I (32 female) and my husband (29 male) have been married for 10 years. We were best friends first, started dating, got married and had a family. We have one son together and he's legally adopted the two daughters I had before I met him. The first 7 years of our marriage were the best years I could have possibly imagined. I was sure I had found my forever.
I was wrong. For context, we are both addicts and met when we were in recovery. Recovery didn't last though because two addicts in a relationship tend to enable each other. So throughout the seven years we had a couple relapses, but we kept trying to get it right. 3 years ago my husband went to a motorcycle convention where he relapsed on meth, cheated on me with a prostitute, and spent the 1,500 dollars we had saved to buy our oldest her first car. Needless to say, it absolutely shattered me. But I stayed because even though it broke my heart, I knew losing him would hurt way worse. Later on he admits that he actually cheated on me a year before that incident with a random girl at a bike rally while myself and our children slept in a nearby tent. I still tried to make it work because not having him wasn't an option. He was under the influence of drugs during both instances, so it was easy for me to justify his behavior. If I could blame drugs then I wouldn't have to blame him.
When I found his meth the first time, I dumped it out. I brought him to Narcotics Anonymous meetings with me. I offered support. I did all I knew to do. The second time I found it, I did it too. It was the worst relapse I've ever experienced. And it was incredibly hard to get clean because I was running from all of those feelings of inadequacy, being unlovable, not being enough. We were both heavy in active addiction for 5 months. Rock bottom came quick. I entered treatment and have been sober since October 30th of 2022, but my husband has continued to struggle with relapses and is still unable to be honest and transparent with me. I found out about another lie a week ago and it's what completely broke the relationship for me.
So here's where I'm at today. I have ended our relationship and I'm aware there's no more room to build trust after it's been broken this many times. I know that continuing to stay with someone who has treated me the way he has is no longer an option. He understands my reasoning, he's willing to continue to help me with the bills, we have a house right next door ready for him to move into. Everything has been worked out and is ready to go... Yet whenever it comes time to actually make change, I start hyperventilating and usually have a panic attack. I keep asking him to, "stay one more night". I do have PTSD which causes me to struggle with sleeping alone, as well as ADHD which causes my feelings to be a lot more intense than the average so that's working against me. He's also the only family I have left besides my kids so I know that's part of why I'm having trouble letting go. But after everything he's put me through I feel pathetic that I'm having as much trouble as I am.
TL;DR: Having trouble ending my marriage even though I've been treated poorly.

I walk past this Audi every single day while on my way to work. It’s a 2013 plate and it hasn’t been moved for over a year now. I’m currently looking for a new car, but in the current climate everything is so expensive. I’m not much of a car person, I like them, but I don’t know much about mechanics etc.
The car is pretty beat up; it has a large dent in the driver’s door and a missing wing mirror, I also imagine it has quite a few other things wrong with it. Due to its neglect, though, I reckon the owner would be willing to sell it for a decent price.
I was thinking about either knocking on the door or posting a letter. Also, if they are willing to sell, how would I go about getting it checked before I buy?
If anyone else has done this before let me know.
Cheers

Trigger warnings: depression, emotional, mental and physical abuse, child abuse, abortions, suicide idealations and attempts.
Backstory: I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was 13 years old, although some doctors believe I'd been having seizures since I was as young as 6 or 7. I was also diagnosed with manic depression/bipolar disorder when I was 16.
At 21 I gave birth to my first daughter, M. A little under two years later I had my second daughter, A. The first pregnancy wasn't easy and I had a lot of seizures during the course of the pregnancy. Many trips to the hospital to make sure baby was safe. But after I gave birth I jumped straight into motherhood. I lived roughly 4 hours away from my parents and struggled with feeling homesick frequently. I called my dad daily for parenting advice, to vent, to update him, and also to help subside that homesick feeling. Regardless though, I was a very attentive and active mom. I spent all of my time with M. She was my best friend. I LOVED being a mom and I was THRIVING. After M turned 1, I moved back "home" and moved back in with my parents. My second pregnancy was much the same. Uncomfortable pregnancy, many seizures. However with this pregnancy I had some complications that caused A to be born 10 weeks early. This caused A to spend the first several months of her life in the nicu and even had to have gastral intestinal surgery before she was even 4 months old. Due to my epilepsy I do not drive, but I did everything I could in my power to see my A as frequently and for as long as I could. Visiting hours were somewhat restricting though.
At some point in time I started displaying symptoms of postpartum depression that was heavily exasperated by my manic depression. I was at an all time low. The physical pain of a depression that immense had crippled me. I felt like I had concrete in my veins. Just getting up and going to the bathroom was an exhausting task. I spent most of my days sleeping as an escape from the pain and exhaustion. Thankfully I lived with my parents, my younger daughters father (J), and some of my sisters. I would say I had plenty of help and support, but a more accurate statement would be "the children were looked after". I on the other hand was mocked, teased and belittled at every opportunity. At the time I thought nothing of it. I thought "that's just how my family is" I was raised with the motto "the more I tease you, the more I love you". Before my dad knew I was pregnant (I kept it a secret for 18 weeks because J was pressuring me to get an unwanted abortion.) my dad pointed to my stomach one morning and said "you know, some situps would help with that" I was devastated, already feeling fat and disgusting, and went to my room to cry.
Without me even realizing it, the negative comments and belittling nature of my family took a toll on me and I was getting deeper and deeper into my depression without a light at the end of the tunnel. I HATED myself for not being able to get up and play with my children. I couldn't understand how I could be so active and attentive with M at that age but I just didn't have it in me for A. I felt like I'd failed her in so many ways. I tried my best to find solutions to the problem. Often times I'd try to find games to play with them that involved me lying or at least sitting on the couch. Puzzles, coloring, movies, cars. Anything low impact, but kids want to run and play and be active.. I felt like the worst mom of all times and I wasn't being told differently by those around me. In fact my greatest fears were being confirmed daily. One day I finally broke and had a full mental breakdown in front of my mom. I had confessed to my mom that I was having suicidal idealations. I knew deep down I didn't want to end my life, but I wanted the pain to stop. I couldn't breathe under the weight of my depression and I desperately needed help. I sat on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, confessing all of my deepest darkest thoughts and feelings at that time. My mom, in my opinion, brushed me off and said "well look into counseling or something" and then walked away, while I stayed sitting against our front door, crying my heart out. I felt devastated. All I wanted was a hug and some comfort but it was clear I was barking up the wrong tree. I got myself together, went upstairs, and went to sleep in order to escape the heartbreak and numb myself again. This entire timeline is a blur to me, so I'm not sure how much time passed between my melt down and this next conversation, but I feel like it was less than a week when my mom sat me down to have a conversation about the girls.
She suggested to me that my parents take temporary custody of the girls until I was able to "get on my feet". She kept pushing this narrative that it was what was best for the girls and their safety. She used my epilepsy as an excuse. Telling me that it was unsafe for the girls to be under my care when my epilepsy was so unpredictable. She also used my mental health, feeding into all of my fears and my own perceived shortcomings. A decent way into the conversation, my dad joined us. His whole demeanor radiated "this is a waste of my time. Just do what we say so I can go do other things" but maybe that was me reading too deeply into his behavior. Once he sat down it felt like my mom leaned even deeper into this narrative that they were clearly the better option for the girls wellbeing, but it would only be for a short time and that they were mainly concerned with the girls quality of life. I really struggled with what to do. I already felt like I was failing my children because I was so mentally and emotionally drained and detached. I didn't want to abandon them or lose them, but I also didn't want to harm them in the ways I had been harmed growing up. I figured my mom knew best because she had been in my shoes for all of my childhood. The vast majority of memories I have of my mom are of her sleeping on the couch, or raging out over the most minuscule things. I didn't want my children raised like that... So reluctantly, I agreed, truly believing I was doing a selfless thing and putting my children first. (This would later be used against me at every opportunity) I signed a piece of computer paper that my mom had scribbled an agreement on, stating that I was signing over temporary custody of my kids to my parents, with the understanding that I would get full custody back at an undisclosed time.
One day while I was down the road at a friend's house, my mom called me frantic, demanding I get home immediately. I rushed up to the house to find out that A's dad, J, had her wrapped in three blankets, in her car seat (it's the only place she would sleep). She was drenched in sweat (apparently new borns aren't supposed to sweat, especially not that much) and she was crying hysterically due to discomfort. J was irate, screaming at her and aggressively shaking the car seat. My mom said she heard him scream "shut the fck up or I'm going to *unalive you". She was under the impression that him and I were arguing again, and had come to break up the fight. (This always seemed odd to me seeing as how she never once intervened in our arguments before) When she realized I wasn't home and he was talking to A, she grabbed A and went downstairs. As she walked down the hall, j punched a hole in the wall near her head. He claimed he was "only trying to scare her" because she was "stealing his child from him" I was outraged and mortified. I tried multiple times to leave him and kick him out, but I had no support from my family. At one point I even resorted to packing up all of his belongings and throwing them out on the lawn. I'm not proud of that but I felt I had no other choice, and rushed to lock the doors when he went to get his things. My sister promptly unlocked the door and let him back in, claiming I was "acting psychotic" I felt trapped... But I had grown up around this behavior. My dad was an angry drunk and I had grown up believing that those behaviors were "passion" rather than aggression. So I accepted my fait and went on as if nothing had happened, certain that this would be the rest of my life.
One day when J was driving me to work we got into an argument and he repeatedly told me "your dad was right. You should do the world a favor and just unalive yourself. Everyone would be a lot happier" he kept repeating it over and over until I finally had it. He pulled up to a stop sign and I got out of the car and started walking down the road. He immediately started freaking out, begging me to get back in the car, using everything he could think of to manipulate me into getting back into the car. I finally caved and got back in. J dropped me off at work and as I got out of the car I told him "we're over. I'm breaking up with you". I closed the door before he could say a word and walked into work feeling like I was on cloud 9. It felt like all of my troubles had been wiped away. When I got inside, I told a friend what happened and explained that I didn't want to go home that night because I knew a guilt trip was waiting for me when I got there. I knew there would be an argument that would last hours and I would finally break due to exhaustion and would inevitably take him back. My coworker seemed to understand and let me stay at his house as long as I needed.
I called my mom and told her what had happened. I begged and pleaded with her to kick J out, but she refused. She was concerned that he'd try to take A if she kicked him out. I told her I was certain he wouldn't. He only ever cared about himself and his own self preservation. A baby would only make things harder for him and it was a responsibility and a role he didn't even want in the first place. I told her J had spent 18 weeks pressuring me to abort A and was evening willing to drive me out of state to get the procedure done, until I finally put my foot down and told him no, I was keeping my baby. I stayed away for 2 full weeks, the entire time begging and pleading with my family. Pointing out his abusive tendencies and his history with verbal and physical abuse and outbursts. My mom held her ground and refused to help me in any capacity. Every time M asked where I was, my mom would say "your mom's at work" rather than have her call me and talk to me. This created a lot of psychological trauma for M. She had severe seperstion anxiety, having panic attacks any time someone had to leave the house, convinced that if they left they'd never return. Still to this day she has abandonment issues as well as severe panic attacks.
After two weeks, I started coming over for visits but I never moved back in. During this time, J informed me that he was talking to another girl. He made it abundantly clear that she was 16. He was roughly 25 or 26 at the time. I later found out that they weren't talking. In fact, she had a boyfriend who was age appropriate, but J had been going and telling their entire friend group that they had been messing around together. I was then informed by my younger sibling L, that J had made advances on her that she quickly shut down. I think she was roughly 18 at the time. When this didn't pan out and J didn't get the reactions he expected from myself or L, he moved on. Years later I was told the same time xact story by both J and my oldest sister Al. "We had been hanging out, drinking, smoking. Ya know, the usual. And then well... Because I was so inebriated, they took advantage of me and we slept together" Knowing the both of them well enough, I knew it was consensual and they were just embarrassed and scared of my reaction. I laughed and told them they deserved one another.
As you can imagine, J's questionable life choices caught up with him and he was rejected from every friend group he had, to the point where he left the state and broke all contact with myself, and my family. It was a weight off my shoulders when he was finally gone. At that point I had gotten my own apartment but it was the first time I lived alone, paying my own bills, and I was not good at it. I was missing bill payments left and right. My power was shut off in the middle of winter and before long I was evicted. I was homeless and asked my parents if I could move home. They said no, that it would be too confusing for the girls if I moved back in with them. I ended up staying with friends on the couch in a one bedroom. It was extremely uncomfortable, but I had a roof over my head. When their lease was up, they invited me to get a new place with them. I agreed and I started learning about finances and how to be a functioning part of society.
My parents said I was welcome to visit the girls any time I wanted, but when I'd ask, it was a whole ordeal and guilt trip because they had to come pick me up and refused to bring my kids to my place. They said the car ride was too much for the girls to handle. Mind you, Ms dad B, still lives 4 hours away. My parents regularly drive both of my daughters up to see B and his parents whenever Bs parents request it. However, a 30 minute drive was asking far too much of such young and fragile children. When I argued that point they would use other excuses why they would not be bringing my children to see me. Once again I felt powerless and like a bad mom, being paraded by my parents for not being more active in my kids lives, but when I tried to make the effort it was scorned and met with negativity.
I self isolated for awhile, but still tried to be apart of my children's lives.
Over the years I've brought up the custody agreement, pointing out that it was supposed to only be temporary. I think my parents got frustrated with this because once the girls started school, my mom pressured me to sign over full custody, claiming it would make filling out paperwork a lot easier on my parents. But it was still only temporary, supposedly. Again, I continued to press for custody back and I would be met with argument after argument, bombarded with all of my shortcomings. On multiple occasions my mom told me "if you take custody of the girls back it will destroy mine and your father's marriage. Some days the girls are the only thing keeping us together" I was also told "if you take custody back it will literally kill your father. He won't survive." A year or so ago I told my mom we needed to go to therapy because I could not speak to her without a mediator. She finally agreed and we had two sessions. The first of which she cried her eyes out, telling the therapist that she's always done her absolute best for us kids and that we never appreciate anything she's done for us. She said "I took on the responsibility of raising two young children while she was out there f*cking anyone and everyone she wanted" mind you, during the time frame she was talking about, I had one intimate partner. When I confronted her about it outside of the session she said "I said that to highlight the poor life choices you were making at the time"
Fast-forward to now, A and I have a good relationship, but she's closest to my dad over everyone. M and I still have an incredibly tight bond though. She tells me everything. I'm her best friend.
The things she's been telling me the last couple of years are bringing up a lot of PTSD and trauma for me from my childhood. It's been opening my eyes to the level of mental abuse I suffered at the hands of my parents.
At this point you're probably thinking what I thought for most of my life. "This girl's mom sounds like a monster" It wasn't until recently that my father's facade was irreversibly shattered in my eyes. M had come to me and asked "what would you say if I asked to be called unisex name". I told her "I wouldn't say anything. I'd just call you by the name you chose. I love you no matter what I call you. I will always love you no matter what. There's nothing in this world that will change that, especially not a name." In time M came to me and said "how would you react if I told you I like girls" I said "the same way I reacted when you wanted to change your name. I will always accept, support and love you, no matter what"
She had gone to my mom with the same questions and my mom had roughly the same response. My dad on the other hand had a much more viseral response. When the name was brought up, he hit the roof, yelling "I'm not having another kid try and change their name. That's stupid. You have a name." (L changed their name when they were in school and my father always hated it and still refuses to call L by their chosen name) When the topic of sexual preference was broached he'd just roll his eyes, huff and act like M was being stupid and childish. As I touched up on previously, M has severe panic attacks. I can relate because I also suffer from them and they were extremely bad around the same age that M is now. From things M had told me in passing I'm under the impression that she was being bullied at school. Every morning was a struggle. She would beg my parents to let her stay home. If it was up to my mom, she'd get frustrated and give in, saying "whatever. Do whatever you want. You do anyway. None of you ever listen to me or respect anything I say" and M would go lie in bed and call me crying that she "upset nana" If it were my dad however, he'd yell at her to get her @$$ in the car and that he wasn't dealing with her $ht. She would have full fledged panic attacks in the car to which he would yell and scream at her to knock off the teenage bllsh*t and to suck it up. One day he even threatened to institutionalize her if this behavior continued. She called me, mid breakdown, telling me everything that had happened and asked me "what even does that mean? Is he gonna lock me up in a psych ward because I'm having panic attacks?" I assured her that no one was doing any such thing. I then called my parents and tore into them for treating her like that. My skin was crawling, I was so appalled at his behavior.
He tries his best to mask his negativity and what I consider to be narcissistic tendencies. He went from being an angry alcoholic to being a sober helpful part of the church he attends. I told my mom recently that I believe he swapped one addiction for another. He portrays this happy healthy life and family all over social media, showing my kids off to the people at his church, claiming they're his kids. So much so to the point that I had attended a few services and people thought I was their sister, not their mom, because my dad refuses to refer to them as his grandchildren. He's even taken it so far as to claim that he BIRTHED them. I don't know what level of psychosis it takes for a man to claim that he carried two children in his womb, but that's besides the point.
Also to Ms detriment, he will tease her about her weight, her eating habits, her sleeping habits. He will also make snide comments about LGBTQ+ related and adjacent topics.
L, had also suffered this same emotional and mental abuse for years from our dad and subsequently my mom who is too scared of my dad to stand up for her own beliefs. L finally made the difficult decision to go no contact for their mental health. This was extra difficult for them because that meant they had less access to their nieces and nephew, but they had to do what was best for their mental state and they took a step back. At one point my dad had brought L up, calling them by their dead name and misgendering them. When M corrected my dad he scoffed and said "people who change their names and gender are just people who weren't loved enough as a child" M responded with "k.." and went to her room to call me, explaining how incredibly offensive that statement was, especially seeing as how that's his own child. She said "who's fault is it if L wasn't loved enough as a child?" (She's extremely aware for her age)
I got a phone call from A one afternoon. She was crying and told me "I'm just sad because I'm never going to see L again because she abandoned us." I asked who told her that and she said "papa said dead name abandoned us because she doesn't care about the family anymore" I explained that none of that was true and that L missed them very much, and wanted to see them very much.
I spoke to L regularly about the situation at hand, being as supportive as possible while trying to stay out of the family drama. After months of distancing themselves from our parents, they came to me for help and guidance. They wanted to have dinner with our parents to try and mend their relationships. However they were scared of the response they would receive, so I offered to be the buffer and reach out on their behalf.
My mom's response was perfect. She said "I would love to have dinner with them. Tell me when and where" My dad's response was less ideal. He said "we would love to have dinner with her. If she's ready to respect our family and our beliefs we would be happy to have dinner with her" I lost it on him. I told him that I was sick and tired of his behavior. He puts on a holier than thou facade but he doesn't actually act very christ like in reality. I pointed out that when the prodigal son returned he wasn't met with "are you ready to ahere to our rules and regulations now? Are you prepared to act the way that we want you to? If you are then you can come home, but if not, get out" he was welcomed home with open arms, regardless of anything he had done or said. He replied with "I had a gut feeling that I shouldn't have responded to that text. I should've listened to that gut instinct"
I've gone no contact with him since that argument, but as you can imagine, that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.
On mother's day, my dad was out of town but my girls went to church with my mom. There was a guest speaker who had an extremely antitrans message. The way my mom explained it was "if your kid comes out as trans, you're a failure as a mom" I was dumbfounded to hear that they'd have a message like that at all, but especially on mother's day, shaming parents, but specifically mom's, into rejecting their children's self identification, as if one person has control over another person's identity. M told me she didn't ever want to go back. I told her I understood and I'd do my best to make sure she didn't have to.
Today is my birthday and my girls are coming over. M texted me this morning saying "I'm getting ready for church. I was told that if I wanted to go to my mom's house, I had to go to church first" This used to be a place that she felt safe and happy in and now it's become a place of contention for her. She'll ask my mom if she can stay home (never my dad) and although my mom usually caves and lets her stay home, it's always with some stipulation.
My dad is a controlling, manipulative, homophobic, close minded fraud of a Christian who is emotionally and mentally harming and abusing my children, and my mom isn't much safer for either of them, always siding with my dad out of fear and exhaustion.
I desperately want to remove them from this situation and regain full custody but I don't know where to start. I work two jobs in order to make ends meet. I'm behind on my rent. I have to take buses and Ubers everywhere I go. I have a very small two bedroom apartment (the girls each have their own rooms at my parents house). They have friends and a sense of community where they are, with a nice sized backyard, a trampoline, two of my three siblings are close by so they get to see their cousins daily. I don't want to rip them away from the only home they've known for years. I don't want to uproot them and disrupt the little amount of structure they do have. I don't even know how I would manage two jobs as well as a 10 and a 12 year old, but I also don't want to leave them in this toxic suffocating and damaging environment when all along I thought it was a better and safer environment for them than what I had to offer.
I feel like I'm still brainwashed to some extent by my parents, second guessing my abilities as a mom. Telling myself I'm not capable of the things I need to do for these girls. I'm at a loss for what to do at this point. Do I fight for custody back? Do I leave them as they are? Do I continue to try and advocate for them even though it either falls on deaf ears or makes matters so much worse, because that frustration is then taken out on my kids?

