It’s been a long time since I’ve had anything to post to reddeadonline I used to love this game (and a part of me still does). Seeing #savereddead trending and the Forbes article inspired me to talk about the things that I always realistically expected from Rockstar but never received for reasons that are truly a mystery due to the fact that they never communicate with their community by any means at all.
The theater in San Denis that was obviously gonna be used to watch shows with your friends, weapons were automatically unequipped when entering which makes you think it’d be used for something.
Hardcore free aim sessions. This has been a given in every game they’ve ever made, why one never came out for RDO I’ll never know
Character transfer was never offered for console to PC after release. Had to throw away a level 200 with plenty of gold and cash and three outlaw passes all in hopes they’d eventually do what they did for GTA 5
I remember they had jump through a few legal hoops to include gambling in their games but they got the rights and used it in the GTA 5 casino update with all kinds of gambling like roulette, slots, etc. I wish they’d have done a gambling update where you go to the gambling boat like in the story mission where there were more games to play and higher stakes to bet. I believed this was planned and never executed due once again to mysterious reasons.
Economy never really balanced out after that first big exploit with the wagons and treasure maps back in beta and that was unfortunate.
Jessica LeClerk’a story never being finished always put a bad taste in my mouth. I loved Horley and would have liked to see him fleshed out more. An indentured servant loyal to his mistress. Love the trope.
Some other things that I didn’t really expect but would have been great to have was combat being updated. Ability cards got outrageous and gunplay needs a little fine tuning to raise the skill ceiling. All you really need is money to down 30 potent health tonics and you’re cream of the crop in most situations (they did try to mitigate but you can still cheese)
More unique customization options were never added like different holster options, vest being opened or closed, etc. In the same vein, unique gun customization would have been lovely like sawed off repeaters or full stock double barrel with a sawed barrel AND not having the gun metals locked behind outlaw passes no longer attainable.
Of course better homesteads would have been awesome to have but I honestly wouldn’t have expected very much with them.
I wanted so much out of this game that I never received. I loved the single player so much and they had such an amazing foundation to make an amazing multiplayer experience that just never got delivered. If you read this far thank you for listening to me vent more than Rockstar ever did.

Are the three daily ads even worth it anymore? At this point, the only ads I bother with are the free revive and the free crate (on the odd chance that it drops equipment). 2200 coins isn't worth squat anymore now that I can churn through Lv9 without dying in about 15 minutes, which has the added benefit of (1) yielding a lot more coins, and (2) being more fun. And the VEGA boost barely matters anymore because of the aforementioned worthlessness of the money and being capped for EXP for a while now. And even if the cap gets upped later, I'd rather grind for experience by playing the game than watching an ad.
For a revive? Fair enough, Mighty Doom. That's on me for getting cocky, and a Hero Quest ad is my due punishment... except when it isn't and the ad server fails to load, which is almost a greater mercy than getting another chance. But if you want me to sit through that cringe on purpose, you're gonna' need more incentive than 2200 basic currency or a crate that you claim might contain equipment when we both know it's probably just more tokens again.
From the perspective of the devs, the entire point of the gameplay model is to get us to watch ads, but there comes an upper threshold where the cringe outweighs the payout. And if I'm not the only one who thinks like this, the devs have to be aware that ad watch time falls off precipitously after a player reaches a certain point in the game. Do you think they'd ever actually up the yield to compensate? What would it take to get you to sit through another grueling exercise of watching somebody fail at obviously fake video games on purpose?

Shipped into Oblivion You remember standing there, on the bow of a grand carrier, observing the war that took place. Dimly, in your head, you wondered if it could have been avoided. Before that thought could take root though, you shook it out. You weren't paid to think, only to act. And act you shall. As the viewport seems to crest the corona of the system's sun, you steel yourself in your righteousness. Cathan Goods, above all else, must be protected. Comfort reigns supreme, a casual ease of mind that comes with practice, honed since birth. Your mind is alight with the sheer expanse of possibilities offered to you, and you sort through them without a care in the world. Well, with one care. Deep inside your eye of minds lurks an image of a pond. You don't know where it is, or even where you saw it, but there lies an utter certainty, an utter weight of importance instilled within the pond. Whilst your compatriots and you fight, exposed to the elements to feel every bite of your environment, you occasionally steel yourself with glances towards that inner pond, calming your mind. For this reason, you idly quirb[^1], you've stayed alive longer than almost anyone you know. A siren pulls you out of your contemplative bliss as the ship begins entering the orbit of the battlefield, a moon, strangely devoid of craters. Someone wiser than you might make a connection between the lack of an asteroid belt with this, but you can't focus on that right now. It seems, after all, in this advanced age, the only thoughts that run through your mind anymore are that of combat and that of the pond. You try and remember again what the pond is, and why it's so important to you, but a voice from all around halts you in the track. "Listen up!" the voice intones, dull yet filled with depths of meaning, importing feelings of rushing and urgency. Semantic processing technology allows for a complex series of neurotransmitters and brain tissue to be rapidly stimulated, allowing for nuanced communication without intense language. Despite saving hundreds of lives daily with the dirges of context provided, it is often ignored, or chalked up as 'empathy' to those who benefit the most from it. You, of course, are no different. "We land in less than 5 minutes!" The general doesn't need to raise her voice, the processing takes care of any loudness. It still hurts your ears, though, with the volume, despite there being no difference from normal squabble. Within your skull lies several dozen plates, designed for anything from a display thrown down your optic nerve to bone conduction for sound processing. The Cathan mindset is [[Superiority through Purity]], and since the very first shipments went out through Cathan Goods, the prime benefits of humanity were embraced. In your case, you prepare to fall from the brazen skies above Losh and engage in warfare until your very bones give out. The same content emotion fills you, and you feel your strength seemingly redoubled before the prospect of engaging with filthy Veritas troops with your pure forces. You are positive, would bet anything on it in fact, that your brothers-and-sisters-in-arms would agree with you, and the room seems abuzz with ambition. Ambition, that oh-so-powerful emotion that's driven you to the heights you stand at today. You know that one of the paragons of ambition, [ Madame Noelle Cathan](Overview%201#^251a3e) herself stands at the top of a peak in the center of the battlefield, commanding her troops through serene tranquility. She's a direct pacifist, wouldn't hurt a fly herself, but when it came to orders... They're all just numbers on screens, aren't they? The Calamity drove a wedge between her and Veritas. Despite their entanglement, here you were, fighting against soldiers equally devoted to Veritas. Those idiots. You're always told you're just a pawn, but when you're sitting there, looking at your pond, you question, "Does it matter?" The thought slips away, and you ignore it further as you draw near. Within your flesh lie all that's needed to survive this descent ([[Vivisection of a Disaster]]). You're assured by your sheer capability, by the resolute knowledge that nothing you could possibly face could hold a candle to your precise biology. It would never even occur to you to scan the faces of those in front of you, not the soldiers you'd trained with for decades now, but the technicians and doctors rushing around the drop pods with fear oozing off of them. Suppose a normal person saw that. Suppose someone who wasn't designed and bred for the sole purpose of warfare saw the utter lack of confidence in their strength in the face of a greater adversary. They would be terrified. But you remain oblivious. As the sirens begin screeching with an intensity unseen in the bay before today, you steady yourself with thoughts of glorious combat in front of you. With a start, however, you're torn from your concentration by that very same pond. The pond, so tranquil and quiet, seems to sap away every ounce of care you have left within you. It takes a herculean effort to rip your mind away from it, but you manage. Still, though, the burning impact of it's tranquility begins worming itself into your mind. As you begin to let yourself ruminate, a jolt travels through your body, and you remember where you are and why all of the civilians left. Space. It surrounds you, filling you with a chill through your bones. You almost smile before catching yourself, remembering not to let the faintest crack in this façade of security let in the vacuum surrounding you. Or at least, a vacuum at first. Around you, you can almost smell the joy of your fellow soldiers as you tear through space faster than any normal human could hope to go. The only indicator you have of any movement at all is the ship, distantly receding behind you. If you were to close your eyes, you doubt you could tell the void apart from the warm ground you were on but mere moments ago. The confines of your flesh, reinforced with every manner of genetics known to mankind, hold your consciousness in, a bubble in this uncaring sea. Below you, Losh enlarges, rushing at your face with a primal instinct, a pull of gravity forcing the two of you closer together. Everything is blissfully quiet, and you feel yourself relax. Then, heat blisters from that sweet void. Above you, the ship has travelled far, far past. Whilst you've fallen and drifted, ballistically heading towards a battlefield, a not-quite-human missile aimed at the throats of Veritas, the head of the fleet has continued towards the conflict in orbit. Your body is alight with flames as you parse through the data on your optic nerves. Clothing, and armor, is irrelevant, any extensions would merely get in the way of the pure unbridled perfection that is humanity. Your sole goal is to recover Cathan using any means necessary. As you burst through the thin veneer of air coating the exceptionally large moons surface, you can feel your muscles tense up as you prepare for the impact. In the last second, nay, microsecond before crashing into the ground, your entire body goes limp. You plow into edge after edge of crater after crater, ending only when your tumble slows to a crawl. As you stand, a crack from the distance reaches your ears. It's only after the fact that you realize a Veritas sniper hit you in the midst of your plight, and is undoubtedly readying their aim again. They know what you are, now. They know what to expect. Before another shot has a chance to hit you through the screeching atmosphere of bloodshed, you're moving, your limbs lighter than a feather as you speed across the land. Oxygenated blood rushes through your muscles and out the hole from the bullet as you pump your legs harder and faster yet in a desperate rush to beat out the sniper. Within half a second, you've crossed the 100-meter expanse and grasp the Veritas' neck within your hand. A squeeze is all it will take. You feel your body taking over, performing the actions on autopilot as the pond encroaches on your awareness. For once, you feel something other than the placid calm of superiority. Despair. Within a moment, though, the pond leaves, and you are aware of the battlefield again. Looking back down, you collect the weapon of the sniper and sling it over your shoulder. 3 meters provides immense leverage, even if the weapon itself is useless to you. You resume a light jog towards your destination, staying as low as possible in the bounding gravity and aggressively scanning the horizon for anyone else who dares to stop a Cathan elite. 6 more dare. You're dimly aware of time slipping on by you, the seconds oozing away as you draw nearer and nearer to your destination. In your peripheral vision, you can't but notice the lack of friendlies on the field. In another time, if you were a different person, you would have grieved for their loss. But now is not that time; your focus sharpens to a point as your entire being devotes itself to one task. **Protection.** Your stride lengthens until your legs begin eating up the distance, each monstrous step covering dozens of meters as you propel yourself forwards, faster than you feel you've ever moved before: dimly though, you correct this; within seconds you seem to be at your location, but with every pull of your lungs you're reminded of the cost. This isn't right. Something is exceedingly wrong. You are a Cathan, a warrior forged in the very catalytic cocoons that the shipping empire maintains, a being designed solely for combat. To lose yourself to desperation, to the ambition of being the one to save Madame Noelle herself is unbecoming, to say the least. You begin tearing through your wetware, seeing if any part of your system has been compromised, but find nothing. No, you do find someone. A deficiency not of the technology, but of yourself, the user; within you lies the seeds of ambition so embraced in the leaders of society but despised in mindless servants like yourself. It sickens you, this idea of being "destined" for leadership. So instead of finding solace in these delusions of grandeur, you blunt your senses with blunt force, batting the rifle you obtained against your arm to ground yourself. The sheer depths of emotion associated with pain surging through your system instantly brings your attention to Losh, sharpening your senses all the while. Despite being "low-tech," the practice of using pain to release floods of endorphins and adrenaline is standard within the Cathan military. Coming to your senses, your eyes skim atop the peak some 3 kilometers ahead of you. All around it, and all around you, in fact, lie soldiers and mercenaries from a variety of companies; you despise mercenaries, those pitiful fools willing to throw away their lives and value for a payday, their armors and weapons serving as futile stopgaps against the inevitabilities of combat; to be bared against the world as pure as can be is an euphoric glory known only to Cathan troops: these mercenaries are no further removed from it than a starfish from a squid. The only thing you have in common is the medium of battlefield you both move through. But in cases like these, their support may ensure the difference between success and destruction, and your life would be the merest token you'd provide to prevent the latter. As you draw nearer, you can't help but notice other forces too: Novus engineers, seemingly aiding whichever side they choose as the time; their lack of coherency is disgusting. You despise that individuality they so present, with the kindling of ambition in their cores waiting for a spark. Each Novus engineer is a wildfire just waiting for someone to set it alight. And then, there's Cathan. The cool reflections of the pond serve as a water to douse the flames of your enemies, and you wield it as a weapon. That, and the long shaft of a rifle you sling over your back. You're a whirlwind, an unstoppable force meeting objects who seem content to move and release themselves to your fury; seemingly hundreds die in your wake. Had you stopped and considered the destruction left in your wake, you might have felt some inkling of compassion for the poor, unfortunate souls who committed the crime of obstructing some "justice" decided by a singular women in command of an empire far too large. But you don't exist for thinking, no, you exist solely to cause chaos and shift the balance of the universe ever so slightly. Losh is no difference. You finally arrive at the base of the hill, where a line of Veritas troops separate you from the defenses of Cathan fodder protecting Madame Noelle with their lives, all they have to give to her. As you flank the enemy, a pole slams into your side, and you only barely tumble away from it, scraping across the hard ground within meters from the opposition. The gambit is up; you've been revealed. With an unholy scream, you launch yourself to your feet and begin swinging your club at the mercenaries in front of you, each blow dealt being a troop deprived from pressuring the defense. And yet, you being to be overwhelmed near instantly, legions of Veritas hires swarming you and struggling yet succeeding in containment. For the first time, a crack in your mental façade of significance emerges, and you feel the pond flood in with it. Inside your mind, the world slows to unbearable speeds, and your field of vision shrinks until all that's left is that serene water existing within your heart. It pours through your skull, quenching the fires of ambition, and filling you with a new security. You are going to die here. The calm of impending doom fills you, and the last inhibitions of strive release themselves from your grasp, leaving you all but focused on the task at hand. With an almost lazily resigned movement, you stand up amidst the dogpile of slaves, not to masters of men but masters of desire, and turn your head towards the hill. You can feel it, the gaze of Madame Noelle herself, and it fills you with such an immense comfort that you find yourself walking towards it. Bullets ricochet across your tempered flesh, and blades find only scars when they try to cut. As you trudge through the pools of wretches, all of it fades away. Even when you're thrown through the air by an incendiary device, weakened only by lack of foresight for a thin atmosphere, you still remain focused. Any lapse of concentration has left you by now. And yet, this tunnel vision isn't free. You realize abruptly, but boldly, that reinforcements have arrived. The other elites that you deigned to leave behind have caught up, and you finally register the litany of comm requests that have bombarded you for several minutes now. You shouldn't be standing anymore, you should've been taken down, would've been stopped if it weren't for soldiers not caring about anything but their own lives. And now, they'll pay with their lives. You take leave and a swing at a soldier as you continue your trek, before breaking through the frontlines and crossing into Cathan trenches. Despite being too tall to fit comfortably, you still feel the barest hint of security enter your mind; though it's hard to reinforce adamant. As you worm your way through the trenches and towards the top, your focus becomes fluid, tracking an infinity of conflicts at once. Behind you, Cathan elites go into battle, their monstrous purity succeeding in taking swaths of army down with them. To your sides lie fodder and mercenaries, the latter being able to turn the tides of battle with one stupid decision and the former preventing them from doing so. Above you rages the grand fleets, entire planets' worth of economy thrown into machinations of war. And finally, in front of you lies to true goal. You realize abruptly that Madame Noelle had in fact summoned you. Despite the cool waters of tranquility raging through your mind, and the very fibers of your mind rebelling against it, you begin to feel that evil spark that has doomed so many and destroyed alliances. Ambition surges through your body as you begin nearing the peak! You understand now the mistakes of thought you committed- to think you would die is outrageous! Madame Noelle had destined you for this since you dropped in. You don't even notice the ships plummeting towards the peak from orbit, or the babbles of commanders preparing for death. No, instead, you feed the flames of ambition and work your way up. Pride fills you as you walk up to Madame Noelle and kneel in front of her, awaiting her command. "017982, you bloody idiot" she rasps at you. The insult slides off, and a part of you long repressed considers how she must be strained. "Grab this," she barks, "it needs at least three people." On her side is a scientist, a man in a lab coat with tears streaming down his face. You know you're in a temple of some kind, oft studied by archeologists who claimed it proof of intelligent life. It doesn't matter- none of the moon does. All that you can think about is whatever Madame Noelle had in mind for you. The scientist seems to regain himself as he shouts: "This is utter madness!" A vicious backhand reassures you of his stupidity. "Silence fool!" Madame Noelle cries, her eyes wild with rage. "We can't let them leave, not after this." Perhaps in another life you could have been happy. Perhaps you would have lived without the lack of emotion presented to you by everyone of import in your life. But this is not that life. You lay your hand on the machine in front of you, and don't even flinch as you, Losh, the fleets, and the star of the system are immediately compressed into a pinprick of matter denser than space itself. [^1]: quirb (v) : the act of processing a thought without focusing on it

