I have an 2005 Ford f150 about a year and a half the catalytic converter clogged up and overheated to the point of glowing. It messed up a lot of sensors and even warped the engine. After 8 months and replacing most electronics and wires I got it back but it has had code P0171 along other p0172 or p0174 (I don't remember) show up a couple times with long periods of time in between. The first time it disappeared overnight second time he had me run it after deleting the code and it didn't pop up for a long time. Since it's popped up 3 times 2 of which I was reving the engine to high rpms so Ithought maybe it was that. So I'll delete the code and see if I showed up and it'll be a long time without the light coming on. It has passed smog a couple months ago and never really runs rough or unresponsive so I've put it on the back log of things to get fixed. My question is how worried should I he and is deleting the code to see if it'll show up within the week dumb of me. The truck is a 4.6 V8 and it's straight piped if that's important

I have an 2005 Ford f150 about a year and a half the catalytic converter clogged up and overheated to the point of glowing. It messed up a lot of sensors and even warped the engine. After 8 months and replacing most electronics and wires I got it back but it has had code P0171 show up a couple times with long periods of time in between. The first time it disappeared overnight second time he had me run it after deleting the code and it didn't pop up for a long time. Since it's popped up 3 times 2 of which I was reving the engine to high rpms so Ithought maybe it was that. So I'll delete the code and see if I showed up and it'll be a long time without the light coming on. It has passed smog a couple months ago and never really runs rough or unresponsive so I've put it on the back log of things to get fixed. My question is how worried should I he and is deleting the code to see if it'll show up within the week dumb of me. The truck is a 4.6 V8 and it's straight piped if that's important.

Dear Professor Peterson,
I realize that your schedule probably won’t allow you to read this letter, least to reply. I am not expecting either of these and will not be offended. Why do I write it, then? Well, most probably because in the past several years you have been for me the voice of reason from abroad. Too many things are going in a crazy and disastrous direction, and listening to your lectures and videos have been very inspiring. It always amazes me how deeply you investigate the problem and how thoroughly you analyze it. In many cases listening to what you say have been like hearing what I always felt was true, but could not formulate and justify it myself. Thank you for that experience.
During the past year, which not only attracted the whole world’s attention to a conflict in Ukraine (at last, I’d say, war started there in 2014), but also demonstrated the unwillingness of countries and people to hear each other, I felt the growing urge to share Russian understanding of current situation and of the events that lead to it with someone who could probably be able to hear. Your name was the first to come to my mind. I hesitated until some time ago I came across the interview that you have recorded – “Israel, Russia, China, Iran: The World in Conflict” and it actually triggered me into writing. It occurred to me that, objective as you are, you may be unaware of some facts and interpretations, partly because modern media have mastered the art of being silent about some facts while shouting about the others, partly because you were born and raised in Anglo-Saxon civilization, with all embedded ideas and principles.
A bit about my background. Master’s degree in English language and literature, spent one year as a student in Connecticut, worked in American-owned companies for 17 years. That allows me to a certain degree to understand both sets of values.
I wanted to offer for your attention the view from the other side on what’s happening now between Russia and Western European civilization. I don't say that it is correct, I just say how Russians see it.
Very briefly, just point by point:

• Currently many people in the West are speaking about Russia as about a threat. But what makes you think that we see you differently? We see you as a growing threat. We don’t trust you. And we have plenty of reason for feeling this way.
• We see the West is regularly breaking its own rules and demonstrating double standards, so we can’t rely on its words.
• It has been clearly shown to us, that we will never be accepted by the West as an equal partner, so to us the West is neither a friend, nor a partner, but a competitor at best, an enemy at worst.
• We have seen what the West does to regimes that don’t obey and how the West does it, so West is a serious threat. Don’t come any closer.

3 basic principles of western foreign policy
Looking at the international events of past 30-40 years, we may see 3 basic principles of international policy that the West is utilizing.

1. Democracy is the best possible society model.

Hard to argue – there is the strongest correlation between availability of human rights in society and its prosperity. Let’s accept it as it is, although it is much more complicated and there are other factors that should be taken into account, like, for example:

• Pure democracy is limited to small communities, and is impossible in big countries. Once a certain threshold is passed, democracy is either a burden to every decision made, or is executed via representatives. And representatives, being people with all their imperfections, gradually start spoiling and corrupting the idea.
• Democracy tends to evolve, or, I’d rather say, degrade into oligarchy. Examples are numerous. Ancient Greece and Rome, Novgorod Republic (XII-XV cc), medieval Poland, etc. Even now – with all our experience, we keep hitting the same wall. Legal practice of lobbying in USA is the desire of big money (oligarchs) to have more influence on country policy. In Russia lobbying is illegal, so the same goal is achieved by other means, but without digging deep into details, it is the same – democratic form of power, spoiled by natural human desire to grab more for oneself on the expense of others.
• The most prosperous regions now (North America, Western Europe, Scandinavia, New Zealand, Australia) are the ones where capitalism appeared and developed earlier than in other parts of the world. That boosted production, country strength and wealth and eventually allowed them to have colonies in other parts of the world. Owning some overseas land gave enormous economic advantages. Remember “British East India Company”, which at its peak of wealth had an army of 160 thousand soldiers (more than some counties had!). The importance of having colonies can be best illustrated by the simple fact – one of the core reasons of the WW I was the desire of Germany, who was late to the table, to have its share of a pie. And even though political power of metropolises over colonies seized in mid-XXth century, economic bounds stayed much longer. If, let’s say, a uranium mine in Uganda belongs to French company, then which country benefits more from it? And to what extent the modern wealth of Europe and North America is due to other parts of the world?
• I doubt that democracy and human rights priority are possible in every country of the world. This idea just occurred to me, so I did not dig deep into finding the proof, but mentality (to put it narrower – religion) could prevent the society from accepting ideas that are just natural for another society. There are some facts I immediately recall that support this idea.

a) Majority of Noble prize winners are from protestant countries. Disproportional majority if you look at country population or wealth or other factors. Why? Maybe because Protestantism urges its followers to read the Bible on their own, whereas in Catholicism you study Bible under the priest’s guidance. Encouragement for independent research must have some effect.
b) After the ancient Rome fell, and Europe lived through the Dark Ages, Arabian countries preserved much of knowledge and science. At that time Arabian East was much more cultural and civilized than Europe. What happened to them later, why they stopped developing science, how could Europe overtake them? One of the explanations is that at some point of time Muslim theologians declared that “Koran has everything”, so scientific research stopped. The legend says that under this slogan the Library of Alexandria has been burnt by Arabian conquerors.
c) There is an interesting correlation between the agricultural conditions in a certain territory and some national traits of character. That’s more than a coincidence. For example, wheat was the main crop in Europe. It doesn’t require any special irrigation, so you can well grow and harvest it alone. That means you are less dependent on other people. Hence smaller states (Germany before mid-XIX century consisted of dozens independent states), hence more independent opinions. Compare it to China. Rice requires serious irrigation works, you’ll never do it alone. In order to harvest rice, you need to organize a fairly large group of people to do a job together. And as the population grows, you need to perform those works at a larger scale, also because the easiest-to-work fields are already busy. As a result, we see that Chinese value the society more than they value an individual. A single person sacrificing his wishes for the good of the others is more acceptable for them than for Europeans.
This idea needs further thinking but it is quite possible that the liberalism and human rights developed in Western Europe to the extent we see due to a unique combination of religion, natural conditions and other factors. And it can’t be copied in other parts of the world. It can be brought to other parts of the world by immigration of people with European mentality, of course. But otherwise it can be done only by complete mentality change of local inhabitants. Not an easy task, could take generations and mean death of local culture.

1. All people are seeking freedom and democracy, so it is our duty to help them achieve this goal. If some part of the society resists this help, it is the tyrannical part and it should be eliminated.

Yeah, really. Take up the White Man's burden… This idea is not dead yet, with all its prejudices.
In some part such understanding is based on the theory that appeared in history (history as a science!) in the UK in 18th century. This theory states that the process of human society development over time is a) linear and b) goes through the same stages in every society of the planet. One of the consequences of this theory was the statement that every society started from matriarchate – researchers came across some primitive society, ruled by women, and made their conclusion. This theory has long been proved wrong, but its influence is still alive.
Even if we accept that all countries, all societies are aiming at maximizing human rights, how justified will interference be? Good intentions are the pathway to hell. How long it took Anglo-Saxon civilization to reach modern state of human rights? Setting the Magna Carts as the starting point, it is a bit over 800 years, roughly 30 generations. Looking at the world history, we see how slowly societies change their organizational forms, evolving one into another. And you can’t forcefully speed it up. Imagine that our modern “crusaders of democracy” take time machine and show up at Hastings early in the morning on October 14th, 1066. “William, Harold, there is no need to fight. You need to run democratic elections, and everything will be ok…” Will they even understand the idea??? And what will happen the next day after they are left alone?
You have shown significant interest in Russian culture. If you care spending some more time on Russian books, I’d recommend you brothers Strugatsky (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arkady_and_Boris_Strugatsky). The form of what they have written is science fiction, but the contents is all about ethics, morale, responsibility, conscience. Try «Escape Attempt», «Hard to be a God», «Overburdened with Evil».
Why I am mentioning them now is because among others they are exploring the topic of “progressors” – people from Earth of XXII century who try to speed up the history of other planets, to solve their problems, stop wars, etc. And it doesn’t end well. As one of their heroes says, “You can’t break up the natural course of history without breaking the spine of humanity.”
It’s hard to find examples of good revolutions when they are initiated from abroad. Change of regime should be supported by majority within the country – it is the guarantee that society is ready for it. What Anglo-Saxons and NATO frequently do is supporting the angry minority in its aspirations for power. And instead of peace, freedom and prosperity it brings chaos. The classic example is Libya. Over 10 years ago the country was “spared of Gaddafi’s tyrannical rule”… How do they live now? The GDP is still around 50% of what it used to be, the country is still not at peace, there are two major forces each claiming to be the legal power. How many lives it did cost already and how much time it will take free Libya to recover? Can such liberation be called anything but a disservice? In Russia we call it “bear’s help”. I don’t say that everything was good in the country when Gaddafi was alive, but aren’t they in the worse situation now?
The whole series of Arabian spring looks like a great mess, not a great success. I rely on the opinion of an expert – below is the brief translation of an article published in 2015-2016 by Mordechai Kedar, an Israeli scholar of Arab culture and a lecturer at Bar-Ilan University. I can’t find the original, unfortunately.
December 2015 was the fifth anniversary of the events known as an ‘Arabian spring’. The world applauded the heroes of the streets in Tunis, Egypt, Libya, Syria, Yemen, Bahrain. Now, five years ago, those countries are still battlefields, with no light ahead. What problems have prevented them from positive development? Most of them have developed over centuries and they still prevail in mentality, remaining the dangerous rudiment.

1. Tribalism*, that was always a survival factor in harsh natural conditions of the region. Now the conditions are different but mentality is still the same, when each person thinks of himself as a member of the clan first (family, tribe, tape, whatever…), not the citizen of the country.*
2. Violence*. Resources are scarce, so anyone who is not the member of my clan, is a deadly threat. And the first reaction to a threat is violence.*
3. Honour*, understood very specifically. Dishonoured person will seek revenge. It is not uncommon for a person to kill members of his own family if they dishonoured him. Honour is of primary importance in relations between countries and nations, sometimes more important than economics and healthcare.*
4. Nepotism*, which has its roots in tribalism. Promoting your relatives to administrative positions is illegal in the West, but is part of normal practice in the East.*
5. Corruption*. An office holder will invest in projects and regions where his tribe and supporters live, not otherwise. He feels financially responsible to his family, not to the country.*
6. Multiple ethnic groups*, which protect their own languages and traditions. Marriages outside of a group are rare, coexistence with other groups is tense and hostile.*
7. Islam*. Islamic extremists are sure that people who believe otherwise, are deserved to be killed.*
8. Sunnites vs*.* shiites*. This conflict started back in 7th century as a conflict for control over Islam. Non-Islamic people see them analogous to Catholicism vs. Orthodox church, but in reality now, after centuries of religious wars, these are two separate religions, and the dialogue between them is very difficult.*
9. Predominant culture*. Three main groups are Bedouins who live in deserts, fellahs who are the peasants, and inhabitants of the cities. Each group thinks stereotypically of other two, cross-marriages are rare.*
10. Country borders*. British, French and Italian administration have been drawn the borders straight, just by a ruler and a pencil, paying no attention to the real borders between various groups which differ by religion and ethnicity. People who never thought about themselves as about having anything in common, are now the citizens of one country. And they don’t feel it this way.*
11. Power change*. This is something which never happens peacefully in Arabic countries. The ethnic or religious group at power holds to it by all means.*
12. Israel*. Arabs and Muslims don’t acknowledge Judaism as a live religion, Jewish people as a people. So for them the very existence of Israel is illegal. Plus Israel is very convenient as an external enemy, a good target for the aggression of the masses.*
13. Oil has turned the countries of the Gulf into societies which don’t produce, but do consume without limits. The difference between wealth of the Gulf and poverty of other Arabian countries is shocking.
14. West that interferes into the region to solve its own problems. Oil, gas, weapons – all is targeted to use natural resources of Middle East.
15. Al Jazeera as a catalyst of social and religious unrest.

Throughout the XX-th century Europe tries to solve myriads of cultural problems of the Middle East, trying to create modern Arabic states that will fit Europe’s needs. The brightest example of Western misunderstanding of the East is the belief that Middle east can easily adopt democracy. Western democracy is based on western culture with equality of religious and social groups, minority rights, freedom of speech and opinions. Add to it religious freedom and free elections and you will get the list that is absolutely alien to Middle East.
Here’s an article by the same author on the same topic – https://fathomjournal.org/why-we-keep-getting-the-middle-east-wrong/
Here’s an interview with him – https://chicagopolicyreview.org/2015/07/28/americans-still-dont-understand-the-middle-east-this-man-wants-to-help/
In one of your interviews you discussed the competition between China and the US for influence in Africa. And your opinion was that China wins due to corruption of local elites. Let me offer another reason for your consideration. It is the same reason that allows Russia to gain influence in Middle East, Africa, South America. When China or Russia come to some country to cooperate, they come to cooperate, not to teach, not to judge, not to interfere into the internal affairs of the state. And people appreciate this.

1. We have the right to decide who is democratic and who is not.

This one is undoubtedly wrong. As a psychologist, you can diagnose it, I guess. What will you call such mental blindness, when a person considers himself flawless and assumes the right to judge and punish others, like in “The House of Pride” by Jack London. And here we see a group of countries that consider themselves the best in the world, that judge other countries and feel it righteous to interfere into their life, to change it without being asked. I understand why leaders of these countries have that blindness, but I wonder how many people in these countries actually understand that it is not a radiant crusade for democracy, but a destructive raid of Normans.
De furore Normannorum libera nos, Domine.
One of the principles of democracy is separation of three powers – legislative, judicial and executive. So why then countries that consider themselves “leaders of democratic world” forget about this principle in international relations. They make the rules, they judge and they punish.
One of American diplomats said recently that USA supports international rules-based order. Sounds good, sounds undoubtedly right. But why USA and NATO forget about the rules when it is convenient? Or is it “We support international rules-based order, but our own actions should not be limited by these rules”? What immediately comes to my mind without web search:

• Kosovo, 1999. Civil war or genocide or whatever it may be called. How it should have been handled according to the rules? UN Security Council makes the decision, ‘blue helmets’ move in and stop the hot phase of the conflict. How it was done? NATO forces moved in without UNSC mandate. Forget the rules.
• Iraq, 2003. USA and its allies invaded Iraq based on false claims that Saddam had mass destruction weapons. The Center for Public Integrity stated that the Bush administration made a total of 935 false statements between 2001 and 2003 about Iraq's alleged threat to the United States. International lies-based order?