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: Martin Russo, Human Refugee
Date [standardized human time]: November 30th, 2136
​
“Wait”. The voice is so sudden I don’t even realize it’s my own at first.
Mosun looks up at me, confused. I’m confused too. Thiva’s right in there. I want to storm in, but there’s something wrong, there’s
A recording of a crying baby
I shake my head and step back, motioning for him to follow me.
Another scream echoes through the hall. Mosun swallows, but lets go of the handle.
Think. You’re in charge of a bunch of terrorists all gung-ho to go Helter Skelter on humanity. You’re a sadistic alien psychopath. You mutilate animals. You keep trophies. You don’t give a damn about your sister. You kill humans. Your tools for that are firebombs that go off when they open doors, and recordings of vulnerable things in distress.
But why here? Why set the trap here? Taking her to a second location makes more sense. Why your base, or this close to it? Why are you luring the human here?
It’s not because he’s here too soon. You expected the warpath right away. You know their empathy and protective instincts overrides their rationality. You might not have expected him to gather a posse, but you know the humans are social animals. You had to know it was a possibility.
So why… Here…
Mosun whispers. “Martin, what’s the matter? Why aren’t we going in?”
There’s something I’m missing. Think. Think! You were happy to get the first human kills while you weren’t even in the area. You might’ve placed the traps or had your mooks do it but either way you were fine with being absent when they went off. Why is this time different?
It’s because the humans were gathered in one place, isn’t it? The fire wasn’t about killing us. It was about scattering us and leaving us solitary enough to hunt. Or maybe... Maybe it didn’t satisfy, didn’t scratch that itch. No trophies, no mutilations.
Because you are a predator. An ambush predator. You want to be close to the trap, like a spider. You want to look the human in the eyes as he dies, and take something to remember the kill by.
You’re here, somewhere.
​
I swallow, and look at the door. It slides open, like almost all Venlil doors.
Alright, time to Human.
I take the strap to my rifle, and gingerly unsling it from the weapon. I grab one of my last zip ties and loop it around the handle, and in the buckle of the strap.
Mosun flicks his ear in a Venlil-esque sign for understanding and agreement at once, and moves down the hallway. I follow him.
The strap and zip-tie together are perhaps two meters in length, so with a bit of an annoyed grunt I take off my belt and add that to the makeshift rope. That gives me a little under a meter extra.
I hand the rifle to Mosun, and hold a hand up to him while clutching the rope in the other.
Three. Two. One.
I close my eyes and turn away in one single motion, tugging at the door handle. As soon as the door parts from the frame there’s a blast, sending me and Mosun to the ground. The air stinks of wood-pulp, smoke, and dust.
Jesus Christ!!
My ears are ringing as I get on my unsteady feet and grasp the rifle from Mosun, stumbling my way to the ruined doorway and peering inside.
The room is empty but for shrapnel and debris and a cloud of dust. None of it looks like it was alive.
Oh thank God, the bastards weren’t using live bait.
With the high-pitched ringing slowly subsiding I take a few steps down the hall, before falling to one knee from disorientation.
I don’t hear the Exterminator storm up the stairs. But I see them just fine.
​
The visor’s reflective. The armor’s bulky. The flamethrower’s lit.
With Mosun behind me in the small hallway, there’s nowhere to run. No time to think.
This isn’t aiming at someone’s back, or a sleeping and prone body. I don’t have time to hesitate, so I don’t.
I start shooting from the hip and raise the gun to my shoulder while firing. The weapon jumps in my hand with each pull of the trigger, and from my awkward stance I have quantity stand in for quality. Wood splinters fly from the wall behind the Exterminator, who jerks as some of the shots strike true.
After swaying for a second and losing their grip on their flamethrower, they tumble right down the stairs. The weapon clatters down after them, connected to their fuel tank.
I get to my feet and try to rush over to the stairs. I slam into the wall for my trouble, but get my bearings and raise the rifle.
The Exterminator’s laying prone at the foot of the stairs. They stir weakly and move a paw toward their weapon.
I fire another salvo of rounds. The sound echoes and makes my ears hurt even worse than the blast already did. The Exterminator jerks a couple of times, lets out a shuddering breath, and then goes still.
They’re dead. This is it. I killed someone.
I expect it to hit me like a sledgehammer. I expect to end up doubled over, hurling my guts out. That’s what you always see in the movies.
Instead my response is as anticlimactic as the killing itself: I just hope it was Renak.
​
I feel Mosun’s hand on my back. He speaks with quiet sympathy. “…Are you alright?”
I sigh slowly. “Yeah… Yeah. Predator, remember?”
Some of his usual energy creeps back into his voice. “Oh, I see how it is. You get to say it.”
We head down the stairs while I fiddle with my makeshift rope to restore my belt and rifle sling to their proper places. The sling needs to be tied into a knot to be put to use, as the buckle is beyond saving. “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll break down later, but for now we have a- MOVE!!”
I see a cylinder about half the size of a Pringles can roll into the room, and push Mosun forcibly into the kitchen. To his credit he doesn’t question it, instead lunging past me.
Instead of a pipe bomb blast as I had feared, the grenade starts leaking thick white smoke.
They don’t have CS gas and that thing looked homemade. So probably phosphorous.
I look around the kitchen desperately before finding a salad bowl in the dishes. I immediately turn the faucet to full blast to fill the bowl with water while the hissing grenade spreads its noxious fumes. I can start to smell and taste the acrid, garlic-like stench. My body starts coughing, my eyes watering and lungs itching.
Yeah. Phosphorous. Fuck.
Mosun coughs a few times and tries to cover his mouth with his arm. “What are you d-doing?!”
As soon as there’s enough water in the bowl, I turn around and lunge at the grenade. Using an awkward double-handed dunking motion, I trust centripetal force to make it work as I flip the water-filled bowl and slam it down around the grenade.
There’s a mess of sloshing, and a lot of hissing, but no more gas escapes. Water slowly starts to leak out from the bowl’s edges, but by the time it’s done it’ll have stopped the reaction.
“Mosun, w-wash your… Oh FUCK OFF!!”
Halfway through my statement I see another Exterminator enter the room. They step over their fellow’s body without a glance and raise their flamethrower toward us.
I raise my rifle in turn and begin firing: three shots in rapid succession.
Before I’ve had time to adjust my aim they’ve already disappeared from view down the hallway beside the stairs, long tail visible for a split second before vanishing. I’ve never seen a Venlil move as sinuously and quickly as that.
​
I cough a couple of times and wipe my eyes. It doesn’t help. When Mosun appears with a glass of water however, I can dump it directly onto my face. My stinging eyes cry out with relief.
After just a few seconds of exposure to the gas, I’d love a date with an eyewash station. But it’ll have to wait.
Mosun takes the lead wordlessly, motioning with a paw for me to follow. So I do, stepping over my kill in the process. Unlike the Exterminator, I can’t help but look down at it.
There’s so much less blood than I expected.
As Mosun rounds the corner into the next room, he’s forced into an awkward duck against the doorway as a stun rod swishes through the air. He kicks out at the assailant with a growl, and lunges forward into the other room.
I follow as quickly as I can.
In the living room, the two are already locked in a brawl. Mosun’s shorter than the Exterminator, and has less range.
I make a guess and try to distract them. If the Yotul gives me some distance I can shoot. “Renak!”
The Exterminator freezes for a split second, and Mosun gets a good kick in.
Guess that’s you then, motherfucker.
Renak rolls with the kick and manages to get Mosun’s leg caught in his arm. The stun rod swings down, and Mosun’s forced to block it with his arm. The electricity courses through him and he gasps out, dropping to a knee.
Without a good angle, I drop the rifle and trust my sling to keep it from hitting the ground. Instead I charge in to join the fray.
​
With a wild and poorly planned left hook, I manage to get Renak to take a single step back. Enough for Mosun to rise to unsteady legs. The little badass weaves a few times as he moves into an elegant-looking stance. “Ambush, ambush, ambush. You only know the one trick, huh?”
In response, Renak drops into his own stance. The stun rod’s held in one paw, high near his shoulder. The other paw’s held outward in a warding gesture.
Feeling left out, I get into a boxer’s stance. Though all this excitement’s making the wounds on my right arm ache and act up.
The three of us are still for a moment. “…There’s just you left, Renak. Your terrorist group’s done for.” Technically there’s one other Exterminator left unaccounted for. But I don’t see a reason to tell him that.
He tilts his head toward me for a second. I see myself reflected in the visor.
Mosun’s the first to move, lunging in low. I charge in right after. Renak doesn’t step back, instead swinging the rod down.
Mosun leans back so far he’s almost prone, using his tail and one arm as leverage to kick up at Renak’s arm and stop the descending blow. The movement is beautiful, and wouldn’t look out of place in some sort of Capoeira. By all rights it should break the arm, but the heavy Exterminator armor takes most of the force.
I come in with my own simple straight punch with my left, but I overextend and Renak swats it aside sharply with his own free arm. Instead of relenting, I jab with my right. I catch him on the shoulder and do little damage.
Renak shifts his stance and raises his baton to swing it downward at me. Mosun moves to intercept, but Renak’s leg lashes out and catches Mosun’s knee from the side. The swing that was coming my way turns into a descending thrust at the Yotul, who gets the baton jabbed straight into his torso.
Mosun’s shriek fills the room as he thrashes under the coruscating electrical blow, and I strike Renak with everything I’ve got in a desperate and unrefined haymaker.
I catch the bastard right in the visor and hear a loud sound. It hurts. Renak staggers back with a yelp, dropping the stun rod, and turns to look squarely at me. I’ve cracked his visor, and probably broken a finger or two in the bargain.
I stare for the length of a breath at the cracks in the reflective surface, seeing my own rage reflected in a dozen fractured images.
​
Renak calmly reaches behind him and pulls out his sidearm. He doesn’t even glance aside as he extends his arm and puts two bullets into Mosun. The gunshots echo in the enclosed space.
“NO!!” I hear myself shouting as I fumble for my rifle. Renak turns his arm toward me and fires again. I hear the crack and a whistle as a bullet flies right past my head.
A second bullet whizzes past and strikes the door frame, tumbling past with a ricochet whine. It missed only because I’m falling to one knee.
With my own rifle raised, I return fire. We’re firing at each other from mere feet away. I fire three times. I miss the first shot, but the second hits him in the thigh. The third takes him in the side somewhere.
He’s spun around, but empties the gun in my direction as he staggers into a dash out of the room, toward the basement.
It’s only when I rise to my feet that I realize I’ve been shot too. My left leg burns, and can’t carry my weight. I awkwardly hop over to Mosun and kneel to investigate his wounds.
​
His collarbone’s been shattered by one bullet. Another has caught him on the inside of the shoulder. I don’t know Yotul anatomy, but I’m guessing if it’s caught a lung or an artery he’s in real trouble. “Come on, you can’t leave me alone here; you’re the only one I can talk to.”
He takes a slow breath and doesn’t even bother trying to get up. He simply looks at me and plainly says “Ow.”
I can breathe again. The wound’s leaking, but not spurting. Oh thank God.
“Christ, okay, we gotta get you out of here. I don’t think it’s immediately fatal, but the blood loss is gonna get you if we don’t stop it.”
“Later. Get him, then help.”
I shake my head. “I can’t just-”
He swats at me with his good arm. “Not safe to extract. And still need the girl.”
I look around and end up taking a blanket folded over the couch and handing it to him. “Press this into the wounds, as hard as you can. I’ll be back.”
“Y-You better be. I’ll be upset if you m-make me walk back to the truck on my own.”
I get up and grasp my rifle, and limp my way after Renak.
Unless he’s got another ambush planned in the basement, Thiva is his last chance. And the bastard knows it.
​
I make my way down the basement steps, but it’s slow going. I have to use my injured right arm to brace myself, holding the rifle ahead with the left. My adrenaline’s starting to go down enough that the leg is starting to really hurt. So’s my left hand.
At the foot of the stairs, Renak’s discarded the helmet. The room contains several boxes of explosives, and flamethrowers.
Their weapons stores. Great.
In the middle of the room there’s a chair. Bound to it is Thiva. She’s got cuts and bruises over her body, and her beautiful fur is matted orange all over.
Behind her stands Renak. He’s got a knife to her throat.
I raise the rifle and stare right at Renak. “Let the girl go.”
Thiva gasps out as she sees me. “Martin!” She tries to lean forward, but the blade presses harder into her neck and she shrinks back into the chair.
Renak stares back at me, head-on and with both eyes. When he speaks, his voice is emotionless and without inflection. He sounds bored. “Move a muscle, predator, and Thiva dies.”
I look at my friend. She looks terrified. “Hey Thiva, don’t worry. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be fine. Alright?”
She gives the tiniest nod.
Renak growls. “Look at me, predator.”
My eyes shift back to his again. They’re dull and empty. Just black beads of glass set into his face. It’s like looking at a machine. A complex structure, but no soul animating it.
My leg is trembling, and I feel hot and sticky blood running down it. “You don’t need the girl. You can just let her go, and we can leave, and nobody else needs to die.”
He blinks slowly. “My sister is better off dead than as a predator’s mate. If I can’t save her body from you, I can save her honor.” To emphasize his point, he lets the knife dig further into her throat. I see some orange running down it, and the fur beneath Thiva’s eyes are damp with tears.
My breathing is heavy, and my aim is shaky. “I stormed a terrorist compound to get this far. I’m not leaving without her. You can have her over my dead body.”
​
He stares silently for a moment. “Fair enough.”
He raises his other arm toward me with a smooth and mechanical motion. His sidearm is in it.
I pull the trigger.
The bullet takes him in the head. With his strings cut, he drops in a heap.
​
I drop the rifle and rush forward to undo Thiva’s bindings. As soon as I do, her arms fly around me painfully tightly. I return the hug as best I can.
“Thiva, listen to me. Can you walk?”
She gets up and winces, but nods. “Y-yeah.”
“Okay, good. There’s a Yotul upstairs named Mosun. He needs immediate medical attention. We’ve got a truck waiting, we’re gonna head up and get both of you out there.”
One of her eyes suddenly moves up and stares behind me. I turn in place.
Vansi’s standing in stairway, taking in the scene.
“Thiva… Go. Now. Now!” I rise to my feet and put a hand on her back, walking alongside her for a few steps before she rushes the rest of the way past her mother and up the stairs.
Vansi doesn’t move to stop her. She just stares at the crumpled corpse behind us.
It’s only after I take another step that her eyes snap to me with fury.
And I realize my rifle’s right at her feet.
​
She snatches it up into trembling paws and aims it right at me.
“Vansi, listen, I-”
The weapon goes off.
I fall to my knees. My hands reach my stomach and feel sticky and wet.
She pulls the trigger again, and it clicks dry. She pulls another few times, but it’s empty.
​
I rise to my feet and try to lunge past her. But she simply swings the empty rifle at me. It hits my wounded stomach, and I fall to my side. She swings it down on me several more times, snarling and cursing, until the weapon breaks enough that she simply tosses what’s left aside.
It hurts. Jesus Christ it hurts so fucking bad.
I try to think of a way out of this as she staggers past me toward her son. I try to get to my feet again, but fail. I drag myself to the wall, and use it to pull myself up bit by bit. I limp along the wall, smearing trails of my own blood with my hands as I go.
I’m almost at the stairs when I hear an inarticulate scream and feel agony blooming out from my right side. I look down and see the knife, in Vansi’s paws.
Fuck.
​
I collapse on the ground and try to fend her off with my hands. She stabs me straight through the palm of my right hand, then stabs twice more at my left arm and shoulder. My left arm doesn’t respond to my signals, simply flopping down limply.
With only one chance left, I punch her with my right. Again and again, while she stabs at my torso.
There’s a cold math to blood loss. The more you lose, the weaker you get.
‘So you see, that's how I am going to die.’
Each of my blows does less than the last. My hands and feet feel ice cold, while my chest burns.
‘I'll sneeze in the sunlight, or turn my head a bit too fast when someone wants my attention from my blind spot’
Before long I can’t fight back. I simply lay still and hear my flesh tearing and Vansi screaming in my ears.
‘or show happiness with a smile or a laugh’
I can’t lift a finger or even turn my head as Vansi staggers off of me. My shallow breaths are agony, and I can feel one of my lungs has collapsed.
‘or god forbid I might try to save a life again.’
She returns with something else in her hands. I close my eyes.
‘And then someone like your son will show up and burn me alive for it.’
/// ERROR /// Memory transcription fragmented /// Subject no longer conscious.
---
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A staredown soon ensued.
One that neither of us seemed to be willing to let up on.
But as far as staredowns went, this one was pretty evenly matched as neither of us really had the ability to ‘blink’, or at least as far as an outside observer could see.
My whole schtick was pretty obvious, the tinted lenses were more or less just doing the job for me, taking blinking out of the equation entirely and adding a solid plus ten to my intimidation base stats.
The shadowy cloaked figure’s approach was just downright bizarre though, as instead of eyes, there were just these two trapezoidal ‘lights’ that I assumed were supposed to be a placeholder for his actual eyes hidden somewhere underneath the shadowy void casted by his hood.
A void which was downright pitchblack, and completely impenetrable to the naked eye.
The figure gave off a surreal vibe as his rogue-like attire, coupled with the hood and the impenetrable shadow it casted, looked like it’d been ripped straight out of a Castles and Wyverns art book or a high-fantasy comic. The pitch-black void that obscured his face, and those two trapezoidal eyes that hovered and shifted with increasing scrutiny, just didn’t look real.
While most would leave it at that, I wasn’t one to leave a mystery hanging, I was a human with an entire visual sensor suite to work with for crying out loud. So before I even knew it, I reflexively went to activate my night-vision cameras. Only to see that the shadowy effect covering up his face was still there.
This led me to only one solid conclusion.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 140% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
A quick localized environmental scan made it clear to me that this was yet another one of the Nexus’ weird mana-fueled acts of tomfoolery.
“What say you, first years? Are you here for healing, or are you here for a visit? For as I have stated, the healing wing is not accepting visits at this point in time.” The hooded figure answered with this strange mix between a sing-song voice and an attempt at sounding gruff and gravely.
“We have an unfulfilled point of personal privilege that requires addressment.” Thacea stepped up to the plate, promptly placing herself by my side, then taking several steps forward. “Along with an unresolved conflict which requires immediate resolution by the party with which the aforementioned point of personal privilege was evoked but was halted due to unforeseen circumstances.” The princess began flexing her courtly-talk with the hooded figure, which clearly seemed to have some effect as he reached up a single gloved hand up to where his chin should be, only to have his fingers disappear as soon as they entered the dark shadowy effect currently covering up his face.
“And with whom is this unresolved matter incurred?” The figure inquired plainly, though the way he spoke shifted to something a bit more accommodating, perhaps even a little bit more hospitable than the gruffer tone he’d initially directed towards me.
“An apprentice, good sir. Apprentice Larial to be precise.” Thacea clarified politely, using what I could only describe as this flighty, chirpy, almost haughty tone of voice that was an exaggerated version of the cadence she used during our first interactions together.
“Hmm…” The hooded figure replied with a concerned grumble. “I was going to waive this particular matter, allowing the fair lady-” He paused, before making a point to stare at both me and Thalmin. “-and her two knights to pass on through, under the points of exceptional circumstances.” He continued in a less restrained, more flighty cadence. “However, you must excuse my inability to do so, my lady. My hands are currently tied via the powers that be, and I simply cannot grant your request.” The man began weaving a string of apologetics, giving Thacea a genuine and polite bow in response. “I must apologize for this discrepancy in expectant decorum.”
This didn’t make things any better for our circumstances though.
And it was clear Thacea understood this as she continued pressing forward.
“May I have your name and title, my good sir?” Thacea chirped lightly.
“Appointed-Deputy Magistrate Sir Arlan Ostoy, Senior Apprentice of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts. May I have the honor and the privilege of requesting your name, my fair lady?”
“Princess Thacea Dilani, of the Aetheronrealm, First Year and Scholastic Peer of the Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts.” Thacea replied with a full bow, and a half-curtsy of her own.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The shadowy figure bowed yet again.
“The pleasure is all mine, Sir-Magistrate.” Followed by yet another bow by Thacea.
There was some serious song and dance going on here, and one that I was observing with bated breath.
“Might I inquire further as to the particular reasoning behind this unfortunate and unseemly inability to respect the rights of expectant decorum?” Thacea quickly shot back.
“As I have alluded to, your highness, the powers that be prevent me from furthering the natural solution to your particular grievances. If this were any other instance in time, at any other location or place, I am sure this matter would have been resolved in an expedient and timely fashion. This situation, as you have alluded to yourself, results from a very particular set of unforeseen circumstances. Circumstances which currently dictate my actions in a manner which just so happens to be in conflict with your points of personal privilege, your highness.” The man’s posture, the way he stood, even the way he talked seemed very particular when addressing Thacea.
It was at that point that something changed. I didn’t know what, and I wasn’t sure why, but Thacea seemed to be shifting towards a tactical retreat, as she clacked her beak several times before addressing the both of us. “This is absolutely preposterous, I will need a moment to clear my mind but when I do return…” Thacea turned towards the magistrate/guard/apprentice person yet again. “There will be words exchanged.”
At Thacea’s prompting, we all left the room, but not before slamming the door behind us shut in a similar manner to Ilunor’s drama-filled exits.
We continued walking away from the medical wing at a steady pace, until another privacy screen was suddenly brought up.
ALERT: LOCALIZED SURGE OF MANA-RADIATION DETECTED, 275% ABOVE BACKGROUND RADIATION LEVELS
“I have a plan.” Thacea began. “And this is entirely relying on you two having the physical prowess to back up your military backgrounds.” She continued ominously.
“Oh princess, you sully the Havenbrock name if you believe my mercenary heritage is in any way, shape, or form a mere decorative mantlepiece.” Thalmin responded with a sarcastic, yet excitable tone.
“I assure you, Thacea, I think my training has almost every eventuality accounted for.” I added with an affirmative nod.
“So what’s the plan?” Thalmin barked out excitedly as we stopped right in the middle of this long, wide hallway connecting the main castle with the medical wing. Thacea was quick to answer this question by wordlessly gesturing to a lone door on the right side of the hallway.
Windows lining either side of the hallway made it clear that this entire structure was just an elevated bridge connecting the main castle to an entirely separate compound.
This made the presence of a door smack-dab in the middle of its length sort of bizarre.
Upon entering it though, we were treated to an open-air rooftop terrace with a few seats and benches. The whole outcropping gave us an unparalleled view of the roaring waterfall beneath the Academy, and a direct line of sight to the medical wing and its five distinct towers.
The princess continued walking silently as we reached the edge of the terrace’s balcony, overlooking the sheer cliff face at a height that more or less put me in mind of your typical open-air rooftops on your typical Acela Corridor skyscraper.
“I’ve observed that the medical wing seems to consist of a large tower-atrium, with several more towers connected to it via additional corridors. Similar to spokes on a wheel. As you can see from this vantage point, it seems as if most rooms have private balconies. If we cannot make our way to the apprentice via conventional channels, then I plan to reach her via more unconventional means.” Thacea turned towards me with a hardened look in her gaze. “Emma, is your… insect artifice ready for use?”
My eyes widened at that, as I nodded affirmatively. “Just for the record, we call it a drone.” I quickly corrected Thacea. “But, yes, I can designate individuals and targets for it to track down or follow. However, I can’t just have it poking around in every room since there’s no guarantee that the drone will be able to get a lock on them. There’s too many variables involved that would get in the way of the drone actually being able to zero in on a person’s face. From the beds facing the right way, to bandages possibly covering up her face, to-”
“I don’t want your artifice to observe every balcony and window, Emma. That will most certainly take too much time, and as you’ve stated, there’s no guarantee of actually identifying a face considering the multitudes of factors involved.” Thacea interjected. “What I plan to do is to return to the Deputy-Magistrate, and to attempt to reach a compromise that he will abide by. I plan for him to take us, or rather, your drone straight to the apprentice.”
“And how will you accomplish this?” Thalmin whined,his head tilted in curiosity.
“I will draft a letter, addressed directly to the apprentice, and request that it be taken straight to her room. This way, the Deputy-Magistrate will in a sense be able to accomplish his obligations to the Expectant Decorum, and in doing so he will lead your insec-, drone, straight to the apprentice’s room.”
I stared at Thacea with wide eyes, as her back and forths with the deputy-magistrate began taking on a completely different meaning in this new light.
“That way, we can find out exactly which room the apprentice is in.” I replied bluntly.
“Correct. However, from there, I cannot say my plans are in any way foolproof.” Thacea replied with a sullen coo.
“Well go on, princess, it sounds pretty good so far!” Thalmin urged.
“Ascertaining the apprentice’s room is only half of the stated objective. Actually getting there is another matter entirely. Because depending on where the apprentice is located… my idea for the latter half of this quest involves you two scaling your way towards her room.” The princess spoke with an immense level of trepidation. “On the exterior aspect of the castle, if that needed to be said.”
My heart skipped a beat as the princess laid out her plans. I looked across the absurdly spindly hallway-bridge that this little terrace was somehow attached to, and towards the five towers that made up the medical wing.
Thalmin did the same, although his face seemed to indicate that he was at the very least, considering the plan at least somewhat seriously.
“Alright.” I muttered out loud, instinctively trying to place a palm on my forehead, only for the glove to bonk straight off. “I have several ideas. First, we might be able to do this remotely. I’m thinking once we find out which room she’s in, we fly in a larger drone, one carrying with it a deployable holographic projector or some other two-way communications device so that we can talk to her remotely.” As soon as I spoke that idea out loud however, things started to fall apart. “But because of how thick the walls are, and considering the distance between the tower and our dorm, I might have to deploy repeaters in order to daisy-chain the connection all the way back to the dorms. I mean, we can’t just set up shop out here in the open after all. At which point we’d have a continuous chain of signal-repeater drones flying all across the Academy… which wouldn’t be ideal. No, scratch that, that won’t work.”
The pair stared at me with varying degrees of confusion, but seemed to have collectively decided to ignore the idea after I’d scrapped it.
“I say we just climb it!” Thalmin yelped out, but not before another idea hit me. One that could work, but that required me consulting Thacea first.
“I mean, we could, but…” I turned to face Thacea. “What’s the Academy’s policy on noise? Or rather, do you think we could get away with something really really loud, buzzing outside of the towers?”
Thacea once more stared at me with a look of just utter confusion, but shrugged it off and went with it anyways. “I would highly recommend against generating too much noise for this particular quest, Emma. It would most certainly garner a lot of unwanted attention.” Thacea spoke plain and simple.
I couldn’t help but to groan internally in frustration at that.
That makes flying over there a no-go… it would’ve made things so much easier though…
“Alright, well, that more or less places us in a very awkward situation with not a lot of options available to us, huh?” I thought to myself outloud again, as I craned my head over to an excitable Thalmin.
“I guess I have to climb on over.” I stated in no uncertain terms.
“Wait, I?!” Thalmin responded with a shocked and incredulous bark. “There’s no way I’m allowing you to climb over there yourself without assistance or-”
“Thalmin, there’s no need for you to climb on over with me.” I interjected. “This whole mission is hedged on me talking to the apprentice one-on-one. Remember the gardens? The apprentice wouldn’t allow you anywhere near us when we started talking. It’d be a waste of time, energy, and more importantly… a huge risk to your safety. I don’t want to risk your life needlessly, Thalmin. Not especially for a fight that isn’t your own.”
“Well you’re part of our peer group, so it’s my fight as well.” Thalmin replied with a dejected growl, but eventually relented. “But you’re right, Emma. I hate to admit it, but you’re right.”
I nodded at Thalmin’s slowly. “Besides, there’s an important job I need you to do.” I began scrounging through one of my pouches, and began palming for my spare in-ear earpieces. “I need you on lookout, to keep me aware of anything fishy developing in case I need to pull out.”
Thalmin looked over the side of the terrace, towards the raging waters beneath this side of the Academy as he let out a sigh. “That shouldn’t be too hard. Hardly anyone will be passing by this terrace, and beyond that there’s no way anyone can spot you from below, given there’s nothing but the cascading rapids below us. There’s no one that can spot you from here, save for perhaps the foxes in the library. We’re most certainly on the right side of the Academy for this quest, that’s for certain.” Thalmin pointed at the library in the far distance.
“Oh, I’m not too worried about anyone seeing me. I’m more concerned about someone compromising my extraction point, i.e. this little terrace here.” I acknowledged.
“But, surely you must be worried about someone seeing you scaling the walls…” Thalmin scanned me up and down, as if wanting to comment about my size but- “You’re massive.”
“Okay, first off, rude.” I spoke sarcastically, and raised both hands up for added effect. “But in all seriousness, I have another device that can mask my visual presence.” I pulled out a plastic-like poncho from one of my pouches, activating it, and revealing its active-camo properties as it projected whatever was behind it, albeit with some imperfections. “It isn’t perfect, but from afar it should actually work pretty well.”
Both Thalmin and Thacea stared at each other in utter shock as they saw this.
“A mana-less-”
“I think… this is a matter worth discussing another time, Princess.” Thalmin interjected with a polite exasperated breath. “But I expect a good explanation for this one, Emma.” Thalmin pointed a finger right at me.
“In any case, I will be diverting the Deputy-Magistrate’s attention by preoccupying him with needless and vapid chatter. This should take attention away from the apprentice and your intrusion, Emma.” Thacea quickly added, and promptly tied this whole impromptu operation up nicely.
“Alright, let’s get this show on the road then. We’ll head back to the dorms and get that letter drafted so-”
“Already done.” Thacea interjected, bringing up a parchment that she promptly began sealing into an envelope.
“Wait, when did you-”
“Whilst we were talking, I used a dictation spell. The letter is written and signed.” Thacea spoke nonchalantly, as she held a neatly sealed envelope in one of her talons.
“Wait, what, when did you, how did you-?”
“I carry a quill and extra parchment in my bag of holding. This is to account for any eventuality where a statement in writing, a legal affidavit, or a notarized letter may be required.” Thacea responded a-matter-of-factly.
“Alright then.” I tapped the pouch with the INFIL-DRONE, the small little thing peeking its head out much to the visible disgust of the pair. “So we’re ready for phase one of the operation. Misdirection and information gathering. We’ll go in, drop the letter, and have the drone do its thing. After that, we wait for the drone to return, and we’ll take it from there on whether or not we can continue with Phase Two: penetrating the enemy lines.”
“What would be stopping us from continuing with phase two?” Thalmin quickly asked.
“Well, simple. If the apprentice is still conked out from her injuries, there wouldn’t be any point in attempting to meet her. So hopefully, she’s going to be in a good enough state to talk to. We’ll know when we get the drone footage back.”
“Fair point.” Thalmin nodded.
“So, is everyone ready to begin?” Thacea asked.
A series of affirmative nods later, we began our quick walk back over to the atrium.