The way I see it, if you don’t notice that I exist, then I’m doing my job correctly.
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My name is Ben McFarlane and I work as a municipal sewer inspector in the town of Tevam Sound, Ontario. It's not the most glamorous job, but hey, somebody's got to do it and it puts food on the table.
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You'd probably think that working as a sewer inspector isn't that exciting… and yeah, for the most part you'd be right. Most of the time, all I'm doing is checking the pipes for damage. Unless there’s a reason for me to investigate a certain area, most of what I do is routine inspection, which helps ensure that the sewers remain in good working order. Trust me, nobody wants to see what happens when they aren’t.
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Thankfully, a lot of what I do can be done without me needing to crawl through pipes. I can use a small camera to help me do the inspection. But with some of the larger pipes and cisterns, I need to actually go inside and take a look.
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It’s never the best part of my day, but like I said before: somebody’s got to do it.
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Going down into the bigger tunnels is always a little unnerving. Part of it is the claustrophobic atmosphere and part of it is the knowledge that you’re basically standing in a river of literal human waste. I can deal with it now, but back when I first started the smell alone was darn near impossible to deal with.
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Ask most sanitation workers and I'm sure they'll have stories about what they've found in the sewers before. Heck, most of it isn't even stuff that people flush down the toilet. It's the stuff that people drop down manhole covers, or the stuff that gets washed into the sewers by the rain. Dead animals are surprisingly common, as are kids toys. I found an entire bicycle in the sewer once and I've got a buddy who found a loaded gun down there! Someone probably thought they'd get rid of it by just tossing it in the sewer.
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Someone was wrong.
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But of all the strange things I've experienced during my time working in the sewers… none of it compares to the stuff I see in the pipes on the southeast side of town.
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The things down there… I don't usually like to talk about them. Heck, I might not even be legally allowed to talk about them. I guess we'll find out, won't we? I've had a few drinks tonight and I'm feeling particularly chatty. So why not spill the beans? Hey, maybe someone out there will tell me something I don’t already know.
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I’d been on the job for about a year or so before getting sent to the southeast side of town. It’s closer to the lake and the downtown area, so there’s some deeper pipes there. I’d always figured that that was the reason they only really ever sent certain people down there. I’d heard that those tunnels were old and a little labyrinthian. Anyone who didn’t know what they were doing could easily get lost.
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But after we got hit with a particularly nasty rain storm back in summer of 2013, they needed to send someone down to check on some sensors and I just so happened to be one of the guys who was available.
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A bad rain storm can push a sewer system to its limit, so it wasn’t really that surprising that we’d gotten that kind of call and at the time, I didn’t think that there was anything that strange about it. My supervisor told me to head on down toward the pumphouse on the southwest side of town like it was any other priority inspection, and I went along with no questions asked. It was a few streets away from downtown. I’d seen it before but never had a reason to go inside up until then.
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I was working with a couple of other newbies at the time, a guy by the name of Stewart Long who’d only been on the job for a round three months or so, and another guy by the name of Tomas Opunui who’d started around the same time that I had.
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We’d arrived at the pumphouse, and when we got there we noticed another team waiting on us. This wasn’t too shocking either. Depending on the size of the job, they might’ve sent some other guys in to help us handle it.
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The guy in charge was an older man who looked to be pushing sixty. He had sort of a ‘Santa Claus on summer vacation’ look, with white hair, a short white beard, a big beer belly and a no nonsense expression.
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He watched us get out of his truck with a look of stern disapproval, before huffing and trudging over to us.
“Where’s the usual fellas?” He asked.
“I dunno, out. They called us,” I replied.
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He didn’t seem to like that answer but didn’t say anything in response to it.
“You ever worked on the southeast approach channel before?” He asked.
“Yeah, we’ve been in the ones on the north side of town,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked, kid. You ever worked in this one before?”
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Something about the way he asked this question struck me as a little odd. I’d worked in an approach channel before. I knew the drill. What did it matter which one I’d worked in?
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For the unenlightened, an approach channel is a cistern filled with wastewater. They feed into a deep tunnel which feeds into a water treatment plant and they’re considered to be fairly dangerous, due to their depth (if you fall off the ladder on your way down, you’re in for a long drop into a biohazardous lake unless you’re properly tethered) and the harmful gasses that can accumulate in them. Standard operating procedure is to always test the air before entering one just to make sure that it’s even safe to breathe down there.
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Being reckless while going into an approach channel is a recipe for disaster, and I would have understood if the old man was concerned about us not having dealt with one before. But the way he spoke to us implied that this one was different somehow, which didn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me.
“What’s the difference?” I asked. “Same procedure, right?”
“No, not the same procedure. We need people experienced with this approach channel. These tunnels are a little different than what you’re used to.
“Look, the boss sent us here. So I’m sure we’ll manage,” Tomas said. “You can show us what we need to know.”
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The Old Man didn’t respond to him. He just shook his head and turned away.
“I’m gonna call this in and clear it with the boss first. You three, don’t move until I get back.”
I traded a look with both Tomas and Long as the Old Man trudged away. He said something to the two guys who were with him, before getting back into his truck to make a call.
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Part of me was obliged to try and just get to work. But looking at the other two guys that the Old Man had with him, I had a feeling that they’d try to stop me. One of them, another older guy with a receding hairline and a bushy moustache was watching us like a hawk.
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So we waited.
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After a few minutes, the Old Man got out of his truck again, said something to his buddy with the mustache and trudged back over to us.
“Bad news, fellas. Looks like our usual company’s retired… guess you’re the replacement.”
“So we can get to work?” I asked.
“Yeah. We can get to work,” The Old Man said. “Come on, let’s get going.”
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With that, he turned and led us into the pumphouse.
“Suppose I might as well introduce myself. Names Troy. My colleagues here are Craig and Peter.”
He gestured to the two men who were with him, Mr. Moustache (who I assumed was Craig) and the other guy, who looked to be in his mid thirties and had sunken eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. The one who I assumed was Craig just gave us a nod, while the guy I figured was Peter gave a lazy half wave before they followed us into the pumphouse.
“So if you don’t mind my asking, what’s so special about this channel?” I asked.
“I guess you’ll be seeing for yourself soon enough,” Troy replied as he started down a set of stairs. “The guys you’re replacing… well, guy… a fella named Tom… he always had a set of rules for working down here. He passed ‘em on to me and Craig when we started. We’ve passed ‘em on to Peter. Guess it’s time we passed ‘em on to you too.”
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“Rules?” I asked, “What kind of rules?”
“The kind you listen very, very closely to, kid.”Troy looked back at me, before his eyes shifted to Tomas and Long behind me.
“Very, very closely.”
He descended the rest of the way down the stairs, where there was a hatch in the concrete floor beneath us, along with a large locker on the far side of the room.
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“Rule number one,” Troy began. “You don’t enter this part of the sewers alone. You stay in a group of at least three to four at all times. No more, no less. Too many and it slows you down. Too few, and you might not come back at all.”
He trailed off, watching as Craig cracked open the hatch to test the air inside.
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“Rule number two: You do not enter this part of the sewers without a gun and a radio.”
He opened the locker on the far side of the room and I was taken aback to see a collection of several handguns inside, along with boxes of ammunition and one shotgun in amongst the usual PPE.
Troy clipped one of the guns to his belt, along with one of the radios, before handing a pair off to Peter and looking over at us.
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“Who’s taking it?” He asked.
“Whoa, just hold up for a minute!” Long interjected, “What the hell is down there?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Troy replied. “Hate to say it but it ain’t our job to know. I leave that to someone else. Our job is to follow the rules. You follow them, and you’ll be fine.”
Long seemed skeptical, but I looked at the gun in Troy’s hand and took it. I wasn’t sure if he was having a laugh with us or not, but I was there to do a job and I intended to do it.
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Troy gave me a quiet nod, before thrusting the second gun over to Long. He didn’t seem to happy to get it.
“Are we gonna have to use these?” He asked.
“Not if you do as I say, you won’t. Rule 3: If you see a pipe or a tunnel with heavy spiderwebs, don’t go down it. Doesn’t matter if that’s where the sensor is. You make a note of it, report it to your supervisor and leave it alone.”
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Spiderwebs? What the hell was he talking about?
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisors time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve been finding human bodies down there?” I asked.
“Rarely,” He replied. “But it’s been known to happen. And if we do find one… the same rules apply. Don’t approach it. Don’t touch it. Stay as far away as possible.”
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I could see some of the color draining from Long’s face.
“Rule 5: If you see anyone else down there, you are not to interact with them. You do not follow them if they try to lead you somewhere, if they ask you for help, you do not help them. I don’t care if they’re crying and begging. You leave them alone. You report it to your supervisor.”
“There are people down there?” I asked.
“Normally, no. Far as I know, Tom only ever ran into a couple during his career. I’ve only ever seen one. Like I said, best to leave them alone.”
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“Why?” I asked, “If there’s someone stuck down there, we have an obligation to help them!”
“That would be very ill advised,” Troy said. “You don’t want to anger the things that are down there… which leads me to rule 6: Avoid killing anything you come across down there. They’re not yours to kill. And if you have absolutely no choice, if you have to break that rule for the sake of self defense, then we leave immediately. That’s rule number 7.”
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“Air’s safe down there,” Craig said, interrupting our conversation.
“Good. Let’s get suited up, then. Oh… and rule 8. Final rule. If anything happens to any member of our team, we leave immediately. We don’t go after them. We don’t try to help them. We leave immediately. Is that clear? I don’t care if it’s me, begging you for help. You leave me behind.”
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Long and I remained silent, neither of us entirely sure how to react to this or even what to say. Troy had made it sound as if we were about to descend into a level of hell. I couldn’t imagine what the hell could possibly be down there to elicit a list of rules like that, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out either!
“Well? You fellas getting ready or not?” Troy asked impatiently as he put on his PPE. “The quicker we get down there, the quicker we can get out again!”
​
“If this is so dangerous, why are they sending us?” Long asked, “Shouldn’t they be sending… I dunno, the cops or something?”
“They tolerate us being down there, so long as we don’t disturb them. They wouldn’t be so forgiving toward the local police,” Troy replied. “Listen, kid. Obey the rules and you’ll be fine, got that? We’ve been doing this for years without any problems. You keep your head on your shoulders, you do what we say and you go home safe. Alright?”
​
Long still didn’t seem convinced, but I did. By this point, I was morbidly curious about exactly what was down there… and Troy’s assurance that they’d come out unscathed before did set me at ease a little bit. These rules sounded kinda scary, but what could realistically go wrong? With Troy keeping us in line, everything would probably be fine and besides, I still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all some sort of elaborate prank the old man was pulling. I grabbed myself a set of PPE and got ready and after a moments hesitation, Long did the same.
​
When we were ready, Craig opened up the hatch in the floor, and Tomas helped get us tethered so that we wouldn’t plummet down into the waters below if we slipped on the ladder, then we finally began our descent.
​
Troy went first, climbing down the ladder and into the darkness below. I went second, followed by Peter and followed by Long.
​
We climbed down into the approach channel in relative silence, only really speaking again once we made it to the bottom of the ladder.
​
Troy helped me get untethered, before doing the same for Peter and Long as they reached the bottom, and while he did that I got my first look at the dreaded southeast approach channel. I can’t say that there was a heck of a lot to see. The walls were boxy and flat, and the dirty wastewater trickled over my boots and into the pipe sending it even deeper through the sewer system.
​
The sensors should have been mounted on the ceiling, and I traced the black conduit line with my flashlight as I searched for the sensor they connected to. Peter and Long stayed back as Tomas and Craig lowered our tools down after us, while Troy came up behind me.
“Should be quick work…” He noted, “Rain doesn’t seem to have done much in here. Water level is still fairly low.”
​
I saw his flashlight shift upward toward the ceiling before he spotted the sensor. He trudged through the water to get closer to it, and I followed him.
“No external damage,” I noted. “Conduit lines look good too.”
“Yeah, we’ll run our tests and get out of here,” Troy said. “Approach channel is usually pretty safe… usually.”
“Usually?” I asked, and Troy pointed his flashlight up toward a set of silky spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling a few feet behind the sensor.
​
“They don’t typically come up here… but every now and then you might find some proof of some young ones, trying to get into the pumphouse.”
I looked over at him.
“They try to break into the pumphouse?” I asked, “Did they ever get in?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of. Can’t imagine they’d stay long if they did. Nothing to eat in there.”
“What exactly are they?” I asked, “And don’t you tell me that’s not for us to know. You’ve seen them, right? What do they look like?”
​
Troy had started to answer, when suddenly I heard Long screaming and swearing up a storm. Both of us turned to look, just in time to see something large skittering up the wall beside him. I only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it seemed to be roughly the size of a dog with more legs than I could count. Long stared at it with wide, horrified eyes as he fumbled with his gun, before pulling it free.
​
I saw Troy’s eyes widen before Long fired five times. Only one or two of the bullets actually hit the target. I heard Peter cry out in pain and grab at his arm before falling and whatever it was that Long had actually been shooting at collapsed into the shallow water, its pale body twitching violently.
“What did you just do?!” Troy demanded, running over to Peter’s side.
“I-it was coming for me!” Long protested, before noticing what he’d done to Peter. I saw his eyes widen in horror.
“Oh no… no, no, no… I didn’t…”
“Rule 6! You don’t kill anything down here! You leave them alone and they leave you alone!” Troy roared, before his attention returned to Peter. “How bad is it?”
​
“J-just a scratch, boss… I think I got hit by the ricochet,” Peter said, as Troy inspected his wound. I’ve never seen a gunshot wound before, but there was a lot of blood for it to just be a scratch.
“We’ll get you topside,” Troy said. “And come back down tomorrow with someone who knows how to follow rules!”
​
He shot Long a death glare before his radio crackled to life.
“Troy, everything good down there?” Craig asked.
“No, no it isn’t. One of the newbies got jumpy, shot at a centipede.” He huffed, “Put a hole in Peter in the process. Think you can reel him back up?”
“Yeah, sure thing. Hook him up. Tomas and I will bring him topside.”
​
Troy quietly hooked Peter up to the line, before helping him onto the ladder.
“You take it easy on the way up, and we’ll get that checked out,” He promised.
“Thanks boss,” Peter said quietly.
Troy’s attention returned to Long next, as he fixed him in a death glare.
“You, up the ladder behind him. And you…” He looked at me, his expression softening just a little.
“Behind him. I’ll go up last.”
​
Peter started to meekly climb the ladder, although it seemed like Craig and Tomas were doing most of the work, hoisting him up rung by rung. Once he’d made it part of the way up, Long started to hook himself up to climb behind him. Although before he could hook himself in, I saw him pause for a moment, staring at Troy.
“What is it?” Troy asked, before pausing.
​
Long craned his neck a little, his hand moving down to his gun again… and it was then that both Troy and I realized that he hadn’t been looking at Troy. He’d been looking at what was behind him.
​
I only saw a shadow, perched on the roof of the tunnel. But that was all that Long needed to see before he started shooting again.
“DON’T!”
But by the time Troy had gotten the word out, that trigger happy idiot had already started shooting again and this time, the thing that came for him didn’t drop dead.
​
Instead, it launched itself off of the ceiling of the tunnel, crashing into the ground a few feet away from me.
“WAIT!” Troy tried to protest before the thing in front of us knocked him aside, dashing him against the wall. Long scrambled away, retreating deeper into the tunnel while Peter frantically tried to unholster his gun.
“Troy? Troy, what’s going on down there?” I heard Craig calling over the radio, “Troy? Anyone, respond!”
​
The shape in front of us turned, looking over at me and Long. Eight eyes shone in the darkness and though I could only see the shadow of the creature before us, I saw enough. It had a body like a spider, with eight long chitinous legs. Only its body was much larger than any spider I’d ever seen before.
​
Much, much larger.
​
This creature was almost the size of a small car, but it wasn’t its size that terrified me. It was the humanoid torso coming out of the front of it. The two arms that ended in razor sharp claws, the snarling mouth that made noises that almost sounded human.
​
When this impossible thing looked at us, I saw real intelligence in its eyes. It was studying us, trying to determine how much of a threat we were…
​
Long kept his gun trained on it, hands shaking violently. I knew that he was going to shoot again, and hoping not to anger this thing, grabbed his arm, trying to force his gun down. He jumped the moment that I touched him giving me a hysterical look.
“Don’t!” I snapped, “You’re just gonna piss it off!”
​
The Spider took a step toward us, hissing as it did. Long pulled away from me.
“Stu!”
I tried calling his name, but Long had already made his choice and sealed his fate. He’d opted to fight this thing. And so, like the fool he was he shot at it again.
​
The Spider lunged for us.
​
I ran. Long didn’t.
​
He only had enough time to scream before it pounced on him, and then… all I could hear were the dying screams in his throat as he was pulled apart. I didn’t see him die. But I didn’t need to. I heard everything. I kept running, not even thinking about where the approach channel was going to end. And when it did end, all I could do was plummet into the darkness.
​
See, at the end of an approach channel is what is appropriately called a drop shaft. It’s where the water flows into a larger tunnel beneath the city. That tunnel, flows into the water treatment plant, eventually and the water down there… yeah… let’s just say that you don’t want to end up in the water down there.
​
Unfortunately, that was exactly where I was going.
​
I know that every job has its struggles, but I didn’t expect to need to choose between diving into raw sewage and fighting a giant spider monster when I woke up that morning. However the choice was presented to me and I did the best that I could given the circumstances.
​
Going into the wastewater was exactly an unpleasant experience as you’d think it would be. I’m inclined not to share the details of what it was like, simply because I genuinely do not want to remember them and I’m still not entirely convinced that dealing with the giant angry spider person wasn’t the better choice.
​
A small comfort was that the pain of hitting the water, combined with the confusing sensation of being flushed through a pipe and into an even larger pipe made the whole experience slightly less disgusting, at the cost of being considerably more painful.
​
At the end of it, I was washed out into the main pipe and collapsed into the water, covered in filth and gagging from the stench that had sank into my every pore. I felt disoriented and confused. I tried to stand, only to collapse back into the wastewater, before aimlessly looking around, hoping that maybe I could figure out what direction to go in. It was too dark to see much of anything and I’d lost my flashlight during my trip through the wastewater, so I was left to just wander aimlessly, following what I thought was the flow of the water as my eyes slowly started to acclimate to the darkness.
​
I could feel shapes in the water. Some of them I almost tripped over and I could smell rotting meat on top of the stink of human waste. In the darkness, I could make out shapes in the water and hear the buzzing of bugs around me. I could even feel a few whizz past my head and mindlessly swatted at them.
​
Old bones crunched under my boots, and I quietly thanked whatever God was listening that I couldn’t see what they’d belonged to. I wanted to assume they were animal bones… but who knew, right? I couldn’t shake the mental image of myself unknowingly stepping over the mauled corpse of Stewart Long… although that was more from the trauma of having recently witnessed a man die than any guilt over what had happened to him. Long had quite literally gotten himself killed. Although I was terrified that I’d be joining him at any second.
​
I kept listening in, half expecting to hear spider legs creeping up behind me. But it was impossible to tell if I was alone or not in that darkness and with the bugs buzzing past me. If there were anything after me, I truly would not know it until after it had pounced.
​
Still, I knew I couldn’t afford to let the fear get the better of me. So I just kept walking, hoping that maybe if I did, I’d somehow find myself at the water treatment plant and maybe then I’d get some help.
​
Maybe.
​
As I pressed on, I noticed a light ahead of me and picked up the pace, hoping to God that I’d finally found my way out of this mess. But as I drew closer, I became very aware that whatever the source of that light was, it was not from the water treatment plant.
​
In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. My first thought was that it was a fatberg (which is a solid mass of waste matter formed by an unholy mixture of wet wipes, grease, oil and every other piece of garbage people tend to flush down their toilets) but the longer I looked, the less certain I was about that.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have lamps embedded in them.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have thick spiderwebs clinging to them.
​
Fatbergs didn’t usually lead into a separate tunnel into the earth large enough for me to walk through.
​
And finally, fatbergs didn’t usually have dead deer protruding from them. Let alone dead deer with other bugs living in them. God… the sight of those corpses… the way the bugs crawled through the rotting flesh and exposed bone. The empty, hollow eyes… it was almost too horrible to look at.
​
And I swore that I could see things inside the corpses! Honeycombs of some sort, and the bugs who crawled around them looked almost like bees.
​
Was… was something cultivating some kind of bee in these things?
​
I thought back to Troy’s rules.
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisor's time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
​
Suddenly, they made a little more sense. If those spider things were cultivating something in these bodies… of course we shouldn’t touch them. And if they were cultivating their food in the sewer… I paused, before staring down the tunnel that the corpses sat near the entrance of.
​
Dull lamps illuminated it as it wound down into the earth, and I could see several pale centipede things that looked a lot like the creature that Long had shot to get us into this mess in the first place. These things must have belonged to the Spiders too, although whether they were some sort of guard dog or another thing they were farming was hard to say.
​
I took a step away from the tunnel, before looking back to make sure that I was well enough alone and trudging onward. And that was when I heard the slow rustle of movement.
​
I paused, feeling a chill run through me as the imminent reality of my own death dawned on me.
​
Slowly I turned, just in time to see a dark shape descending from the ceiling. A fresh set of eyes settled on me, narrowing as they studied me.
​
I put my hands up, hoping that it might understand the gesture of surrender and slowly it drew closer to me. I wasn’t sure if it was curious, or looking to murder me and at that point, I don’t think it really mattered. I wish I could say that I faced my death with dignity, but I’m going to be honest, I didn’t. I sat there, quivering and praying to whatever God would listen that it wouldn’t, kill me.
​
And then… I heard a voice.
“Leave that one! He’s with me!”
​
Troy?
​
I saw a figure emerge from the tunnel in the wall, and against all logic, somehow it was Troy! He had a hell of a goose egg on his head from where he’d been hit earlier, but he was alive! He stepped between me and the spider person, arms outstretched.
​
“With me.” He repeated firmly.
The Spider stared down at him, before huffing and turning away. I watched as they disappeared down the nearby tunnel, and Troy watched them go, before quietly turning to me.
​
“Good lord, boy… I’m shocked to see you’re still alive!”
“W-what just happened?” Was the only thing I could stammer. “You can talk to them?!”
“Some of ‘em. I’ve been down here for long enough that they know me. Know I’m not a threat. But they ain’t too happy with us right now. So what you’re gonna do here is get up, follow me, and I’m gonna get you out of here.”
“How do you know they’re even gonna let us leave?” I asked.
​
Troy’s expression soured.
“Had to pay ‘em off…” He admitted, “Let them keep what was left of your friend. They considered it a fair trade, so long as we leave. Now, let’s go.”
I didn’t ask any more questions.
​
***
​
After I made it out of the sewers that day, I ended up in the hospital alongside Peter. I had some minor cuts and bruises, a burning rash over most of my body from all the sewage I’d been crawling around in… but I was still alive, and I figured that had to count for something.
​
Nobody said a word about what happened to Stewart Long down in the sewer. He got written off as a workplace accident and they never even tried to recover his body. I suspect what’s left of him is still down in the sewers, even now… feeding whatever it is that those things down there are cultivating, although I’ve never seen the body myself.
​
Yes… I have been back down beneath the southeast side of town. The next time they needed someone to go, they sent me and Tomas along with Troy, Craig and Peter. We know what’s down there and we know how to deal with them, after all. My second visit to those sewers was a lot less eventful, and most of my subsequent visits haven’t been all that eventful either.
​
Over the years, I’ve gotten better at dealing with the Spiders… they’re not the most friendly folk and I know all too well that if you cross them, they’ll rip your guts out before you even realize that you’re dead. But so long as you follow the rules and leave them alone, they’re content to live and let live. They can even be reasonable, to an extent. We’ve had a few small incidents over the years, but nothing like the one that Long caused.
​
Odds are, when Troy and Craig retire next year, Tomas and I will be training the next group on what to do when you’re down beneath the southeast side of town. So in preparation for that, I’ve made a point to keep a copy of Tom's rules in the pumphouse. I also keep a picture of Stewart Long in there. Not as a memorial and not out of spite either. Just as a grim reminder of what can happen when you don’t follow the [rules.](https://www.reddit.com/HeadOfSpectre/)

