her thumbnail. “A few months later, A pod on a routine patrol got ambushed. All three of their heads were blown clean off. Big gun. I think you can guess what we found when we cleared out their belongings.”
​
“Nightfel and Viagra.” Lohun said cooly, his face grim.
​
Evelra nodded. “Yeah. The Governess covered the whole thing up in the name of keeping the peace. Released a statement that the young man’s murderers had been found and executed while redacting my report.”
​
Briefly adding a few notes on his omnipad, the Interior agent gave her a careful look. “Why didn’t you report this breach of protocol to the Interior?”
​
“Because it worked.” Evelra sighed. “Approval ratings ticked up, minor incidents went down. Didn’t hurt that I also publicly doubled down on mandatory etiquette training for my girls. I’ve seen enough of the Empire’s bureaucracy over the years to know better than to stir up the seabed over something like this. Justice was served, even if it was in a less than ideal manner.”
​
“And what about the young man’s family?” Lohun pressed, his gaze tightening.
​
Coughing slightly to clear her throat, Evelra looked away as she felt her cheeks heat up. “Officially, they were given the same story as everyone else. However, I… I may have taken one Shel to visit their home and correct that mistake. They deserved to know.” She finished quietly, leaning forward in her chair to look down at the ground. Anywhere but at the male in front of her.
​
After several agonizingly long moments of silence, the marine captain glanced up to catch sight of Lohun slowly starting to nod. “Good. That’s good. We can work with that.”
​
At his words, Evelra let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. In response, a ghost of a smile pulled at the edges of Lohun’s face. “Yes, you can relax now. You’re here to help me fix this mess, not to have your tits burned off.”
​
Evelra bobbed her head, eager for the change of topic. “Gladly. What can I do?”
​
The ghost of a smile on Lohun’s face broadened slightly, hovering on the edge of a smirk. “Simple. You will be taking over as the Local Governess.” The marine captain felt her jaw go slack as the Interior Agent calmly continued along as if he was discussing something as simple as dinner reservations.
​
“Of course, there’s a plethora of steps to take along the way. In recognition of your service to the citizens of the empire, you will be promoted two ranks to Lieutenant Colonel and discharged with full honors. We’ll then need somebody to fill your current position. One Sergeant… Prexith Van’sar, your current second, should do nicely. With her service record she's certainly earned herself a commission, I think.” He scoffed in amusement, shaking his head at some distant thought. “Deep, her accolades are almost as impressive as her penchant for avoiding promotions. It’s my hope though that continuing to work with you should be enough to dissuade her of that particular tendency.”
​
Lohun finally took a proper pause, as if he was only now taking in her shock. “Is something the matter Captain D’saari?”
​
As Evelra heard him refer to her by her family name again something inside her broke. The sheer absurdity of it all was just too much, and a noise of amusement escaped her mouth. It started as a snort, before growing into a full-on barks of laughter as Evelra shook her head in disbelief. “I- I’m sorry, but you want me, the legally disowned, stiff-sprung cunt to be a local governess? Goddess, you all must be getting desperate if you’re willing to dredge up the cast-off chaff of the noble houses.”
​
Lohun merely quirked an eyebrow at her before briefly consulting his omnipad again. “So that explains the three separate attempts to change your last name… aannd probably why all three of them never went anywhere.” He let out a small humph as a flicker of distaste crossed his face. “An easy enough fix.”
​
“Goddess. You’re serious.” Evelra muttered as she slumped back in her chair, trying to process the implications. “Ok. Why me?” She asked, throwing a hand wide.
​
The Interior agent’s gaze focused in on her as he leaned forward onto the table, steepling his fingers. “Because Captain, over the past three days I have spent an exhaustive amount of time interviewing and interrogating people to get a better handle on what happened and why. Your name came up just as, if not, more frequently than the governess’s; and rarely in a negative light. From both Shil’vati and humans. Deep, even some of the ones that looked like they wanted to spit in my face refused to speak ill of you. Do you understand how goddess-damned rare that is?” Lohun finished, his voice raised and projected, not quite reaching an actual shout.