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, Extraction Point Alpha (Open Air Terrace Overlooking the Medical Wing). Local Time: 1420 Hours.
That took way more time than I’d initially thought.
In fact, it took so long that I was beginning to wonder how two people could have an unending conversation where nothing of value was spoken and nothing of value was gained.
It was basically elevator small talk, but written by the same writers who wrote Bridgerwesson Lane, and adapted to a theatrical release with a trilogy that ended with a movie arbitrarily cut up into a two-parter.
I honestly zoned out for a few moments during those hours, as I decided to use the spare time to review the grappling hook and mountaineering gear I’d be using on this little quest.
Eventually however, the Deputy-Magistrate relented, at which point I let loose the INFIL-DRONE to do its thing.
It’d been twenty minutes since we left and made our way back to this open-air terrace, and all of us were waiting with bated breath for the results the drone had in store.
“So, how fast can that drone of yours fly anyways Emma-”
Thalmin was immediately cut off as the drone in question buzzed right by his ears, causing them to flick this way and that, before flattening out entirely.
“Speak of him and he will come.” I chuckled, as I outstretched a gloved hand over for the little drone to perch atop of.
Once again, the pair stared at it with a look of mild disgust, and then panic as it crawled all the way back into its docking port, and began uploading the data we needed.
“Alright, let’s see what we have here.” I spoke to no one in particular before shifting my attention to the EVI. “EVI, isolate and replay relevant footage, and calculate the target’s location.”
“Acknowledged, parsing…”
“Location Parsing. Footage isolated. Play Footage?”
“Affirmative.”
I immediately pulled out my data-tab for the gang to be able to watch as well, as the footage began just as the Deputy-Magistrate, and by extension the drone, arrived at the apprentice’s room.
The door, and all details posted in the front were all captured, and so too was the state of the apprentice revealed to us in short order as I braced myself for a mangled and bandaged-up mass of broken bones.
What I instead saw, was… still a heavily bandaged up figure. However, the most important thing was that they were awake.
And what was remarkable, was the fact that they were able to move without assistance. As the apprentice reached over to receive the letter wordlessly, shifting a bit in bed as she did so.
“This is a letter addressed from a Princess Thacea Dilani of the Aetheronrealm. I have fulfilled my duties and obligations as per the Expectant Decorum. I will now take my leave, Apprentice Larial.” The deputy-magistrate spoke with the same air of overbearing properness, seriously making me consider whether or not this was how he was all the time.
Whatever the case may be, the apprentice seemed to be healed enough to move her arms at the very least, as she grabbed the letter and spoke hoarsely back in response. “Thank you Senior Apprentice.”
There wasn’t much to the footage beyond those interactions, but it was good enough for the purposes of this mission.
“Alright.” I spoke, as I pocketed the tablet. “We have our answer. The apprentice seems healed up enough to speak to, so phase two of this operation is a-go.”
The pair nodded in response, just in time for the EVI to be done with whatever calculations were needed to determine the apprentice’s precise location.
I turned to the tower, as the room and its balcony was highlighted.
It was just about five stories above from where we were.
Meaning it’d be a hell of a climb.
“The room’s about five floors up.” I announced with a sigh.
“Are you sure you can make that journey, Emma?” Thacea responded worryingly. “I… I will be honest, Emma, I am having some second doubts about this whole idea. The concept just came to me as flying between tall structures and towers is just second nature to us Aetheronrealmers. Considering the heights involved, and your inability to fly, I’m wondering if this whole quest was a folly of my own shortsighted-”
“It’s fine, Thacea.” I cut the avinor off. “I can do this, trust me.” I placed a single hand on the princess’ shoulder, and squeezed it once for effect.
Meanwhile, the EVI began doing what it did best: attempting to minimize the risk associated with my hairbrained schemes, as it deployed the suit’s primary lookout drone in order to start mapping out the best possible route forward.
This spooked the pair yet again, as they both jolted backwards.
Thankfully, the drone was deathly silent, so it shouldn’t bring too much attention to it.
It was at this point that I brought out a pair of earpieces I was scrounging my pouches for earlier, one for Thacea, and another for Thalmin.
“These will help you stay in contact with me throughout the climb.” I stated plainly, as I attempted to latch it onto my own ear for demonstrative purposes, only to realize that I could not, given the suit was in the way.
I sighed, as I turned towards Thalmin. “Do you mind if I put it on for you?” I asked sheepishly.
“Erm, what is it, Emma?”
“It’s…” I paused, as I attempted to find the best way to describe this without taking up too much time. “It’s a communication artifice, Thalmin. It’ll allow us to talk to each other remotely, relying on that drone there-” I pointed at the lookout drone still flying away from us. “-to relay our voices to each other.”
Thalmin, as expected, looked at me with an expression of partial dumbfoundedness whilst Thacea seemed completely transfixed by the earpieces I held in my hands.
“So it’s like a hearing-sense?” Thalmin responded with a questioning bark.
“Look, I’ll just demonstrate.” I managed out with a sigh as Thalmin reluctantly nodded and allowed me to begin hooking in the earpiece, looping it around his fluffy triangular ears.
This inevitably resulted in my hand brushing over the lupinor’s fluffy head a few times, which seemed to elicit some large tail-wags and a dulcet rumble.
I tried to ignore that, as I pulled back and began demonstrating. “I’ve turned off my speakers, can you still hear me, Thalmin?”
“Yes, I can.” The lupinor spoke after clearing his throat.
I turned my speakers back on immediately after. “Alright, I’ll get into the specifics of how it works later, but as for now, just know that I can hear whatever you say.”
“I’m afraid I don’t think that artifice will be compatible with my… anatomy, Emma.” Thacea spoke calmly, as she pointed at several aspects of the earpiece that required an actual ear canal to fit into, and an earlobe to loop around.
“This complicates things a bit, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. How long do you think you can keep up the distracting conversation with the deputy-magistrate for, Thacea?”
“We just went through several hours discussing nothing in particular, I can most certainly continue that trend from dusk till dawn.” The avinor spoke confidently, and frankly, rather proudly. “The issue lies not in how long I can manage to maintain the conversation, but in how long it will take you to accomplish this quest, Emma.” Thacea shot back.
“An hour.” I nodded confidently. “Twenty minutes to scoot my way over there, twenty to talk to the apprentice, and twenty to get back.”
“I’ll make that two hours then.” Thacea responded without a second thought. “We need to account for potential complications, and an extra hour of senseless dialogue will most certainly not be an issue for me.”
With an affirmative nod from me, and an approving glance from Thalmin, I now turned towards the exterior of the two hundred foot corridor leading to the concourse, and the extra five hundred feet it would take to get from the atrium to the tower in question.
It was at that last minute that the EVI brought out another suggestion, one that was formulated with the aid of the new datasets provided by the FEBNPMS lookout drone that had been busy mapping out the best route forward.
It was… an inherently riskier approach, one that my aunt would definitely not approve of, but it definitely beat scaling a wall and wedging spikes into it.
“Actually… I have a better idea than simply scaling the walls.”