The way I see it, if you don’t notice that I exist, then I’m doing my job correctly.
​
My name is Ben McFarlane and I work as a municipal sewer inspector in the town of Tevam Sound, Ontario. It's not the most glamorous job, but hey, somebody's got to do it and it puts food on the table.
​
You'd probably think that working as a sewer inspector isn't that exciting… and yeah, for the most part you'd be right. Most of the time, all I'm doing is checking the pipes for damage. Unless there’s a reason for me to investigate a certain area, most of what I do is routine inspection, which helps ensure that the sewers remain in good working order. Trust me, nobody wants to see what happens when they aren’t.
​
Thankfully, a lot of what I do can be done without me needing to crawl through pipes. I can use a small camera to help me do the inspection. But with some of the larger pipes and cisterns, I need to actually go inside and take a look.
​
It’s never the best part of my day, but like I said before: somebody’s got to do it.
​
Going down into the bigger tunnels is always a little unnerving. Part of it is the claustrophobic atmosphere and part of it is the knowledge that you’re basically standing in a river of literal human waste. I can deal with it now, but back when I first started the smell alone was darn near impossible to deal with.
​
Ask most sanitation workers and I'm sure they'll have stories about what they've found in the sewers before. Heck, most of it isn't even stuff that people flush down the toilet. It's the stuff that people drop down manhole covers, or the stuff that gets washed into the sewers by the rain. Dead animals are surprisingly common, as are kids toys. I found an entire bicycle in the sewer once and I've got a buddy who found a loaded gun down there! Someone probably thought they'd get rid of it by just tossing it in the sewer.
​
Someone was wrong.
​
But of all the strange things I've experienced during my time working in the sewers… none of it compares to the stuff I see in the pipes on the southeast side of town.
​
The things down there… I don't usually like to talk about them. Heck, I might not even be legally allowed to talk about them. I guess we'll find out, won't we? I've had a few drinks tonight and I'm feeling particularly chatty. So why not spill the beans? Hey, maybe someone out there will tell me something I don’t already know.
​
I’d been on the job for about a year or so before getting sent to the southeast side of town. It’s closer to the lake and the downtown area, so there’s some deeper pipes there. I’d always figured that that was the reason they only really ever sent certain people down there. I’d heard that those tunnels were old and a little labyrinthian. Anyone who didn’t know what they were doing could easily get lost.
​
But after we got hit with a particularly nasty rain storm back in summer of 2013, they needed to send someone down to check on some sensors and I just so happened to be one of the guys who was available.
​
A bad rain storm can push a sewer system to its limit, so it wasn’t really that surprising that we’d gotten that kind of call and at the time, I didn’t think that there was anything that strange about it. My supervisor told me to head on down toward the pumphouse on the southwest side of town like it was any other priority inspection, and I went along with no questions asked. It was a few streets away from downtown. I’d seen it before but never had a reason to go inside up until then.
​
I was working with a couple of other newbies at the time, a guy by the name of Stewart Long who’d only been on the job for a round three months or so, and another guy by the name of Tomas Opunui who’d started around the same time that I had.
​
We’d arrived at the pumphouse, and when we got there we noticed another team waiting on us. This wasn’t too shocking either. Depending on the size of the job, they might’ve sent some other guys in to help us handle it.
​
The guy in charge was an older man who looked to be pushing sixty. He had sort of a ‘Santa Claus on summer vacation’ look, with white hair, a short white beard, a big beer belly and a no nonsense expression.
​
He watched us get out of his truck with a look of stern disapproval, before huffing and trudging over to us.
“Where’s the usual fellas?” He asked.
“I dunno, out. They called us,” I replied.
​
He didn’t seem to like that answer but didn’t say anything in response to it.
“You ever worked on the southeast approach channel before?” He asked.
“Yeah, we’ve been in the ones on the north side of town,” I said.
“That’s not what I asked, kid. You ever worked in this one before?”
​
Something about the way he asked this question struck me as a little odd. I’d worked in an approach channel before. I knew the drill. What did it matter which one I’d worked in?
​
For the unenlightened, an approach channel is a cistern filled with wastewater. They feed into a deep tunnel which feeds into a water treatment plant and they’re considered to be fairly dangerous, due to their depth (if you fall off the ladder on your way down, you’re in for a long drop into a biohazardous lake unless you’re properly tethered) and the harmful gasses that can accumulate in them. Standard operating procedure is to always test the air before entering one just to make sure that it’s even safe to breathe down there.
​
Being reckless while going into an approach channel is a recipe for disaster, and I would have understood if the old man was concerned about us not having dealt with one before. But the way he spoke to us implied that this one was different somehow, which didn’t make a whole heck of a lot of sense to me.
“What’s the difference?” I asked. “Same procedure, right?”
“No, not the same procedure. We need people experienced with this approach channel. These tunnels are a little different than what you’re used to.
“Look, the boss sent us here. So I’m sure we’ll manage,” Tomas said. “You can show us what we need to know.”
​
The Old Man didn’t respond to him. He just shook his head and turned away.
“I’m gonna call this in and clear it with the boss first. You three, don’t move until I get back.”
I traded a look with both Tomas and Long as the Old Man trudged away. He said something to the two guys who were with him, before getting back into his truck to make a call.
​
Part of me was obliged to try and just get to work. But looking at the other two guys that the Old Man had with him, I had a feeling that they’d try to stop me. One of them, another older guy with a receding hairline and a bushy moustache was watching us like a hawk.
​
So we waited.
​
After a few minutes, the Old Man got out of his truck again, said something to his buddy with the mustache and trudged back over to us.
“Bad news, fellas. Looks like our usual company’s retired… guess you’re the replacement.”
“So we can get to work?” I asked.
“Yeah. We can get to work,” The Old Man said. “Come on, let’s get going.”
​
With that, he turned and led us into the pumphouse.
“Suppose I might as well introduce myself. Names Troy. My colleagues here are Craig and Peter.”
He gestured to the two men who were with him, Mr. Moustache (who I assumed was Craig) and the other guy, who looked to be in his mid thirties and had sunken eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in a few days. The one who I assumed was Craig just gave us a nod, while the guy I figured was Peter gave a lazy half wave before they followed us into the pumphouse.
“So if you don’t mind my asking, what’s so special about this channel?” I asked.
“I guess you’ll be seeing for yourself soon enough,” Troy replied as he started down a set of stairs. “The guys you’re replacing… well, guy… a fella named Tom… he always had a set of rules for working down here. He passed ‘em on to me and Craig when we started. We’ve passed ‘em on to Peter. Guess it’s time we passed ‘em on to you too.”
​
“Rules?” I asked, “What kind of rules?”
“The kind you listen very, very closely to, kid.” Troy looked back at me, before his eyes shifted to Tomas and Long behind me.
“Very, very closely.”
He descended the rest of the way down the stairs, where there was a hatch in the concrete floor beneath us, along with a large locker on the far side of the room.
​
“Rule number one,” Troy began. “You don’t enter this part of the sewers alone. You stay in a group of at least three to four at all times. No more, no less. Too many and it slows you down. Too few, and you might not come back at all.”
He trailed off, watching as Craig cracked open the hatch to test the air inside.
​
“Rule number two: You do not enter this part of the sewers without a gun and a radio.”
He opened the locker on the far side of the room and I was taken aback to see a collection of several handguns inside, along with boxes of ammunition and one shotgun in amongst the usual PPE.
Troy clipped one of the guns to his belt, along with one of the radios, before handing a pair off to Peter and looking over at us.
​
“Who’s taking it?” He asked.
“Whoa, just hold up for a minute!” Long interjected, “What the hell is down there?”
“Honestly, I don’t know,” Troy replied. “Hate to say it but it ain’t our job to know. I leave that to someone else. Our job is to follow the rules. You follow them, and you’ll be fine.”
Long seemed skeptical, but I looked at the gun in Troy’s hand and took it. I wasn’t sure if he was having a laugh with us or not, but I was there to do a job and I intended to do it.
​
Troy gave me a quiet nod, before thrusting the second gun over to Long. He didn’t seem to happy to get it.
“Are we gonna have to use these?” He asked.
“Not if you do as I say, you won’t. Rule 3: If you see a pipe or a tunnel with heavy spiderwebs, don’t go down it. Doesn’t matter if that’s where the sensor is. You make a note of it, report it to your supervisor and leave it alone.”
​
Spiderwebs? What the hell was he talking about?
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisors time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
“I’m sorry, you’ve been finding human bodies down there?” I asked.
“Rarely,” He replied. “But it’s been known to happen. And if we do find one… the same rules apply. Don’t approach it. Don’t touch it. Stay as far away as possible.”
​
I could see some of the color draining from Long’s face.
“Rule 5: If you see anyone else down there, you are not to interact with them. You do not follow them if they try to lead you somewhere, if they ask you for help, you do not help them. I don’t care if they’re crying and begging. You leave them alone. You report it to your supervisor.”
“There are people down there?” I asked.
“Normally, no. Far as I know, Tom only ever ran into a couple during his career. I’ve only ever seen one. Like I said, best to leave them alone.”
​
“Why?” I asked, “If there’s someone stuck down there, we have an obligation to help them!”
“That would be very ill advised,” Troy said. “You don’t want to anger the things that are down there… which leads me to rule 6: Avoid killing anything you come across down there. They’re not yours to kill. And if you have absolutely no choice, if you have to break that rule for the sake of self defense, then we leave immediately. That’s rule number 7.”
​
“Air’s safe down there,” Craig said, interrupting our conversation.
“Good. Let’s get suited up, then. Oh… and rule 8. Final rule. If anything happens to any member of our team, we leave immediately. We don’t go after them. We don’t try to help them. We leave immediately. Is that clear? I don’t care if it’s me, begging you for help. You leave me behind.”
​
Long and I remained silent, neither of us entirely sure how to react to this or even what to say. Troy had made it sound as if we were about to descend into a level of hell. I couldn’t imagine what the hell could possibly be down there to elicit a list of rules like that, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to find out either!
“Well? You fellas getting ready or not?” Troy asked impatiently as he put on his PPE. “The quicker we get down there, the quicker we can get out again!”
​
“If this is so dangerous, why are they sending us?” Long asked, “Shouldn’t they be sending… I dunno, the cops or something?”
“They tolerate us being down there, so long as we don’t disturb them. They wouldn’t be so forgiving toward the local police,” Troy replied. “Listen, kid. Obey the rules and you’ll be fine, got that? We’ve been doing this for years without any problems. You keep your head on your shoulders, you do what we say and you go home safe. Alright?”
​
Long still didn’t seem convinced, but I did. By this point, I was morbidly curious about exactly what was down there… and Troy’s assurance that they’d come out unscathed before did set me at ease a little bit. These rules sounded kinda scary, but what could realistically go wrong? With Troy keeping us in line, everything would probably be fine and besides, I still wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t all some sort of elaborate prank the old man was pulling. I grabbed myself a set of PPE and got ready and after a moments hesitation, Long did the same.
​
When we were ready, Craig opened up the hatch in the floor, and Tomas helped get us tethered so that we wouldn’t plummet down into the waters below if we slipped on the ladder, then we finally began our descent.
​
Troy went first, climbing down the ladder and into the darkness below. I went second, followed by Peter and followed by Long.
​
We climbed down into the approach channel in relative silence, only really speaking again once we made it to the bottom of the ladder.
​
Troy helped me get untethered, before doing the same for Peter and Long as they reached the bottom, and while he did that I got my first look at the dreaded southeast approach channel. I can’t say that there was a heck of a lot to see. The walls were boxy and flat, and the dirty wastewater trickled over my boots and into the pipe sending it even deeper through the sewer system.
​
The sensors should have been mounted on the ceiling, and I traced the black conduit line with my flashlight as I searched for the sensor they connected to. Peter and Long stayed back as Tomas and Craig lowered our tools down after us, while Troy came up behind me.
“Should be quick work…” He noted, “Rain doesn’t seem to have done much in here. Water level is still fairly low.”
​
I saw his flashlight shift upward toward the ceiling before he spotted the sensor. He trudged through the water to get closer to it, and I followed him.
“No external damage,” I noted. “Conduit lines look good too.”
“Yeah, we’ll run our tests and get out of here,” Troy said. “Approach channel is usually pretty safe… usually.”
“Usually?” I asked, and Troy pointed his flashlight up toward a set of silky spiderwebs hanging from the ceiling a few feet behind the sensor.
​