Double standards
Speaking more about the rules… We are tired of seeing double standards. As an illustration, I will use just one aspect – the principle of integrity of the state vs the principle of the right of nations to self-determination. It looks like the West supports integrity of the state, when this state is allied or friendly to the West, and supports nation’s self-determination when the state is not. Let’s go through some examples.
- Chechnya (an autonomous republic within Soviet Union) wanted to become independent after 1991. It quickly started to use terrorism to achieve this goal. It took a lot of effort to stop the war and bring the region back to safety. Reaction of the West – support of chechens, their leader fled to London and was not deported to Russia despite all requests.
- Abkhazia (an autonomous republic within Georgian republic which was part of Soviet Union) wanted to become independent from Georgia when Georgia became independent from Russia. Resulted in a war. The conflict is still not solved. Abkhazia now is an independent state which is acknowledged by very few countries in the world. Reaction of the West – they still consider Abkhazia as a rebellious part of Georgia. Same situation about South Osetia – another region, that was an administrative part of Georgia until 1991 and that also seeks independence.
- Donetsk and Lugansk wanted to become independent from Ukraine after 2014 coup. Ukraine tried to subdue them by force and failed. Then the workplan has been signed in Minsk – what the parties of the conflict agree to do to settle. The result should have been – Donetsk and Lugansk return to Ukraine but have extended political rights, etc. Ukraine did nothing of its promises. Reaction of the West – support of Ukraine.
- Catalonia is seeking independence. And I remember that leaders of independence movement have been under political and criminal pressure.
- Scotland had a referendum about independence. And even though results were in favour of the UK, I remember how nervously London reacted.
Russia – NATO relations after 1991
This is best said by Vladimir Pozner, a journalist who spent years of his work in the USA, Russia, Europe and is one of the most known journalists of the old school (comparing to modern propagandists). Here’s the link to his speech in Yale University on September 27, 2018 – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8X7Ng75e5gQ&t=2556s.
His speech takes around forty minutes, the rest is the Q&A. To save you time, I’d summarize it here in just a couple of phrases. After Soviet Union collapsed, there was an illusion that we aren’t enemies anymore, that the world is open now, and that we will be partners or even friends. Russia dismissed the Warsaw Treaty union and agreed for Germany to unite, that looked just right – why keep a military union when we aren’t enemies anymore? Sometime later Russia made an offer to join NATO to provide world security together and was denied. Russia offered to join the EU, and was denied. Russia was promised that NATO would not expand eastward and less than 10 years later this promise was broken. Since then, we’ve been witnessing NATO getting closer and closer to our borders, inviting countries that are our neighbours and aggressively supporting those candidates to country leadership in East Europe who declared anti-Russia views. So now the illusion is over. We are enemies. And what’s worse – we don’t trust US anymore, so negotiating some new principles of coexistence will be problematic.
Ukraine.
Briefly about history, in more details about recent times and present situation.
In 16-17th century the territory of modern Ukraine was controlled by two forces with no clear border between them. Northwest (where the city of Lvov is now) was under Polish rule, center and the region along river Dnepr – under control of “kazak military democracies” – gatherings of all people, who fled from Russia, Poland, Lithuania, Crimea and who with time formed Ukrainians as a nation. They were ruled by elected chieftains and made their living largely by either joining some military campaign for money and loot, or by robbery raids to Poland, Crimea, Turkey. They were allied to Russia due to same religion – Orthodox Christianity.
As Poland grew stronger, its pressure on the territory grew, which led to periodic rebellions. Poland is a Catholic state, and people of Orthodox Ukraine were severely oppressed. Seeking protection, Ukrainian chieftains asked Russia to include those territories into Russian state. First request came in 1591. Russia rejected this request and several others. Only in 1654 part of Ukraine, controlled by kazaks, was included into Russia. Consequences – war with Poland and tens of thousands orthodox people fleeing from Polish-controlled lands into Russian-controlled lands.
From then on Russians and Ukrainians were really ‘brother nations’. Well, it was not heaven, but it was the best available option. Same religion, very close language and mentality. And forget about oppression. Ukrainians were oppressed as much as Russians themselves.
When the WW I started, Germany and Austria-Hungary were looking for collaborators in occupied territories of Russian Empire. They promised independence to nationalists in Western Ukraine, and found people who bought the idea. Not surprisingly, the most dedicated nationalists came from the least developed region of the country. Ukraine did not become independent at that moment, but the ideas stayed and gave their fruit during WW II, when Ukrainian collaborators actively participated in Nazis’ crimes. In one of your videos you described what Unit 731 of Japanese army was doing and you warned your listeners that they will never forget it. If you will find and read witnesses’ accounts of Volhynia massacre, you will never forget it either. I read it once long ago and I never want to read it again. It was a shock to me that people are capable of such things.
In the period between 1945 and 1991 Ukraine had the same rights as any other republic. There were no impediments to preserving and developing local culture. If you lived in any republic, you learned two languages – Russian and local. National literature was actively translated into other national languages of the Soviet Union, there were no impediments to education. Soviet Union with all its flaws, really tried to unite all of its nations into one big family. (What surprises me though is why antisemitism remained. You could come from Georgia, Uzbekistan or Yakutia and pass exams to Moscow university, no problem if you are smart enough. But it could be problematic for a Jew…)
After 1991 Russia and Ukraine remained friendly states, tightly bound by economic, cultural and even family ties. Ukraine tried to get the most out of relations both with Russia and with the West and it worked fairly well for 30 years. But with time attempts to elevate significance of their own nation led Ukrainians down a dangerous path. They started to slowly eliminate all other cultures that were present in the country. This process sped up dramatically in 2014, when after a coup the nationalist forces gained influence on the government.
Official Kiev denies being nationalistic, but don’t trust what the person is saying, see what he is doing.

• Open Kiev map and you will find two prospects – one named after Bandera, another after Shukhevich. Those two stand behind Volhynia massacre and numerous other crimes. Now they are heroes.
• During WW II Ukrainian nationalists were gathered by Nazis into the division “Galicia”. Collaborators and traitors, they did not show much on the battlefield, but were always victorious in the punitive raids against civilians. Now they are heroes.
• Ukraine is banning and denying Russian language and Russian culture. And it did not start last year. It started much earlier, when bit by bit Russian-speaking people had more and more difficulties teaching their children in Russian, buying books in Russian. It even shows itself historically – famous writers, artists, musicians, etc. of the past are proclaimed Ukrainians if they were born or lived on the territory of modern Ukraine. Aivazovskiy was Armenian by nation, lived in Crimea which was Russian at the time. Repin was Russian, Kuingi was Greek. Gogol and Bulgakov called themselves Russian and wrote in Russian. Shevchenko wrote in Russian, and now his books in Ukraine are translated from Russian.

I live in Moscow region, so all these processes for me were just an echo of a far-away thunder. My friends who lived in Crimea, Kiev, Donetsks, Kharkov many times said how difficult it was to live in a country that is so obsessed with its own magnificence that it becomes absurd. Massive renaming of streets, destruction of monuments that signified joint Russian-Ukrainian history, rewriting of history, when traitors and criminals become heroes, heroes become butchers. Anne, daughter to Yaroslav the Wise, wife to Henry I of France is known as Anne de Russie or Anne of Kiev. But now there are attempts to call her Anne of Ukraine, even though the very term Ukraine appeared at least a hundred years after she died.
We see those nationalistic ideas demonstrating themselves in a number of ways, and we have seen them before and we know what threat they can bring if left unattended. Pay attention to a dragon when it is small, you may be unable to win when it grows up.
I don’t say that our perception is correct, I just say how we see it. And to us modern Ukraine is like a younger brother who joined a bad company and who is becoming dangerous.
Now combine these two. Ukrainian nationalism plus NATO. Two threats, one well known historically, another the most dangerous rival of the past 70 years. We see them uniting and it is really an existential threat to us. In such circumstances could we afford being blind to it, just sitting and waiting what comes next? We tried to settle it peacefully. Many times Russia said that we are worried by NATO expansion, that we are worried by Western support of nationalistic movements in our neigbour countries. No effect. The last attempt was made in autumn of 2021, when Putin offered a negotiation that should have resulted in guaranteed safety. No reply.
If there is a conflict and your rival refuses to talk, he is asking for a fight. I don’t say that war in Ukraine is the right way to solve the conflict, but who can say that we did not try to set it by negotiations?

Hey everyone, I have a 2017 Ford F250 and I am looking at the Continental TerrainContact A/T, I have heard Michelin makes a good tire for this truck as well as some of the other brands, but are there any tires y’all recommend? What do y’all think of the Continentals?
I’m not sold on that brand, but I have also had good experience with Continental in the past and that tire seems to get good reviews.
First truck, so with that kind of investment it’s nice to get some different opinions before you jump into things. Thank you in advance!
Edit: typo

I'm 37 and trying to make a new future for myself, tired of my current career. I currently make about $72,000 before taxes. would I be able to match or exceed that in a decent amount of time, like 2 years or less?
I have no mechanical training, and have only changed the brake pads and rotors, oil, alternator, tires, spark plugs on a few cars aswell as recently changing out the two front control arms on my 2013 Mazda 3. I've developed a lot of interest in learning to do more, and enjoy using the tools.
I think mobile Mechanic seems dynamic enough to stay interesting for some time. But is there anyway to get into it fairly quickly in Canada?