​
Evelra was sorely tempted to argue. She’d spent most of her adult life trying to get as far away from the nobility and politics as she could, as nothing good in her life had ever come from them. Then her conversation with Isaiah flashed through her mind. Fuck. The marine captain let out a disgusted groan of frustration as she rubbed her face with one hand. “Alright… but how?” She asked, her brain fervently grasping at straws. “I mean no offense, but… isn’t that a little outside your authority as an Interior Agent?..”
​
Once more, a slight grin pulled at the agent’s face. “Ah yes. Perhaps some reintroductions are in order. Independent Investigator Lohun Vey’elquiese of the Empress’s own and an Agent of her Interior. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Evelra?..” He said smoothly, letting the end of his sentence hang as he leaned across the massive table to offer a petite fist.
​
Oh.
​
For one long moment, Evelra’s brain short-circuited. The petite little male sitting across from her answered to only perhaps a dozen people in the entire Empire, and had the authority to make individuals such as system governesses simply disappear. Of course, abuse of said power carried the death penalty, not that one of the Empress’s own handpicked agents were likely to make that kind of mistake. Suddenly, the three pods of Death’s Head Commandos accompanying him made much, much more sense.
​
After a couple seconds of slight panic, her brain caught back up and she processed the question he’d carefully interwoven into his reintroduction. Taking a moment to think, she settled on her answer. With a slight smile of her own, she reached out her hand to tap her knuckles to his.
​
“Van’sar. Evelra Van’sar. And the pleasure is all mine Investigator.”

Read Chapter 25 Here: https://www.reddit.com/saw/comments/13kih9q/legacy_from_the_book_of_saw_chapter_25_the_final/
____________________________________________________
*** CHAPTER 26 **\*
Traveling to the warehouse, Logan felt relieved knowing Melissa was in good hands, but his momentary comfort was quickly replaced with apprehension when he arrived at Hoffman’s lair. Checking his surroundings, Logan was unfamiliar with this place, despite living here for over a decade. Stopping the car, he tilted the visor down and looked at the photo of his wife.
Through the security camera positioned outside, Hoffman watched Logan enter the parking lot and smiled. He grabbed the bottle of chloroform that sat next to the aqua green box and a cloth from the table, then switched on the furnace. Walking towards the entrance, he turned off all the lights except the one shining on Elanor, who sat unconscious beneath the aluminum dispenser.
Walking towards the entrance, Logan removed a tactical knife from his pocket and held it surreptitiously. Finding the door unlocked, he breached the doorway and stepped into the building, his chest full of anxiety. Logan shuffled through the inoperable machines, boxes, and various tools until he found Elanor under the strobe light. On the floor, he noticed the chrome pool of aluminum that had dried and discovered the dispenser above her. Quickly pulling the chair out of reach, he removed the gag from her mouth just as the liquid started to pour.
Slipping out of the darkness, Hoffman watched as Logan attempted to cut through the ropes that bound Elanor, and while he was distracted, Hoffman slammed the grip of his gun into the back of Logan’s head with traumatic force. Falling to the floor, rattled and disoriented, Hoffman used this moment to render him unconscious with a considerable dose of chloroform.
***
Seth’s body is brought to the triage center, where the on-call doctors get to work. They extract the bullet from his neck and clean the wound. Then, fill several vials with his coagulating blood and immediately begin several tests. It doesn’t take long for them to find something unusual in his blood. The pathologist examines the results and calls the precinct.
Waiting to hear from Agent Kullen, Lincoln left a message for Autumn and contacted the patrol unit, which was watching over her. They spoke briefly and assured him she would be brought to the station as soon as possible.
With her safety guaranteed, he reached out to the crew sent to Gavin Beck’s residence. They informed him that an officer was found in the garage with his arms, legs, and mouth wrapped in duct tape, but he was still alive, suffering from a major contusion on his head. He was currently being transported to the hospital for evaluation.