The Transgracian Academy for the Magical Arts, En Route to Medical Wing Tower C, Room 705. Local Time: 1430 Hours.
“Grapple secure.”
I will never forget the feeling of falling.
The very wrong feeling that came with leaping off of solid ground into empty sky, of suddenly seeing and feeling the world whizzing by me.
It was a visceral feeling, a gut-churning sensation, dominated by an overbearing sense of impending doom that takes over your terrestrial brain that wasn’t designed to feel the ‘freeing’ sensation of being unbound to the ground beneath you.
Leaping over from the edge of the terrace was the worst part of it. But after that tentative jump, things started to become just a little bit easier.
The Academy’s proclivity for over-aggrandized architectural design would finally serve a purpose beyond just decorative aesthetics.
Because it was clear that the walls weren’t really designed to ward off anyone daring to scale them. As there existed several, if not hundreds of these little greebles and outcroppings that served no purpose but to act as decorative pieces on the side of the castle. Some held stone flowers, whilst others had lamps or other light pieces of varying designs.
No matter what they were, or what meaning they held, all were equal and valid targets in the eyes of my grappling hook.
As I dangled there from the first outcropping, held in place by a single high-tensile cable, I looked up to see Thalmin looming over the edge “EMMA?!” I heard him shout in a panic. It was clear that he was unable to see anything, as my light-refraction cloak was currently doing its job well.
“I’m still here, Thalmin. You can’t see me but I’m dangling from this weird outcropping that looks like an overinflated vase.”
“NEXT TIME, BE SURE TO INFORM ME AS TO THE NATURE OF YOUR IMPOSSIBLE ARTIFICES BEFORE USE, UNDERSTOOD?!”
“Of course. You’ll know if I’ve fallen if you hear a long scream followed by a large splat.”
“That’s not funny!”
I chuckled nervously in response, before turning to face the grueling, gut-churning journey ahead of me. “Humor’s my way of dealing with stress, and trust me, I have a lot of stress to work through right about now.”
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(Author’s Note: Hey guys! Time for some unconventional solutions courtesy of Emma and the gang! We're going to meet the apprentice one way or another! I hope you guys enjoy! :D The next Chapter is already up on Patreon if you guys are interested in getting early access to future chapters!)
[If you guys want to help support me and these stories, here's my ko-fi ! And my Patreon for early chapter releases (Chapter 34 of this story is already out on there!)]