Greetings! I hope you enjoy this new tale I've spun up! Trying a different POV this time around. Let me know what you think.
Next
Markus gazed once more at the package. It was tubular in shape, about ten inches in length, and rattled slightly when he shook it. There was no return address, and the delivery label was obviously hand-written in a gorgeous calligraphic font. Someone definitely took their time and care in creating this.
However, he didn’t recall ordering anything, nor did he have any friends or family with a looming marriage, so this arrival warranted some concern. It smelled somewhat of a campfire, but was otherwise a normal, nondescript cardboard tube with plastic caps.
As he inhaled the scent surrounding the tube, his mind was cast back to the few camping trips he had taken with his father, and of the many blóts he had performed with his old Kindred before they disbanded. Good memories, all. With a smile on his face, he gently uncapped the tube and emptied the contents out into his heavy palm.
As he had been expecting a letter, he wasn’t disappointed. What was interesting was the fact that said letter was made of honest-to-goodness vellum. A rolled piece of vellum, kept tight by a heavy signet ring.
Markus took the vellum to the kitchen table, and gently slid the ring off of it, laying it down, ignored for now.
Whomever had sent this to him had some serious skills. He was looking at what appeared to be an illuminated invitation. The handwriting was as exquisite as the lettering on the delivery label, and was a veritable joy to read.
Dearest Markus,
I am cordially inviting you to tea.
Please meet me at Kitcho Arashiyama – Kyoto, Japan.
Enclosed, please find your ticket to Japan.
I expect to see you there in three month’s time, at four PM local time on February 14th, 2023.
Yours,
Lucifer
Markus sat the letter down beside the seal, dumbfounded. Lucifer? Either someone was attempting to draw him into another LARP, or they must have sent the message to the wrong guy. Curious, he inspected the ring.
It was a heavy ring, with a curious, angular symbol embossed on it, surrounded by an almost hypnotic pattern of lines. The same symbol was also on either side of the ring. Smirking, he took a snapshot of it with his phone and did an image search.
It was, indeed, the sigil of Lucifer. Someone must have gone to some expense for this. Remembering that the message had said something about a plane ticket, Markus snatched up the tube and shook it some more. Out floated a second item. Picking it up off the floor, Markus saw that it looked curiously like a ticket of some sort. Round-trip from Louisville to Kyoto, open-ended. Nonstop, first class. Holy shit.
In disbelief, Markus checked the ticket online. It was booked through Quantas, and was, indeed, legitimate. Sitting back in the chair, he realized that he would be going to Japan in three months.
Three months was hardly enough time to get his passport in order. Still, if someone spent this much on a flight for him, he owed it to them to do his utmost to be there on time, and at his best.
The next day, he called in to work and went to a post office in Louisville to apply for a passport. Figuring the expense would be worth it, he went ahead and got it expedited. No sense in it arriving the day after his flight. This way, he would have it around the third week of January, leaving him enough time to not panic about having everything ready.
The second most important task done, he went home and perused the web for a nice outfit to wear to his tea meeting with “Lucifer”. A new kilt, belt and boots would do the trick. He would go to a nicer store for a dress shirt once he had the items.
Markus felt invigorated for the first time in several years once he had made the purchases. His life had been fraught with one setback or disaster after another for quite some time. He and his girlfriend of five years had split up last month, both of his grandfathers had passed while they were together, and his mother, the only family he had left, had developed Alzheimer’s and had already forgotten who he was. Markus couldn’t afford to take care of her on his own, and had been forced to place her in a home. A change would be welcome.
So, he started on the hardest and most important task: learning Japanese. He had three months to get fluent enough to get by without being seen as disrespectful. He had been an avid fan of most anime and manga for nearly thirty years, and hopefully watching the subtitled anime would come in handy in this endeavor. Thinking about his upcoming trip, Markus realized he’d need somewhere to stay. He scoured the internet, looking at reviews and ads for various hotels in the area of the restaurant he’d be dining at. After several hours of searching, he selected a place called Rikyuan Kyoto Nishikyogoku. He sent them an email detailing his trip and his needs, and got a reply with the costs. He put it on a credit card, and felt one more piece of the puzzle slip into place.
Markus made the necessary arrangements at work the next day, “planning” on two full weeks of being gone. Thankfully, his company was extremely flexible, and allowed him to take the required days off, no questions asked. When not working, Markus was deep in his Japanese lessons, cross-referencing what he heard in his anime with what he was learning. It took almost the entire three months, but by the end of it, he was watching entire episodes of “One-Punch Man” without subtitles and understanding about eighty percent of it.
Reading the katakana and hiragana, however, was proving to be a little more difficult. He could recognize the symbols for the various shops and restaurants, but was far from reading a newspaper.
On February tenth, he checked that the ticket was still valid, and packed enough for a month away. It was a depressingly small, single bag that he wound up having. Since a kilt was easy to care for, and he would be wearing a second one anyway, all he really had to pack were a few shirts, socks and underwear for the trip alongside his small bag of toiletries.
Once he was fully packed, he went about his life as usual. Work, eat, video games, sleep, and repeat. There was little in the way of friends, and no family left to visit besides his mother, who sadly never recognized him.
The day before his flight left, he decided to visit his mother one last time. He drove himself to the retirement home, and signed himself in to see her. It was a bright, if cold, afternoon.
Knocking on her door, he called out, “Hello? Mom? It’s me, Markus. May I come in?”
“Markus? Markus, Markus…. Now where have I heard that name before? Oh! Yes, please come in!” she replied.
Opening the door, he was surprised to see his mother in a bathrobe with a broad smile and outstretched arms. “My son! I’ve missed you. Your father is at work, but he should be home in an hour or so. I have some tea in the fridge. Would you like some?” she asked, her soft voice as pleasant as it ever was in his childhood. She wrapped him up in a warm, if weak, hug in her fragile arms.
“No thanks, Mom. I’ll get some water, instead. Can I get you a glass, too?” he replied.
“Oh, please. I’d appreciate that. I’ll just have a seat, then,” she said, taking a seat on the small chair at the writing desk.
Markus got two glasses of water from the tap, handed one to his mother and sat in a chair. “Mom? I’ve got something to tell you. Promise you won’t get mad?”
“I promise, son. Now, what is it?”
“I’m going on a trip tomorrow. To Kyoto for a business meeting. I don’t know when I’ll return,” he said softly.
“Oh! My boy is finally getting to travel. Your father will be so proud of you. He should be home soon, you know,” she said, taking a sip of her water.
Markus’ breath hitched at the second mention of his father, who had been dead and gone these past seventeen years. Forcing a smile, he said, “Yeah, Mom. You know how dad is, though. He works so much to make sure we have what we need.”
“He sure does, Markus. I do hope you get to see him before you leave. It’d mean the world to him. So! What’s this business meeting about?” she asked happily.
“Well, I’m not sure, if I’m honest. I just got a letter to meet someone in Kyoto. They included an open-ended plane ticket and everything. I checked everything out, and it’s all legitimate. It’s probably something pretty important. I just wish I knew why they chose a relative nobody like me,” he replied, deep in thought.
“It’s because my son is an amazing person. That’s why. I just know it,” she said, setting down her mostly untouched water on the writing desk. “I’m getting tired, now. Come see me again soon? I miss you so much,” she pleaded.
“Okay, Mom. As soon as I can. Let me help you to bed, okay? I know you’re tired,” Markus said, offering an arm to his mother.
“You’re such a sweet boy. You got that from your father, you know.”
His mother grunted softly as she climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders.
“I love you, Mom. Get some rest, and I’ll come see you as soon as I can, okay?”
“Okay, sweetheart. He’ll take care of you, you know.”
“Who will, Mom?”
“The man you’re going to meet for tea. He’ll take care of you. I’m sure of it,” she said sleepily.
“...meet for tea? What? I never…”
But Markus’ mother was already fast asleep, snoring softly. Markus looked at his mother in wonder. Shaking his head, he kissed her forehead and walked out of her room, shutting the door as quietly as he could manage.
He walked to the front desk and informed the receptionist that his mother was asleep, and that he would be leaving in the morning for Japan, in case she asked about him.
“Oh, that sounds wonderful, sir! I hope you enjoy your trip. I’ll make sure the aides know that she is asleep. Thank you for visiting her. I know it’s hard, but it does help them. Even when they don’t recognize you, connecting to their past is always helpful. Please be safe,” he said.
“Thank you. I will be. Take care of her, okay?” Markus asked softly, swallowing past the tight lump in his throat.
The receptionist nodded with a smile, and Markus went home, crying silently.
Obscenely early the next morning, Markus tossed his travel bag into his car and drove off to the airport. The drive was thankfully smooth and without any serious traffic. He got a decent spot in the long term parking lot, and went to check in to his flight.
Surprisingly enough, the wait for check-in was short and quick, allowing him to get to his gate with over an hour to spare. With such ample time, Markus got breakfast, and was able to savor the mostly bland fare. The boarding process was quick and efficient, and the other passengers were mostly quiet and tired. This allowed them to be able to leave a full fifteen minutes early, and Markus was soon on his way to Kyoto.
He found himself the only resident of first class, oddly enough. He and the flight attendant spoke cordially a few times, and he busied himself on his phone for most of the trip, napping occasionally for the nearly fourteen hour flight.
He was gently awoken by his flight attendant. “Markus? We will be landing soon. I need you to sit up and get your seatbelt on, okay?” she said softly.
“Hrmm? Oh. Okay, Sophia. I’m up. Thank you,” he replied with a smile. Sophia nodded and went to buckle herself in as well.
Safely buckled, Markus awaited the plane’s touchdown.
The plane landed, and all passengers disembarked just as orderly and quietly as they boarded. Once his bag had been claimed, Markus left the airport, and took his first breath of the air in Kyoto.
The air was cold, clean and crisp, with a promise of snow in the future. Markus had been busy during his flight, checking on the best ways to get to his destination. He settled on taking a bus, and then a train, as that was an experience he’d never had. Markus oriented himself, finding the correct stop, and sat down on a nearby bench to wait.
His adventure in Japan had just begun.
Next
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Greetings! I hope you enjoy this new tale I've spun up! Trying a different POV this time around. Let me know what you think.
​
Markus gazed once more at the package. It was tubular in shape, about ten inches in length, and rattled slightly when he shook it. There was no return address, and the delivery label was obviously hand-written in a gorgeous calligraphic font. Someone definitely took their time and care in creating this.
However, he didn’t recall ordering anything, nor did he have any friends or family with a looming marriage, so this arrival warranted some concern. It smelled somewhat of a campfire, but was otherwise a normal, nondescript cardboard tube with plastic caps.
As he inhaled the scent surrounding the tube, his mind was cast back to the few camping trips he had taken with his father, and of the many blóts he had performed with his old Kindred before they disbanded. Good memories, all. With a smile on his face, he gently uncapped the tube and emptied the contents out into his heavy palm.
As he had been expecting a letter, he wasn’t disappointed. What was interesting was the fact that said letter was made of honest-to-goodness vellum. A rolled piece of vellum, kept tight by a heavy signet ring.
Markus took the vellum to the kitchen table, and gently slid the ring off of it, laying it down, ignored for now.
Whomever had sent this to him had some serious skills. He was looking at what appeared to be an illuminated invitation. The handwriting was as exquisite as the lettering on the delivery label, and was a veritable joy to read.
Dearest Markus,
I am cordially inviting you to tea.
Please meet me at Kitcho Arashiyama – Kyoto, Japan.
Enclosed, please find your ticket to Japan.
I expect to see you there in three month’s time, at four PM local time on February 14th, 2023.
Yours,
Lucifer
Markus sat the letter down beside the seal, dumbfounded. Lucifer? Either someone was attempting to draw him into another LARP, or they must have sent the message to the wrong guy. Curious, he inspected the ring.
It was a heavy ring, with a curious, angular symbol embossed on it, surrounded by an almost hypnotic pattern of lines. The same symbol was also on either side of the ring. Smirking, he took a snapshot of it with his phone and did an image search.
It was, indeed, the sigil of Lucifer. Someone must have gone to some expense for this. Remembering that the message had said something about a plane ticket, Markus snatched up the tube and shook it some more. Out floated a second item. Picking it up off the floor, Markus saw that it looked curiously like a ticket of some sort. Round-trip from Louisville to Kyoto, open-ended. Nonstop, first class. Holy shit.
In disbelief, Markus checked the ticket online. It was booked through Quantas, and was, indeed, legitimate. Sitting back in the chair, he realized that he would be going to Japan in three months.
Three months was hardly enough time to get his passport in order. Still, if someone spent this much on a flight for him, he owed it to them to do his utmost to be there on time, and at his best.
The next day, he called in to work and went to a post office in Louisville to apply for a passport. Figuring the expense would be worth it, he went ahead and got it expedited. No sense in it arriving the day after his flight. This way, he would have it around the third week of January, leaving him enough time to not panic about having everything ready.
The second most important task done, he went home and perused the web for a nice outfit to wear to his tea meeting with “Lucifer”. A new kilt, belt and boots would do the trick. He would go to a nicer store for a dress shirt once he had the items.
Markus felt invigorated for the first time in several years once he had made the purchases. His life had been fraught with one setback or disaster after another for quite some time. He and his girlfriend of five years had split up last month, both of his grandfathers had passed while they were together, and his mother, the only family he had left, had developed Alzheimer’s and had already forgotten who he was. Markus couldn’t afford to take care of her on his own, and had been forced to place her in a home. A change would be welcome.
So, he started on the hardest and most important task: learning Japanese. He had three months to get fluent enough to get by without being seen as disrespectful. He had been an avid fan of most anime and manga for nearly thirty years, and hopefully watching the subtitled anime would come in handy in this endeavor. Thinking about his upcoming trip, Markus realized he’d need somewhere to stay. He scoured the internet, looking at reviews and ads for various hotels in the area of the restaurant he’d be dining at. After several hours of searching, he selected a place called Rikyuan Kyoto Nishikyogoku. He sent them an email detailing his trip and his needs, and got a reply with the costs. He put it on a credit card, and felt one more piece of the puzzle slip into place.
Markus made the necessary arrangements at work the next day, “planning” on two full weeks of being gone. Thankfully, his company was extremely flexible, and allowed him to take the required days off, no questions asked. When not working, Markus was deep in his Japanese lessons, cross-referencing what he heard in his anime with what he was learning. It took almost the entire three months, but by the end of it, he was watching entire episodes of “One-Punch Man” without subtitles and understanding about eighty percent of it.
Reading the katakana and hiragana, however, was proving to be a little more difficult. He could recognize the symbols for the various shops and restaurants, but was far from reading a newspaper.
On February tenth, he checked that the ticket was still valid, and packed enough for a month away. It was a depressingly small, single bag that he wound up having. Since a kilt was easy to care for, and he would be wearing a second one anyway, all he really had to pack were a few shirts, socks and underwear for the trip alongside his small bag of toiletries.
Once he was fully packed, he went about his life as usual. Work, eat, video games, sleep, and repeat. There was little in the way of friends, and no family left to visit besides his mother, who sadly never recognized him.
The day before his flight left, he decided to visit his mother one last time. He drove himself to the retirement home, and signed himself in to see her. It was a bright, if cold, afternoon.
Knocking on her door, he called out, “Hello? Mom? It’s me, Markus. May I come in?”
“Markus? Markus, Markus…. Now where have I heard that name before? Oh! Yes, please come in!” she replied.
Opening the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see his mother in a bathrobe with a broad smile and outstretched arms. “My son! I’ve missed you. Your father is at work, but he should be home in an hour or so. I have some tea in the fridge. Would you like some?” she asked, her soft voice as pleasant as it ever was in his childhood. She wrapped him up in a warm, if weak, hug in her fragile arms.
“No thanks, Mom. I’ll get some water, instead. Can I get you a glass, too?” he replied.
“Oh, please. I’d appreciate that. I’ll just have a seat, then,” she said, taking a seat on the small chair at the writing desk.
Markus got two glasses of water from the tap, handed one to his mother and sat in a chair. “Mom? I’ve got something to tell you. Promise you won’t get mad?”
“I promise, son. Now, what is it?”
“I’m going on a trip tomorrow. To Kyoto for a business meeting. I don’t know when I’ll return,” he said softly.
“Oh! My boy is finally getting to travel. Your father will be so proud of you. He should be home soon, you know,” she said, taking a sip of her water.
Markus’ breath hitched at the second mention of his father, who had been dead and gone these past seventeen years. Forcing a smile, he said, “Yeah, Mom. You know how dad is, though. He works so much to make sure we have what we need.”
“He sure does, Markus. I do hope you get to see him before you leave. It’d mean the world to him. So! What’s this business meeting about?” she asked happily.
“Well, I’m not sure, if I’m honest. I just got a letter to meet someone in Kyoto. They included an open-ended plane ticket and everything. I checked everything out, and it’s all legitimate. It’s probably something pretty important. I just wish I knew why they chose a relative nobody like me,” he replied, deep in thought.
“It’s because my son is an amazing person. That’s why. I just know it,” she said, setting down her water on the writing desk. “I’m getting tired, now. Come see me again soon? I miss you so much,” she pleaded.
“Okay, Mom. As soon as I can. Let me help you to bed, okay? I know you’re tired,” Markus said, offering an arm to his mother.
“You’re such a sweet boy. You got that from your father, you know.”
His mother grunted softly as she climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her shoulders.
“I love you, Mom. Get some rest, and I’ll come see you as soon as I can, okay?”
“Okay, sweetheart. He’ll take care of you, you know.”
“Who will, Mom?”
“The man you’re going to meet for tea. He’ll take care of you. I’m sure of it,” she said sleepily.
“...meet for tea? What? I never…”
But Markus’ mother was already fast asleep, snoring softly. Markus looked at his mother in wonder. Shaking his head, he kissed her forehead and walked out of her room, shutting the door as quietly as he could manage.
He walked to the front desk and informed the receptionist that his mother was asleep, and that he would be leaving in the morning for Japan, in case she asked about him.
“Oh, that sounds wonderful, sir! I hope you enjoy your trip. I’ll make sure the aides know that she is asleep. Thank you for visiting her. I know it’s hard, but it does help them. Even when they don’t recognize you, connecting to their past is always helpful. Please be safe,” he said.
“Thank you. I will be. Take care of her, okay?” Markus asked softly, swallowing past the tight lump in his throat.
The receptionist nodded with a smile, and Markus went home, crying silently.
************
Obscenely early the next morning, Markus tossed his travel bag into his car and drove off to the airport. The drive was thankfully smooth and without any serious traffic. He got a decent spot in the long term parking lot, and went to check in to his flight.
Surprisingly enough, the wait for check-in was short and quick, allowing him to get to his gate with over an hour to spare. With ample time, Markus got breakfast, and was able to savor the mostly bland fare. The boarding process was quick and efficient, and the other passengers were mostly quiet and tired. This allowed them to be able to leave a full fifteen minutes early, and Markus was soon on his way to Kyoto.
He found himself the only resident of first class, oddly enough. He and the flight attendant spoke cordially a few times, and he busied himself on his phone for most of the trip, napping occasionally for the nearly fourteen hour flight.
He was gently awoken by his flight attendant. “Markus? We will be landing soon. I need you to sit up and get your seatbelt on, okay?” she said softly.
“Hrmm? Oh. Okay, Sophia. I’m up. Thank you,” he replied with a smile. Sophia nodded and went to buckle herself in as well.
Safely buckled, Markus awaited the plane’s touchdown.
The plane landed, and all passengers disembarked just as orderly and quietly as they boarded. Once his bag had been claimed, Markus left the airport, and took his first breath of the air in Kyoto.
The air was cold, clean and crisp, with a promise of snow in the future. Markus had been busy during his flight, checking on the best ways to get to his destination. He settled on taking a bus, and then a train, as that was an experience he’d never had. Markus oriented himself, and found the correct stop, and sat down on a nearby bench to wait.
His adventure in Japan had just begun.

2016 Ford F150 Sport 3.5L V6 Ecoboost: So I’ve used my pickup for my small business for the last two years and I’ve really racked up the miles. It’s currently at 220K. I’ve made the decision to shut down my business and as soon as I posted on social media that I was shutting down my truck died 2.5 hours away from home. Check engine codes are P0014 and P0430. I had it towed to a local repair shop and they discovered that the oil was SLUDGE (I’ve had regular oil changes via Ford service) and recommended that we do a flush and replace the spark plugs and ignition coils and hopefully that would get her back up and running. Well no luck. They are suggesting that I replace the engine which I can’t afford or we try replacing a damaged turbo and all the timing components. I need some advice on whether I should attempt this as it’s an additional $2k and it still might fix the issues. What do I do?