Fixing his posture, Lincoln loosened the cilice, providing a moment of comfort, and sank into his chair. Through the window, he caught another glimpse of the remaining survivors. Obstructing his view and thoughts, Marlow entered his office.
“Linc,” he says, “I’ve been in touch with Agent Webb. She’s in recovery and would like updates on the case. Additionally, I’ve been in contact with Dr. Steward’s wife and son. They’re both okay. Presumably an empty threat. The same for Renee’s family.”
Lincoln squints his eyes, contemplating, and suggests, “They didn’t fit the code.”
Marlow shrugs and is about to speak when a call comes through, “Detective,” the pathologist says, “Please come to the triage center at once. There’s something you should see.”
Taking his jacket from the chair, they leave the room hastily and head next door, cutting a path through the other corpses, beelining for Seth’s cadaver. The site of the body hits Lincoln in the gut. They shared a long history, and this wasn’t how he imagined their friendship would end. Saddened by the loss, Lincoln backed away and placed his hands in his pockets.
Inside, he found the last canister of Nitrous Oxide, which he had forgotten about. Already inserted into the cracker, it was taunting him. With the pain of losing another friend, Lincoln’s urge to use was returning, and he felt he would never escape its grasp. Checking for an exit, Lincoln was about to give in to his compulsion when he caught sight of the pathologist using a centrifuge.
Detailing her findings into a computer, she greets Lincoln, “Thank you for coming.”
“What did you find?”
Moving around the device, she grabs a portfolio and takes a blood-filled vial from the rack. She hands the vial to Lincoln and says, “When we ran the first test, I found Seth’s blood was contaminated with some sort of bacteria.”
Holding up the vial and looking closely, “Agent Kullen said he was sick….” Lincoln explains.
Her expression is one of doubt, “I checked that too, but these cells reacted differently than a common cold. It’s microbial.”
Turning a page in the portfolio, she removes another vial from the rack that is filled with green fluid.
“Do you recognize this?” She asks.
Swapping vials, Lincoln shakes the cylinder and watches the fluid splash against the walls.
The pathologist elaborates, “It was confiscated from Dr. Gordon’s apartment.”
“So?”
“Well, Detective, my theory is that poison not dissimilar to this was injected into Seth’s body. I’m certain we will find an entry point with a little more time.”
Handing the vial back to the pathologist, Lincoln displays concern.
He says, “Have Logan assist you with the autopsy. Find the entry point and get back to me.”
Confusion drapes the pathologist, “Logan isn’t here, Detective. I thought you knew that.”
“Fine, get Elanor on it immediately.”
“I’m sorry, Lincoln, but she’s not here either.”
Marlow looks worried, and Lincoln says, “What are you talking about?”
“The on-call Doctors are here because Logan and Elanor never came in. I assumed they requested a break….”
Lincoln pushes past the physician, and Marlow tries to keep up. “Get a unit to Logan and Elanor’s addresses.” He says, “If you can’t get in touch with anyone, I want an APB out within the hour.”
“Chief Savino?”
“My orders, just do it.”
They enter the precinct, and Lincoln breaks off from Marlow, heading to his office while Marlow requests the attention of the other officers. Perched in the seats, eyes fixed, they await instructions. He explains, “Two of our colleagues are missing, Logan Nelson and Elanor Bonneville. Logan was last seen leaving the precinct between 7 pm and 8 pm last night. We must track them down as soon as possible.”
Listening to Marlow in the distance, Lincoln paces his office, trying to call Autumn. He leaves another message and fidgets with the Nitrous Oxide in his pocket. Needing a distraction, he contacts Agent Kullen.
**\*
Outside the Convention Center, Agent Kullen acquired an identical parking slip to the one they procured from Seth. He stood beside his vehicle, surveying the surroundings, taking mental notes of the area, including the security cameras and the construction site for the museum across the street then headed inside.