“They don’t typically come up here… but every now and then you might find some proof of some young ones, trying to get into the pumphouse.”
I looked over at him.
“They try to break into the pumphouse?” I asked, “Did they ever get in?”
“Not that I’ve ever heard of. Can’t imagine they’d stay long if they did. Nothing to eat in there.”
“What exactly are they?” I asked, “And don’t you tell me that’s not for us to know. You’ve seen them, right? What do they look like?”
​
Troy had started to answer, when suddenly I heard Long screaming and swearing up a storm. Both of us turned to look, just in time to see something large skittering up the wall beside him. I only caught a brief glimpse of it, but it seemed to be roughly the size of a dog with more legs than I could count. Long stared at it with wide, horrified eyes as he fumbled with his gun, before pulling it free.
​
I saw Troy’s eyes widen before Long fired five times. Only one or two of the bullets actually hit the target. I heard Peter cry out in pain and grab at his arm before falling and whatever it was that Long had actually been shooting at collapsed into the shallow water, its pale body twitching violently.
“What did you just do?!” Troy demanded, running over to Peter’s side.
“I-it was coming for me!” Long protested, before noticing what he’d done to Peter. I saw his eyes widen in horror.
“Oh no… no, no, no… I didn’t…”
“Rule 6! You don’t kill anything down here! You leave them alone and they leave you alone!” Troy roared, before his attention returned to Peter. “How bad is it?”
​
“J-just a scratch, boss… I think I got hit by the ricochet,” Peter said, as Troy inspected his wound. I’ve never seen a gunshot wound before, but there was a lot of blood for it to just be a scratch.
“We’ll get you topside,” Troy said. “And come back down tomorrow with someone who knows how to follow rules!”
​
He shot Long a death glare before his radio crackled to life.
“Troy, everything good down there?” Craig asked.
“No, no it isn’t. One of the newbies got jumpy, shot at a centipede.” He huffed, “Put a hole in Peter in the process. Think you can reel him back up?”
“Yeah, sure thing. Hook him up. Tomas and I will bring him topside.”
​
Troy quietly hooked Peter up to the line, before helping him onto the ladder.
“You take it easy on the way up, and we’ll get that checked out,” He promised.
“Thanks boss,” Peter said quietly.
Troy’s attention returned to Long next, as he fixed him in a death glare.
“You, up the ladder behind him. And you…” He looked at me, his expression softening just a little.
“Behind him. I’ll go up last.”
​
Peter started to meekly climb the ladder, although it seemed like Craig and Tomas were doing most of the work, hoisting him up rung by rung. Once he’d made it part of the way up, Long started to hook himself up to climb behind him. Although before he could hook himself in, I saw him pause for a moment, staring at Troy.
“What is it?” Troy asked, before pausing.
​
Long craned his neck a little, his hand moving down to his gun again… and it was then that both Troy and I realized that he hadn’t been looking at Troy. He’d been looking at what was behind him.
​
I only saw a shadow, perched on the roof of the tunnel. But that was all that Long needed to see before he started shooting again.
“DON’T!”
But by the time Troy had gotten the word out, that trigger happy idiot had already started shooting again and this time, the thing that came for him didn’t drop dead.
​
Instead, it launched itself off of the ceiling of the tunnel, crashing into the ground a few feet away from me.
“WAIT!” Troy tried to protest before the thing in front of us knocked him aside, dashing him against the wall. Long scrambled away, retreating deeper into the tunnel while Peter frantically tried to unholster his gun.
“Troy? Troy, what’s going on down there?” I heard Craig calling over the radio, “Troy? Anyone, respond!”
​
The shape in front of us turned, looking over at me and Long. Eight eyes shone in the darkness and though I could only see the shadow of the creature before us, I saw enough. It had a body like a spider, with eight long chitinous legs. Only its body was much larger than any spider I’d ever seen before.
​
Much, much larger.
​
This creature was almost the size of a small car, but it wasn’t its size that terrified me. It was the humanoid torso coming out of the front of it. The two arms that ended in razor sharp claws, the snarling mouth that made noises that almost sounded human.
​
When this impossible thing looked at us, I saw real intelligence in its eyes. It was studying us, trying to determine how much of a threat we were…
​
Long kept his gun trained on it, hands shaking violently. I knew that he was going to shoot again, and hoping not to anger this thing, grabbed his arm, trying to force his gun down. He jumped the moment that I touched him giving me a hysterical look.
“Don’t!” I snapped, “You’re just gonna piss it off!”
​
The Spider took a step toward us, hissing as it did. Long pulled away from me.
“Stu!”
I tried calling his name, but Long had already made his choice and sealed his fate. He’d opted to fight this thing. And so, like the fool he was he shot at it again.
​
The Spider lunged for us.
​
I ran. Long didn’t.
​
He only had enough time to scream before it pounced on him, and then… all I could hear were the dying screams in his throat as he was pulled apart. I didn’t see him die. But I didn’t need to. I heard everything. I kept running, not even thinking about where the approach channel was going to end. And when it did end, all I could do was plummet into the darkness.
​
See, at the end of an approach channel is what is appropriately called a drop shaft. It’s where the water flows into a larger tunnel beneath the city. That tunnel, flows into the water treatment plant, eventually and the water down there… yeah… let’s just say that you don’t want to end up in the water down there.
​
Unfortunately, that was exactly where I was going.
​
I know that every job has its struggles, but I didn’t expect to need to choose between diving into raw sewage and fighting a giant spider monster when I woke up that morning. However the choice was presented to me and I did the best that I could given the circumstances.
​
Going into the wastewater was exactly an unpleasant experience as you’d think it would be. I’m inclined not to share the details of what it was like, simply because I genuinely do not want to remember them and I’m still not entirely convinced that dealing with the giant angry spider person wasn’t the better choice.
​
A small comfort was that the pain of hitting the water, combined with the confusing sensation of being flushed through a pipe and into an even larger pipe made the whole experience slightly less disgusting, at the cost of being considerably more painful.
​
At the end of it, I was washed out into the main pipe and collapsed into the water, covered in filth and gagging from the stench that had sank into my every pore. I felt disoriented and confused. I tried to stand, only to collapse back into the wastewater, before aimlessly looking around, hoping that maybe I could figure out what direction to go in. It was too dark to see much of anything and I’d lost my flashlight during my trip through the wastewater, so I was left to just wander aimlessly, following what I thought was the flow of the water as my eyes slowly started to acclimate to the darkness.
​
I could feel shapes in the water. Some of them I almost tripped over and I could smell rotting meat on top of the stink of human waste. In the darkness, I could make out shapes in the water and hear the buzzing of bugs around me. I could even feel a few whizz past my head and mindlessly swatted at them.
​
Old bones crunched under my boots, and I quietly thanked whatever God was listening that I couldn’t see what they’d belonged to. I wanted to assume they were animal bones… but who knew, right? I couldn’t shake the mental image of myself unknowingly stepping over the mauled corpse of Stewart Long… although that was more from the trauma of having recently witnessed a man die than any guilt over what had happened to him. Long had quite literally gotten himself killed. Although I was terrified that I’d be joining him at any second.
​
I kept listening in, half expecting to hear spider legs creeping up behind me. But it was impossible to tell if I was alone or not in that darkness and with the bugs buzzing past me. If there were anything after me, I truly would not know it until after it had pounced.
​
Still, I knew I couldn’t afford to let the fear get the better of me. So I just kept walking, hoping that maybe if I did, I’d somehow find myself at the water treatment plant and maybe then I’d get some help.
​
Maybe.
​
As I pressed on, I noticed a light ahead of me and picked up the pace, hoping to God that I’d finally found my way out of this mess. But as I drew closer, I became very aware that whatever the source of that light was, it was not from the water treatment plant.
​
In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure what it was. My first thought was that it was a fatberg (which is a solid mass of waste matter formed by an unholy mixture of wet wipes, grease, oil and every other piece of garbage people tend to flush down their toilets) but the longer I looked, the less certain I was about that.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have lamps embedded in them.
​
Fatbergs usually didn’t have thick spiderwebs clinging to them.
​
Fatbergs didn’t usually lead into a separate tunnel into the earth large enough for me to walk through.
​
And finally, fatbergs didn’t usually have dead deer protruding from them. Let alone dead deer with other bugs living in them. God… the sight of those corpses… the way the bugs crawled through the rotting flesh and exposed bone. The empty, hollow eyes… it was almost too horrible to look at.
​
And I swore that I could see things inside the corpses! Honeycombs of some sort, and the bugs who crawled around them looked almost like bees.
​
Was… was something cultivating some kind of bee in these things?
​
I thought back to Troy’s rules.
“Rule 4: If you find a body… and odds are, you will find a body, don’t touch it. Don’t try to move it. Hell, don’t even get close to it. And don’t waste the supervisor's time reporting it. Only time the bodies get reported is when they’re human.”
​
Suddenly, they made a little more sense. If those spider things were cultivating something in these bodies… of course we shouldn’t touch them. And if they were cultivating their food in the sewer… I paused, before staring down the tunnel that the corpses sat near the entrance of.
​
Dull lamps illuminated it as it wound down into the earth, and I could see several pale centipede things that looked a lot like the creature that Long had shot to get us into this mess in the first place. These things must have belonged to the Spiders too, although whether they were some sort of guard dog or another thing they were farming was hard to say.
​
I took a step away from the tunnel, before looking back to make sure that I was well enough alone and trudging onward. And that was when I heard the slow rustle of movement.
​
I paused, feeling a chill run through me as the imminent reality of my own death dawned on me.
​
Slowly I turned, just in time to see a dark shape descending from the ceiling. A fresh set of eyes settled on me, narrowing as they studied me.
​
I put my hands up, hoping that it might understand the gesture of surrender and slowly it drew closer to me. I wasn’t sure if it was curious, or looking to murder me and at that point, I don’t think it really mattered. I wish I could say that I faced my death with dignity, but I’m going to be honest, I didn’t. I sat there, quivering and praying to whatever God would listen that it wouldn’t, kill me.
​
And then… I heard a voice.
“Leave that one! He’s with me!”
​
Troy?
​
I saw a figure emerge from the tunnel in the wall, and against all logic, somehow it was Troy! He had a hell of a goose egg on his head from where he’d been hit earlier, but he was alive! He stepped between me and the spider person, arms outstretched.
​
“With me.” He repeated firmly.
The Spider stared down at him, before huffing and turning away. I watched as they disappeared down the nearby tunnel, and Troy watched them go, before quietly turning to me.
​
“Good lord, boy… I’m shocked to see you’re still alive!”
“W-what just happened?” Was the only thing I could stammer. “You can talk to them?!”
“Some of ‘em. I’ve been down here for long enough that they know me. Know I’m not a threat. But they ain’t too happy with us right now. So what you’re gonna do here is get up, follow me, and I’m gonna get you out of here.”
“How do you know they’re even gonna let us leave?” I asked.
​
Troy’s expression soured.
“Had to pay ‘em off…” He admitted, “Let them keep what was left of your friend. They considered it a fair trade, so long as we leave. Now, let’s go.”
I didn’t ask any more questions.
​
***
​
After I made it out of the sewers that day, I ended up in the hospital alongside Peter. I had some minor cuts and bruises, a burning rash over most of my body from all the sewage I’d been crawling around in… but I was still alive, and I figured that had to count for something.
​
Nobody said a word about what happened to Stewart Long down in the sewer. He got written off as a workplace accident and they never even tried to recover his body. I suspect what’s left of him is still down in the sewers, even now… feeding whatever it is that those things down there are cultivating, although I’ve never seen the body myself.
​
Yes… I have been back down beneath the southeast side of town. The next time they needed someone to go, they sent me and Tomas along with Troy, Craig and Peter. We know what’s down there and we know how to deal with them, after all. My second visit to those sewers was a lot less eventful, and most of my subsequent visits haven’t been all that eventful either.
​
Over the years, I’ve gotten better at dealing with the Spiders… they’re not the most friendly folk and I know all too well that if you cross them, they’ll rip your guts out before you even realize that you’re dead. But so long as you follow the rules and leave them alone, they’re content to live and let live. They can even be reasonable, to an extent. We’ve had a few small incidents over the years, but nothing like the one that Long caused.
​
Odds are, when Troy and Craig retire next year, Tomas and I will be training the next group on what to do when you’re down beneath the southeast side of town. So in preparation for that, I’ve made a point to keep a copy of Tom's rules in the pumphouse. I also keep a picture of Stewart Long in there. Not as a memorial and not out of spite either. Just as a grim reminder of what can happen when you don’t follow the rules.