Hi everyone.
To Kill a Predator is a work of fan fiction set in the Nature of Predators universe originally created by SpacePaladin15 whose Patreon you should subscribe to.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Depiction does not equal endorsement.
Hope you enjoy it!
[First] [Previous]
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Memory transcription subject: Jarkim, Unemployed Krakotl
Date [standardized human time]: November 30th, 2136
​
If they were following standard procedure, they’d be storing munitions separate from personnel and weapons. In guild offices there were hermetically sealed rooms for it, ensuring any stray fires would be snuffed out as soon as they devoured all the oxygen.
In a place like this, my bet was one of the sheds or root cellars. I had sent Russo and Mosun to handle the garage and workers’ quarters.
Of course it was possible they hadn’t got enough fuel, ammo, and explosives to prosecute their campaign. Possible, but unlikely. The attack on the shelter hadn’t been the actions of a group running on fumes.
Honestly, if I were in their position I’d hole up here too. A large farm makes sense. They’d have phosphorous, ammonium nitrate, local stores of benzene or fuel oils, ipsom grain to make into powder, even the septic tanks if you’re really desperate… there’s more ways to create fire bombs at your average farm than I can be bothered to count.
I ran the math in my head. I didn’t like the result I got: the Liberators probably had enough fire to turn every human in the district into ash several times over, and they might still have enough left over for everyone who voted for Tarva too.
I approached the first shed with Slavik. It was one of the simple above-ground ones. Unlikely target to bear fruit, in my mind, but it was the closest. “I’ll go in first. You watch out with the rifle.”
They nodded at me, grimly.
The door opened and I rushed into the darkness.
​
“It’ll be the fourth.”
“Why’s that?”
“Four’s a lucky number.”
“No it’s not.”
“Sure it is. If you have to count past it, you have to use a second paw.”
The first shed had been empty but for tools. The second had held spare parts for their generators. The third had led to a root cellar full of sun-dried and salted fruit, and some jars of preserves.
Lucky number four was a steel door surrounded by concrete inset into the ground, and as soon as it was wrenched open the stench of chemicals assaulted me. Even Slavik coughed with distaste, and they didn’t have a nose.
“Well Slavik, turns out you were right.”
“That… does not taste lucky.”
“It doesn’t, does it. Alright, let’s go.”
I moved in. Slavik was right behind me. We headed into the gloom, slowly waiting for our eyes to adjust. Slavik muttered a bit before turning on the light attached to their rifle. They swiveled their entire torso back and forth, eyes focused on the rifle sights.
Industrial tanks of chemicals stood like forlorn monsters in the dark, the threadbare light by the rifle’s muzzle casting ugly and stark shadows.
“Never should’ve come here.”
I froze. The voice was coming from behind me… and to the left.
​
There was a second Venlil, lunging out from behind one of the tanks with a breaching tool held in both paws. He struck Slavik’s gun, and I heard the weapon hit the stone floor somewhere in the dark. With a second swing he caught Slavik across the head, and they went down hard.
I lunged at him, talons grasping for purchase in the short Exterminator-cut fur of the assailant. I got a good digging grip and pulled him back, raking grooves in his shoulders in the process and sending the crowbar clattering into the shadows.
I recognized him as Vilrak, and he screamed with anger and pain and managed to strike me in the eye with his elbow. I reeled back, squawking, when his paw struck me in the stomach. Pain blossomed and spread like fire. His claws were outstretched, and dug in under the feathers and tore skin.
In response I lashed out with a talon, tearing bloody gouges in his snout. Venlil snouts are sturdy and solid bone, and I did little actual damage. It was still enough to send him back with a yelp.
We both caught our breaths, blood dripping from claw and talon alike.
Slavik was on the ground. They weren’t moving.
​
“Vilrak, it’s over… Stand down.”
His voice was filled with loathing. “…Jarkim. So Karta failed to get rid of you, you traitorous piece of-”
I interjected immediately. “What you’re doing here isn’t going to work.”
“Oh, but it is. We’re going to bring Venlil Prime back to sanity, and back into the Federation.”
“There’s no going back. The Interview, the humans, the proof that even the Arxur can be bargained with after they returned their Venlil cattle… The galaxy’s a different place than it was just a cycle ago.”
“So what?”
I plead with him to turn from his path. When he realized and accepted the situation, he’d do the right thing. Just like I had. “We’re going to have to learn to live in the new world. One that doesn’t need us. We believed our job was necessary… We were only acting on… On the information we had, the information we were given. But we were wrong. Listen to me, Vilrak. There’s another path here. We can reform the Exterminators. We can make it into something better, something that serves the community.”
He straightened up and lashed his tail at me, turning and walking away. One eye was locked on me the entire time. “Oh you stupid, sanctimonious fuck. You’re the only one who ever believed any of that predshit.”
I paused. “…What?”
​
He walked slowly. I followed, staying at a careful distance. “Being an Exterminator was the perfect job. We had respect. We had power, Jarkim! You’re the only one who didn’t seem to realize that! Oh, you useless damn joke of a Krakotl… You turned your beak and curled your talons every time you had to pull the trigger, and always made sure the PDs came in without a fight. The rest of us loved it!”
I felt sick. I had never liked Vilrak, but this was… Like Vikar, and Renak, and Luarik, and Karta, and… Not unprecedented. But hearing it put in such stark terms…
“I always hated rolling out with you, because you’re too insufferably straight-laced. The rest of the guys understood the opportunities. But not you, oh no. As soon as you get in the van the fun stops. No taking money to make PD cases go away, no letting off steam with the rods and some drunk, no sharing cuties collared in the back of the van…”
My talons itched to tear out his evil fucking throat. But more than that, I wanted to tear down the entire system I had been complicit in. I had looked the other way, made sure to not ask awkward questions I didn’t want the answers to. And that made me one link in the chain. The facilities, the prosecutors, the assessors, they were all working with the Exterminators. Everyone knew that we were the only way they’d stay safe, the firebreak between the civilians and the predators. So they let us do whatever we wanted.
“Vilrak… It’s not going to stay that way anymore. It can’t. It mustn’t. The winds are changing. If everyone’s as… sick and twisted as you, and the Exterminators can’t be reformed? Then we’ll be abolished instead.”
“That’s right, because the humans are fucking it all up! They did more for Venlilkind in one paw than we Exterminators have done since we joined the Federation, just by sharing food with the greys! And now everyone knows it!”
“Exactly. There’s no going back.”
“Yeah, well. It’s worth a shot.”
When he turned to face me again he was holding a flamethrower, the tank under one arm and the nozzle under the other. In the darkness I only realized he was firing when it spewed incendiary death in a wide arc.
​
I had to gracelessly take flight, leaping back and thrashing with my wings to get behind one of the chemical tanks in time. I ended up smashing into the wall for my trouble, and I felt something in my wing snap.
But seeing the burning trail where I had stood a blink of an eye beforehand, it was still a worthwhile trade-off.
Other than what little light the fires gave off, and the light from the open door, the room was dark. The flashlight on Slavik’s gun had gone out.
I slowly crept around the tank… step by step. Listening for the Venlil’s footsteps, and hearing nothing.
I heard the sound of the tank shifting nearby, and froze in place. I held my breath.
He was speaking from just a couple of wingspans away, in the dark. “You’re not the first predator I’ve had to hunt. And you’re not gonna be the last.”
There was a click as the flamethrower’s ignition line turned on.
A line of fire spewed from the muzzle, sending me scrambling for cover again. I needn’t have bothered, he wasn’t aiming at me.
With the second line of burning fuel gel, he created a ‘V’ shape against the wall. He was simply boxing me in, cutting off my escape. Standard procedure when dealing with poor-visibility terrain.
Now all he had to do was hose the enclosed area, and that would be it.
I felt panic slowly begin to flood my brain, and forced it down. I couldn’t let myself become an animal. He knew how to burn animals.
​
Gotta get out of here, or I’m kindling.
With only one working wing, I was rapidly running out of options. When Vilrak spewed another gout of flame, my options dwindled further. I took flight, my one wing fluttering as I twisted my body in a desperate attempt to get above the flames and the equally dangerous super-heated air right above them. I felt the oppressive heat and could imagine my feathers curl and blacken as I made my desperate lunge over the fire-wall.
My talons scraped the stone loudly upon my rough landing, and I ended up falling prone. I yelled out as I landed on my bad wing again.
Starting to rise slowly, far too slowly, I heard Vilrak whistle out a laugh from nearby. I saw his shadowed form looming out of the dark, lit from the side by the growing flames. The flamethrower’s ignition line clicking on. Faced straight at me.
There was a bright, sudden light. And a scream.
​
Vilrak reeled back. So did I, good wing raised in a meaningless gesture of defense. I couldn’t see anything, blinded by Slavik’s flashlight. I heard a shout. “Jarkim, get down!”
I laid myself prone on the ground without hesitation.
KRAK-Ow
Superheated plasma flew overhead, sizzling the air and filling the enclosed space with the rank stench of ozone.
The shot impacted Vilrak’s fuel tank. The ensuing breach sent burning fuel and bits of hot metal all over the cellar, and threw him back into the wall. With my head down I could do nothing but flinch and hope.
A searing lance of pain impacted my leg, making me squawk out. A glance down showed a piece of jagged metal the size of a wing feather sticking out of my thigh.
Blinking the spots out of my eyes and coughing from the smoke filling the room, I saw Slavik holding the plasma rifle. It was aimed at the prone Exterminator, who was already screaming and crawling. His legs were on fire, and looked shredded from shrapnel. The flames were eagerly eating their way up his short-cut fur, already spreading up over his back and sides. His voice was a high-pitched, babbling shriek.
All that confidence, bravado, and gleeful sadism had vanished the instant it was his turn. And I wasn’t a good enough person to not take some vindictive joy in that.
“Not the flames not the flames please not the flames!! No no no nono please please not the flames!! Help meeeeee!!!”
KRAK-Ow
The second shot took him in the face. I looked away sharply, not interested in seeing the results.
​
“C’mon, you useless lump. Move your ass before it’s cooked.” Slavik grabbed me by my good wing, dragged me out of the burning cellar like a sack of grain, and closed the door behind us.
The fire would eat through all the oxygen long before it burst any of the chemical tanks. Even so, Slavik didn’t stop dragging me until we were a good distance away and we could both collapse in a panting heap on the ground.
Slavik’s head was leaking orange blood into their wool from the hit, and an ugly lump was already forming on their head. They looked at me darkly. “…That was mercy. I’m not going to let myself become the kind of person who’d have let him burn.”
I felt jolts of pain searing through my body each time I coughed. “Khakh, Khahhk… Y-You just saved my life. You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”
They looked down at their weapon in silence for a while, before speaking so quietly that I barely heard it. “You’re not the one I’m trying to convince.”
After a long silence, I tried my arm and grimaced. My leg refused to even bend now that the adrenaline was flushing out, and I didn’t want to take the metal out in case it was sitting in an artery. I didn’t even want to know what my feathers looked like. “…Wing’s busted. L-Leg too. I’m no good like this. Khahhk… I’ll head back, you try to link up with the other team.”
Slavik shouldered the rifle, and lifted me up. “After I get you back to Hanya.”
The trek back was awkward, and slow. I was left to hop and cling to Slavik as they half-dragged me along. I hoped the other team was having more success.
---
Memory transcription subject: Martin Russo, Human Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: November 30th, 2136
​
I raise my hand to Mosun. Three. Two. One.
The door opens. Mosun lunges in low, I sweep in high.
Nothing greets us but silence. We sweep the ground floor of the main house slowly, room by room. I move my aim back and forth like a metronome as I seek targets. My eyes dart around from place to place. Those saccades the Venlil are so afraid of.
The place shows clear signs of being lived in. Very recently. There are still-damp dishes in the kitchen.
The living room is an even bigger tell. On the table there’s a map of the whole district, and another of the town. Addresses are circled in different colors. I might not have recognized the map so quickly, except I’ve also been studying up for my own campaign.
As we search the place it appears that nobody’s home. They seem to have removed all the signs of the original inhabitants. I see pale reverse-shadows on the wall where once hung pictures or pieces of art.
I tap Mosun’s shoulder. He looks at me, and I point up, then down, and give a shrug. Upstairs or basement first?
As Mosun considers the question, we hear a scream. I freeze stock still, and Mosun’s eyes go wide. It’s from upstairs.
​
I brave a soft voice. “…Is that…”
Another scream. A word carries through the drawn out, inelegant blubbering. “Mhh-aaa-aahhhahhhu-hurttii-hi-hiiinnnn!!” My blood feels ice cold, and my stomach drops out.
Jesus Christ it’s my name. She’s screaming my name.
I’m acutely aware my tongue is dry.
Another scream, this time just a shrill sound of pain.
I’m running up the stairs. My grip on the gun is so tight it hurts. For a few seconds my thoughts don’t form words, just the panicked urge to rush to my beloved friend. To help and defend her.
Upstairs there are four rooms. Two on the left, one on the right, and one in the far back. The only one that matters is the one with the noise.
I rush to the door and almost wrench it open right away, but pause.
Stay frosty.
Mosun almost runs into me in his haste to keep up.
I turn and look at him. His furious face mirrors mine. I cringe as another shout comes from the room right beside us.
He nods grimly and grabs the door handle. We both take a couple of deep, steadying breaths.
I raise my hand to Mosun. Three. Two. One.
---
Here's some fun fanart of Martin's Ghost Gun by Asclepius on the discord, thanks Asclepius!
https://imgur.com/a/zpJf1S9
[First] [Previous]

🌕 18 + Community! 🌕 Horror + Cryptids 🌕 Appalachian Setting 🌕 Multi Paragraph / Novella Writing Level 🌕 POC and Gender non-conforming characters welcome!
The Virginia/Tennessee border. 1928.
On hot summer nights, Briar Ridge can't sleep - not that it ever does. The cover of night hides plumes of smoke. The quiet rumble of cars cruising down dirt roads can barely be heard over the din of the cicadas. Drunken laughter flies easy and warm across whispering corn fields.
That might be a sound for sore ears.
See, Prohibition is in full swing, and these moonshiners are risking life and limb to put dinner on the table for their families. When you live in a holler as sorry and wild as Briar Ridge, it's either the mines, the fields, or the 'shine. And most folks have chosen the 'shine. Sure, if there's an explosion you might loose a hand, but it's better than coughing up that awful dust in the belly of the earth. S&C Coal can go right to hell in the minds of most folk around here.
With their eyes on their stills, the people of Briar Ridge don't realize they're being watched from the treeline. Or they might'a just gotten used to it. When you grow up in these mountains, everything's watching you. Might be a cougar. Might be a black bear. Might be the swamp monster Farmer Obadiah was praying real hard over at church two Sundays ago. As long as you keep your gun handy and your buddies close, you'll be okay. At least, that's the logic most folks use so they can sleep at dawn.
But most folks ain't ever had to deal with werewolves before. And most folks don't realize their safety in the moonlight is long gone.
.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̩̩̥ ✩ ̩̩̥˚̩̥̩̩̩͙‧͙ .
Werewolf, RUN! is an adult-only horror roleplay server set in Prohibition-Era Appalachia. We are a tight-knit community with a love for all things cryptid, horror, and nerdy. Our required writing level is multi-paragraph to novella, and the server is loosely based on a card game named Werewolf. Some games similar to it that you may be more familiar with are Heads Up, Seven Up, or Mafia. If you've never played it before, it's quite easy! The premise is simply:
There are werewolves in the town of Briar Ridge, and it's up to the townspeople to catch them before the whole town is infected!
Once a real-time lunar cycle, Werewolf players (who are informed of their role as a werewolf entirely in secret) will tell admins who they wish to attack. The role of Werewolf, Doctor, and Seer are all assigned by dice rolls, and writers are encouraged to keep their role assignment secret!
But there's much more living in these woods than just werewolves! Cryptids are liable to randomly spawn in interactions, so do mind that you always keep a spare tire handy! You never know what's lurking just beyond the treeline!
.·͙̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̩̩̥ ✩ ̩̩̥˚̩̥̩̩̩͙‧͙ .
https://discord.gg/kbkGPJSYm4

My brother is considering replacing a 16 F150 with the 5.0 with a 23 F-250 ( tows a camper) with the 7.3 and 10 speed automatic ( I think its the 10R80). What are your thoughts on this combination for reliability? Is this transmission problematic? Has Ford resolved trans. problems? It would be a new build date as he would be ordering so maybe it would even be a 24. Thanks in advance for your feedback, its always very helpful.

This post contains a lot of spoilers that would ruin the experience of people who are still watching episodes 1-4, so please do not proceed reading if you wouldn't want to get spoiled.
Is the last scene with the monitors the janitorial?

• If yes, wouldn't it be a bit weird that this room is inside the silo in such a proximity to general access areas (ie the level that the janitorial is located at)? Also, bar anything extraordinary (eg access to the outside, entire warehouse with tooling and spare parts dedicated to the high tech equipment), wouldn't maintenance of the high-tech equipment require frequent trips to the rest of the silo and/or extensive personnel? How could they manage this without getting noticed by anyone for so many years?
  
• If no, doesn't this add another layer of authority beyond the janitorial and makes things even weirder? I think this would place the level of authority in the silo as follows: monitor room > janitorial > judicial > sheriff/mayor's office/IT
  

This sounds a bit implausible and quite complex structure for a community of 10k people, so I believe most likely the monitor room is the janitorial. This brings me back to the yes scenario. Any thoughts?