Hi,
I'm new in the US and got my first car (2000 Toyota Tundra V8) with some work that has to be done. I'm not use the the US market, where to shop for part etc etc. Someone told me to have a look at RockAuto and the price are just so cheap that it seems like a scam compared with AutoZone first result from google.
I have to change my radiator, the lower ball joint, the timing belt, probably my suspension in the front (not sure yet I would have to check) and for finish my front all the breaks + rotors ... Also some handles for the doors and tailgate, and some cosmetics stuff...
Can I trust thoses parts ? Is there some manufacturer with bad reputation and some with good ?
Do you recommend some dealers for the most safety sensitive part of my list ? (Timing belt, breaks, LBJ ?)
Should I go for Toyota part directly from toyota.com or the manufacturer has responsibility to make part that are safe enough ?
Is there a way to find out if the part are safer than other ?

So, here I am. Absolutely 0 arduino projects experience, 0 electronics knowledge, 0 mechanica knowledge... what could go wrong? Let me just stick a fast rotating blade on some self-moving wheels!
Well, to be honest I attended a techincal institute, so I should be a... mechanical expert? How do you say that in English? No idea.
So, here I am, asking for advice. I'd love to learn arduino-related stuff and I've studied the basics by myself, but I'm not really great with C++ yet. Anyway, I'd love to be able to make, at least theoretically, a smart lawnmower. You know, the ones that cut grass on their own AND don't kill your dog.
My code for now is: -data to provide (wheel diameter, interaxis, stuff to calculate movement and turns, safe distance from an object to stop) -stepper motors settings (in my Elegoo kit there was a 28BYJ-48 with a ULN2003, I'm afraid I'm gonna need something more than that - at least 2 motors, since I want tank-like movement, and something a bit stronger I guess) -3 functions: one to move forward a given number of mm (calculated based on wheel diameter and stuff), one to turn left a given angle and one to turn right a given angle
I have, of course, some problems here.
First of all, I'm treating my hypothetical 2 steppers as one: when I'm moving, it's called moveStepper and when turning it's turnStepper. This is because I have no idea how to move both at the same time if I treat them as 2 motors (2 commands at the same time? Like, multithreading? Me monke), and this should work: they always move at the same speed, just sometimes in the same direction and sometimes in opposite directions, so I should always be able to control them as one, it's just a matter of fancy cabling.
My real problem is: I want it to be able to cut grass, so it has to understand how the world outside works. I have an ultrasounds sensor and I can tell it "if there's a wall, please don't crash", but here I have to decide. I either:
A - just measure my garden and tell the lawnmower its shape
B - let it find out, but it's difficult because it has a strange shape and doesn't have walls around it, so I should stand there and act as a wall while it understands the shape
So I'd say A, my garden doesn't change shape after all, and I only need it for this specific garden.
But now, I come from Python so I have no idea which data structure to use, to save things like "here is a side, it's this much long, then there's a some° corner" and so on. Also, how can I make it figure out a path based on the perimeter? Also also, how can I make it stop at any point during the program (like an exception or something) if it sees an obstacle, to start another function and make it avoid the obstacle? I have no idea if this is clear, at all.
Anyway, thank you all people🤍

Also posted on gameswap**Image link has been updated with some new photos! **https://imgur.com/a/Qjw1nV3
**Collector’s Edition Stuff**- Resident Evil 2 - Ben’s File
- Resident Evil 2 Map
- Resident Evil 4 Artbook
- Resident Evil 4 Map
- Resident Evil 4 Digital Soundtrack (DLC Code)
**Sega Saturn Console Bundle - Everything tested and confirmed working!**- Console- Memory pack- Ascii Saturn Stick (Fightstick controller)- Virtual Fighter 2 (disk only)
**Case only (Free with any purchase, just ask):**
- The Division 2 (PS4)
- Resident Evil Village (PS4)
- Back4Blood (PS5)
- Resident Evil 4
**Xbox One**
- Hello Neighbor (GameStop sticker on back) - free with any trade
**PS1 **- Tenchu: Stealth Assassin’s- Tekken 2 (GH)- Monster’s Inc. Scare Team- 102 Dalmatians: Puppies to the Rescue
**PS5**- Riders Republic
- Godfall
- Far Cry 6
**SEGA GENESIS - Cartridge Only**- James Pond 3
- CRUE BALL
- ROCKET KNIGHT ADVENTURES
- Ms. PAC-MAN
- Sonic the Hedgehog 2
**GAMECUBE**
- Resident Evil 0
- Enter the Matrix
**ATARI 2600 (Games are cartridge only. All games & controllers have been tested and are functional!) **Prefer to trade the whole lot, but willing to part stuff out for offers.- 1x Working console.- 1x Almost Functional Console (Powers on, with video, if you hold the power switch in a very specific spot. Not sure if it needs a new switch or some sort of adjustment).- 2x Competition Pro controllers- 2x basic joystick controllers (missing black grip around the stick)- 1x "paddle" controller- Dig Dug- Pac-Man- XONOX Double-Ender (Spike's Peak, Ghost Manor)- Space Attack- ATLANTIS- Journey Escape- Asteroids- Spider Fight- Warlords- Vanguard- Street racer- Superman- Night Driver- Breakout Air- Sea Battle- Space Invaders- Dodge 'em- Outlaw- OINK!- Real Sports Football- Real Sports Soccer- Real Sports Baseball- Real Sports Volleyball- Combat (x2 copies)- missle command- MISSLE COMMAND- DEFENDER- Berzerk- Swordquest Fire World- Swordquest Earth World- Carnival
​
**WANTS - OFFERS WELCOME AS WELL!!!**
Nintendo Switch (Any model)
Meta Quest 2
Diablo 4 (PC gift)
**ANY PLATFORM**
Need for Speed Unbound
Sonic Frontiers
Telltale Walking Dead Definitive Series
Cult of the Lamb
Cyberpunk
The Medium
Calliso Protocol
Dead Space
**PS4 & PS5**
Death's Door (physical)
The Last of Us Part 1 (new remake)
Sekiro
Signalis
**GAMECUBE**
Resident Evil 4 (CIB)
Resident Evil Code Veronica (CIB)
**PS1 (Must be CIB - Can be Greatest Hits)**
Syphon Filter 3
Resident Evil Survivor
Spiderman
Metal Gear Solid
Tekken 3
Resident Evil (any version)
Resident Evil 2 (any version)
Resident Evil 3
Parasite Eve
Crash Bandicoot
South Park
**PS2**
Syphon Filter Dark Mirror
Syphon Filter Logan's Shadow
Resident Evil Dead Aim
**SNES**
Final Fantasy Mystic Quest
**OTHER**
Jill Valentine Statue (RE3 Remake Collectors Edition)
Other Resident Evil stuff considered, like the Outbreak games, the S.D. Perry books, etc.

Genuinely appreciate any input. I’m looking to start building out a system over the next 6-12 months, depending on sales and things. I’m not in a huge rush. Looking for some feedback before I make any mistakes.
The room is a bonus room above a garage and it won’t be my primary space. Just something to go watch some movies and game. Room is 24’ long x 23’ wide but with low tapered vaulted ceilings at the end. Height is 9’ at the peek down to 5’ where the TV and front channels will be placed. Seating position would be pointed towards the low wall about 8’ away from the speakers, assuming they’re placed 1-2’ away from the wall.
Been meaning to put together a system for a while but was just ignorantly getting by with a soundbar. It died so I want to start slowly building something out. Long term I’d like to end up with a 5.1.2 or 5.2.2 system.
Thought was to simply get started with a couple floor standing speakers. The sale price on the Emotiva Airmotiv T1+ really has me wanting to start putting things together. Figuring paired to a Denon S760H receiver. Was hoping to just run this for a few months as a stereo setup before adding a sub.
Longer term I’d look to add the C1 center and a set of B1’s for the surrounds. Then longer still add a pair of heights. Trying to go from a 2.0 to 2.1, 3.1, 5.1 and so on.
I’ve read enough to steer myself away from immediate mistakes (another bar or some lesser brands) but also enough to be thoroughly confused. Anything stand out as a mistake with this plan? I started getting lost finding some threads saying the 4 ohm speakers don’t work well with a lot of receivers and can distort at higher volumes. The Denon manual did give me the impression it works with 4 ohm speakers but I’m really new to all of this and am probably missing things. Also found folks recommending the T2+ for larger spaces but others saying the T1+ is more than adequate if pairing with a sub. I’m not looking to blow any doors off. I’m also clueless figuring out how to calculate if a receiver puts out enough power for the speakers and space and many receivers don’t seem to give 4 ohm power ratings.
Between the T1+’s and a receiver I’m looking at around $1,000 and that’s all I wanted to spend for now, and slowly add later. Really appreciate any input.