“Amai!!!!!!!” Satsujin leapt forward and grabbed Amai, hugging and kissing her fondly.
“Where have you been!? I haven’t seen you in days!” He said. “Oh, were you scared without me? Did you miss me? Did you miss big bro Satsu?” He said in a dumb voice as he held the cat in his arms.
“Meow.” Amai responded, staring at Satsujin with half of a metallic face.
“Aw~ Of course you did! But don’t worry, I’m here again and I won’t leave you again.”
While he embraced the cat, everyone else who was just getting off the tram looked at him weirdly.
“Hmm… I never imagined that he would be obsessed with feline creatures.” Youki said.
“Obsessed is putting it lightly.” Sumireko added. “Still, how did she get all the way up Youkai Mountain?”
“Well, cats are known to be mysterious.” Kosuzu said. “But can you tell me who Amai is and why she looks like that?”
“Well it’s a bit of a story, but basically-”
“Shanghai! Shanghai Shanghai!” Shanghai yelled loudly while pointing at Amai, getting the attention of everyone else. Ko was holding her while Gummy listened to what she was saying, confused with whatever she had spouted.
“Ribbit. Ribbit ribbit. Ribbit.” Gummy translated.
“What!?” Ko was surprised. “You’re saying that Amai tried to get us killed after luring us over to Misty Lake so she could nab PB away while they were still deactivated!?” She said.
Ko’s words caused everyone to look at her, then at Amai in shock, while those who weren’t around when Amai temporarily joined the group remained somewhat confused. Satsujin on the other hand was the opposite of everyone.
“What!? No way! Amai would never do something like that!” Satsujin said. “Isn’t that right, Amai?” He asked the cyborg cat.
“Meow.” Amai meowed.
“See? She would never. I bet Shanghai is just jealous because she gets more love than her.” Satsujin accused Shanghai.
“Shanghai!!!” The doll yelled, trying to squirm out of Ko's hands to approach him and the cat. While she yelled, Gummy continued to translate, as Ko translated again for everyone else to hear.
“She says that Amai is evil, that she is not who you think she is, but rather a being who is bound to lead all of us to our doom.” Ko said.
Satsujin was skeptical, but did have some doubts about Amai. Yet before he could say anything, Satsunyan spoke up as a pair of cat ears appeared on top of the spirit’s head.
“Hold on a moment, Satsu~” Satsunyan said. “I speak cat, so maybe I can tell if she’s telling the truth.”
Satsunyan listened to Amai’s meows, nodding along for a bit until finally got everything explained. They looked over at Ko and Shanghai, with a glare that seemed very cat-like.
“Well? What did the cat say?” Ko asked.
“Amai said that Shanghai is clearly jealous of her getting her beloved Satsujin’s attention, leaving none for herself. Amai also said that Shanghai is being rude to her only because she’s a dog person.” Satsunyan said. “How dare you Shanghai, and after everything we did together on our journey.”
“Shanghai!?” Shanghai was immensely shocked with what Amai had said. She noticed how Amai was giving her a look, which infuriated the doll even more as she attempted to jump out of Ko’s hands and attack the cyborg cat with her lance.
“Wah! Hey, no fighting Shanghai! Now’s not the time!” Ko said, trying to handle the raging doll.
“Shanghai Shanghai Shanghai!!!” Shanghai yelled, while Amai looked from where she was as Satsunyan protected her.
“Um… can we all head towards the shrine? I like to see if there’s at least something that could give us a hint on where Haru and the others went.” Kosuzu requested.
…
Moriya Shrine was quiet. The grounds were clean and free of anything but stone and concrete. Twin statues of Komainu stood facing each other, with the sacred building by their opposite shoulders. Large rope hung below the rooftop, with a large box that rested on the floor.
The large group looked around and at the building, seeing if there was something that seemed off or unusual; anything that could give them an idea on if Haru or anyone else they knew was here. All they found were the trees that had surrounded the shrine, nothing else was out of place outside the area.
“Did you find anything?” Satsujin asked.
“Nope.” Sumireko said.
“Nothing here.” Cirno said.
“Not that I know of.” Suika said. The rest were either still looking or nodded their heads no.
“Maybe something inside the building?” Satsujin suggested.
“I think Wakasagihime and Kagerou are inside right now looking.” Cirno pointed.
And indeed, inside Wakasagihime and Kagerou were looking around the living area of the shrine. They noticed all the furniture was intact, the walls were clean, and nothing seemed out of place. Save for a large aquarium tank that was cracked open with all the water drained from it.
Satsujin himself was a little wary, noticing how quiet the place was. He checked with Meiling for a moment to see if she could sense any signs of malice intent nearby.
“I don’t sense any qi that sounds harmful, it’s just us. But you’re right, it is weird how quiet it is.” Meiling said.
“It could be a trick, or even some kind of trap.” Satsujin assumed. “Maybe the Moral Gods had set up something knowing that we would be here.”
“You are too worried.” Youki said, stepping into the conversation. “It is fine for a warrior to be weary of their surroundings, but if it is all that one thinks, then they leave no room for other thoughts.” He spoke with wisdom.
Meiling looked at Youki strangely, which was understandable considering the mixed mindset she has regarding the swordsman.
“Hey! I think I found something!” Rumia shouted.
Satsujin, Mary, Sumireko, Cirno, and some of the others came over to Rumia’s position, except for Wakasagihime and Kagerou who were still inside the shrine, checking further down the available hall.
Rumia showed everyone a piece of paper, with a part of the bottom looking to have been torn off. Kosuzu grabbed the paper, quickly recognizing the near-impossible-to-read handwriting.
“This is Haru’s! It’s another entry.” Kosuzu said. “PB, can you-”
PB had already grabbed the paper before Kosuzu could finish, knowing what she was going to ask. A new paper was made as Kosuzu read what it had to say.
—
May 5th, Year 202X Hour of writing: 5 pm. Soft rain with strong winds. Incoming storm. We’re just back from the expedition. It went as I least expected; pretty fucking wrong.
Yesterday's meeting went well, for the most part. While everyone agreed on keeping everything under control, Aunn refused to come, because she didn't want to leave Akyuu alone after everything she's gone through recently, and that's perfectly understandable. Seiran did agree to come with me out of a desire to explore, so the next day, she and Ringo got everything sorted out on the comms side of things and we went our way into Youkai Mountain.
It took us roughly two hours to get into the base of the mountain, because of some youkai getting in our way, but we were able to go past them without major trouble. There, we found a ropeway, which saved us from the effort to climb the mountain. It was a pretty nice sight. After a while, we got to the peak of the mountain, and thus, arrived at Moriya Shrine.
Surprisingly, it was completely untouched. Both exterior and interior were in an immaculate state, save for a thick layer of dust that covered everything in there. We found a lot of useful things for the survivors, such as canned food, clothes, medicine, a handful of old weapons, and many other things.
At one point, we entered a big room with nothing but a giant water tank with a goldfish in there. We first assumed that this was someone's pet, having been abandoned due to the depraved incident. What we didn't expect, is that it started talking in perfect Japanese from nowhere. Yeah. A talking fish.
Before I could ask anything important, the fish started to insult me and Seiran. Apparently, It knew exactly who we were, and claimed to know a lot about us. It told me I was a drama queen, a liar, a psycho, a stubborn idiot, and many other things. It also said I was only useful because of my dragon heart, and that I would be nothing but a living floor mat without it.
It also told Seiran that she would fail to save Ringo, just how she failed before being sheltered by me, because it was bound to happen. I was shocked at what the fish said, and Seiran was about to explode in anger. She ran forward, trying to destroy the tank, but was sent back by a giant spectral snake that came out of nowhere. The fish laughed, and then called out a whole pack of those snakes to attack us. We tried our best to fight back, but after a tough fight, I realized there was no possible way to win, because of how powerful they were as a unit.
I ended up fleeing the shrine with Seiran in my back, as she carried all the loot we managed to get from it. I had to run for well over an hour until I got back to Eientei. She's doing well, though she seems to have been affected by the fish's words, now being notoriously under the weather with everyone including her partner. I will have to talk down with her about that later.
And as for the shrine, I'm never going back to that place. It was a terrible idea all along. What I was thinking?
…
I̷̤̓'̷͈̈m̶͙͝ ̴̝̀a̶̪͝n̷̛͉ ̸̪̔ỉ̴̩d̸̞͂i̶̩̽o̴̧͛t̴̡̓.̵̣̈́ ̴̩́Ị̴̅ ̸̛͍c̵͎̚a̵̻̿n̸̹̈́'̷̲̾ț̷͑ ̴̝͆h̶̪́e̶͔̋l̸͇͝p̸̛̯ ̶͈̂b̴̨͊u̶͍̅t̵̟́ ̴̼͠f̴̮̎e̷̝̕e̴͒͜ḷ̷̆ ̶͖́ţ̸̛h̶̓͜e̴̺͑ẏ̶̱ ̴̣̑w̵̹̿e̷̟̓r̵͚̓e̵̮͐ ̵̺̉r̷̟͑i̷̞̽g̸͖̈́h̵̩͆t̷̹̎ ̸̖̀a̵͖̍b̴̞͌o̴̬͒ụ̴̿ṫ̵̫ ̸̳͋m̶͕̈́ḙ̴̋.̴͖̾
—
Kosuzu looked at the last part of the entry, seeing the corrupted text once more. Her mind was once again worried like before, but her thoughts were interrupted by Suika.
“Wait, that’s it?” Suika asked, snatching the paper from Kosuzu. “No information on where they went? No signs of where to go?”
“It’s a journal entry, I don’t think it makes sense to write down directions on where exactly the author went.” Satsujin stated.
“I know that, but we’ve been running around in a circle across Gensokyo by now! The very least they could do is point us in the right direction!” Suika said.
“Maybe there’s something inside the shrine we haven’t checked.” Sumireko said. “I wonder if Kagerou and Wakasagihime found anything.”
The rest looked towards the shrine, with some noticing how they have been in there a bit longer than they should. Amai herself was sitting there, staring right at the shrine.
“Um… What’s taking them?” Suika asked. “Did they get lost or something?”
“I don’t think they would get lost. It’s not like Moriya Shrine is that big of a place.” Sumireko said. “It is strange how they haven’t come out yet. Maybe we should head in and check.”
Just as she said that, Amai darted to the left, running down and away from everyone else. Satsujin noticed her running off and called for her.
“Amai! Where are you going!?” He asked. “We need to go after her!”
Satsujin was just about to pursue the half-robotic feline, but stopped upon sensing something coming from inside the shrine itself. His body went to a halt, turning around to look back over.
Meiling and Youki also sensed something coming from inside the shrine. It wasn’t something that resembled corruption, but it wasn’t anything familiar either.
“Ah…A wolf, and a fish… A strange pair of friends, yet not unusual either.” A voice inside the shrine spoke. Footsteps could be heard, loud and clear, shaking the ground with each step that was taken.
“Oh…Dear.” PB said.
“Um…Guys…Something isn’t right.” Sumireko said, also getting a similar feeling like the others. Everyone readied themselves.
The doors of Moriya Shrine were wide open, as a figure walked out. Bare feet were shown, shining a golden yellow. Muscles were seen, big and toned from the calf of the legs to the pectorals of the chest. The shape of their body was almost godlike to the eyes of many.
They walked out of the building entirely, letting their face be revealed to all the others. Unlike the rest of his body though, his head resembled that of a goldfish. With a pair of big eyes on each side, big fish lips, and even scales which reflect on the sunlight.
In their hands, Kagerou and Wakasagihime were both being held; dragged out by their necks. They looked to have been beaten badly with bruises on their bodies and cuts on their clothes. Some of the members gasped as they saw who it was that seemed obviously to be the culprit of their wounds.
“What did you do to them!?” Meiling asked defensively.
“I just knocked them out. That’s all.” The figure said, dropping the two as he walked forward. “They intruded my resting quarters while I was napping, dreaming about glory and fame.”
“Who are you!?” Meiling asked again.
“And why do you have a fish head!?” Cirno said, asking the bigger questions.
Both her and Meiling rush at the figure with their weapons and their fists. They both striked the foe with might and fury for what happened to their friends. But as the smoke cleared, it was revealed that the figure, taking the full impact of Cirno’s Melon Blade and Meiling’s fist, remained standing perfectly fine.
Then during the small moment of confusion that the two bore towards their opponent, the fish-faced figure grabbed both Cirno and Meiling while also holding the previous two, and threw them both across the shrine grounds with great power! Meiling and Cirno crashed into the pavement, simultaneously being used as cushions for the wolf and the mermaid respectively.
“Meiling! Cirno!” Sumireko shouted. Mary and Satsujin both rush over to their friends, helping them up while checking to see if they sustained any major wounds.
Meanwhile, the figure hummed, looking around to see what he was presented with. He saw the majority looking human, but could tell that most of them were more than that. But upon laying eyes on PB, he smiled greatly.
“Ah, Peanut Butter. It’s been a while.” He spoke. “Last I saw you was back on Omnious, when my brother and I were this close to achieving our conquest.”
“...How?” PB asked carefully. “How did you return?”
“Wait, you know him?” Sumireko asked PB.
“I do.” PB answered. “He is a very powerful foe, known by his title as ‘The Omnipotent One’. A man who once tried to wipe out all three of the Mortal Realms after he and his brother agreed that the actions of the individual would lead to the downfall of all that is living.”
The Omnipotent One chuckled from PB’s statement about him. “That’s what mere mortals like to refer to me as. But for now, you may call me Simon.”
“Simon…Wait a second.” Sumireko thought for a moment. “Didn’t Sanae have a pet goldfish named Simon?”
“Correct naive child.” Simon said. “It is true, I once was kept as a mere pet fish by her and those two goddesses she claims are her ‘parents’.” He said while raising his hands to make quotation marks. “Before all of that though, I was a triumphant God; born and raised in the land of Omnious alongside many of my fellow deities.”
“But you were killed, we were there, Alena and I. You were supposed to be dead.” PB said in a more serious tone.
“Ah…But that’s the thing, Peanut Butter. I am a god, always have, always will.” Simon exclaimed. “I was reborn into the form of a man; grew up in a normal household and raised by two adults who believed in what was best for me. I was fortunate to have retained my memories and knowledge. In the following years I managed to position myself in a title of power and wealth, enjoying my days of careless wonder. Then one day, I was introduced to a man with both religious and political power, offering a unique kind of deal that anyone would accept in a heartbeat. There, I was engaged to a girl named Sanae Kochiya.”
“I could already tell that they were using her as an excuse to get more followers to their weakening cult, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a person who I could use to my liking. So I decide to torture her; bringing home various bugs and creatures and watch her squirm all over the room while begging for it to stop. It reminded me of back home when we would take mortal men and throw them into the colosseum with lions, tigers, and bears.”
“Oh my.” Suika spouted suddenly, covering her mouth afterwards with her hands.
“Oh my indeed.” Simon said. “But alas, the fun didn’t last forever. There came a day when one of the creatures I brought got too close to her, one that contained a deadly poison in its fangs, and bit her…I was disappointed to watch her be taken down like that, especially since it was clear she had the blood of a god residing in her. But what I didn’t know was that I had accidentally angered an ancient god in the process. Thus, my form was reverted to that of a fish. A goldfish to be more specific.”
“And for years I was treated with harsh verbal tongue from both the Goddess of Wind and Rain and the Goddess of Mountains. They even managed to bring back that girl Sanae using a forbidden soul transfer ritual, turning her from a sad girl with mental trauma into the most happy-go-lucky kid I ever seen…Heh…Hahaha…Hahahahahahaha!” Simon started to laugh all of a sudden, making everyone else all the more confused on the matter as his laughter turned hysterical.
“HAHAHAHAHA!!! And all those years I had waited! Waited for the day that I would return to my full strength! Waited for when the stars would align, the planets in their right positions, the time being exactly right. Waited I did, and a reward I had received. With the thanks of a bolt of corrupted lighting I regained my power, and learned how to control the mishaguji that the ancient goddess left behind; the very beings who had given me that weak body to begin with!” He said, as a flurry of white snake-like beings manifested around Simon, waving like flames behind his back while looking down at everyone.
Simon gripped his hands tightly, flexing his arms to show his strength. “And with this new body, granted to me with the help of the powers of Hakurei, I now have a form to match my immense strength!”
“Hakurei? What do you mean?” PB asked, right as Simon decided to approach them with a bit of an unhinged look in their eyes.
“Don’t you get it? This was all planned from the very beginning! All of it!!! From the moment you all stepped onto that tram to move up the mountain you were already destined to meet me. And now you shall face me!” Simon said.
That was when it finally hit them. Sumireko and PB were the first to realize the situation that was put upon them: This was a trap no doubt, a very serious trap.
“We need to leave!!!” PB said as they went and allowed Sumireko to equip them to provide her extra power to evacuate. She dashed the opposite direction of where Simon stood, with PB yelling at everyone else to follow their lead as they knew staying any longer would only bring impending doom.
They ran down the shrine grounds as quickly as they could, but only for a few seconds before they collided with a barrier.
“Owie…” Sumireko checked to see if her face was okay. “A barrier?”
She pressed on it, the air felt like a solid surface. The others stopped as they approached, noticing they were now sealed in. Satsujin tried to phase through, but alas the moment he tried to push his arms through he was pushed back with a jolt of electricity. Suika made an attempt to convert her body into mist, but even in that form she was not able to pass through.
“This is like when we were at Hakurei Shrine.” Sumireko thought. “Then that would mean…”
She looked out the brand-new barrier, and saw Yuzuki with her hands out, and Demise standing alongside her.
“Ah, we meet again.” Demise said to the group. “I see you all met Simon? He’s a great fellow, knows his stuff well.”
“YOU!!!” Mary screamed, attempting to pierce through the barrier with her daggers. “Why the fuck is it always you everytime we go anywhere!?”
“Aw, I missed you too dear… A shame this may be our last meeting together.” Demise said. “But to the rest of you, best of luck.”
“What the hell do you mean our last meeting together!?” Mary asked, but Demise did not answer, making her more furious. “Hey… Hey! Answer me you prick! Get over here and let me carve you into a hollow corpse!”
The group looked back, seeing Simon standing there with a big fish-lipped smile on his face. He didn’t approach the group yet, almost seemingly waiting for them to come to him first.
“Ah…It’s been a while since I have been able to fight someone. This will be a good warmup.” He said, rolling his arms around as a large pair of blades fell from nowhere whilst he pulled them out from the ground. “Now… Which of you will be the first of my victims?”