Episode 01: Bigger! Badder! Brutal-er!
The scene faded into a shot of the Earth from space, an astronaut banging on a small communications satellite in the foreground with a wrench. The satellite had the letters 'TDRI' scrawled on the front in black.
"We've been to the movies," the voice of Chris McLean began as the satellite seemed to whir into function, lights on either end of it glowing green. "We've been around the world!" Just as the astronaut gave the camera thumbs-up, the satellite suddenly failed with a jolt of electricity and broke apart, the astronaut palming the visor of their helmet. "And this season," Chris said as the camera rapidly began to zoom in towards northern Canada, "we're going right back where it all began," the camera past through layers of cloud to reach a beautiful morning sky, then panned down to an all-too-familiar island, "at Camp Wawanakwa!"
Chris McLean was already standing just off-center on the dock, right by the 'Wawanakwa' sign – both of which looked like they'd gone through some heavy wear and tear. "I'm Chris Mclean," the host formally introduced himself, "and as you can see, things have changed since we've been away." He walked down the dock to where a male red-shirted intern of southeast Asian descent waited with a coconut drink on a platter; the right side of the camp's sign fell down as he passed by, taking out a small piece of the dock.
"And by changed," the host said with a darkly expectant smile, "I mean gotten really, really, dangerous!" He took the coconut drink from the intern. As soon as he did so a giant pink tentacle rose from the lake with a terrifying roar, and slammed down on the dock – Chris calmly sidestepped it, but the intern and a sizable chunk of the end of the dock were smashed into the water. "Good stuff," the host laughed.
"But the rules of the game remain the same," he told the camera, the scene changing to a panning shot of one of the cabin rooms, a cockroach scurrying over the lens. The room itself looked about the same as it had three seasons ago – decrepit and old-fashioned, but boringly so. "A handful of unsuspecting teens will bunk with complete strangers," Chris explained during the pan, the shot cutting to a stained piece of male underwear nailed to a wooden door that promptly opened to reveal the old outhouse confessional within, "air their dirty laundry in our outhouse confessional, and compete in life-threatening challenges all over the island," the camera cut to a long-distance shot of the thousand-foot-high-cliff, zooming in on the gleamingly jagged rocks in the water below it, "and risk being voted off," Chris continued as the shot cut to the clearing, firepit, oil drum, and eleven stump-seats used for Campfire Ceremonies of the past.
"Last one standing wins," the shot cut from the elimination area to a still image of a wheelbarrow overflowing with money, "one, million, DOLLARS!" A short, grand, and victorious tune blared as the shot zoomed in on the prize money.
"Speaking of our cast," Chris said back on the Dock of Shame as a cool rock theme began to play, "here they are now!"
The shot cut to a small but luxurious red-striped yacht where the twenty-four contestants of the past three seasons could be seen more-or-less enjoying themselves. Brick and Courtney were making out on the starboard side while Ella, Ezekiel, and Sadie danced nearby, Eva looking away from them. On the stern deck, Mike, Owen, and Sky were dancing and Izzy was hanging upside down swinging life rings with Noah watching with disinterest. On a higher sternward balcony, Dawn was meditating, Beth was reading a book, and Cody and Harold played with video game handhelds. Shawn dropped down on the group unexpectedly from even higher up, startling all four. And at the bow, Heather leaned coolly against the port-side railing and smiled at the camera, Topher was looking at his reflection in a mirror, Jo and Lightning arm-wrestled on the railing next to them, Amy and Rodney were dancing to music that Duncan was setting up on his boombox, and Lindsay sat on the very foremost point of the railing posing.
Chris waved at the yacht as it approached...and kept on going, the music scratching to a halt instead of the ship. "NOOOO!" Owen hollered in surprise in anguish as the boat sailed off-screen, and Chris laughed.
"No, not them," he told the camera as it zoomed back in on him. "This season, we've got all new players, fighting for the million!" he announced as the music turned tense and grandiose. "And here they come now, for real!"
The shot cut to another yacht approaching, similar to the last one but with its stripes a pale teal instead of red. Several teens could be standing along the bow, port-side, upper deck, and stern, and the camera cut to those at the head of the ship – Molly and Dave.
"Meet Molly," Chris said, the girl noticing the boy next to her feeling scared.
"What’s the matter? We’re just going to compete where the show started," Molly assured the boy.
"Dave," Chris continued, and the boy blinked.
"Yeah, but I didn't know that the island would consist of toxic waste," Dave told the girl before breaking out the hand sanitizer and rubbing his hands and arms with it, causing the indie girl to raise an eyebrow.
The camera panned to the right to show the next two campers in line – Scott and Trent.
"Scott! And, Trent!" Chris continued.
"Why are you carrying a guitar around?" Scott asked Trent, who was happily tuning up his guitar.
"So I can practice my songs at camp," Trent smiled at the grumpy boy.
"Max!" Chris announced next, the pale boy in question suddenly and without warning popping up between Scott and Trent with enough force to knock the two to the sides with startled cries. From the evil smile he was sporting to the pale skin, everything about him radiated villainy.
"These compestants have no idea what awaits them when we arrive," Max said, speaking darkly as a dark tune played in the background. "For I am the definition of pure evil!" Max degenerated into laughter as the camera panned away from him, showing Leshawna and Sammy, the next contestants.
"Leshawna," Chris introduced the large girl witnessing Max's introduction.
"That boy is not right in the head," Leshawna shook her head with disapproval.
"Sammy," Chris introduced the nervous cheerleader.
"He is a bit free-spirited," Sammy said timidly while holding her left arm.
The camera panned right again to show B. He snapped his fingers for the audience.
"B," Chris finally introduced, "and Scarlett," he added, the camera panning further right to show the girl next to B reading a book.
"You seem confident to be here," Scarlett said dryly without taking her eyes off her book. "Do you know about the substance of toxic waste and radiation?" B nodded in agreement, impressing Scarlett. "That's good to know."
"Katie," Chris continued as the scene cut to a spot further down the yacht, showing the girl holding her tablet.
"Just in," Katie waved pleasantly at the camera. "I'm about to be competing for a million dollars, I-"
As she spoke the camera panned away to Anne Maria spraying her hair.
"Anne Maria," Chris introduced.
"Oh yeah!" Anne Maria looked at the camera. "Three more coats oughta do it."
She was interrupted when Katie walked back into the shot. "Not to be rude," she looked at the camera, "but you panned away before I could finish my introduction."
"Sorry, viral," Anne Maria smirked. "The camera just loves me more."
"Geoff," Chris introduced next as he dashed onto the scene, putting himself next to the two girls.
"Okay, girls," Geoff said in what was a chill tone, "let's not get off on the wrong foot. You'll get more camera time after we're all introduced."
Anne Maria proceeded to spray her hair again, the cloud causing Geoff and Katie to cough profusely.
"Sierra," Chris introduced next, the camera panning up to the girl standing on the upper balcony.
She was hurriedly typing into her phone. "I can't wait to step foot on Camp Wawanakwa and talk about it on my blog!" Sierra said, looking around in amazement until a small flock of pigeons flew past and knocked her over the railing with a scream.
"And DJ," Chris finished as Sierra landed next to the fourteenth and final competitor of the season.
DJ looked down as Sierra landed and gasped. "Oh snap! Let me help you up!" DJ quickly bent down and helped Sierra up. "There you go."
"Yup!" Chris said as the shot cut back to him on the Dock of Shame. "It's our roughest, toughest, most explosive season ever!" He took out a remote control, and pressed the large central button with his thumb.
The yacht that the new contestants were sailing in on suddenly exploded, sending all fourteen of them flying and screaming in every direction.
Chris took a casual sip of his coconut drink, then looked at the camera and raised a finger high. "Right here," he said as a faint version of the series' capstone theme played, "on Total! Drama! Revenge of the Island!" The shot jumped outward as the title was said, showing Wawanakwa island in its entirety with a few plumes of smoke in the distance marking where the yacht had exploded.
xxx
(Fade to Opening Theme)
[The sequence begins much as it did three seasons ago, with an open into letterbox format as the camera focuses on the tops of a few distant pine trees. A rusty stage light rotates up and turns on; then the shot changes to a cobwebby spotlight swinging down and turning on as well; then a small security camera popping out of one of several leaky toxic waste barrels; then another camera bursting out of a tree hollow, held by an octopus tentacle and dislodging a few bones; then a pair of fair-skinned arms clapping a film slate in front of the camera which switches to a shot of the island, briefly showing a giant octopus looking out of the lake to the right, then flying forward down the dock and past the buildings, passing under a totem pole that Chris was sitting on and which was being carried by a trio of male interns of mismatched heights.]
Dear Mom and Dad, I'm doin' fine;
[The camera rapidly flies through the trees as the lyrics begin, quickly reaching the top of the thousand-foot-high cliff.]
You guys are on my mind!
[It looks down at the ring of buoys in the water below and dives, immediately cutting to an underwater view as the bubbles disperse to reveal Sammy gagging with several vicious-looking fish watching her hungrily until a claw-like machine grabbed her and pulled her up to the surface.]
You asked me what I wanted to be,
And now I think the answer is plain to see!
[Up in a canoe, B tinkered with the machine, and looked up as it pulled Sammy out of the water and into the sky.]
I wanna be...famous!
[The scene lingers on Sammy in front of the sun for a moment, then quick-pans left to Katie in the middle of the woods posing as she is filming herself; a falling Sammy abruptly hits her on the back and knocks both to the ground. Katie lifts her head to look at the cheerleader, who just smiles bashfully. Geoff runs past them as the camera pans left to Sierra sitting on a tree branch and texting on her phone. Gophers suddenly pop up from the ground and roar, causing Sierra to flee.]
I wanna live close to the sun!
[At the top of a waterfall, Molly and Trent float downriver in a canoe. Trent was playing a song on his guitar, to which Molly was vibing to until she finally spotted the waterfall. Both screamed as they went over the edge.]
Well pack your bags, 'cause I've already won!
[The camera pans down to DJ, balancing a log on his finger. Though he does not see the canoe falling behind him, he does see Molly and Trent as they fall right on top of him, breaking the log he was holding onto and sending all three into the water.]
Everythin' to prove, nothin' in my way;
[Scott is laughing at the three's misfortune, and a monstrous shark with arms and legs bursts out of the outhouse with a toothy grin, making Scott run away.]
I'll get there one day.
[The camera pans to the Mess Lodge, Chef Hatchet's silhouette visible in the window. Zooming in to the room shows him stirring a pot of some greenish slop with a dark grin, and the shot pans over to show Max cackling wickedly until Chef shoves a spoon full of slop into his mouth.]
'Cause I wanna be...famous!
[Another pan to the left reveals Anne Maria spraying her hair. Once she realized she was being recorded, she glared at the camera and sprayed it with her can. The spray cloud moves the scene out of the lodge and into the beach, where Scarlett is calmly reading her book – until a hawk flew right in just to snag it and flew away, much to Scarlett's unamusement.]
(Na-na nanananaa, nanana-nanaa, na-nananananaa)
[The camera pans away from Scarlett and on to Dave applying hand sanitizer. A furry hand taps him on the shoulder, distracting the germaphobe and allowing the arm to snatch away the sanitizer. Dave realizes what's happened, and rushes angrily at the large hairy ape-man now using the hand sanitizer.]
I wanna be! I wanna be! I wanna be famous! (Na-na nanananaa, nanana-nanaa, na-nananananaa)
[The camera pans down to the end of the dock to show Leshawna, blowing a kiss before taking a few steps back. She busts out a few dance moves of her own.]
I wanna be! I wanna be! I wanna be famous! (Na-na nanananaa, nanana-nanaa, na-nananananaa)
[A sudden splash of water comes down on the sista, interrupting her dancing and causing her to send a frown upward – Chris is hovering above him in a jetpack and helmet, holding an empty bucket. He drops the bucket then flies off, the flames from his jetpack taking over the screen. It becomes night as they peter out, and the camera pans down across the stars and treetops and full moon to Anne Maria and Geoff sitting at a campfire together. As they lean towards each other with expectant smiles they are interrupted and separated by Chef Hatchet, wearing a hazmat suit and holding a glowing green marshmallow between them with a pair of heavy tongs.
The shot zooms out to show the rest of the cast looking shocked, whistling the last few notes of the song – Trent, Leshawna, B, Scott, Dave, and Katie on Anne Maria's side; Max, Sammy, Molly, Scarlett, DJ, and Sierra on Geoff's side; and Chris standing next to Chef on Geoff's side as well. The shot continued to zoom out until a signboard was shown marking the presumed entrance to the fire pit; it read 'TOTAL DRAMA REVENGE OF THE ISLAND' in block letters, the third word being the largest and the last word relegated to a board tacked on at the end.]
XXXXX
"AAAAHHH!" Max screamed, the episode fading in to him landing hard on a rock jutting out of the water. "Why must a villainous mastermind suffer like this?" he groaned, pitifully sliding into the water as Anne Maria swam past in the background.
"Chris is so getting a beatdown for this!" Anne Maria said to herself.
Sammy was shown swimming by clinging to a piece of driftwood, then looking to the side at the sound of someone coming up behind her. "Sorry about this!" Trent shouted as he shot past like a torpedo.
The camera followed Trent as he swam past Molly. "There is a thing called open space!" Molly said before continuing her swim.
The shot cut back to Max, now flailing his arms as he struggled not to drown. "Spaz," Scott said as he swam past him.
Max finally sank below the water, but fortunately Scarlett quickly swam over and dived down.
"I pity you, and I also don't want you dead," Scarlett informed as she surfaced, pulling a coughing Max back up with her.
"Get me to land now!" Max demanded.
The camera cut to Geoff. He reached another rock jutting out of the water and pulled himself up onto it. "Okay. How am I gonna get myself to shore?" The party guy then saw a long piece of wood shaped like a surfboard and grabbed it. "I think I know what to do!"
Positioning himself on the rock while laying belly first on the wood, Geoff boosted himself off the rock and rocketed through the water, even managing to get up and maintain himself.
The shot cut to Scarlett helping Max swim to shore, only for a surfing Geoff to unknowingly splash water onto the both of them, causing them to fall under the water.
Leshawna sputtered as she sank and struggled to stay afloat. "I don't think I can stay up for much longer!"
"I'm on it!" DJ and Katie said, appearing out of nowhere and swimming to the girl.
"Oops. You can go first. Sorry if I interrupted," Katie apologized.
"No no. You can go instead. I think it was the other way around," DJ offered.
"Well, I mean, if you insist," Katie chuckled until the hand of Leshawna held onto Katie's head for support, dragging her down.
DJ panicked. "Hang on! I'm coming!" He dived down and got both Leshawna and Katie, the former spitting out water.
"If we weren't in water right now, I'd be tweeting about you saving me," Katie commented.
Confessional: DJ
"So this is my first confessional," DJ opened while looking around the outhouse confessional. "I've watched the first season, and this is where the contestants come in to talk about their feelings or strategy or whatnot."
"We're all newcomers here, so if I see anyone struggling, I'll be there to help them out," he continued with a smile before frowning. "Right after I get used to this island first."
Confessional: Katie
"Hello," Katie said in the next confessional to her tablet. "This is the first time I am in the Total Drama confessional. It's a little disgusting, but that's for another time!" She continued with her perky smile and put her tablet away. "I came onto this show in order to promote my vlogging expertise and gain more followers. I'm a bit of an advice guru, so don't be surprised if I have a solution for some sticky situations." She laughed blissfully. "That was so alliterative!"
Confessionals End
The footage resumed with a rather wet Trent on shore. He looked around, then cheered in victory. "Yes! I'm first!" he cheered. "And my guitar is in one piece-"
His face dropped as he looked to his left, and the camera panned to show Sierra fixing her wet hair.
"How did you get here before us?" Trent asked.
"I practiced swimming back home in case we have a beach episode," Sierra explained happily.
Dave was the next to come to shore, crawling out of the water. "I'm here!" he panted before falling on his face.
Confessional: Dave
Dave squirted hand sanitizer on his hands, and set his pocket-sized bottle aside on the seat, beginning to rub his hands together to spread the cleaning product. "How did I not read my contract fully? I never would've signed up if I had known how unclean the environment was gonna be."
Confessional Ends
B and Max were the next to make it to dry land, the quiet genius dragging the super villain up the beach on his head with the super villain coughing out water.
Confessional: Max
"I do not like yachts, so it was very enjoyable to have it be destroyed," Max grinned. "I just wish it was me who blew the yacht up instead of being on the receiving end like those other fools," he complained briefly.
"I guarantee you, everybody will be frightened by my abnormally large brain and my super advanced hearing. No one has ever, ever been able to sneak up on me!" he declared confidently just as an orange butterfly flew over him. It landed on his head...and with a sickening bone-crunch, Max started to tilt over. "Begone, brutal butterfly!" he cried in pain, falling over onto the seat under the butterfly's weight.
Confessional Ends
The footage cut back to the beach, showing Trent, Sierra, Dave, B, and Max loitering around a large rock further up the beach and revealing that Scott, Scarlett, Anne Maria, Sammy, Molly, Leshawna, Katie, and DJ had all made it to shore as well.
"This is preposterous!" Max ranted, pouring water out of his shoe. "I am not to be treated with disrespect! Chris will rue the day he met Max Mayhem!"
Molly was sitting next to Max and listening without a care. "Is your last name actually Mayhem? If it's not, I'd respect you for creating your own nickname."
Max was about to answer, but a wave and a dramatic riff signaled that another person had washed up.
It was Geoff, who coughed out a small fish.
Confessional: Geoff
"I wiped out for a while," Geoff confessed. "I’m more into parties and having a good time. As long as I get along with everyone and not be harsh, I can last up to the tenth or eleventh episode."
Confessional Ends
"I can't believe we were blown up before we even got on the island," Sammy said, Katie sitting near her. "I've been watching Total Drama for a while, and I can't even tell what's going to happen next," she looked at the girl.
"It's not your fault. None of us can look into the future," Katie told her before looking at her tablet. "Katchy Katie here, and so far, the island is looking pretty bland," she told her viewers.
"Katchy Katie?" Sammy wondered. "What's that about?"
"That's just my vlog name," Katie explained. "I usually record what's going on in my life so I can tell my viewers what to do and not what to do."
"Could you send me a link to your vlog?" Sammy asked the influencer. "It sounds interesting."
Katie gave a slip of paper with her name on it to Sammy. "Here you go. It's best to always keep track of what you see and know on paper so you won't forget in the future."
"Attention, fresh meat!" Chris announced, the shot cutting to a pair of loudspeakers on a tree nearby, then panning down and right to show that all fourteen campers were now waiting around on the rocky beach. "See that trail leading into the forest?" the host continued, the camera following the contestants' gazes right as they looked at where the beach, trees, and rocks met. "Race to the end of the trail," Chris commanded, "and do not disturb the wildlife! That would be bad."
"Does he seriously think that will frighten us?" Scarlett blew him off.
"The tiniest sound can set them off," Chris continued. "Liiike...THIS!" He blew an airhorn over the intercom, forcing all fourteen campers to cover their ears.
The camera panned over to the distant treetops on the left, the airhorn fading in to a loud, terrifying roar that startled a flock of birds to flight. The music became tense as one tree was knocked over, then another closer to the beach. Finally, the cast screamed and fled into the woods.
\
A clock wipe transitioned the footage ahead to an adorable little purplish bird singing on a branch...until a frog-like tongue snapped out of a hollow behind it and dragged the bird into darkness.
The camera panned down to a finish line, just as Geoff and DJ ran past it with the brickhouse in the lead. "Alright! First place!" DJ turned to the party guy. "Don't worry. Second's not that bad."
"I know," Geoff smiled. "I don't get why people are worked up over it though."
It was then that Chris rode up on a red ATV, his usual smile on his face. "Party Time, two steps left. You're on Team A," he directed, Geoff nodding happily and walking a few steps back towards the finish line. "Big Friendly Giant? Move right. You're on Team B," he told DJ, directing him to the right; he complied just as Scott crossed the finish line, skidding to a stop next to Geoff.
"Pit Sniffer," the host told him, "you're on Team A." Molly slid in next. "Free Spirit, Team B," Chris told her.
"Alright then," Molly said with a smile and ran off to the right. B stopped running and came to a halt.
"Silent Treatment, Team A," Chris told him, causing him to give his signature greeting to Geoff and Scott before Trent arrived. "Guitar Hero, Team B," Chris told him.
"Okay!" Trent went to his designated team.
Sammy and Katie arrived next, the nervous cheerleader bending over to catch her breath and the influencer clutching her chest. "Sour Sport. Team A. Perky Influencer. Team B," Chris said.
"I'm not that bad," Sammy mumbled while Katie ran to her team.
"Blogspot, Team A," Chris continued over a shot of Sierra running and stopping at her team. Dave arrived next. "Germ Avoider, Team B."
The camera zoomed out a little ways from Team A just as Leshawna ran up, panting and out of breath.
"Loud and Proud, Team A," Chris said. "Tan in a Can, Team B," Chris continued as Anne Maria arrived, walking rather than running.
"I'm… so… tired!" Max moaned while dragging himself through the floor.
"Maniacal Max, Team A," Chris directed. As Max joined his teammates they all looked back towards the finish line, with Scarlett simply walking to the finish.
"Aaand Quiet Genius, Team B," Chris finished with a smile.
"What was that thing in the forest?" Sierra said, trudging past her teammates.
"I'm pretty sure that cry does not sound like any normal animal," Trent added.
"Relax, it'll all make sense eventually," Chris explained, his impish smile quickly degenerating into long, evil laughter that caused the two teams to stare at him and look at each other in awkward, nervous confusion.
Chris finally stopped laughing, and wiped a tear from his eye. "Now, this season of Total Drama will be a little bit different," he explained. "For example, in every episode, someone will be eliminated."
The campers gasped, and an ominous chant played in the background. "It's never been that hard before," Sammy remarked in shock.
"I know," Chris told her with a smug grin, "I'm good. But since you're all first-timers, I'm gonna cut you a break and hide this bad boy somewhere in the campgrounds." He held up what appeared to be a small wooden carving of his head, and the shot cut in for a close-up. "A genu-ine McLean Brand Chris Head! Your free ticket back into the game!" The small carving was shown against a radiant white and blue background, an angelic chorus playing as images of Chef Hatchet dressed in a lavender leotard and tutu, angel wings, and a halo flew into the corners of the screen while holding harps and singing.
"Even if your teammates vote you off," he added as B and Geoff were shown staring with wide eyes. "Whoever finds it," Chris continued over a shot of DJ, Dave, Scarlett, and Molly also watching with wide eyes, "will become the most powerful player in Total Drama history!" Both Sierra and Max were shown smiling in awe.
The angelic chorus ended as Chris brought the statue in for a closer look. "Is the cleft on my chin really that big?" he asked in concern.
"Yep, and it looks like a butt," Scott answered, earning an annoyed glare from the host.
"Moving on," Chris said forcefully, "time for the team names!"
"I hope the names won't be stupid!" Molly immediately said. "I don't want to be defined by a name like the Silly Bunnies?"
"You got that right Molly," Chris told her, "The names have been chosen by moi. Team A, you shall henceforth be known as, the Toxic Rats!" A short but energetic riff played as the screen switched to a green, red, and yellow starburst-patterned background, a green logo spinning up to the front. It bore the image of a six-limbed rat standing up on its hindlegs and bearing its teeth menacingly.
The Toxic Rats stared blankly for a moment before Max laughed and said "How evil!"
"And Team B," Chris continued, turning his head to the other six, "you are hereby dubbed, the Mutant Maggots!" A different energetic theme played as a teal, yellow, and orange sunburst-patterned background took over the screen, and a red logo spun up to the front. This one depicted the head of a three-eyed maggot, its mouth frozen in a gaping hiss.
The Mutant Maggots stared blankly for a second as well. "What's with all the chemical waste references?" Dave asked.
The perspective switched to a group shot as another loud roar shook the area. "It's the monster!" Anne Maria shouted in terror, making the others look around in shock.
The shot cut to some distant trees, a flock of birds flying away as one fell, then the camera panned to the right as another closer tree fell. Dave, DJ, and Katie gasped in fear, the brickhouse quickly grabbing the influencer's arm for comfort, and the camera zoomed in on a bush in front of the last fallen tree.
A small hairless squirrel with big yellow eyes jumped out and looked around.
"So we panicked over a small squirrel?" Scarlett said in disbelief.
"Aww, it's kinda cute!" DJ gushed...until it blinked sideways, and he cringed audibly.
"What happened to it?" Katie asked from off-screen as the squirrel happily blinked and looked around some more.
"While we were gone," Chris explained, "I rented the island out to a nice family-oriented biohazardous waste disposal company." As he spoke, the camera cut to a pile of oil barrels stashed in and around a tree. All of the barrels had a hazard sign on them, and most were leaking some sort of foul bubbling green liquid. "Sweet people," the host remarked.
"But," he added as the focus cut back to him on his ATV, "the waste is having a teensy bit of an impact on the flora and fauna." The hairless squirrel was shown again, blinking as a monarch butterfly flew close to it. It snapped out its tongue like a frog, and swallowed the butterfly up.
"This may be odd, but that squirrel is cool!" Geoff said with a grin as Max and Sammy gave him odd looks.
"You know," Leshawna said, cautiously approaching it with a smile on her face, "it looks weird but I'm sure it's perfectly harmless! Am I right?" She reached out to pet it, and it roared the same deep and terrifying roar that had scared them all earlier, then shot lightning from its eyes at the ground Leshawna was standing on. Leshawna screamed and ran away, and the squirrel blew her a raspberry before hopping back into the bush.
Chris was laughing hysterically as the shot cut to Leshawna jumping into the arms of a surprised Geoff in fear. The camera cut back to Chris as he stopped laughing, then in an elated and dramatic tone said "Most. Danger. Ev-er~!" as an equally sharp and dramatic tune played.
Confessional: Leshawna
"That guy is some kind of crazy," Leshawna confessed to the outhouse camera in outrage. "Adding toxic waste to the island? That's gotta be a criminal offense if it endangers us."
Confessional Ends
"Now," Chris said with a wide smile as the scene cut back to him once again, "before we start our very first challenge of the season, let's give out some rewards. DJ," he turned to the left, "because you made it up here before anyone else, your team gets a trampoline!" A grand tune played as the shot cut to a close-up of the trampoline, and moments later Chef Hatchet bounced down upon it. "And the Rats, get a hacksaw," Chris added, the shot cutting upwards to show his glowering assistant holding the tool in question.
Chef suddenly lost his balance and fell with a crash; Max laughed and had the hacksaw thrown at his head for it; and Scarlett silently laughed too, and in turn got crushed by the trampoline that was thrown at her, making her groan in pain.
"What do these items have to do with this bomb?" Chris asked, holding up a square of plastic explosives with a wireless timed detonator attached to it.
"Uhh, he's not gonna blow us up again, is he?" Trent nervously asked an equally nervous Scarlett.
"Who knows," Chris said with a sly smile, leaning in between the two with the bomb. "Find out when we come back!"
(Fade to Commercial)