At the front desk, he finds two staff members and security personnel. Flashing his badge, he requests to see the surveillance footage taken from the last forty-eight hours. They informed him that a power outage corrupted the data, and the footage was essentially erased. Incensed by the revelation, Kullen shows them a picture of Seth Steward and asks if they’ve seen him on the property. The security guard holds the photo close to his face and recognizes the man. He saw him the night before, smoking in the parking lot, but he never entered the building.
Kullen’s stomach churned, and his hand twitched as he exited the convention center. Retrieving his medication from the car, Kullen consumed two pills and evaluated his surroundings once more. Walking towards the street, he looked up and down the road diligently.
Near the shoulder, across the street, he saw something glistening off the sun. About to head over, a call rang through his cell, “Kullen,” he said, still curious about the object.
“It’s me.”
Hearing the Detective's unsettled tone, Agent Kullen asks, “Lincoln, what’s going on?”
“Elanor and Logan are missing. Marlow is pursuing leads. Where are you?”
Crossing the street, Kullen discovers the reflective object to be a broken padlock. He carries the item towards the gate and says, “I’m near the Convention Center.”
He stops at the entrance and discovers that a new padlock has replaced the broken one. Suspicious, he looks to the Convention Center and then back to the gate.
Overwhelmed by his sudden emotions, Lincoln pushes through a fog of anxiety and asks, “Have you found anything?”
Kullen tilts the new lock in his direction and discovers a keyhole. “Send a team to the museum, now.”
Quickly returning to his vehicle, Kullen starts the ignition and drives towards the parking lot's exit. He waits anxiously for the road to clear before pulling out onto the street. When he reaches the gate, he makes a sharp turn and slams his foot into the accelerator. Crashing through the barrier, he speeds toward the construction site.
Pedestrians outside the Community Center observe the unexpected breach and appear excited and perplexed, with at least one individual phoning 9-1-1.
*** CHAPTER 27 **\*
Sitting at his workstation, watching the news, Hoffman can hear Elanor’s muffled cries for help. In front of her, she could see the limp body of Logan, handcuffed to a metal fixture that Hoffman bolted to the floor below the aluminum faucet. Pleading for him to wake up, she quivered in fear.
Unaffected, Hoffman increased the volume of the television. Showing footage of the National History Museum from a helicopter, it was reported that a new game had been discovered. In the video, Hoffman saw several cop cars and news vans positioned outside the building. They revealed that triggers and tripwires had been placed throughout the museum, preventing safe entry.
Photos of the victims flash on the screen, and Hoffman sees Renee Walsh, a test subject of John Kramer, who he had captured over a decade ago. For her game, John requested an eye for an eye, forcing her to remove the organ with a sharpened spoon. Unbeknownst to Jigsaw, Dr. Gordon provided a numbing agent for Renee that would aid her in the endeavor.
Hoffman’s eyes glazed over, and the memories of previous games rushed to his mind. Staring through the television, he heard a voice.
Hovering over his shoulder was the rotting corpse of Amanda Young, who said, “Hello, Mark….”
“You’re dead,” he replied calmly.
Watching the news, Amanda folded her pale arms and said, “I know it’s hard to concentrate.”
Having been haunted by these hallucinations since he escaped the bathroom, Hoffman felt exhausted and tortured, “Why?” He said, his voice drained of emotion. “Why are you still here?”
Amanda stared out the window while Hoffman watched the blood ooze from her neck, and she said, “By creating a legacy, by living a life worth remembering, you become immortal.”
“When this is over, you’ll be gone….”
Smiling, Amanda responds defiantly, “Somehow, I doubt that.”
Photos of John Kramer are displayed on the television, followed by images of Dr. Gordon.
Seeing the pictures, Hoffman remembered sending letters to various news stations, hospitals, and local law enforcement, implicating Lawrence Gordon as an accomplice. For many years, he had planned his revenge on the Doctor, which started by exposing his true identity. However, with Gordon’s upstanding reputation, the implications were deemed a slanderous rumor, and nothing ever came of it.
Now with Gordon gone, only one obstacle remained; there was only one accomplice left; Logan Nelson.