I had three things on my mind walking home.
Firstly, figuring out how to get a ride back home. My best guess was that I was a good thirty minute drive from any type of civilization. There was a small possibility a car might come along from across the distance, but the chance they were heading in the same direction I was, was even slimmer.
I mean, I could probably manage to hotwire a car back at the farmhouse. But I didn't want to go back there. Not yet.
The second thing on my mind was my lack of shoes. The rocks were tough and sharp under my feet, scraping them raw with every aching footstep. I had settled on walking on the muddy, yet less painful, grass on the side. But I still wondered why. Of all the thing the man at the table could've taken from me, he took shoes.
It was a pretty clear answer, however. Mental games. He hires someone to drop me off in the middle of nowhere, with no feasible way of getting back. He knew the first thing I'd want to do is leave. So he took my shoes. He gave me two options, and he wanted to make one that displeased him hurt me, even if it was only in a small, petty way.
Mental games.
The last thing was that I had messed up. Badly. I had continually played into the man at the table's hand. He had always been two steps ahead of me and in hindsight, it was foolish of me to go confront him. I suppose I had visions of bravado, and of revenge, but all I had to show for it was one less arm, and a dead friend.
I can admit that I shouldn't have done that. But I can also change. One short phone call to the police, and I'd get rid of this nightmare. I had an address. I had a confession. I had evidence. And I had made up my mind. No longer I would face all this by myself.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911. No service. Great.
I continued walking for another twenty minutes, before I heard the roar of a car engine behind me. I turned around. There was a car peeking over the horizon, coming from where I came from, and going the direction I was going. Perfect. It was an old blue Chevy, that rumbled across the gravel, kicking up a plume of dust as it went.
I stuck my thumb out.
In that moment, I probably didn't look like someone you'd want to pick of the road, with missing shoes and only one arm, and all. But there was no harm in trying. I was hoping it was a kind farmer from hereabouts, heading to the main town to do some weekly shopping. The Chevy made its way to me, and I saw the driver eye me up and down, before pulling onto the shoulder of the road.
I opened the door and hopped into the passengers side, thanking the driver. He shifted his position to look at me. Well, rather look past me. He had short, cropped hair, three-day stubble, and a faraway look in his eyes, as if he couldn't rest his gaze, or if he was always searching into the distance.
It was the paramedic, from earlier.
I opened the door and got out. I wasn't doing this again. I would rather walk home. The paramedic drove forward a bit, cutting me off from the road, so that I would have to walk around his car to go forwards. I stopped walking. The paramedic got out of his car.
"Hey, Jonathan." He said, waving.
I didn't respond.
He moved forward towards me and extended a hand. I didn't accept it. He held it there for an uncomfortably long period of time, before placing it back by his side. "Look. We got of on the wrong foot here. The name's Michael. It's a pleasure to meet you again."
"The pleasure's all yours." I said, dripping with distaste.
He looked forward, his gaze shifting in and out of focus. "So. . .uh. You called 911. I can't let you do that."
"How did you know that?" I questioned.
He shrugged. "GPS tracker. In your arm. Shows us your location, and interferes with phone signals as well. Took the liberty of inserting it when you were out cold."
It wasn't a service signal problem, then.
He shifted position, and leaned against his car. "So, I'm going to set it to you straight. Come back with us. You obviously can't be trusted to not go back to the police. Let's make this fair. We're not here to hurt you. You said you'd work for us. Come back, Jonathan."
"And how would you stop me from going?" I said, tensing up for a fight.
He shook his head, looking hurt. He grabbed his keys from his pocket, and pressed a button connected to the keychain. I fell down in pain, as a sharp buzzing sensation shook my body, the intensity increasing ever few seconds.
Michael let go off the button. "I forgot to mention. The tracker also doubles as a. . .safety precaution. You just experienced setting three. Trust me, you wouldn't like setting eight." He tapped his eyes. "Messes up your internal hardware, as I'm sure you've noticed. Setting ten straight up kills you."
I automatically looked at my right arm. Inside of it, somewhere, was a small death machine.
"So, Jonathan. Will you come back?"
I didn't have much of a choice.
The drive back was uneventful, and spent mostly in silence. Every time Michael tried to start a conversation, I brushed him of with one word answers. I wanted to make it clear I didn't want to be here.
He pulled up the small driveway towards the farmhouse. The man at the table was sitting on the porch waiting for me. He knew I was coming. He tells me I have a choice in whether I leave or not, but I never really did. The illusion of choice.
Mental games.
He stood up to greet me as I got out of the car. "Jonathan! You're back! I am so glad to see you!" He waved me inside. "Come on in. I've got so much to tell you! The others are eating breakfast."
I walked in with him, towards the dining room where I had first met him. Seated around the table, there was a large group of nineteen people eating bacon and eggs, and various other breakfast items.
I knew most of them.
There was Sgt Langley, slathering some butter on bread. She smiled and waved at me as I came in.
Eddison was sitting beside her, pouring milk into a glass. He turned away from me, not wanting to look me in the eyes, I suppose. He was embarrassed to be here.
There was various other people I had seen in my time in the field,. Other paramedics and police officers, politicians, journalists, doctors and surgeons. All sharing a pleasant meal together. In the house of a murderer.
The man clapped his hands from behind me. "Ok, everyone! Let's make Jonathan feel welcome around here. He's the latest Keeper, but we're still expecting many more"
"Welcome, Jonathan." A unison of voices said.
I scanned the room, my throat dry and constricted. This was too much.
The man walked away and beckoned me towards him. He continued to walk through the house, pointing out every room, and giving a rundown of the layout. A kitchen, two living rooms, and three bathrooms spread across two stories. There was also a couple of bedrooms inside, but it seemed to me everyone was sleeping in tents outside.
He then took me down to the basement. "This is where the magic happens." He said, with a wink.
It was as I left it. A large operating table covered in dried blood filled the middle of the room. It was surrounded with various machinery, and tools. It was a stark contrast between a sterile IV machine on one side, and a rusted saw hanging of a nail on the other. And in the middle of it all were cameras, set up on tripods around the room.
I inspected one more closely. "What are the cameras for?" I asked.
The man chuckled slightly. "How else do you think I get the money to pay for all of this?"
I turned around to face him, the cogs clicking in my head. "You. . .sell videos of people being tortured."
He smiled. "You get it. Torture porn is extremely popular in some places of the internet. It's not the main reason I do this, of course. But it helps the cause. The video of your arm being sold, for example, was sold for just shy of five thousand." He clasped his eyes behind his back, seemingly very pleased with himself. "I cut paid to cut off a few legs, and then I have the money to cut off more than just legs. It's an endless cycle. It's perfect. You've seen firsthand the fruits of this system." He nodded towards the door on the side, still marked with elephant.
He continued. "That's where I keep my work-in-progresses. Of course, it's empty now. Which is a shame. He was shaping up to be my best elephant yet. No matter, we've got a cat picked out and coming in soon."
I shuddered at the way he talked about Thompson with such blasé. As if what had happened to him was a natural, everyday occurrence. It sickened me. There was no way somebody could do this all day, and believe themselves to be good.
There was something else as well, burning in the back of my mind. "You said before that the night my sister was kidnapped, she was doing something that I didn't know. What was it?"
He was silent for a moment. "How close were you with your sister?"
I shrugged. "Close enough. We talked about once a month, and came over every Christmas."
"Do you know what she did for work?"
"Yeah. She was studying something. Some sort of advanced anesthetic. She never worked it out, however."
"She did." He simply said. He waited for me to process that before continuing. "I met Alice on an online forum. From the beginning, she fascinated me. She talked about how the world was corrupt and poisoned by humanity, and her ideas for rebirth and restoration. She had plans, Jonathan. So many plans. Everything you see here is a result of her work. We met up at one point and clicked. She was perfect. She was smart. And she was mine."
"Then. . .why did you kill her?" I asked.
I could see his eyes clouding up, as if he was on the verge of tears. "Her anesthetic didn't work as intended. Instead of removing pain, it increased it. The way it truly works is beyond me, but even a little dose causes the most unimaginable pain. It feels as if your body is being removed from the inside and replaced with fire, atom by atom. Death would be preferable. But that's the thing, the anesthetic one small side-effect. It's downright impossible to die when the effects take hold. You just have to endure through the pain."
"So all the people I saw. . .?" I let my question trail of.
"It's easy to manipulate someone's body when they don't have the strength to retaliate, nor the capability to die." He paused, his body quivering with each shaky breath. "Alice wanted to be the first. She wanted to be the pioneer as the world transitioned into her vision. I begged her not to, as there were other, more suitable candidates. But she insisted.
And so we staged a kidnapping. There was no evidence because there was no struggle. There was nothing. She came to this farmhouse, and was the first person to be operated on that table. I spent years placing toothpicks in her skin, while she was drugged up under her special anesthetic. She pushed through the pain, and continued to talk to me. Sharing ideas that I would have never thought possible.
She told me to find others. In places of power. And if they wouldn't join willingly, then find a way to force them. Soon enough, they would come to realize we're working for the benefit of humanity. She told me to create animal-human hybrids to begin with. An evolution of our species. And the last thing she told me, before I laid her to rest in a park, was to find you. To hire you. To change your vision. And here you are."
I stood in silence. I, in fact, didn't know what to say. Everything that I though I knew about my sister was shattered in an instant. It was possible the man was lying. There was no way she really was a some sort of insane fanatical, hell-bent on torturing people.
It just wasn't the person I knew.
And yet, everything made sense. I didn't want to believe him, but I didn't see any way that I couldn't. He was right, and I knew it.
The man looked back at me. "Come, Jonathan. I've got one more thing you need to see."
He led me up, out of the basement, and through the back door. He led me past a large vegetable garden, and rows upon rows of tents, most of them unoccupied.
They were expecting many more.
I followed him past a fireplace, with upturned stumps placed in a circle around it, to the large barn behind the farmhouse. It was painted a classic red with a sloping roof, and white barn doors. I could hear various noises emanating from inside, different loud sounds, moans, and scrapes, seemingly as if a large machine was inside.
Or a large number of people.
"This," The man said, gesturing at the barn. "Is my crowning achievement. My life's work. It is the beginning of the vision that Alice had for the world. This is where your induction will take place, and you will become a fully fledged Keeper. You will learn to be a bringer of justice, and a waymaker into the new world."
He walked in front of me, and opened the large doors., letting me take a glimpse inside. It was dark and musky. "Welcome, Jonathan." He exclaimed. "To the human zoo!"
I stepped inside.
The smell hit me like a tidal wave. It smelled strongly of blood and fetid remains that permeated the air like a blanket. It gave me a nauseous feeling, and sent my head whirling, as it tried to breathe in clean air. It was no use. I felt a rush of bile spill out of my stomach and into my throat. I turned to the side and threw up onto the floor. And judging by the mess down there, I was not the first.
There was rows upon rows of cages, all lined up from wall to wall. In each cage there seemed to be. . .someone, and by the looks of it, most of them were already dead. Each cage was labeled with a different creature name. There was a worm, who had all of her limbs removed, and seemed to have segmented body parts every couple of inches, and was forced to crawl around by using her head as an anchor.
There was various dogs and cats, long needles inserted into the cheeks in place of whiskers, they had everything below their elbows and knees removed, forcing them to walk on all fours. Other human-animals had parts of their bodies elongated or exaggerate, turning them into various creatures. It didn't seem possible to look like that and live.
All of the inhabitants of the human zoo were filthy and ragged, cramped up in small living conditions and forced to eat small portions of what looked to be rotting meat, only fit for animals. When I walked past, they looked up at me with sorrowful, pleading eyes. They wanted freedom, just like Thompson. They were broken and they were hurt. But they seemed resigned to the fact that they were going to live out the rest of their lives here. There was no resistance in any of them. There was no struggle. They had all given up.
This place was hell.
It was hard to think clearly, the smell continued to invade my brain, and dampening my vision with black patches. My heart was pounding in my chest, a result of the horrors that laid before me. I couldn't breath. I couldn't move. This was all too much.
The man continued walking forwards. "This is where I hold all current specimens, before I decide to release them into captivity. And this is where you and all the other Keepers will work, feeding the specimens, continuing their evolution, and cleaning their chambers."
My blood boiled. He didn't care about the pain he caused. Nothing fazed him. "You're treating people like animals! This is inhumane!" I yelled at him.
He looked at me with disappointment. "Look at them. They are animals. This is all for the cause, anyways. Later on they will be glad to learn that they were the first steps in the evolution of humanity."
He led me forwards, until we ended up at a massive hole in the floor, in the middle of the barn. It was about ten meters in diameter, and the bottom seemed to stretch downwards for five or so meters. There didn't seem to be any way in or out.
The man spoke. "This is where every Keeper before you has proved themselves worthy of Keeper status. Your induction begins now."
I felt a large shove on my back. The momentum carried my body over the edge of the hole, with my feet quickly following suit. In an instant reflex, I covered my head with the nook of my remaining arm, and leaned forward, hoping to catch the grunt of the fall on my knees, before rolling away.
I landed with a large thump, which sent volts of pain rippling through my body, and spread me flat across the ground. I laid there, still. The breath was taken out of my lungs, and my knees felt if they had shattered. I tilted my head up, to get a clearer look at where I was. A small, dusty hole, in the middle of a barn where people went to die. Nothing special about it.
There was movement in the corner of my vision.
It was something circling me, walking with a slight strut, and over-the-top movements, as if it was hard to stay balanced. Every step it made caused a sharp clacking sound to echo throughout the hole. I slowly got up, despite the pain. I swiveled my body to the side to get a better look, even if it was under dim light.
The first thing that made itself clear was that the thing had no neck. Its head ended at its shoulders. The second thing was that it had no eyelids. It stared at me with large, unblinking eyes, taking in every movement. The third was the sharp, steel talons that protruded from every fingertip.
And then it opened its wings. It spread its arms out wide, to reveal a quilt-work of human flesh stitched together under its arms. It looked at me for a few moments, head cocked, arms in a display of aggression, then it swiveled its head around. A full one hundred-and-eighty degrees. I was looking at a human owl.
The owl lunged forward, talons aimed directly at my chest. I lunged to the side, fearing for my life once more since the past few days. I wasn't fast enough. Its talons ripped through my clothes like butter, and left three large gashes across my chest. I ignored the pain, and immediately turned around to face the owl. The penalty for letting my guard down would be death.
The owl was still facing the inner wall of the hole. It twisted its head around to face me, its large eyes looking at me with an intense hatred. I panicked, and hopped backwards, aiming to avoid another attack from the owl. But then I came to my senses. If I was going to survive, I knew I had to make a move right away. The longer I tarried, the weaker I would become, and the lower my chances of living through this would become.
I threw myself at one of its wings, hoping to bring the owl down. It avoided me. In a lapse of judgement, I forgot to realize there was still a human under all of that, wanting to avoid death as much as I did. I rolled backwards, and leaped to my feet. The owl lunged at me again, talons extended. My first instinct was to dodge once more, but I suppressed it. The owl would be expecting that. I instead waited until the last moment, and threw myself into the steadily approaching owl.
I caught it off guard.
The owl flailed backwards, stumbling under my weight. I dug my fingers in the small gap between its head and shoulders, and started tearing of the stitches that held them together. The owl continued to thrash, realizing what I was doing. It dropped to the ground, and tried to claw me of its back, but couldn't reach because of its wings.
I continued to tear. One after another. I could feel the tension loosening. Another couple minutes of this, and I would be home free. The owl's movements started to decrease in intensity, and hit seemed to realize the battle had been won. I removed on last stitch, and the rest of the owl's head came of easily, dripping with blood.
I threw it to the ground and collapsed, exhausted.
I woke up in one of the bedrooms. My chest hurt like hell. I sat up in the bed, and pulled the covers away. There was three large scars across my chest, painful and tender to the touch, but obviously treated by someone. I looked outside a nearby window. It was the dead of night. I couldn't hear any noises inside, so I assumed everyone was outside in a tent, sleeping. Everyone except the man. He was sitting in the chair, and simply watching me sleep.
Mind games.
He looked at me as I stood up and raised an eyebrow. I began to walk over to him, despite the pain. He clasped his hands together. "Well done. You are now a Keeper."
I continued my slow journey.
"You asked me once what my main purpose was in doing all this. It's for everyone. You. Me. All the peoples of earth. Humanity is the highest lifeform. I am treating it as such. With my guidance, and your help, humanity will enter a new era. A new evolution."
I still made my way towards him. Everyone's outside. I'm alone with him.
"This was your sister's vision, and then it became mine. I am eager to see it become yours." He tensed up in his chair slightly. "This is not the only human zoo out there, we have spread our philosophy, and we are many. But go ahead, kill me. Continue the cycle. You will follow your sister's footsteps and lead the world into salvation."
I didn't think about it twice. I grabbed a vase of the bedside table and ran at him, weapon raised. There was a flash of fear in his eyes. Clearly, he didn't actually expect me to do that. He wasted precious seconds fumbling for his key chain.
I swung the vase onto his head.
He pressed a button on his keychain.
The jolt of electricity struck my entire body. The pain was so much worse then I had previously experienced. Each separate buzz sent my entire body thrashing against itself. I tried to push past the pain, and get a hold of the button, but I couldn't move by myself, let alone think.
Setting ten will straight up kill you.
My vision turned a searing white. I could feel my organs vibrating within myself. The pain was endless and unrelenting. This was how I went. The electricity was frying my insides, turning it into a liquid mush.
And then it stopped. It took a while to regain my vision, but even then it was unfocused and blurry. The man was still lying on the ground, breathing but unconscious. Pieces of the vase were still ingrained into his skull, sending small trickles of blood down his face. I removed one and slit his throat. It wasn't the death he deserved, considering all that he did.
But it was what he got.
I stumbled out of the room, to see Eddison pouring what looked like to be gasoline on the floor. I tensed up, ready for another fight. He put the gasoline can down and put his hands up.
"Hey, man. You can relax. I'm the one who helped you out there. You would have died if it wasn't for me."
I scanned his face, and I believed him. I put my fists down.
He continued. "I hated it here as well, but I could never find an opportunity to strike back. What you did was very brave."
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Blowing up this fucking hellhole." He simply said.
We worked together for a few hours, silently and in the dark. He had almost finished with the farmhouse, so we moved onto the barn, and finished with the tents. We ended up at Michael's car, and Eddison handed me a lit match. Signifying that he wanted me to do it.
I didn't give a damn anymore. Everything could burn.
I threw the match into a puddle of gasoline, and quickly drove of with Eddison, before the small fire turned into a raging inferno. We were about two miles out when the night sky was lit up in a burst of white light.
It was done.
Eddison turned to me. "Where are we going, then?"
I gazed into the rearview mirror, watching the horizon be engulfed in flame. There was the wail of firetrucks moving in from the distance. Someone must have called it in. I looked forward, at the gravel road in front of me, pondering the question.
"Home."
x