Credit for the original story goes to u/spacepaladin15.
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Memory transcript subject: Trish, Venlil civilian
Date [Standardized Human Time]: February 30th, 2177
Location: Lower sprawl of City 23, Venlil Prime
The blankets haphazardly twisted around Trish felt like steel chains. The Terran grandfather clock on the wall dutifully marked each second of her prison sentence. Her eyes hurt from exhaustion, and it was all she could do to keep herself from lashing her tail hard enough to fracture it in frustration.
Several long, pointless hours had come and gone as she sat, self-immobilized with blankets in an attempt to sleep. But sleep did not come. There was a sick feeling of apprehension balled up in her stomach, a cold weight in her soul which silently sentenced her to sleeplessness.
Her instinct, that feeling of a frigid vice around her waist, could usually be counted on as a guiding star that commanded her to act decisively. Right now, it was commanding her to stay awake and alert even as the hours dragged by. Out of respect for its “wishes”, she had abstained from taking any sleep-inducing medication, but her meager patience was quickly waning. Simply sitting there in silence was nothing short of torturous.
The thought of how exactly they’d feed the Arxur still hung over her head like a guillotine, the evening’s furious debate having brought them little closer to a solution. Acquiring any organ-cloning tech would be a nightmare, not to mention the steep cost of life incurred from stealing rare medical equipment. There wasn’t exactly an abundance of wildlife for it to hunt. Maybe some DIY-biomedical tampering could expand its diet, but accidentally condemning it to an agonizing death was far more likely.
Perhaps their fixer had some advice to share. There were only a couple ways she could’ve gotten her hands on a fertilized Arxur egg, and her constant insistence on keeping hidden in every way pointed towards one obvious possibility. How exactly an Arxur had survived the fall of Wriss and stayed clear of the Federation’s all-seeing eye for so long, Trish couldn’t even begin to guess. But if it was possible for her, it would be possible for them, and she might have useful advice for keeping the hatchling fed that she garnered from personal experience.
That said, she couldn’t be blunt in her questioning. If their encryption was broken, they were most likely dead either way, but better to be cautious anyway. Most likely, this abundance of caution was how someone actively fleeing the Federation had to operate in all aspects of life.
Something in Trish’s chest protested. To hell with caution. She wanted to see their reptilian sponsor face-to-face, even digitally. Look her in the eye. If she was right, at least; if this was truly her own offspring she was entrusting them with. It would be hell to set up, and a completely pointless risk for both of them, but some things couldn’t be justified with—
A sudden crack of thunder tore through her thoughts, a rough noise which echoed from the bar above. She further entombed herself in blankets for comfort, letting the warm weight…
Not thunder. A gunshot. Someone had fired a gun upstairs.
Trish was out of bed and shaking someone else awake before her thoughts could catch up and form a plan of action. With her mind still reeling, instinct had taken hold, dragging her by the pit of her stomach to act. It issued clear, firm commands which she followed unthinkingly while her own conscious mind couldn’t keep pace.
Act quickly. Get everyone awake, and get them to the fire escape at the end of the hallway. It didn’t much matter if their assailants found the entrance to the Den or not; flames would start pouring down the stairs any second. They wouldn’t have time to gather belongings. Except her pad; if they found her pad, there’d be no escaping them even if they got away. Grab it. The fire would cleanse the rest of their tracks well enough to not be worth spending extra time.
Tressa was already up and alert, pistol drawn and taking aim at the door while crouched behind a couch in the living room as cover. Besides him sat the backpack, with the egg and incubator still inside. James stumbled out of his bedroom, being dragged out by a jet-black Venlil two thirds his size with such force that Trish was slightly worried she might hurt something in his arm.
When he saw the bag, he tore himself from her grasp and ran to the living room. After slinging the backpack over his shoulder, he rushed back to the hallway with Tressa in tow. Sasha was slipping her flame jacket over loose sleeping clothing, still blinking sleep out of her eyes. She didn’t see Burai anywhere; apparently, he’d slept straight through the noise. Trish was halfway to his room when she remembered that he hadn’t gone to sleep at all. He was upstairs, cleaning the bar.
​
He was upstairs, where the gunshot had echoed from.
Trish’s mind screamed in protest, but her body kept moving down the hall toward the fire escape. They were out of time. They needed to run. She tore open the fire escape hatch with force, praying that their assailants didn’t have the neighboring alley locked down too. The ladder swung down, missing her snout by a hair. Her limbs moved with a frantic, manic power, dragging her to the surface and forcing her down the street. Somewhere in the back of her head, she felt a pang of thankfulness that she didn’t feel fire on her back as she ran.
—
They stopped running by the time Trish was out of breath. She’d never been too fit even for a Venlil, and her endurance was meaningless compared to their human companions. However, in the dense decaying maze of the sprawl, even a few city blocks was plenty to lose anyone chasing. They gathered in the relative privacy of a burned supermarket, breathing heavily through cloth masks to block out the ash that poured from the walls in unrestored buildings.
Nobody spoke a word. There was nothing to say.
In better times, Trish might’ve broken down into tears, but right now adrenaline forced her into a sharp focus. They were still being hunted. Their options were slim, and growing slimmer every second of inaction.
“Tressa, did you bring your pistol?”
The words came out as choked and barely audible beneath the suffocating cloth that protected her lungs, but it was enough to break the silence. The rest of them jolted out of their stupor, minds visibly refocusing to tackle the problem at hand.
“...Yeah, but it won’t be enough to fight them off. I heard multiple sets of boots up there. If these are exterminators, it’s probably a squad of five. I can’t take that many with just a handgun.”
“It doesn’t matter either way. Kill them, and they’ll just send more. We need to run.”
“And run where, exactly?” James coughed a few times and readjusted his mask before continuing. “There’s nowhere the Federation doesn’t have eyes. Nowhere on Venlil Prime, at least, and we’d have better luck standing our ground than trying to board a ship offworld.”
“...a ship?”
“Yeah, walking into a spaceport is just asking to be— Trish?”
“...there’s a ship… there’s a wrecked UN ship on the dark side of Venlil Prime. It’s not too far from here, but far enough that nobody would ever bother checking out there. I’ve been inside it a couple times. There’s still working lights.”
Tressa muttered to himself, considering their prospects. “Working lights… imagine I could get heat working too. It probably has enough water onboard to last until we can dig a well. I… I could maybe even clone meat if they had Zurulian medical tech. You think we’d be safe there?”
“I don’t think there’s anywhere else to go.”
“And you never thought to tell us about this before now?”
“It never came up.”
James paced nervously, kicking up plumes of dust. It hung in the air for a brief moment, swirling dramatically in the cold light of a fluorescent lamp, before resettling as he leaned against the wall. “So you want to drag us to the dark side of Venlil Prime… Jesus, Trish. I thought there was a reason nobody bothered settling out there. Or at least a reason they didn’t scavenge those wrecks. Hell, even people like us avoid it.”
“There are settlements on the edge, and scavengers comb the darkness up to about a paw’s travel out. But no light means no farming, scarce power, and unyielding cold. Unless you just happened to find an abandoned ship with backup power still burning, it’s a death sentence. The Federation won’t look for us there.”
“...and you ’just happened’ to find one, huh?”
“A friend of mine— no, I’ll tell you about it later. We need to get moving now.”
Sasha sat up, brushing a layer of grime off her jacket. “We need to go back for Beast. No way we can make the journey out without her. Unless you think you can hotwire something, Tressa..?”
“Not a chance. Then again, our chances of retaking Beast seem pretty slim too. Do you have a plan for doing this, or is your ‘plan’ to throw me at them and hope I have more bullets than they have flamer fuel?”
“No. We’ll all go together, and try not to pick a fight we can’t win. Slip in, grab Beast, get out.”
“That’s not a plan, and you know it. That’s wishful thinking. If your best plan is ‘walk in and hope they don’t see us’, then we’re walking to our deaths.”
“If you have a better idea, let’s hear it. Until then, walk faster. The longer we’re gone, the more likely they’ll burn our escape to slag before we return.”
Tressa grumbled, but failed to make any coherent objection as he rose to his feet. He checked his pistol over, making sure ash hadn’t wormed its way into anything vital before slipping it back under his coat as the group stepped out into the street.
It was a common work claw, so the more ruined areas of the sprawl were near-empty. The only sign that people lived here in any capacity were the streetlights and a distant hum of life from more central streets and walkways. Not that their little entourage would draw much attention anyway; out here, ragtag herds of misfits were about as common as the burned-out buildings that permeated the land.
Their little ragtag herd of misfits wouldn’t hardly be missed if they went up in flames. Not by anyone important, that is; a few regulars at the Tipped Quill might be disappointed and some exterminator officer’s spreadsheet would need updating. The world would continue on without them. The world was going to continue on without them. Tressa was right; they were marching to their deaths.
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I’ve been married 23 years. Some of you may recognize me as someone who comments a lot from a perspective of a healing marriage with a great guy who gave up porn.
Well, I’m sitting at my moms with a lot of SH because I went through his phone yesterday. He made a big production about how he had deleted FB and IG because they were garbage. It raised teeny flags for me, but we speak openly about how mad social media is and so I figured it was that. But the hairs on the back of my neck stood up in that moment and never came back down. Then Mothers Day happened. I’m chronically I’ll and I’m in pain all the time. On the Thursday before I realized no one had planned anything? So I called my mom and said hey do you want to do breakfast and she said sure, and on Saturday I had a flare and spent most of the day in bed. That meant by the time I was even remotely able to move, I had a big job in front of me. The kitchen/house was filthy, like it always is until I can get to it. He puts canes on dirty dishes in the dishwasher sometimes, when I asked him to rinse first he just made sure there were no chunks of food,, but it’s still caked in dirty food. So I redo his dishes and reload it. And the dishes in thr sink. The garbage by his chair, etc. he works all the time but at this point I don’t know if he’s working or just fucking around in his models on the laptop to make it look like work. He does very very little without being specifically asked,and then he does the half way or poorly. It feels like weaponized incompetence, at the same time it’s likely he was never taught any of it. Whenever I try to give hm tips or help he gets…offended I guess? Like he’s capable of [random household chores]. When we were separated because his therapist told him I had no right to police his porn use and he leaned into that hard-his house was trashed. The whole time. My son didn’t want to bring people over there. Anyway, he finally “quit” in Oct 2021. His personality changed back to the sweet and caring guy I knew before porn ruined h him. So here we are Mother’s Day Eve and he’s acting. Just weird. He asks if he can help and I say yes!!! Can you just fill the breakfaat burritos while I make an egg? And he says sure, but with this look that devices his words. He immediately goes to the bathroom (to look up boobs maybe? Idk it took awhile) then immediately up to bed. I spent the next 4 hours doing it myself and ended up in some of the worst pain I’ve had in quite some time. After I dragged myself through the day, I was basically bed bound for 10 days. In that time I came to the realization that if I hadn’t remembered, planned, invited, and cooked, not one person would have so much as said Happy Mothers Day to me. He didn’t. I think he got me two presents that sit in boxes by the door unopened that came well after MD. He likely ordered them that day.
Anyway, it planted the seed for me. The callousness was reminiscent of when he was using before. So now for the last few weeks I’ve been on edge I’m worried about wanting to be intimate with him because I’m worried he’s going to not want me. I’m worried about telling him what I need because I don’t wanna hurt his feelings, I can’t have an orgasm anymore even by myself sexual contact makes me feel nervous. I’m like I could have a mental break down. And in all this, I am feeling bad for my husband. I’m feeling sorry for him and what I can’t give him.
So he goes up to take a shower yesterday and I don’t know why but his phone was right there and I started looking and it wasn’t much. There wasn’t really anything. I went through every single one of his tabs of 500 of them. A couple theory, random that may or may not be anything like Nicole Scherzinger in a Keeney, but more like a story or a story about a may December relationship. There was also pages of the new drug up which made me feel like oh that’s nice but they were way back. and then I went in to his history. Just a few days back it was him searching my old coworkers from the yoga studio and viewing them on Facebook and Instagram but via the browser I know you can imagine exactly what people who do yoga full-time have for pictures. these are women who are younger than me and prettier than me. Women who I worked with for years and now I know that he was looking at some whole time to. I tried to talk myself out of it like we all do like maybe maybe this is just him looking at people I worked with because a picture of all of us popped up and he didn’t know who they were. I know how stupid I know I feel so stupid. But when I kept opening these searches it mean, there was one that was just huge fucking boobs zoomed in is a profile picture, and he searched it, and there is no way around that. I don’t know if there’s actual porn on there anywhere in there probably is
I don’t know what to do. I can’t take care of myself because I can’t work with disability and my disability happened after my stitches failed from my hysterectomy, and my husband and I were being intimate. The trauma we both have. is insane. it’s ruined my life I can’t work. I am only marginally mobile with mobility aids. He makes all the money and I try to pay people to come and do the things that I can’t anymore but sometimes it sometimes it gets too much and I just wish I had one of those husbands I read about, who just do things around the house without being asked or nagged. He said I was nagging and so I just stopped asking completely. He is the king of Weaponized incompetence. This man who is an upper level white-collar worker with an insane paycheck somehow doesn’t know when the house is dirty needs to be picked up.
I left last night when I found out I don’t know what to do now he wants to talk. He keeps talking his answers are all clipped like he’s not gonna let me in he’s not gonna admit, he’s not gonna call himself an addict. He’s trying to blame it on the fact that it’s just everywhere and I can take away his phone if that would work I don’t know what to do. I need help from you guys. This is the first slip up. I told him I was gone if it happened again. I feel like I almost have to pick up but selfishly. I don’t know how I’m not well I can’t take care of my spot. I have no way to make him come. I am seriously considering I don’t live in myself because I have nothing. State care won’t allow me to continue with my doctors or my medic medicines, which are the only thing they give me any quality of life whatsoever. I’m trapped in his income and his insurance.
What do I do? Can I save him? Can he be saved if I gave him another chance? What do I have to insistent what we have to do right now he’s being very short and clipped and not owning up to his wrongdoing and when he’s faced with guilt, he gets really angry, that’s why he left in the first place. He felt guilty and his therapist told him he didn’t need to his therapist told him it was fine for him to watch as much porn as he wanted and I was the unreasonable one. I just need help. Tell me what to do.?

doing some chores the other day, I go into my mum's room and see 2 cards (one for me and my two younger brothers, the other one for my disabled dad that is supposed to read him) and a voice recorder. After listening to the recorder out of curiosity, I discovered she was leaving the family house for 10 days but decide to leave it as I had to go to work. The next day, she texts me saying I'm allowed to open the cards and as I do so it reinstates she's going away for 10 days and to not worry about her. My dad's card says only he is supposed to listen to the voice recordings and "enjoy the time with the young adults". The audacity to tell us through a card with flowers on really annoys me too. My parents have never really had a stable marriage, they regularly argue which results in slamming doors but recently my dad has been trying more. With this knowledge, I realize her email is connected to my laptop so I go looking and find flights abroad with another man (This other man has called my mum's phone multiple times and she always says "It's none of your business"). She has now gone away with this mysterious man and no one knows who it is. My older brother has been messaging, asking her why she left three teenagers alone with a dog and their disabled dad alone and she responds by saying how she deserves to go away and that we will appreciate her more when she comes back (she is now ignoring everyone's messages). could this mean she's cheating on my dad? do I tell her that we know about this other guy? ps she also comes back a day before her birthday meaning she expects presents and cards when she comes back from this "alone" holiday.