On the one hand, yes, we have to admit that these are being installed in minority areas pretty much 100% of the time. On the other hand, that is where a lot of the crime takes place and a lot of the gunfire, so it makes sense to install these systems in these areas where these happen the most? This article is clearly critical of the system, and it says that there are only arrests made in 1% of the times when it “spots” gunfire. But wouldn’t removing these systems hurt the communities that these are in? Someone help me understand the counter-argument here, thank you!
https://www.minnpost.com/other-nonprofit-media/2023/05/minneapolis-schools-secretly-partnered-with-shotspotter-surveillance-company-cyber-attack-reveals/
Minneapolis schools secretly partnered with ShotSpotter surveillance company, cyber attack reveals
Data breach unmasks locations of gunshot detection sensors on rooftops of schools that predominantly serve Black youth
By Mark Keierleber, The 74
Shortly after a dozen gunshots erupted from a stolen red SUV on the northside of Minneapolis this month, emergency dispatchers were notified of the drive-by shooting that shattered a window at the school district’s administrative headquarters.
District officials promptly reported the shooting to the cops, who briefly halted their chase when they encountered a school bus dropping off students. A second police report, this one from a California-based surveillance company, had also alerted authorities to the ear-piercing pops.
The incident resulted in the arrest of three teenagers, who were ultimately chased down by cops on foot and a state police helicopter in the air. Shootings and car thefts have surged in Minneapolis over the last several years and, in a press release, Minneapolis Police Chief Brian O’Hara said that out-of-control youth had become “a danger to themselves and to anyone who happens to be around them.”
Yet in some ways, the teenage arrests were an anomaly: The controversial ShotSpotter surveillance sensors that notified police to the blasts, multiple reports have found, rarely direct police to the scenes of firearm crimes. Concerns about ShotSpotter false alarms and their disproportionate effects on Black residents didn’t stop the city’s school district from secretly partnering with the company, an investigation by The 74 has revealed.
For nearly a decade, Minneapolis Public Schools has made northside campus buildings available to bolster a massive surveillance network that peppers neighborhoods with microphones designed to detect, analyze and geolocate gunfire.
Since at least 2014, the school district has agreed to host nondescript ShotSpotter sensors on the rooftops of campus buildings, according to contracts that were leaked as part of a massive cyber attack on Minneapolis Public Schools earlier this year. Six agreements, signed in 2014 and 2019, authorize the sensors to be mounted atop school buildings “in an ‘out of sight’ fashion. The city maintains the primary contract to station ShotSpotter sensors throughout Minneapolis; the school district simply agreed to host the devices on their property. Last year, the city’s latest contract for the sensors totaled $168,000, according to GovSpend, a database that tracks government procurement.
Subjected to a relentless stream of mass school shootings, school districts nationwide spend billions of dollars each year on campus security, including on gun-detection hardware. Yet ShotSpotter’s footprint in education remains largely unknown. The locations of the gun-detection sensors in Minneapolis and urban communities nationwide have for years been intentionally hidden.
In the leaked contracts, Minneapolis school officials agreed to withhold from the public information about its participation in the surveillance program. Details about the sensor locations, officials agreed, “cannot be disclosed under any circumstances.”
In Minneapolis, campus ShotSpotter locations were uncovered during The 74’s investigation into the fallout from the February cyber attack. Highly sensitive information about students and educators, as well as confidential campus security information, were published online in March after the district failed to pay the Medusa cyber gang’s $1 million ransom demand.
ShotSpotter’s efforts to thwart bloodshed from gun violence is commendable, said Teresa Nelson, the legal director of the American Civil Liberties Union of Minnesota. But, she said, privacy and racial disparities in ShotSpotter locations, as well as reports calling into question the sensors’ effectiveness, outweigh their potential benefits. And efforts to withhold the school district’s ShotSpotter agreement from the public, stifle resident’s ability to engage in conversations about how to keep their communities safe, Nelson said.
Ultimately, “it adds a layer to the idea of policing in our schools” that could be problematic, she said. ShotSpotter coverage of schools, she worried, could send police who are “ready for an extremely dangerous confrontation” to campuses “for no reason” due to false alarms from fireworks, backfiring cars and other loud noises.
“That changes the tenor of policing in that area,” she said. “Police have tremendous power and so the community is entitled to know how they’re using that power and how they’re using new technologies that allow them to effectively conduct general mass surveillance.”
The Minneapolis school district didn’t respond to multiple requests for comment. The district has been criticized for not sharing more information with the public about the nature and extent of the breach — its most recent statement on its website is from April 11. It declined interview requests from The 74 for a May 15 investigation about the breach of closely guarded campus security information and didn’t respond to questions for a May 5 article on the leak of highly sensitive information about students and staff.
In an email, Minneapolis Police Department spokesperson Garrett Parten declined to disclose the number of ShotSpotter sensors deployed across Minneapolis, adding that the company selects installation locations. The technology, he said, “has been an excellent tool in aiding the quick location of shooting victims” so they can receive medical attention “when seconds count.”
“In general, ShotSpotter pinpoints the location of gunfire,” Parten said. “This allows officers to respond directly to a location rather than doing a grid search looking for evidence. As such, Officers are able to quickly locate and secure evidence that might otherwise be removed, compromised, or missed altogether.”
Thomas Chittum, the senior vice president of analytics and forensic services at ShotSpotter owner SoundThinking, said the data breach in Minneapolis is a rare occurrence but the publicly traded company is taking the incident seriously. Though the sensors are regularly placed on municipal buildings like police departments and schools, he declined to specify how many are stationed on campuses in Minneapolis or nationwide. Sensor locations are confidential, he said, to prevent vandalism, retaliation against businesses and agencies that agree to host the devices, and efforts by gunmen to get around the system.
“Now that these things are known publicly, we have to assess whether or not we think it poses a risk to the efficacy of the system,” said Chittum, who retired last year as acting deputy director of the federal Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. “The sensors are not hard to relocate but we’ll have to assess whether or not that’s feasible and necessary.”
Few arrests, little evidence of gun-related crimes
Researchers and civil rights groups have warned for years that the technology, which is disproportionately deployed in communities of color, could do more harm than good by routinely sending militarized police into high alert over false alarms. SoundThinking maintains that its ShotSpotter sensors are 97% accurate.
The most comprehensive study on ShotSpotter’s efficacy, published in 2021 in the peer-reviewed Journal of Urban Health, reported dismal findings. The analysis of ShotSpotter in 68 metropolitan counties from 1999 to 2016 found the sensors had no significant impact on firearm-related homicide rates or arrest outcomes.
ShotSpotter deployments have been especially contentious in Chicago, where the sensors are disproportionately installed in neighborhoods with large percentages of Black residents. In more than 31,000 incidents each year, ShotSpotter alerts send Chicago police to locations where they failed to find evidence of gun crimes, according to research by the MacArthur Justice Center at Northwestern University’s law school. Between April 2021 and April 2022, researchers found, 90% of ShotSpotter dispatches failed to find evidence of guns. In a 2022 lawsuit, the group accused the city of relying on a surveillance tool that enables discriminatory policing without a clear public safety benefit.
A separate report from the city’s Office of Inspector General, published in 2021, reached similar results, concluding that the alerts rarely produced evidence of gun-related crimes, investigatory stops or recovered firearms. Yet the sensors led police to make more aggressive stops in certain neighborhoods, the office found, offering fodder for advocates who argue the devices lead to the over-policing of Black residents.
In a company-funded report by Edgeworth Analytics, researchers called the MacArthur analysis “misleading” and concluded that, “based on client reports,” ShotSpotter sensors were 97% effective in detecting gunfire.
Chittum said the sensor locations are selected based on historical crime data and rejected advocates’ concerns over racial disparities.
“The people that balk at the idea that you would deploy public safety infrastructure in the place where it could do the greatest good boggles my mind,” he said. “Of course you’re going to deploy it in the place where it’s most likely to help the people that have had the greatest impact from gun violence. I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want law enforcement to know about shootings that occur in those neighborhoods.”
While the City of Chicago has long been a key ShotSpotter customer and former Democratic mayor Lori Lightfoot called the tool “a lifesaver,” that could soon change. New progressive Mayor Brandon Johnson campaigned on a promise to end the city’s $33 million ShotSpotter contract, vowing to instead “invest in new resources that go after illegal guns without physically stopping and frisking Chicagoans on the street.” After Johnson’s election, the company’s stock prices tumbled more than 25%.
After weighing the costs against their benefits, officials in several cities — including San Antonio, Texas, and Charlotte, North Carolina — have ended their ShotSpotter subscriptions. In San Antonio, officials spent more than $500,000 for the sensors, an expenditure that led to four arrests and seven weapons seizures in a two-year period.
Similarly in Minneapolis, ShotSpotter alerts have rarely led to arrests or evidence of gun-related crimes, according to a local television news investigation. An analysis found that Minneapolis police responded to about 8,500 ShotSpotter activations from January 2020 to September 2021. About 80% of the time, police didn’t locate evidence of a gun-related crime and only 32 activations — less than 1% of the total — led to an arrest.
On one occasion, in 2012, the city temporarily disabled the sensors on New Year’s Eve because the system became overwhelmed by alerts from the blasts of fireworks.
‘Still losing our young people’
The six Minneapolis campus ShotSpotter locations disclosed in the breach are clustered in the city’s northside. Districtwide, about a third of Minneapolis students are Black. At the campuses where ShotSpotter sensors were disclosed, nearly two-thirds of students are Black.
The roughly 33,000-student district operates just shy of 100 schools. It’s unclear whether the devices were placed at a limited number of district locations or whether information about other campuses that serve as ShotSpotter hosts were spared in the data leak. Though police said ShotSpotter alerted them to the recent drive-by shooting — along with calls from educators — the leaked contracts don’t outline a sensor location at the district’s administrative offices.
While the specific locations of ShotSpotter sensors citywide haven’t been publicly disclosed, residents are well aware of their presence in certain neighborhoods, said Marika Pfefferkorn, a Twin Cities-based student privacy advocate and executive director of the Midwest Center for School Transformation. Yet the devices, she said, haven’t done enough to keep people safe.
“It’s not preventing the shots (from being) fired,” Pfefferkorn said. “We’re still losing our young people.”
In Minneapolis, homicides have surged by 166% since 2019 and the number of gunshot victims has more than doubled, according to city data. More than four-fifths of shooting victims in the city are Black, according to the data, as are 89% of suspects.
Outside Minneapolis, three school districts — one in Texas and two in Massachusetts — have purchased ShotSpotter services, according to GovSpend.
In 2021, the Newark, New Jersey, school district agreed to install the sensors on 30 school buildings in predominantly Black neighborhoods, according to a Chalkbeat investigation. Information about the agreement was removed from the school system’s website after the school board received an email inquiry from the education news outlet.
In a 2022 email also exposed in the Minneapolis data breach, a ShotSpotter employee declined to disclose to a school district facilities official the on-campus locations of its sensors, arguing that could allow the information to “fall into the wrong hands.”
“If the location of all sensors became known to the public,” the employee wrote, “criminals would have the capability to disable the gunshot location and detection functionality of the system, or otherwise seriously compromise the law enforcement utility of the system.”
As communities nationwide debate efforts to bolster security in school buildings, parents are demanding a seat at the table, said Kenneth Trump, president of the Cleveland-based National School Safety and Security Services.
“Parents expect authentic, transparent communication from school officials,” he said. When schools and cities equip communities with emerging security technology, officials “had better be transparent about expectations and limitations, and I’m not sure that’s occurring.”
Ultimately, it’s up to the City of Minneapolis to assess whether the sensors work as intended, said Nelson of the ACLU’s Minnesota chapter.
“Without strict limitations and auditing, we can never really be certain that it’s not being abused,” she said. “There needs to be more transparency and more assurances that it’s not going to be abused.”