With the draft approaching quickly, I wanted to throw out my final personal big board. I will include notes for prospects I am especially high or low on and my lottery grades.
Disclaimer: This is going to be a lengthy post; notes for my solidified lottery grades are longer than those outside of it.
-Tier 1: Upper Echelon-
1- Victor Wembanyama

• At 7'4 with his level of skill, this is a prospect who can truly be whatever he wants to be if he can buy into the Spurs system and stay healthy. Has a mechanically sound stroke that has shown promise from distance, possesses strong touch around the basket, a budding handle, and obviously can throw down dunks whenever he gets position inside. Will likely struggle initially against more physical interior defense. Nimble enough to clear the lane for his teammates driving opportunities. Will be a nightmare in the dunkers spot.
• Defensive game breaker. Some unreal blocks, can switch 1-5 and while not the best lateral mover from a defensive stance, will stay in front of guards a good amount of the time due to the sheer amount of space he takes up. Solid on the glass but leaves something to be desired in this area- I believe he can and will gain weight (has a better frame than guys like Chet) and rapidly improve establishing position in the paint on both ends as he does.
• I don't think his ceiling will be reached as the number one option in an offense or a primary playmaker like Jokic, despite having the ability to create shots and handle the ball I think asking him to do it consistently would be a disservice to his strengths. Wembanyama will excel as a generational defender and off ball offensive player, able to stretch the floor, play in the post, function as an unreal lob threat, and crash the boards. The Spurs are perfect for him and I am so excited to see him go to an organization that is unlikely to ask him to do too much. High floor in the Kristaps Porzingis mold, ceiling is incomparable.