“Hey Raz, I got one!” Raz’s voice was cut by static as he called back, “Great! …at quarry …die.” Well, that wasn’t ominous at all, I thought to myself as I adjusted the rear-view mirror to check on the operator I had just blown past. They were doubled over coughing, their gas mask swayed side to side on the ground next to their feet. I don’t know what compelled me to not flatten what I had thought to be an AQ soldier, but I’m glad I didn’t.
I slammed my hummer in reverse, coming to a stop next to the helpless operator. “Hop in bud, we can get you to final exfill yet.” He slowly hauled himself into the bed of my hummer, landing with a dull thud and a groan as he fell onto his back. We cleared the gas, and I was immediately put on edge as my passenger started to gain consciousness. If he was planning anything nefarious, there wasn’t much I could do about it now. “You good back there? Normally I’d stop to send an invite but given the situation that might have just caused more problems.” He leaned through the non-existent rear window, “Nah, I understand man. When we get further from the gas we can stop and squad up. Don’t need to risk lighting each other up if things get hot at the exfill.” I couldn’t help but chuckle, “I don’t think that would be much of an issue regardless. Hey, we didn’t leave any of your friends back there, did we? I know we peeled out pretty quick.” I saw him shake his head and point to our left in the rear-view mirror. “We got split up, but they were running for a car, so I wasn’t too worried.” I followed his finger, a white hatchback cruised along parallel to us, swerving through buildings trying not to eat too many AQ bullets. “Hey boys, Dutch here is gonna roll with us to final. We’ll squad up when we get there.” I was barely able to make out one of his squad mates call out “Tight!” over his earpiece.
“Hey, listen, I’ve got friend I’m rolling with. His name’s Raz, he’s gonna meet us at final. If you see a red, white, and blue LTV, don’t shoot alright.” Raz chimed in, his radio finally clear of the static, “That’s very kind of you to tell them not to shoot me Dutch.” Before I could respond, a black turreted LTV slid out of Said City ahead of us. “Is that your boy Dutch?” I wanted to give my passenger the benefit of the doubt, it is windy in the box after all, he might not have heard me. “Nah man, wrong colour, and he didn’t have a turreted LTV last I saw.” The black LTV continued North along the main road as we cut away into the quarry proper. “Raz, company is headed your way. Looks like it’s just a solo in that truck but you can never be too careful.” “Thanks for the heads up Dutch.”
I rolled to a stop at the base of the helicopter ramp, gently flattening a couple of AQ who were getting a little to close to the bird for comfort, just shy of the battery running dry. The other two operators in the hatchback slid to a stop just down the hill from us. I got out of the hummer, a tad worried that my good fortune was about to come to an end at the hands of these fellas. As they ran up the hill, the notification finally popped. I accepted and ran down the hill to grab the hatchback, breathing a sigh of relief. “Wait, where you goin’ Dutch?” One of my clients called out. “Raz and I will run interference while we wait for the chopper to take off. Any AQ or unfriendly operators are gonna have to go through us.” “You keep talking about this Raz guy, but I’ve yet to see anyone other than that black LTV.” Almost on queue, a black LTV flew up the hill narrowly missing my hatchback. My clients went into a frenzy. “Operators pushing us! Take ‘em down!” The LTV spun in the sand in front of me, a glorious and perfectly oiled moustache glinting in the Al Mazrah sun. “Hold your fire! It’s Raz!” I called from below my clients. I sent an invite to him which he had hopped out and accepted faster than any of these guys could pull the trigger. “You see the operator that was in that earlier?” Raz shook his head, “No, I pulled up on it and they were gone. Must be out on foot somewhere.”
With 5 seconds left on the clock, there wasn’t enough time to go find them, our clients now panicking as they realized we weren’t on the bird. “What are you two doing?!” They shouted from the air as we waved goodbye. “Al Mazrah is our home gentlemen. That bird was never meant for us.” I gave Raz a pat on the shoulder as the gas rapidly approached, another successful day had come to a close.
The clack of a Kastov charging handle was almost unmistakable. We both turned to see the operator from the LTV standing there, rifle honed on us. “Well shit.” Their rifle dropped towards the dirt as they looked back over their shoulder at the nearly out of sight exfill chopper. They pushed through us, wandering towards the North side of the quarry. Raz and I locked eyes, shrugging in unison. That was one of those moments where we really wouldn’t have blamed them for their decision, whatever it might have been. “We better get back to HQ, Compton said I.T dropped off something for you.” Raz said as the gas engulfed us.
“I’m going back to the island boss.” My hands were shaking as I gripped the file folder that I.T had left for me. “Twitch.” “He’s back, it took him a bit, but he’s managed to re-take the castle and hunker down since we last saw him. And if he’s back then we might finally be able to get some proper intel on those blue tracers, direct from the source.” I handed the folder to Raz. He took it, turning to no doubt address the rest of the crew. I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him before he could speak. “Not everybody, not this time. They’ve doubled the defences; we’d be walking into a slaughterhouse.” “Well, you can’t go in there alone, we look out for our own Dutch, you know that.” Raz’s brow tightened, I could tell he was already trying to figure out what my plan was. “I’m bringing Maze and Alex. They’ll provide sniper cover while I infiltrate the castle. I still have my old uniform. As long as they haven’t drastically changed up their callsigns, I should be able to get in undetected.” I could tell Raz wasn’t convinced. “Dutch, like you said, you’d be walking into a slaughterhouse. How does you going in solo make that any better.” “After what happened in the complex…I’m not putting anyone else at risk, I can’t. The Bomb Maker…Twitch, I’ve gotta face him myself. Look him in the eyes so he knows I crawled out of Hell to drag him back down there.” “Alright, I couldn’t really stop you if I wanted to, could I?” Raz shrugged. “No, not unless you shot me, and honestly, I’d take those odds.” I punched his shoulder and started heading for the breakroom to grab Maze and Alex. “You keep that up I’ll be moving you back out to that sea can of yours.” Raz smirked.
The locks took a bit of fighting to get open. While this footlocker had only been on Ashika Island for a few months, the constant spray of salt water had worn away what little integrity it once had. The black uniform, emblazoned with the Rook and Spade of Shadow Company, was still in excellent condition, save for a bullet hole just under where the plate carrier would sit. I paused for a moment, holding it up in the air, memories of the past flooding in. “Not a lot of fond memories in that uniform I take it.” Maze called out from the catwalk in our home away from home. “I think part of the problem is that there are good memories. It’s a little concerning that such fond memories can hide out amongst so much evil.” “We’ve all done things we aren’t proud of. Some of us just did things other people also wouldn’t be proud of either.” Alex chuckled to himself as he cleaned his rifle on the cot next to me. I grimaced, mostly because he was right. I slipped into the old black fatigues and strapped on my old plate carrier. My weapons were all still intact too, I pulled my Taq-56 out of the footlocker, running my fingers over the engraving in the side, ROOK-XLIV. I cycled the charging handle a few times before loading in a fresh magazine and setting it on the cot next to me. I pulled out a pistol belt, two pearl handled revolvers, one with an ebony Rook on the grip, the other, an ebony Spade. Umbra Catavae engraved along each barrel. Maze had come down from the rafters now, a look of mixed intrigue and concern on her face, “I take it those don’t invoke fond memories.” I had done a poor job of hiding my look of disgust. “No, unfortunately they do.” I felt a wave of guilt wash over me. “Each of these was given to me for completing outstanding performance in the field. I did things I’m not proud of, and I was rewarded for it, handsomely. Holding these in my hands, I feel the same pride I had felt when they were first handed to me. It makes me sick.” I strapped the belt around my waist. The pearl handles shining against my all black silhouette. Alex piped up again, “Hey, at least you are trying to make amends for your sins, not many can say the same.” I let out a long sigh, “I suppose you’re right. You both remember the plan?” “Get to the radio towers and start lighting the place up when shit inevitably hits the fan.” Maze grinned. “Close enough.” I pulled my balaclava up and headed for the door.
The guard at the gate didn’t immediately shoot me which gave me some spark of hope that this might work. “In position!” Alex and Maze called out almost simultaneously. “Jinx, you owe me a beer!” Maze rejoiced. “What? Why would I give you a beer for that?” Alex sounded genuinely confused. “Hey, cut the chatter you two, don’t need to give them any reason to not let me in alright.” The guard held up his hand. “I don’t recognize you, let’s see your I.D.” I held up my old I.D card. “Well I’ll be damned, look who crawled out if his grave.” He pulled my mask down to confirm. “You look pretty good for a corpse, though your I.D card is out of regulation. You might want to stop by the I.T guy to get a new one made.” “Thanks, I’ll head right over.” The first thought that came to my mind was Bob. There’s no way he still worked for these assholes, is there.
“You used your old I.D?! You mad man!” Maze cackled over the radio. “Ok, I’ll admit, this wasn’t my greatest plan. I honestly thought they’d just capture me after seeing who I was.” Alex cut me off, “Go with the flow I suppose.” “Spade-499 up one-two.” The local radio channel began to drown out my squad’s comms. “Rook-3468 down one-one” “This is some odd radio traffic Dutch.” Alex quipped. I watched as a Shadow Company mercenary approached a stairwell, each step primed and ready to pop a leg off whichever unfortunate soul chose to ascend. “Spade-5454 up one-two.” “It’s how they know to deactivate the traps.” I whispered into our secure line. I approached the same stairwell. “Rook-44 up one-two.” I could hear the traps audibly click off. The guard at the to put his hand out as I reached the top step. “Sorry, no ghosts allowed on the second floor.” “Ghost? What…” He bent over laughing. “I’m just messing with you man. They said you died holding off the ULF while Bob and Twitch escaped, going out in a blaze of glory. Clearly, they didn’t have their facts straight. Glad to have you back.” I’m glad I had the balaclava on because I was struggling to hide my confusion. Last I checked I was the scape goat for the largest backstab in Shadow Company history, not a hero. I was never a hero when I worked for them. “I take it you are going to see the boss, call up two-zero, we don’t want people to be just guess on the fly, just in case someone tries to sneak in.” If only he knew.
“We don’t have eyes up there Dutch. Whatever happens, you’re on your own.” I could hear a tinge of worry in Alex’s voice. “Just make sure whoever is in here doesn’t get reinforcements.” “You got it!” Alex and Maze both called out in unison. “Jinx, you owe me another beer.” “There’s free beer at headquarters, why would I owe you a beer for that.” Alex called back clearly still confused. “Radio silence please. I’ve got a rat to kill.” I took a deep breath, pulling my Bryson from its sheath, the chrome exterior brushed over with a dull grey to blend in. “Rook-44 up two-zero.”
“Well, well, well. I was wondering when I’d see you again after our last encounter. Urzikstan and Al Mazrah clearly hadn’t kicked your ass enough so you decided to come crawling back to me for another round.” The traps clicked off. “Come on up, I’ve been looking forward to this.” I slowly ascended, keeping my Bryson trained at the top of the stairs, my eyes scanning each stair for an actual trap. As I crested the stairwell, my eyes were immediately drawn to him. His back turned to me, Trophy Systems whirring and clicking around him. “I missed you Dutch. Well, the old you. The one that would shoot through a hostage just to prove a point, the one that would dangle captives from buildings by their collar until they squawked like a bird, and then still dropped them anyways. I miss the Dutch that smoked Keller because his gas mask worked and yours didn’t when we those crazy Russian’s tried to hit us with mustard gas. I still get a little nauseous when I think about you peeling his face out of there.” “I’ve changed Twitch, I’ve moved past all that. I found a calling that doesn’t require me to be a conniving bastard.” Twitch laughed as he turned around, his hands empty. I kept my Bryson trained on him. “That’s what you think I am huh? I prefer shrewd businessman, but if that’s what helps you sleep at night.” He walked to one of the barred windows. “You really think what you and those taxi driving hooligans are doing matters?” “Clearly it does, or you and the Chemist wouldn’t be working so hard to sabotage us.” I took a few steps towards him. “Well, I suppose it matters to one of us. The Chemist and Raz go way back, but you know that. What I care about is the money, and I get a lot of money for helping that crazy bastard try to wipe out your little band of Merry Men.” “And Women. This guy just loves the sound of his own voice. Can I remove his head already? He’s looking right at me, practically begging me to pull the trigger.” I could hear the contempt in Maze’s voice. Twitch always did love a monologue. “You can still fix your mistakes Twitch. Gives us what info you have on those tracers of yours and I might consider not killing you.” I snarled. “When you went soft Dutch, you lost any respect I might have had for you. We are long past the point where you can intimidate me. Besides, any info I did have, is with the Chemist. He paid a handsome sum to get the formula, and really, it was becoming a logistical nightmare to ship enough of those little blue gems across the sea. Better for everyone to have it made close to the front lines.”
“Spade-101 up two-zero.” Bob’s voice cut through the tension. “Well I’ll be, it looks like we are gonna have a little family reunion.” Bob’s head poked up the stairs, “Hey boss, another server bank has shorted out from the sea air, I told you we should invest in better waterproofing the housings but if you still…” He trailed off as I dropped my Bryson, the sling catching it just before it hit the ground, and drawing my two revolvers. “Oh, hey Dutch. Nice to see you too.” Bob stammered. I cocked the hammer on each one, keeping one trained on each of my old squad mates. “Really Bob? Really! I understand you sticking around the day of the heist. But now? After everything that Shadow Company has done to these countries. To its own people.” Before he could respond, a siren blared over the intercom system. “Defensive positions! Hostile operators have breached the perimeter.” “Dutch you’ve got six operators approaching the castle, I think it’s time to bounce.” Maze was drowned out by her own gun fire, her Signal .50 raining death into the courtyard. “Looks like our time is up here Dutch. Since you clearly don’t have los cojones to pull the trigger, you might as well see yourself out, and let me and my men handle this.”
“Fuck it.” The hammer of the first revolver slammed down, dropping Bob instantly. I turned to face Twitch, his face a mix of surprise and pride. “Maybe I was wrong, the old Dutch still lives.” I charged forward, tackling him through the window and off the roof. Both of us lay on the ground, groaning as the chorus of gunfire roared around us. He dove for one of my pistols, but unfortunately for him, I had managed to hold on to the other, putting a round through his arm just before he could grab the gun. He rolled out of the way of the second round, bringing his one working hand up to the radio on his chest. The explosion from the castle threw both of us across the courtyard, debris raining down around us. I felt like I was reliving one of the worst days of my life all over again. I hauled myself to my feet, Shadow Company mercenaries and operators wandered aimlessly through the ashes. Everyone seemed too disoriented to fight. “I think it’s time to leave Dutch.” “I second that.” Maze and Alex were barely audible over the ringing in my ears. “Regroup at the boat. If I’m not there in 5, go without me.” I never heard a response, even if they tried, they wouldn’t have convinced me to leave, not with him still breathing.
I combed through the smoke and fire, carefully checking every nook and cranny I came across but the slippery rat was nowhere to be seen. “Looks like you 3 aren’t thick as thieves after all, eh Dutch. Poor Alex here was left all alone on the beach, no boat to be seen.” Twitch was sucking in air between words, no doubt kept standing by adrenaline. “You lay a finger on him, and I’ll make you wish you had died in that explosion.” I spat into my mic. “Don’t make me wait too long.”
I limped over a hill towards the beach where we were supposed to regroup. “Alex! Where’s Maze?” I called out as I stumbled down the sand bank. Alex didn’t respond, his head held in a tight headlock by Twitch, my second pistol against his temple. “She abandoned you both, and now I get the pleasure of killing you both after yet another betrayal. When will you learn Dutch. This world is a cruel place. Only the strong survive, clearly Maze knew that.” Twitch cut me off before I could retort. “Save the fight me with honour B.S that I know you are gonna spew.” I’m gonna kill you and your buddy and salvage what little I can of this operation. Then maybe retire to Cuba. I do love a good cigar.” “Adios, pendejo!” Alex brought his arm down, the knife concealed in his hand connecting with Twitch’s thigh. Twitch let out a high-pitched yelp, letting loose a round from the revolver which narrowly grazed Alex’s hair. Alex dove into the sand right as Twitch’s shoulder exploded in a pink mist followed shortly by the unmistakable crack of Maze’s Signal .50. I squinted trying to see where the shot came from, all I caught was the glint from her scope in the sun, the boat hardly visible in the rolling surf.
I limped forward, Bryson in hand, chrome starting to show through the worn grey paint. I kicked the revolver away from Twitch, placing a boot on his chest and the barrel of my Bryson against his forehead. He began to mumble and cry, hardly able to string together an understandable sentence. “Save it, you’re gonna need your energy for what comes next.” Our boat slammed into the shore, Maze hopping off, rifle raised and ready. “Oh shit I actually hit that!” “I’m not gonna lie, I thought you’d actually just bailed.” I laughed as she helped Alex to his feet. “You still go those claymores?” I asked Maze as Twitch continued to writhe in panic under my boot. “You wanted the old Dutch, eh Twitch. Ask and you shall receive.” Maze handed me the claymores, while Alex kept sidearm pointed at Twitch. I planted 4 around him, just far enough away that they wouldn’t go off unless he moved. I drew one of my revolvers, popping the cylinder out and emptying all but one round. I gave the cylinder a spin before flicking it closed. I tossed the revolver at Twitch. “Don’t waste that on me. You’ll only regret it in about an hour.” I took my other revolver, and hurled it towards the sea, the pearl grip glinting in the sun as it spun through the air, disappearing into the crashing waves. “Good riddance.” I sighed, that chapter of my life finally ended. Twitch was silent, his whimpering now just deep, laboured breathing. I turned back before I stepped onto the boat, watching as his hand slowly moved to the pistol in the sand next to him. “Well played Dutch, well played.”