*** CHAPTER 28 **\*
The sun is chased out of the sky by a flurry of dark clouds, creating a reddish-black horizon. An aft beautiful sight, if not for the crowd that has formed outside the precinct. Families of the deceased Jigsaw victims have led a throng of supporters to the parking lot, where they demand an end to Jigsaw’s legacy and the police department that has allowed this to go on for so long.
Among the swarm of bodies are the ex-husband and children of Sarah Harper.
Inside, Chief Savino preps a SWAT team on the situation at the museum, reminding them to be wary of traps, and displays a picture of Hoffman on the television for each of them to memorize. He insists that no one enter the museum until all the traps have been disarmed.
After the speech, Lincoln is informed that Autumn has arrived at her house and is collecting her belongings. The officer estimates that they will reach the precinct within the hour. With one problem solved, Lincoln allows himself a moment of comfort. When he is about to leave, Marlow approaches with more good news.
“We just spoke to Cameron, Logan’s Mother-in-Law,” He says, “She has Melissa, they’re fine, and Logan left around 7 am this morning.”
“Did she say where he was going?”
“He said he was going to work but to contact you if there’s trouble. Chances are he’s inside the museum with the others.”
Lincoln considers the possibilities and says, “Let’s retrace his steps. He took his vehicle, right? I don’t care how long it takes, pull CCTV, check gas stations in the vicinity, schools, everything. If we can triangulate his phone, do it. Find him."
“I will, sir,” Marlow says, without moving, "What about him?"
Lincoln glances at Daniel inside the Infirmary, “He doesn't leave my sight," he says.
“Sir?"
“What other options do we have? I'm not losing anyone else."
Forgoing his apprehension, Marlow said, “It’s your call, Lincoln.”
Within twenty minutes, Lincoln arrives at the museum with a SWAT team. Staring at the building, he feels a sudden surge of anxiety, dread, and a strange sense of relief, knowing this will all be over soon.
“Are you okay?” a voice asks.
His eyes move to the rearview mirror, and Lincoln can see Daniel Matthews in the back seat. Still awaiting a response from Autumn, Lincoln checks his cellphone and re-reads his message to Lynn.
“I'm ready for this to be over,” he said, tightening the cilice around his waist.
Looking through the window at the commotion outside the museum, Daniel responds, “This isn't your fault, Detective.”
Reminded of his conversation with Seth Steward, Lincoln ignores the words, "Let's go."
Both men exit the vehicle, and Marlow joins them.
"Kullen is sending in a bomb squad," Marlow said, "We've set up an observation terminal towards the south entrance. I'll move the witness there."
As the men separate, Daniel, notices the news crews positioned themselves just outside the parking lot. He stares at them approvingly.
Lincoln waded through his grief and reached Agent Marlow, who was relaying a message via radio.
“Get it done,” Kullen said.
Standing with the Agent, Lincoln asks for a breakdown of the situation.
“Come with me.”
Lincoln follows Kullen towards a police car, and the Agent removes the museum floor plans from his pocket. He lays the map on the car's hood and specifies the trap locations.
“The entrances are blocked off,” he said, “There’s no way through. Now, I’ve got a team working to deactivate the traps, but it’s going to take some time.”
“Have you had any communication with the survivors?”
Drawing a line on the map with his finger, Kullen says, “Not yet, but I’ve spoken with the construction crew, and they’re building an expansion right over here.”
***
TO BE CONTINUED

Jennie was looking through the microscope at something she had not seen before. Under the glass slide a sliver of human tissue was growing large by the second. This would make sense if it were cancerous cells she was looking at, but she wasn’t. As far as the test sample said, these were ordinary human cells, harvested for no particular reason.
“Gunnar, do you happen to know who’s cells these are?” she asked, without looking up.
“As far as I know from a car crash victim, this morning,” he said, while balancing two beakers on top of each other absentmindedly. “Donated his body to science.”