Everytime my 2015 Versa sits for few weeks, tire(s) looses a little air. Enough to make the dashlight tire icon come on. I fill up the tire(s), but the light stays on. Mechanic reset the light with his OBD tool and light stays off until the cycle repeats itself.
Any way I can reset the light myself with either some trick or if I have to buy an error code scanner device and if so what one do you recommend that is not expensive.
Thank you and I appreciate your time.

Trade Goods

Obsidian

The lifeblood of the Abotinam. Along the vast fields surrounding the Three Elders, the remains of their previous eruptions spill, drawing gashes in the already desolate landscape. And in these scars pick the Abotinam that have settled in the highlands, those who stick to a more pastoral way of life as they maneuver from field to field, picking out the volcanic glass best suited for toolmaking. These tools drift down to the lowlands, where they are carried far and wide by traders proclaiming the superior quality of Aboti Obsidian, tools as hardy as the folks that live in the shadow of these volcanos.

Tin

Along the river Niba, the settlement of Nibalam was hard at work pursuing a different kind of material. While copper was a rare material in Xanthea, its presence in scant amounts more than justified the exploration into the soft metal that was bountiful in the foothills around Nibalam. Such as it happens, these tin deposits would prove a massive boon for Abotinam dominance in northern Xanthea. But for the time being, this deposit was more of a local curio than an economic engine. With bronze work still in its infancy, most tin was cold worked into jewelry, accenting gems and obsidian in the crafting of basic rings and necklaces.

Foodstuffs

Owing to how spread out the Abotinam population is, trade of food remains largely internal, with only the import and export of special cultivars reaching other cultures. With the advent of the Xanthean Drought, trade of food suffered even more, and those northern settlements, who were hit by the drought less harshly, began to command larger exchanges of the resources of the south than before.

Major Trade Routes

The Coastal Loop

Picking its way around the cliff faces, a network of dirt paths navigated the rocky coastline, connecting disparate villages around Abo. This loop is not a very apt description, as it does not form a complete circle, nor is it only a single route. However, the name persists, perhaps due to the sheer inertia of trying to rename the most well-travelled route for internal trade between Abotinam villages.
The Coastal Loop formed the backbone of all connections between all settlements on the Abo peninsula. While various tracks would eventually wander into the highlands, all eventually connected back to the paths near the water, as that remained the easiest place to navigate and travel without enduring the endlessly draining trek up and down the picturesque rolling hills. It fords the three major rivers, skirts the three bays, and cuts through the three largest cities of Abo. Navigating it is a lesson in local knowledge, as every intersection is a question that can only be answered by someone who has already been through. It is convoluted, built with no grand plan but simply by people needing to get somewhere, and it allows for resources to get where they need to go, eventually and with an amount of ease.

Laveno

Laveno, or literally "Veno's Pass", was an important trade route at the base of the Abo Peninsula. While caravans would regularly skirt the coastline, visiting the many settlements along the route, there was great interest in connecting the Selneam and Qel-Savaq lands more directly, a proposal that would take weeks off the journey. The access that the Selneam people had to rock salt was of specific interest, and so much work was done to find a path from river valley to river valley, along the base of the peninsula. In the shadows of Mount Veno, a collapsed stratovolcano that was one of the three holy sites in Abotinam spirituality, such routes were found.
The pass was not without its hurdles. Travel was frequently forestalled in the winter, as snowfall prevented navigation of the easier routes, and guides hunkered down to wait out the storms. The summer, too, presented the usual issues of wildlife attacks and rockslides, forcing constant vigilance. But the time savings where the most valuable commodity in the region, and so the trail became more and more well established, a boon for the local communities. It was this trail that would eventually lead to the establishments of [Hot Springs Hostels] in the highlands.

Toward The Luzum

With a lack of seaworthy vessels, further trade relied on pack animals to carry goods long distances. Trade routes through Qet-Savaq land continued on towards the Kanganna, Hortens, and from there to even more distant settlements. These peoples, who inhabited the banks of a great river called the Luzum, would provide in return significant gifts in exchange for the obsidian and tin crafts of the Abotinam. It was in this way that the Abotinam name began to make an impression beyond its borders, for better or for worse.

The Merchants

It is those traders travelling far to the south that first found gainful employment with no need of agriculture. While artisans primarily embarked in their craft when the fields laid fallow, and obsidian-harvesters simply incorporated their work into the normal work of herding and hunting, the people that took these wares to the south where they could be traded for quantities of cheap foodstuffs found that they never needed to grow their own food. It was in this situation that the famine broke down the trade networks, forcing the merchants to travel further south and further east in search of those willing to provide sustenance in exchange for their wares. Those that could not make the journey were forced to return home, working to till the fields, the prodigal children if there ever were any. But those that were able to go the distance helped build the continent-wide trade networks that would come to shine in the future.

Chozen came back into the show as a perfect character with no faults or mistakes in writing.
That said, I can't say he was as good in season 5, and that's largely due to the influence they've made him to be, especially with how much essence his character is supposed to uphold.
Chozen is basically supposed to be a newer version of Miyagi, obviously not as skilled, but he constitutes the voice of reason.
One important factor in his character was his willingness to kill/do what's necessary, and to teach lessons that are built upon effort/growing.
So where did Chozen fail to display these qualities?

• In the finale, Chozen had 2 chances to beat Silver, one time he allowed him to limp/recover, the second time he went soft and decided to spare him. Additionally, I find it very weird he never stabbed Silver with the sharp end of the sai and just used the handle (a bit of a close up detail btw)
• Chozen also taught the students an egg lesson, whereas Daniel actually learned how to fight with a staff, use pressure points, got threatened with a sai to the face, and just humiliated in all aspects of combat.

What I'm trying to get at, is that Chozen's stated in the show "Miyagi Do was used as an attempt to survive invaders and by killing". When Daniel told him there's no more reason to kill, Chozen responded that you sometimes have no choice.
In season 6, he threatened Silver several times, but he never actually "showed no mercy". I mean he literally stomped Mike's leg (I get the scene was for comedy but it's still a little faulty). Why couldn't he show the same level of hostility towards Silver?
He spent half the Silver fight going soft which was kind of concerning. Chozen even showed Daniel Tang Soo Do, which he never even applied when fighting Silver or anything.
Chozen supposedly had access to all the luxurious Miyagi Do secrets, Tang Soo Do (which Miyagi never knew), and has all of Sato's artifacts. He has literally every single martial arts skill/knowledge handed to him.
I didn't hate the egg lesson, but it felt like he barely taught the kids jackshit. The entire scroll plot feels like it's gone to waste, and I'm tired of seeing pressure points. The move is supposed to be 1 out of several that Chozen has mastered, why do the writers keep replicating it?
Conclusion:
I need to see the darker side of Chozen. Not evil. Just a side where he's willing to seriously hurt his opponent instead of poking them. He was so brutal towards the episode1 sensei's, but hesitated to land a single slash on Silver, who was trying to murder him. I also need to see him be more rough with his students. He genuinely needs to show them that they are NOT ready for the sekai taikai.
He's supposed to be the strongest and most wise character, he needs to be applying these things more. They also need to tone down his comedic relief.

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Link to Book: https://markbeckham.gumroad.com/l/udqej