The advent of the widely popular obesity and diabetes drugs, Wegovy and Ozempic, has prompted weight-loss companies to undergo significant transformations in their business models.
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Traditionally, weight-loss companies like WeightWatchers and Noom have emphasized diet and exercise as the primary means of shedding pounds. However, both companies have recently introduced new plans to include prescriptions for Wegovy and similar medications, recognizing obesity as a chronic disease.
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WeightWatchers made this significant shift in March by acquiring Sequence, a telehealth company specializing in prescribing obesity drugs. In the coming months, WeightWatchers plans to launch a program catering to members who are taking these medications. Likewise, Noom, the subscription app founded in 2008, recently launched its telemedicine platform called Noom Med, providing access to weight-loss drugs. Noom has built its reputation on offering psychological tips and helping individuals track their eating and exercise habits.
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The decision to expand into prescription medications was driven by an evolving scientific understanding of obesity and the increasing number of customer requests seeking medication options to enhance their weight-loss efforts.
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Dr. Linda Anegawa, Noom's chief of medicine, stated, "We have always followed the science, and as the medical community has transitioned into this concept of obesity as a disease, we would be remiss in not joining as well." Dr. Gary Foster, the chief scientific officer at WeightWatchers, echoed this sentiment, noting that offering medication was a natural next step for the company. He emphasized the strong scientific evidence and consumer interest in the use of GLP-1 agonists, the class of weight-loss drugs that includes Wegovy.
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The demand for Wegovy has skyrocketed since its approval by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) in 2021 for weight loss in adults with obesity or those who are overweight with at least one weight-related health condition. Ozempic, a related drug that relies on the same formula but at a lower dose, was approved for individuals with Type 2 diabetes in 2017. Both medications, brand names for semaglutide, work by mimicking a hormone that signals fullness to the brain, effectively suppressing appetite and reducing blood sugar levels. Clinical trials have shown an average weight reduction of 15% with semaglutide.
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In contrast, studies have found that diet, exercise, and behavioral counseling alone typically result in a 5% to 10% weight loss at best.
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Dr. Eduardo Grunvald, an obesity medicine physician at UC San Diego Health, highlighted the significant impact of these drugs on understanding obesity as a metabolic biological problem. He emphasized that lifestyle interventions alone are often insufficient in overcoming obesity, and medications like Wegovy and Ozempic play a crucial role.
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Weight-loss companies that fail to integrate medications into their business models may face challenges. Linda Bolton Weiser, an analyst at D.A. Davidson Companies, pointed out that Jenny Craig, a company that solely focused on prepackaged food and did not offer prescription drugs, recently closed its doors.
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Weiser explained, "For companies that cannot strategically figure out how to do the drug thing, and if you offer a food product, those companies may suffer. That would be Medifast with their Optavia, that would be Jenny Craig, that would be Nutrisystem."
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Dr. Fatima Cody Stanford, an associate professor of medicine at Massachusetts General Hospital, highlighted the potential benefits of weight-loss companies providing access to prescription drugs. With a shortage of obesity medicine doctors and a growing demand for their services, individuals with obesity could benefit from accessing prescription drugs through these companies. Dr. Spencer Nadolsky, medical director at Sequence, mentioned that some individuals face difficulties obtaining weight-loss drugs due to general practitioners' discomfort in prescribing them.
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The introduction of telemedicine platforms like Noom Med and Sequence addresses these challenges. These platforms employ board-certified clinicians who evaluate patients' health and weight history, offer prescriptions, monitor side effects and weight loss progress, and provide access to fitness coaches and dietitians. By integrating prescriptions into their programs, WeightWatchers and Noom ensure compliance with FDA guidelines that recommend combining medication with diet and exercise.
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However, concerns regarding the availability and appropriate use of these medications remain. Dr. Stanford noted the current shortage of Wegovy and the potential for over-prescription by for-profit companies focused on volume rather than individual needs.
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While weight-loss medications show promising results, their costs present a drawback. Noom Med and Sequence programs come with additional fees on top of existing subscriptions, and the medications themselves can be expensive without insurance coverage.
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Dr. Grunvald raised the question of whether the additional costs associated with these programs are necessary, considering that weight-loss medications alone often lead individuals to adopt healthier habits. It remains to be seen how customers will perceive the value of these comprehensive programs and whether they will opt for alternative options.
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As weight-loss companies continue to evolve and adapt to the latest scientific advancements, the incorporation of prescription medications like Wegovy and Ozempic marks a significant shift in their strategies. The rise of these drugs underscores the recognition of obesity as a complex medical condition requiring a multifaceted approach to treatment. With ongoing developments and innovations in the field, individuals seeking to lose weight now have access to a wider range of options tailored to their specific needs and preferences.

We were drinking at my s/o house and at one point got into fight, ngl I don’t even remember what it was about. I decided to grab my stuff and leave since I didn’t want to deal with that. He was blocking the door and didn’t let me out of the room for a while since he didn’t want me to leave. Long story short I decided to book it through the window even thought it was 2nd floor ( it was not that high and I knew what I was doing) . I assumed he told his siblings cause his sister popped her head out of the window right away and told me to get back into the room and they will take care of my s/o and drive me back home . He was blocking the door for at least 30 min till I decided to climb out to a roof and every time I asked him to let me go he said “ call 911 if you feel that I’m holding you hostage”. I did try to fight my way out with him to get out of the room but didn’t work out. His reasoning the whole time was that I was intoxicated and it would be more safe if I stayed at his place, even though my friends were picking me up. I made it hổme and he texted me that he acknowledged that what he did was not okay but I overreacted since I was safe and nothing really happened. Both of us were intoxicated but I do think that’s not okay to do. Whatever he said made me feel like maybe I really actually was overreacting , was dramatic , scared the shit out of everyone for no reason . I could’ve just stayed there to not escalate the situation .Am I overreacting?

Fourth and final part; back to the usual post schedule from tomorrow.
Series Page - Read 10 weeks ahead on Patreon - Read the story so far on Royal Road
*
Chapter Twelve - The Blacksmith's Boy (Part Four)
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‘Should’ve listened, stray.’
The first blow caught Cal across the cheek, whipping his head back with a crack. Light exploded around the edges of his eyes, and his vi-sion spun. The second took him under the chin, hard as a hammer, and his legs vanished from under him. His world tumbled into a crash of scattered chairs and tables, and half-empty mugs went clattering across the floor, throwing foam into the smoky air like sea-spray.
‘Shit-’
‘Watch it, runt-’
‘By the Makers, what are you-’
The other villagers were surging to their feet, roused from their bickering, but not fast enough. Cal somehow managed to regain his feet in time to find Petr advancing on him, fists bunched and face like thun-der. Behind him, Carel was clawing at his arms, trying to hold him back, but he shrugged her off, then swatted Lokk to one side as the slender innkeep’s son tried to bar his path, sending him skittering into a row of chairs. Cal’s head was spinning, and his eyes blurred.
‘I’m not done with you, you little shit.’ Petr growled, closing the ground between them with big angry strides. Cal swayed, dazed. His body was on fire. He couldn’t move. The youth’s heavy fist slammed into his gut, and he doubled over, air rushing out of his chest in a choked gasp. Someone managed to get between them then. Three someones, hauling Petr back. Cal crumpled to his knees, retching emp-tily onto the ale-splattered floor.
‘That’s enough, boy!’
‘Cunt had it coming-’
‘Enough, Petr! He’s ‘ad enough.’
Cal blinked up at them groggily, spittle trailing from his aching mouth. Forley and Godry had Petr by one arm, the miners by the other, struggling to hold him back. Albin hadn’t moved. He was sitting by the fire where he had been, a crooked smile on his lips. Cal squinted, eyes reeling, mouth full of bile.
‘The fuck is going on?’
The Innkeep was standing by the bar, a fresh cask under one arm, rosy cheeks suddenly hard. Petr stopped struggling, shrugging himself out of the patrons’ grasp.
‘Little cunt tried to hit me.’ He told the Innkeep with a snort. He jabbed a finger at Cal where he knelt on the floor, gasping mutely for air. Lokk appeared at his side, helping him unsteadily to his feet. The slender youth was looking a little shaken, and there was a small, red cut at his brow. ‘Had it coming!’
Cal’s breath was coming back, and the room around him was steady-ing. He saw Carel standing a little back from them, hair scattered mess-ily over her wet cheeks. As he looked, she caught his eye for a moment, then looked away, face hidden in the shadows of her sandy hair. The pail of water was on its side nearby, steaming as its contents spread slowly across the sopping floor.
‘I don’t give a damn if he bedded your mother!’ The Innkeep re-plied. He took one look at Carel and set down the cask on the bar, step-ping in close enough for the big youth to smell the pipe-smoke on his breath. ‘There’ll be no fighting, in my inn.’
Petr flinched in spite of himself, taking half a step back.
‘Boy’s right, Goran.’ Albin added, scowling. ‘Saw the whole thing. Little runt started-’
‘That’s enough!’ The Innkeep cut him short, turning an angry eye on the butcher. ‘Unless you want to tell the blacksmith whose son’s been beating his hand?’
Albin hesitated at that, and his ruddy cheeks lost a little of their col-our.
‘Thought not.’ The Innkeep went on. ‘Now, get out. And take your fool son with you.’
Albin was out of his seat in an instant, all thoughts of the Blacksmith forgotten.
‘Alb, wait-’
The butcher shoved Forley aside. He stopped just a few inches from the Innkeep, glaring down at the smaller man with hard eyes. Even from where he was, Cal could smell the ale on his breath, but the Inn-keep didn’t flinch. The fire stirred in the sudden quiet, and the villagers stood in a moment of perfect stillness, taut as a lute-string. Godry and Forley shared a worried look. Priss had appeared beside Carel and put an arm around her slumped shoulders. Petr was glaring at Cal, dark eyes boring holes into his forehead, but Cal didn’t even notice. His head was hanging limply over his chest, and if Lokk hadn’t been hold-ing him, he was sure his legs would’ve buckled. His head spun, and his skin burned. Neither the butcher nor the Innkeep had moved an inch.
‘Come on, boy.’ Albin said at last, eyes not leaving the Innkeep for a moment. ‘Let’s go.’
‘But da-’
‘I said let’s go.’
He held still for a moment longer, then took his son by the arm and led him roughly away towards the door.
‘You’ll pay double next time.’ The Innkeep called out to him as he reached the door. ‘Both of you.’
For a moment it looked as if Albin would turn back. Then he scowled, spat on the floor, and shoved his son out into the night beyond the door, slamming it shut behind them.
There was a collective sigh of relief from the remaining patrons. The Innkeep watched the door for a few moments, then began unhurriedly scooping up discarded mugs from the ale-splashed floor.
‘I think that’s enough for one evening.’ He said quietly as he worked, not looking up. Godry, Forley and the miners looked at each other.
‘Bar’s a mess, Goran. We’ll lend a hand.’ Forley offered.
‘We’ll manage.’ The Innkeep told him, still not looking up. The vil-lagers exchanged another look, then they made for the door without a word. Priss stepped back from Carel, giving her shoulder a squeeze, and joined her husband as the door swung closed behind them. Lokk didn’t say a word. Carel still hadn’t lifted her eyes. Cal shrugged him-self away from his friend’s arm, taking a step towards her.
‘Carel, I-’
The Innkeep straightened suddenly, hurling one of the mugs across the room. It smashed into the closed door, shattering across the thresh-old with a crash.
‘Don’t you dare, boy.’ He growled, whirling on him, soft eyes hard as steel, fidgeting hands steady. ‘You’ve had a fall tonight. Must’a knocked your head. Only reason you aren’t catching another beating.’
Cal looked back at him groggily for a moment. His wits were return-ing, and the ache was spreading outwards from his jaw and cheek in throbbing waves. His shredded arms and legs were afire with shifting lines of pain, and his back ground at his ribs like a blade. Stupid. What was he thinking? Running from shadows in the dark. Brawling in front of half the village. What would the Blacksmith say? This was not their agreement. This was not their word. Blood rushed into his cheeks, hot with shame, and he lowered his eyes.
‘Go home, boy.’
‘But, I-’
‘I said go home, boy.’ The Innkeep stared back at him with cold eyes. ‘You can’t stay here.’
Cal hesitated. He looked at Lokk, but his friend would not meet his eye. He nodded slowly, straightening as best he could, and made un-steadily for the door. He looked back from the threshold, but nothing had stirred. A mess of upturned tables and chairs, scattered mugs and soaking floor boards. The three figures that stood frozen amongst it all seemed suddenly very different to Cal, their names new and unfamiliar. No one looked up as he opened the door. He hesitated, skin bloody and numb, jaw aching like winter, haggard, dazed, and spared one final glance for Carel, standing alone beside the bar, a dozen words racing on his silent tongue. Then he turned and went out alone into the dark, and the cold took him as its own.
*
It was quiet outside the Nest, and the streets were empty. The storm had moved off to blow itself out over the lowlands in the west, and only the faintest whir of it carried on the air between the little stone build-ings of Rindon, the fevered mumbling of weary hills. Cal walked for a time, going nowhere in particular, dry eyes moving listlessly over the stones, picking out the familiar notches of the rock, the knowing wink-ing of shuttered fires. The pathways were wet beneath his boots, pud-dled and gleaming in the silver stain of the moon. No one to be seen. Not Petr, waiting for him behind some dark corner, nor the other pa-trons, staggering home arm in arm. No faceless shadows leering at him from empty doorways, chasing him into the night. All was as it should be. After all, why wouldn’t it be? The thought filled him with a kind of bemused, frivolous amusement. He knew this place. Why should it not be as it always was?
After a time, he found himself at the eastern edge of the village, looking down over the little cluster of thatching and its glinting win-dows. It was cold, he knew, but he did not feel it. The bloody skin be-neath his ragged clothes tingled numbly. Even his jaw seemed to have stopped aching. He looked down, for no reason in particular, and saw that the dirt at his feet was churned and dented as though by some fall-ing beast, and little flecks of red blinked back at him in the moonlight. He realised that this must have been where he had fallen. Where his legs had failed and the world had spun like sand in ocean spray. Where the shadows had chased him from the hillside, swarming after him as wolves after their prey. He realised he was frowning. His back was to the trees, but he felt no fear. What was there to fear? After all, it was just a dream, and there is nothing to fear from dreams.
The trees were before him. Had they not been behind? The dark pil-lars stretched away up the slope, and the great black shadow of the Teeth held the horizon beyond. The murmur of the distant storm moved through the branches, shifting softly. Nothing else stirred.
He realised he was walking. The trees were all around, watching him. The earth was soft and wet beneath his feet. He looked down as he went, picking out the footprints in the loam. Something had come this way. Bootprints, scrambling, sprinting, falling. He had come this way.
So he walked, much as he had before, aiming without aim, and the trees whispered their same whispers. Words he had known since he first came here, all those years ago. Slowly, he went, until his eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, to the silver luminescence of the moon. Footprints. Bootprints. Running, scrambling. Falling.
Alone.
He lingered a while, just to be sure. But there was no mistake. There had been no men in the trees. No shadows to flee from. No one else had come this way. His head ached. He could not have… there must have been…
But there was nothing. Nothing but untouched earth, smooth as fresh wax. Just a dream. And there is nothing to fear from dreams.
So he came down out of the trees, and made for home along well-worn paths, watching for shadows he knew were not there.