Jennie was still peering through the lens as she noticed that the cells weren’t just multiplying, they were changing. They behaved like stem cells, in that they were taking on different traits while growing, except these weren’t stem cells.
“Can you get me more information on the cadaver, Gunnar?” she asked.
With a theatrical sigh Gunnar stepped away from his balancing act and started browsing through the files on the desktop in front of him.
“There isn’t anything special noted. It says he was a biology teacher, divorced, killed on impact in a frontal collision at high speed. Only thing of note was an off hand note from the coroner about an unusual lack of trauma you’d expect from a collision like this,” Gunnar said.
“And what happened to his organs?” asked Jennie, not even sure why she did so.
“Let me see,” said Gunnar as he browsed through the cadaver history. “Heart, liver and kidneys were marked for transplant. Rest was unsalvageable.”
By now the tissue under the microscope was pushing away the slide. Jennie had to remove it and dissect it to further study this remarkable process. Gunnar and her went at it for a couple more hours, making several notes, before putting their research on hold for the night.
The next morning Jennie came in early. Putting her bag on the counter, she opened the fridge to take out the samples from yesterday. When she took off the lid she almost dropped it with a yell. Where she had left the sample and the slide from yesterday, now lay half a hand and a human eye staring back at her. Sitting down on the chair behind her and giving herself a rest, she contemplated her next steps. Could it be that this tissue was regenerating it’s host from just a couple of cells. That would be some sci-fi horror shit she hadn’t signed up for. But she was also a scientist at heart, who had maybe stumbled on her way to a Nobel fucking prize.
First she was going to wait for Gunnar and to pass the time she put on the news. The news anchor spoke about an accident down Main Street with an ambulance involved. Not much was known, but it seemed to be a hit on a transplant transport. World was getting crazier each day. No suspect was arrested, but they had found an empty carrier with no sign of the organ except a blood trail. Following the trail they had apparently found a person of interest, but his mental state made it impossible to get any useful information out of him. The news showed a picture of the man they had found and oddly enough Jennie felt like she recognized the man from somewhere.
“That’s our traffic victim from yesterday,” gasped Gunnar in the door opening.
Jennie hadn’t heard him coming in, but now she remembered where she had seen that face. It was on the coroner report Gunnar was browsing yesterday. As well as those eyes. She leaped on her feed to grab the container that still sat open on the counter, where she had left it. She took out the human eye and held it up next to the picture on the TV. Same color, same iris approximately.
“No way!” she exclaimed.
Gunnar stepped into the room, dropping his bag on the floor before taking place behind the desktop, frantically searching for the report of their tissue donor.
“They’re the same guy,” he said. “How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Jennie said. “But I’m pretty sure we’re going to be able to ask him that in a day or two.” Smiling she slapped a sticker on the container that held the hand and put the eye back in. Jennie and Gunnar’s Nobel Prize Project. She wrote on it as she cut of another slice of tissue to study for the day.
“Request everything they can find about what our guy did after those biology lessons of him,” she tasked Gunnar.

Night creeped over Pripyat Outskirts, and with it, the mutants stirred from their day-time lethargy. The action of the day halted, the various sides of the on-going campaign hid from these monsters. The warriors of Redemption and their allies chose to rest for a few more hours before continuing towards the laundromat once Strelok had been informed of the possible UNISG squad on way to get him. Strelok had informed them that he would move his men out of the place into a new safe location by the apartment blocks west of the laundromat. The squad was getting tired, and they still waited for Dimuha's group to join them. Huddled around a small oven inside one of the many apartment blocks, Boris was deep in thought.
He looked at the message on his PDA. It read:
"Boris. We know you're in the city, and we know you're hunting UNISG. Stand down now, and report to us at the book store. I don't know why you still hunt them, but this is a state matter now, and if you continue disobeying explicit orders, I will have to liquidate you as well. This is my final warning, you have time until noon tomorrow to leave."