[←Chapter 52] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 54→]
Efrain woke, and with consciousness reasserting itself came a pain unlike any he’d ever experienced. It was a lugubrious sensation that stretched over the entirety of his body like a giant bruise. It took a further moment to remember that this was not normal, and in fact was quite alarming. He tried to gauge where he was, but found only blackness to greet him.
So I’m blind as well? He thought, with all the dispassionate annoyance of a man finding a favoured tool lost.
He could still feel his feet and fingers, wrapped in cloth as they were, so that was a comfort. Reaching for his head, he found the cold stone of the mask still there, though it lacked a lot of the curse that gave it its ‘hungry’ quality. Tugging it, he felt it resettle into a more natural position, and with it light came in to show his surroundings.
There was canvas arcing over a ribcage of wood, which rocked with every turn and bump in the rode. A gentle sunlight managed to penetrate the cloth, flickering with the passage of leaves. Efrain gripped the wooden frame and drew himself up to sit, trying to remember how he’d gotten here. His groan at the effort attracted the attention of Innie, who was sitting by the open slit near the front.
“Efrain?” she asked, hesitatingly.
“Yes, yes. It’s me,” he said, the words feeling foreign and slippery on his non-existent tongue.
“Efrain?” she asked again.
“Yes! Yes. It’s me. Here, somehow. What the hell happened?”
“You… you absolute fool!” she half-screamed, “you nearly got yourself killed!”
“I-” he said, the phrase ‘got yourself killed’ stirring something of a memory within. It was very distant, without much cohesion, like a memory of childhood. Still, there was enough there to remember some definite sensations, a sight and sound or two-
“You know what,” he said slowly, “I think I might’ve actually been dead, at least for a little bit,” he said, pulling at his hood.
“What?!” she gasped, “how could you possibly know that?”
“I was… somewhere else. I can barely remember, but it was so strange. I had my body again, I think, and it was…” he started trying to piece together the fragments flitting about the edge of recollection.
Her expression suggested that she was actively considering the potential that her partner had gone completely insane.
“It was someplace I don’t think I’ve ever been before, but it was still familiar,” he said, “I think I met somewhere there. Or multiple people. I definitely saw- there was something that-”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“It was- it was very strange,” he said, further efforts to find other words failing him, “well, in any case, I’m back. I think so, anyway.”
“How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been dashed against a cliffside,” he laughed, “I thought I wasn’t supposed to feel pain in this form. That was supposed to be one of the advantages.”
“You scared me. The only reason I didn’t think you were fully dead was that your bones retained their shape, even though you were unconscious.”
“Huh…” Efrain murmured, raising an arm to inspect it, “that shouldn’t be possible. The enchantments holding me together should’ve fallen apart as soon as I went under.”
After a cursory inspection to verify all of his limbs were present and more-or-less correct, he looked over at the cat.
“However it happened, it would appear that I’m not done yet,” he said slowly, only half-sure in the conviction.
There was something different about how he experienced himself, just in the background, but definitely there. It was a sense of disconnection, like he was floating just behind or above his body, experiencing what he did from an outside perspective.
“Well, I suppose that’s… good,” said Innie.
“Don’t cry too much for me,” he said, “anyways what happened? I don’t remember anything after the crypt, other than the fire.”
“We did it,” she said, “more-or-less, the creatures were largely incinerated, good riddance. Unfortunately a defender or two got caught up in the blaze, as well.”
“Oh dear,” Efrain said.
“Are you really surprised? It wasn’t our power, and we certainly didn’t know how to control it. I’m surprised we didn’t burn ourselves in the process.”
“Not an experience I would care to undergo again, that’s for sure.”
Innie’s shiver indicated that she thought much the same.
“Right, right,” he continued, “so then, how did we get from there to here, then? And where is here?”
“A wagon, travelling with the train of troops, heading south for Karkos. The commander offered you a slot, unconscious as you were.”
“I would’ve thought burning a few villagers would’ve soured his disposition.”
“Apparently not. Efrain, I don’t know this man, but he’s clearly playing his own game, and it involves you.”
“I see,” he said, tugging at his robe so that it hung around his shoulder more naturally, “I assume you acted on my behalf while I was… gone, for lack of a better word.”
“I did what I could, which wasn’t much. I was fully expecting them to fall upon us after that, especially you, defenceless. But no, he came to me and proposed that we come with him.”
“He… treated with you?”
“He said that we probably wouldn’t find much welcome among the villagers, and the paladins were not inclined to let us go either. His soldiers, on the other hand, would follow his orders, and he could personally guarantee our safety all the way to Karkos if we chose to come.”
“And you went with him,” Efriain sighed.
“What else was I supposed to do?” None of your ‘friends’ were nearby, and Naia was right about the villagers, to say nothing about the paladins. I don’t use money, nor would most treat a cat given the choice. Did you want me to drag you out into the wilderness and run into a wildling looking for a chew toy, or worse?”
“All right, allright,” he said, raising his hands to placate the wisp mother, “I don’t begrudge you anything. It sounds like you made the right choice.”
There was a silence, in which Efrain clearly perceived that Innialysia was apprehensive.
“Efrain he… and I want you to understand, even with all the things I said earlier, I was still going to refuse him. I didn’t and don’t trust him still but he told me that… that the River had told him that he needed us.”
The revelation was one that ran along his spine, and threw the captain into an entirely different light. Using the River’s words as a bargaining chip, or even just reassurance spoke to a knowledge of the magical world that far surpassed most in his lands. He must’ve known that Innie was loath to speak to the ignorant, and tempered his speech accordingly.
“Well, we’re at his mercy, for better or worse,” Efrain said, “where on the trail are we and how long have I been out?”
“Three nights, so roughly four days of travel,” she said, cocking her head, “I think that puts us two or three days from the city proper. I’m not sure, I’ve rarely come down this way.”
Efrain tried to recall the geography of the region, without much success. After a few minutes though, the aimless maps he drew in his head began to resolve with some clarity. They would be reaching the edge of the forests in a day or two, and entering the outlying highlands of the coast. From there, they’d rapidly come across the farmlands owned by the city that flanked its outskirts. The pain was beginning to subside now that he had started to move his limbs cautiously. To his joy, he could find no fault in them or their function, as far as he could tell.
“Well then,” he said “I guess I should meet with the commander and get a read on what he wants. Do you know where Tykhon is?”
“I think I saw it wandering behind the train, a far distance. It doesn’t want to get too close.”
The wagons had begun to slow, the light outside taking on a reddish hue as the sun began to dip. Obviously they were breaking for camp, which suited Efrain just fine. When they’d come to a full stop and Efrain drew himself up to go outside, he was taken aback by the sudden appearance of a face through the flap.
“Oh!” Aya said, in a half-squeak, “You’re awake!”
“I forgot to mention,” said Innie, “she’s been coming around every now and then.”
“Right, then, yes,” Efrain said, straightening, “how can I help you?”
“Well, I was just coming to chat with the madam,” she said.
“Madam?” Efrain said, looking at the cat who was conspicuously staring elsewhere.
“I didn’t realise that you were awake, I- I’ll just go and come back later. You probably have a lot on your mind,” said Aya, withdrawing through the break in the fabric.
“Well, that was a way to wake up,” said Efrain, listening to her footfalls fading into the distance, “right so… commander! Yes. Just need to get my bearings.”
Outside was slightly foggy, although Efrain gave much praise to gods he didn’t believe in that it wasn’t the unnatural, fear-laced apparition that had plagued them. The trees were less large and intimidating than the ancient northern conifers, the bowes of them dense and green. The breeze that wafted through them was noticeably warmer as well, though it still carried a northern chill.
“Right then,” Efrain said as he clambered down past the hitchings to the ground.
It didn’t take long to find a spirited young man, riding along behind them.
“Would you happen to know where your commander is?” Efrain said, erring on the side of politeness.
“Good evening lord Efrain,” he said, “the commander ordered you to be sent when you awoke. You’ll likely find him near the top of the line, or at the centre of camp, depending on how set up he is.”
He pointed up through the line of horses and various pages and servants. Most were beginning to set up tents and firepits, or leading the mounts to be tied off. Efrain thanked the man and set off in the direction he indicated, weaving between the various groups that were forming. It didn’t take long for him to find Naia’s small tent, the standard bearer in front alerting the commander within.
Naia sat before a small table, furiously scribbling at a scrap of parchment. At his left was Damafelce, still in her riding gear, though she was currently attacking a bowl of something creamy with vigour. Efrain stood in silence for a few moments, watching as the knight pointed out something to the commander and murmured a correction. Both of them looked up as he cleared his throat, and Naia issued one of his sly smiles.
“My, lord Efrain, a delightful surprise,” he said, “in truth, I was beginning to worry we’d lost you for good. It would be an ill thing to carry a rotting body around all the way down to Karkos. Damafelce, you are excused, although I would like you to have that talk with Lethsoco. He’s been getting too eager recently.”
She nodded, and draining the last of her bowl, departed from the room. Efrain was offered a small stool, which he gratefully sank into before the commander.
“I’m sorry if jumping into business immediately might not be to your tastes,” said Naia with a genuine note of regret in his voice, “but there’s some conflicting reports I simply must sort out.”
Efrain laid his elbows on the table and laced his fingers, waiting for the commander to begin.
“Some are from my own soldiers, some are from the paladins, some are from others. I personally have my own beliefs, but I think it’s better to hear it from the horse’s mouth, as it were. Would you mind telling me what happened after I rode away from the village?”
Efrain took a moment to gather himself, and piece together what spare memories he could, before beginning to relay the general account of what had happened. Over the course of the next half-hour, Naia interrupted him constantly, asking clarifying questions, or for more detail on this incident and that.
“Lillian told me that you attempted to burn down the church,” he said, “is that true?”
Efrain caught a distinct impression that the captain already suspected the truth, yet was encouraging him to proffer a lie.
“Well, I can understand why she might believe that,” he began diplomatically, “but no, that wasn’t my intent. The magic I was using was difficult to control, and I had to improvise quite a bit. Desperate times, desperate measures.”
“So the damage to the church was merely incidental,” Naia said, his eyes settling, “would that you could convince the paladins otherwise. They seem quite intent that you were trying to kill all of them.”
“I’m not holding out hope to curry favour with those two.”
“Implying that you might wish to do so elsewhere,” Naia said, the glimmer returning, “although I’ve had my fair share of headaches with those two, they’re more reasonable compared to others. They’re still young, they’ll probably settle with time and the right guidance.”
“They’ll have to learn not to be afraid of things they can’t control, if the children are any metric,” Efrain said, not interested in mincing words.
At that, Naia leaned forward, regarding Efrain with such intensity that the older man felt uncomfortable.
“‘Something they can’t control’...” he said, repeating the words with purpose, “but I do imagine you have some things to ask me, don’t you?”
“Several things,” Efrain said, “but I’ll stick with one for now. Why did you save me? Do you need me for something?”
Naia’s silence was full of purpose, cast in the shadows that flickering candles cast on his face. Without a word, he got up, and left through the front of the tent, exchanging words with the standard bearer outside. Efrain heard footsteps receding as Naia reappeared, sat down, and leaned in to lower his voice.
“I would say I believe I owe you a debt, or at least, that’s what I would say if you were stupid enough to believe that,” he said, “given I’ve already used that justification, I wouldn’t blame you if you were suspicious.”
Efrain leaned in himself, wondering where this apparent candidness had come from.
“If you really want to know, then the truth is simple,” he said, “I was taught from my earliest days that only a fool dismisses talent based on superstition. You might notice that many of my own ranks would be dismissed, if not outright laughed at by others. Damafelce, a knight, and what’s more a right-hand? A woman from the barbarous jungle of Nieth?”
He began to tap his quill on the desk.
“Tools, lord Efrain. I want, and have great need of them. I am not the paladins - my words on this parchment could command a garrison to be built, or a man to be cut down in his home. Creation, destruction, good, evil, all dependent on the whims of the wielder. Magic is the same.”
“And which variety would you prefer me to be?” Efrain asked.
“Both, as the need may take it. I did not get this far without being flexible, and neither will you,” said Naia, “and while we’re on the subject, let me offer you something.”
Efrain would’ve held his breath, but settled for stiffening to attention.
“I want you to come with me, to Karkos and beyond. I want you to serve under me, with all the obligations, and privileges, that implies.”
Efrain was struck genuinely speechless. He had, somewhere in the back of his mind, idly conjured the vision of such an offer, but it was a silly fantasy, not something to be believed, let alone desired.
“I understand if you are hesitant,” Naia said, spreading his hands, “but fate has dropped one opportunity into my lap, and I’m inclined to see if I can secure another. Call me greedy if you wish, but I was also taught to not let such things slip by.”
“I don’t- why would you-” Efrain began, trying to form a sentence to describe the whirlwind of shock within him.
“Consider this, Efrain - a young, up-and-coming commander with a good record. Rather unorthodox in his choices of subordinates, enough for some to whisper in the dark, enough even perhaps, to close off some opportunities for promotion.”
A smile flickered at the edge of his lips - he was clearly enjoying this pantomime.
“Now consider, that the man returns, safely bearing a paragon of the church, who’s been sought for over sixty years, through trial and tumult. His warriors and he are lauded for their ability and leadership, despite their odd origins. What could be in store for such a person? Respect, certainly, but what about promotion?”
“So, you want to be a general,” said Efrain.
Naia smiled and bowed his head, humbly presenting himself.
“And you need me because… why? Please don’t think I believe this whole screed on ‘talent’. You’re doing that to appeal to my own sensibilities about the church.”
Naia laughed openly at that, though it wasn’t the most pleasant sound.
“I see you’ll need more cajoling than that. There are other reasons a mage would be valuable to me, this is true. But I wasn’t lying about talent being valuable to me. All I ask is that you think about this offer, and if you’ll accept it, I’ll tell you the rest.”
Efrain sat in silence for a while, wondering at the strange offer. Listening to the wind whistling through the trees, his hand unconsciously crept up to scratch at his forehead. Naia was looking at him expectantly, perhaps hoping he’d jump into it impulsively to reveal the mystery, but Efrain was intent on gauging the motives of this man.
“You do know,” Efrain began, “that inferno up on the roof. It would be difficult, probably impossible to do it again. And, if I tried, there’s no guarantee it wouldn’t cause significant damage to your own side.”
“I guessed as much, and no, I wouldn’t expect a display like that,” Naia said with a wry smile, “you wouldn’t be of much use to me dead, Efrain.”
So he wants me alive to do something, something with magic? Or something else? Efrain thought. He began to think about what else had changed throughout the last few days, and tried to recall what exactly Naia would know from his reports.
Certainly he would probably have at least a neutral appraisal from his soldiers, but that couldn’t be it. And mages could be found to do all sorts of magical tasks, even in Angorrah, if one was willing to seek them out. So was it for some unique power or ability then? He had shown him the River, but that was also an accident. And he didn’t expect him to use the flames of the Wisp Matriarch, or so he said.
What did Efrain offer to Naia, something that he only, or at least only a few others, could offer him? What had changed the offer of cooperation from simple guidance to something more long-term and involved? Efrain furiously reflected over the last few days, and suddenly he had it.
And with that, a whole web opened up before him, glistening with many unknown strands.
“Commander, before I say anything, I would like to ask just three questions. Quick ones, I would think.”
“Please.”
“You are a commander, aren’t you? I was given to understand that they managed much larger forces than this company. Over whole regions, in fact. That would normally be your duties, no?
The man nodded.
“Usually up to a thousand, though circumstances demand otherwise on occasion. Still, this is the smallest force I’ve wielded for a while now. My trusted and favoured.”
“And tell me, the children, they’re usually guarded by a retinue of paladins, I would assume, back in the holy city?”
“Indeed. Dozens of them.”
Naia’s eyes were glittering.
“And you were heading to do what all that way up north?”
Efrain of course knew the answer to this question, but he needed the cover if he could get it.
“Subjugating a castle, filled with undead, or so the tales go,” he said, “they made quite a big deal of it, back in the castle.”
Efrain sat, slotting pieces into place as he studied the man’s face.
“There’s indeed something you’re not telling me, commander.”
“Oh?” Naia said.
It was a game to him, Efrain was sure of it. A game of guesses and knives in the dark.
“So,” he began, “the church talks up a mission to the far north, all the way across the continent. Some terrible beast, holed up in some old castle. Well, of course, they couldn’t finance a full contingent. Only a hundred measly men. No one wants to take the deal, I assume, so they offer something to sweeten the pot, a crusade, with the two most sacred figures of the church at the head.”
Naia offered the slightest nod and opened his mouth to speak.
“Only, that’s not the real reason,” Efrain quickly interjected, deciding to take his chances, “I was there at the Frozen Vale, laying to rest the evil spirit you claim. And there were undead, weak, of poor craft, but numerous. Enough to man the battlements effectively if the spirit so chose.”
The momentum of the lie carried him onwards to his conclusion.
“So, tell me, why did you have few men, no siege equipment, and little stores? And why were the two most important people in the faith there with two bodyguards between them?”
The darkness of Naia’s eyes reflected the candle, twin flickers of flame and serpentine consideration.
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I have a story to share.
This has been on my mind for years and I until now I haven't figured out a way to come out with it in a way that would be inaccessible for any of my family members or friends and completely anonymous. I don't use this platform often, and I may never reply.
Sorry if it's badly written, I tried.
​
All throughout my life I was a ray of sunshine, I was confident, happy, social and optimistic. My parents split when I was 3, they were never married as that isn't a requirement where I live. My dad was an alcoholic but he worked, so he wasn't a complete deadbeat, and my mum had to quit her profession due to an injury she got from a life threatening situation, money was tight basically.
For the first 3 years of my life it was my dad, brother, mum, and I which obviously changed after my parents splitting. After I turned 4 my mother introduced a new man into our lives, stepdad, he was nice, fun, welcoming, loving and all of those things a father should be, we went to the themepark, zoo, local swimmingpool, I even learned how to bike with him around, even to spell some things such as "bird", "mum" and "dog".
However life isn't all butterflies and sunshine as we all know and my biological dad was still fighting for custody over my brother and I, he was granted shared custody with my mum, so there were weekends my brother and I went to see our dad who had also gotten a new girlfriend, she'd usually drop us off by our grandma's house while our dad was at the pub getting drunk or something, there were many times I'd see him sleeping on the couch instead of his bed. Girlfriend was nice to us, she didn't tell us much about the circumstances of our dad and why he was sleeping on the couch again and stuff.
Fast forward a year: my sister's birth, she was the child of my stepdad and mum and of course I love(d) her with all my heart and it's been an honor to see her grow into the wonderful young lady she is now, we moved to a different part of our country, to a house, to start a new life for the now expanded family and all that, we moved a few more times which isn't really relevant to the story so I'll spare you the details.
Fast forward 3 years: I was 8 and I had just learned to read a year prior, I was sitting in the courtroom deciding to never see my dad again, which I've upheld since, and my brother made a similar decision, the court then decided to give full custody to my mother over both of us till we were old enough and could decide for ourselves.
A year later my mum had my fourth sibling, (we also got a dog, chihuahua, he will be relevant, I swear) which means we were 7 people living under the same roof. Not much happened in these years until I hit 10, which is when everything went downhill. My parents got a complaint from my brother's kindergarten, suggesting that he's a troubled kid and needs to be properly raised, of course we didn't have any problems with him at home and he was a shy little boy with big bright blue eyes that would make you melt in seconds, the report was forwarded to the family section of the communal services who took the case very seriously and drove to our house to discuss this matter, one of the women got my mother's name wrong and I corrected her, she admitted to mistakenly mixing the two cases together and apologizing deeply for it, she then asked where our two big dogs were, we all looked at her confused and said we don't have two dogs, we have one and it is a chihuahua, the woman grew impatient and seemed awkward. They eventually left and apologized for the disturbance, thinking it was all over we went back to our normal lives. Boy were we wrong. It started flooding in with accusations of abuse and negligence, they called me dirty and my older brother a troubled kid, my brother was always the shy one of the two of us and was an easy target for bullying, people would call him delusional and stupid which lowered his confidence to rock bottom, I doubt getting saved by his little sister made him feel any better though.
It continued going downhill. When I was 11 my brother and I changed schools and were the new kids, though I never really knew how his school treated him I sure as hell knew how mine treated me. My classmates were mainly stuck-up snobs who always had the newest of the newest, everyone had known each other since preschool and the overall environment was a hell to work/study at. I was bullied, I had never been bullied before so I didn't know how to grasp the situation, my self esteem was trampled and the confidence I had built was long gone, I spent a lot of time at home with my ipad and just watched youtube videos till I had to eat dinner and go to bed again, most of the time I'd stay up late watching videos and wake up tired and ill, unable to move out of bed. My parents weren't understanding at that point, when they did manage to drag me to schoo I'd get sent home for feeling "ill" when in reality I just wanted to leave the psychological torment. I lied to my parents about school and how they were treating me, I just didn't know how to tell them so I went with "school's okay". The bullying was never physical, only emotional and psychological they tormented me for being new and different, it almost got physical once but I got myself together and said he wouldn't hit me, so he didn't.
I lived that lie for 2 years before moving to a different part of the country and moving to a new school, again, this school was different, they included me and tried getting to know me. But by then I had developed a stutter and I had a hard time looking them directly in the eyes, my teacher told me a bunch of other students dealt with anxiety "like me", though I was never diagnosed with anxiety, mainly because I don't have it. They were understanding and we went on trips to mcdonalds and burgerking every once in a while.
Everything went well till I hit my teenage years, of course, and my mental health dipped. I went to bed at 2-3am and woke up at 6, a lot of the time I was tired when I arrived at school and never learned anything because of it, my grades were terrible, I was barely passing, this continued till I was 14, when covid hit, 2020 was a nightmare for me, isolation was even worse than staying home willingly, for my mental health that is, my parents were also unable to work due to quarantine and a lot of us were glued to our computers to do homework and attend zoom meeting. I slept through classes and my grades were still barely passable, maybe even worse. Allegations continued and in 2021 my siblings were taken from us, my parents were devastated and both went into depression, I think, I made dinner every once in a while because they just couldn't. I stayed with my mum on the couch and hugged her when she started crying, my brother for the most part was having a hard time dealing with it as well and so he stayed in his own room, so did my stepdad, he always slept because he knew he couldn't deal with it awake. I was 14 and due to all of this my emotions developed a filter that made it impossible to speak about them to anyone. The same year as when my siblings were taken, I was taken to an orphanage for 8 weeks and my brother moved to live at a college dorm while he studied, this was in May and it took a huge toll on my parents once again, they had to relive what happened to my siblings all over again, but this time they were alone in the house. I turned 15 at the orphanage and had lost a bunch of weight, I felt light in my own body despite all this and I was finally smiling again. The orphanage was good for me, but the circumstances could and should have been way different from what they were.
I don't have a good ending for this unfortunately, I'm currently the only child living in this house and it's lonely. But I am doing my best in school and I hope they're proud of me, they deserve everything and more. As I'm writing this I am 16, turning 17, and I'm doing pretty okay, I'm passing my exams and being as social as possible. I don't know what this post is, I think the correct term is a vent? But it doesn't feel like a vent, it feels more like something I've been aching to say, a scratch that I've been dying to itch but haven't known how to, it wasn't even supposed to be this long. Anyway, thank you for reading, I think?