The sender was Colonel Degtyarev. He had finally arrived to deal with UNISG here. However, Boris had no intention to leave. This was merely a time limit, one he knew Redemption could achieve. Boris was not sure why he was still so stubborn to stop UNISG, but something told him, a part of him perhaps honed during the long years in the Zone, that leaving now would be catastrophic. He also, for some reason, felt like the quest for vengeance that Dimka and Sevka pursued was also his own. Perhaps it was related to his own plan for revenge, but that would have to wait now. This fight was far from the simplistic clash of good, by Zone standards at least, and evil that the war against Sin had been. Too many variables, too many ticking time bombs.
He sighed and took a look around him. Others were fast asleep, bar for Dima, who was keeping watch in the corridor just outside the room. Dimka was drowzing, Sevka was dreaming as evident by the rapid movement behind his eyelids. Rogue had taken the corner spot furthest from the oven, and a poncho-like cloth thrown over his Sunrise suit made it impossible to figure out if he was actually sleeping or not. Boris took out his water canteen and drank, feeling the thirst from sitting so close to the fire. The sound of footsteps alerted him, making him pull his Automag towards the door. Dima entered the room, kicked Sevka in the shoulder and ordered him to go patrol instead.
"Five more minutes, man.", Sevka groaned.
"You had five more minutes twenty minutes ago, urod. Your time to go freeze your ass in the dark.", Dima pressed on, and muttering something inaudible in both Spanish and Russian, Sevka disappeared into the darkness.
Dima chuckled at the response and looked around the room, noticing Boris still wide awake. He strolled over to his friend and sat down, crossing his legs.
"What's keeping you awake? Shouldn't you be resting, tomorrow will most likely be nasty.", Dima said quietly.
"Can't sleep. I'm not sure why, it's just thoughts chasing each other. Listen, Dima, are we in all over our heads here? What the fuck are we even doing, chasing international spies in the Zone? And now, Degtyarev is coming after our asses.", Boris sighed.
"We are doing this because it's the right thing to do. We are giving two of our members a chance at Redemption and avenging those comrades lost at Jupiter checkpoint. Simultaneously, we are keeping yet another government out of the Zone. I don't like the jarheads from Agroprom, but at least they're the devil I know. The Chinese and their cronies? No telling what they would do with things gathered from the Zone. I do not wish to open that Pandora's box, and if I can, I will stop it from happening, SSU helping us or not.", Dima said in an angry tone.
"Eh, good thing I've got you as a voice of reason. Very uncharacteristic of you too, not a single pun during all that? Impressive restraint.", Boris said with a grin.
"I'm too tired for those. Besides, you're just a human and need reassurance at times too.", Dima replied, taking out a bottle of Nemiroff vodka and pouring himself some of it into a metal mug before pointing with it towards Boris in a questioning gesture.
"No thanks, I'm not in the mood to have my taste buds savaged.", Boris scoffed.
"I need some for the nerves. Watching Pripyat in the dark, with all the sounds of mutants travelling, lurking in the dark... It's hard already. But after those Nightshades... I've started to think that there is something utterly wrong with this place. Like some sort of horror laying dormant nearby, just out of reach. Maybe I'm getting old, maybe I'm right, who knows. But eh, with some liquid courage, I can brave the sleep now.", Dima replied to Boris' mocking and downed the mug's contents.
"You may be right, indeed. But there's time to explore that aspect of this place later, now we're on a mission. Albeit... There is something I want to ask of you. Something I've been planning. Something big.", Boris said hesitantly, seeing Dima raise his eyebrow in a questioning manner.
Boris explained his plan, recounting what pushed him to form it, how he would execute it and how Felka had given him enough confidence and information to pull it off. To demonstrate this, Boris showed a weathered map with markings on it. Dima listened, nodding from time to time, knowing not to interrupt his friend at such a crucial moment. When Boris finally stopped talking, Dima was silent. He screwed the bottlecap off once more, and poured most of the bottle into the mug. Downing it in one go, he gasped, sighed and turned to Boris.
"This is insanity, Boris. Even more so than anything we have done so far. I understand your reasoning, I really do, but to do all this because of a vague threat from some unknown guy? How will you even get there?", Dima asked in a voice that sounded like he had found Boris' plans outrageous.
"I'm not doing it simply because of the threat, you know.", Boris said quietly.
"For revenge? Boris, you saw what happened to Veles when he pursued revenge over anything else. You've already changed these last few days... You're more impulsive, more brutal, less decisive. Boris, for God's sake, forget about this. Don't throw all you have achieved away because of it.", Dima pleaded, but Boris simply shook his head.
"I am not throwing it all away. If I die due to this, I die knowing that I had done enough. Redemption no longer needs me for guidance, the faction already has men of great devotion like Dimuha, Psoglav, you and Sanyok. Men who will keep it alive without me. If I don't die, I will return knowing that one part of my past is finally behind me.", Boris explained in a voice that conveyed this to be his final decision.
"I see you've already made up your mind. I don't like it, in fact, I detest it, but... You're my best friend Boris. A brother to me, quite frankly. I respect your opinion on this, and lead Redemption until you return. But if you go there and die, I will find your ghost or whatever fucking non-mortal form you take and make that Current artifact torture you had look like child's tickling.", Dima said solemnly.
"I would expect nothing less. Thank you, Dima. And you're like a brother to me, as well. Without you none of this would have happened, I'd probably be a rotting corpse in Jupiter underground.", Boris pondered out loud, glancing outside where first rays of sun appeared in the clouds hanging near the horizon.
"You'd probably smell better then. Alright, now that we got the insanity of your future and the soft feelings shit out of the way, I'm off to bed.", Dima said, emptied what little remained of the Nemiroff into his mouth and slithered into his sleeping bag.
"Good night, bratan.", Boris replied and looked at the map in front of him once more.
The conversation had made him even more sure of it. It was time to settle scores once and for all. From the hushed chatter echoing in from the outside, Boris figured that Dimuha's squad had most likely made it here too. These suspicions were confirmed when three stalkers entered the room, Dimuha in his rust-covered Skat, Sanyok in his Hybrid Alpha suit and another man in Sunrise suit. Behind them, far more hesitantly, a man in mercenary LC-suit entered in tow.
"Morning, Boris. You look refre-... Actually, you look like shit. Are you getting enough sleep? Eat your vitamins? Make sure to get balanced amounts of everything on your plate?", a familiar voice started in a humorous tone.
"Can we shoot him now?", Dimuha asked, irritated.
"That's against the Geneva convention to shoot a medic.", Sanyok replied.
"You guys follow those? Dushman always calls them "Geneva Suggestions".", Meeker, who Boris now recognized as the man in the LC-suit, chuckled.
"Morning, Stitch. Long time no see. And no, haven't been able to sleep well lately, you have any pills for that?", Boris asked in similar tone to the medic's.
"Sleeping pills are harder to come by these days, after the big emission. More nightmares, more cases of insomnia and even sleep paralysis, to a worrying extent. I don't have anything on me right now since many guys want them, perhaps I have some at the laundromat.", Stitch replied, now getting serious.
"We'll see. But before that, we have a battle on our hands. Wake up the others, it's time to prepare.", Boris ordered.
"I brought some goodies from my stock too, to help with that. Griffin's boys have no use to them now.", Meeker offered, and Boris nodded to him.
"And most importantly, he had this.", Dimuha said, taking out Boris' lost RPD, making Boris' eyes brighten up despite the lost sleep.
"You found it? Where?", Boris asked, flabbergasted.
"One of the UNISG lads had it, apparently kept it as a trophy. Another had your Korth and Tokarev too. Not sure if I'll keep them though.", Dimuha teased, making Boris slowly draw out his kukri before Dimuha tossed the guns to him.
Boris looked his weapons over once more. While they were tools of war and destruction, to him they were trusty companions too. Nowhere near the level of his exoskeleton, but trusty nonetheless. And now, they would reap revenge on the ones who had separated them from their master. Boris looked at the sunrise and grinned. It was time to put an end to this.