2- Scoot Henderson

• High level athlete at point who has excelled against some of the best competition available for a prospect since age 17. Solid mid range game and a plus handle; while the driving and finishing ability draws eyes, I think his ability to get to his spots consistently is what really separates him from a lot of the other guard prospects in this class. Good pace which I am a sucker for, excels at changing speeds and has the best first step in this class.
• Head is constantly up- makes crisp passes moving downhill, out of the pick and roll. Plus playmaker and the ball handling accentuates this.
• Has the tools to be a plus defender.
• Highest floor at guard available, I would be shocked if Scoot is never a quality NBA starter. Reaching his ceiling will depend on how his shot selection, decision making, and 3 point stroke progress.
• Comparison(s): Markelle Fultz, De'Aaron Fox

3- Brandon Miller

• Assassin from distance at 6'9 with a functional handle and shot creation skillset. Quick release off the catch and seems to always be in the right position on the perimeter. Plus rebounder and is a more physical player than he is given credit for.
• Strong defender who can guard 1-4, good length and displays strong recoveries. Decent shot blocker. Never saw him singled out in a great defensive unit for Alabama.
• Very loose handle, slow shot of the dribble, will limit his effectiveness in isolation early in his career. Think he will be better suited attacking 1on1 via the triple threat and face-ups than off the dribble. Has some difficulty finishing at the cup when attacking downhill- showed flashes of a guy who can glide to the rim and kiss it off the glass, but is easily bothered by contact and seems to toss the ball up and pray a lot more than I'd like to see.
• Will take him some time to become a number 1 option in an offense or even a volume scorer, but should be an excellent role player early. Can see a number of outcomes for Miller ranging from bench piece to primary offensive weapon, but think there is a place for a guy with this skillset in any rotation.
• Comparison(s): Paul Pierce, Khris Middleton

-Tier 2: Solid Lottery Grades-
4- Taylor Hendricks

• A tall 6'9 with serious length, Hendricks possesses the plus athleticism, natural shot-blocking ability and defensive versatility to anchor an NBA defense. Can guard 2-5 effectively and is an excellent interior presence- can handle drivers head on and avoid fouling or swallow a shot a the help defender. Would like to see him be in better position more consistently, but this will come with time. Can struggle to stay in front of quicker guards. High floor on the defensive end.
• Lob threat and floor spacer at UCF, I have questions about the inconsistent mechanics but honestly believe shooting 40% from deep without a consistent release says a lot more good than bad. 78% free throw shooter backs up projection as a strong floor spacer.
• Somewhat of a black hole on offense. Handle is loose and inconsistent, but there is potential there. Flashes of shooting off the dribble. Well rounded and versatile prospect with a ton of upside.
• Comparison(s): Robert Covington with bounce, Jaren Jackson Jr. (ceiling)

5- Keyonte George

• Natural shooter off the catch, on the move and off the dribble with near flawless mechanics. Possesses an NBA level bag at all three levels, excels at creating space in isolation. The premier tough shot-maker in this class.
• Linebacker frame makes him an intimidating man to man defender when tasked with other guards; strong and can press his man. Good point of attack defender, inconsistent throughout the season for Baylor but showed flashes of being a high level on-ball defender. Must be in better position off ball. Serious swing factor- can be an excellent two way guard in the right system.
• On offense, downhill shot making and shot selection are questionable. I buy the finishing at the rim and flashes of driving ability long term- he gets out of control going downhill and too often tries to bully his way through bigger, well-positioned defenders. Has the handle to avoid contact- must work on his pace and poise in this area in order to use that pairing of strength and quickness to his advantage. Would like to see him work on the floater- prefers mid range pullups where a runner would fit his game better and likely result in a more efficient game around the basket. Think poor shot selection (as well as the defensive inconsistencies) stem from being asked to do a ton at Baylor.
• Playmaking is far and away the biggest swing factor for George and is why I am so high on him. Threw some really high level passes at Baylor and has a casual feel to the way he throws some very difficult passes- signs of a player who has a great feel for the game and opposing defenses. Operates comfortably as a passer or scorer in the PnR, is a good downhill playmaker and excels at threading the needle to cutters. Needs to become a more consistent part of his game, will come as he is not relied upon as the offense's only plus shot creator.
• Comparison: Jamaal Murray

6- Jarace Walker

• Moving semi-truck of a basketball player who skies for some blocks that are just ridiculous. Can effectively guard 1-5, can struggle with foul trouble. Excellent man to man defender. Solid rebounder. Got pushed around off-ball a little more than I'd expect from someone his size. Extremely functional athlete on this end.
• Decent floor spacer who has made great strides as a shooter. Possesses good touch on put backs and set shots around the rim. Has a solid floater going downhill. Does not use his frame enough on offense and is not a very functional athlete. Very lethargic handle and does not create a lot of space- red flag for a guy who settles for mid range jumpers. Best as an off-ball player on offense. Until Walker is ale to get downhill in 1on1 or PnR situations more effectively he has a low ceiling on offense. Would like to see him work on his face up and back to the basket game.
• Believe everything he showcased at Houston will translate to the NBA, strengths and weaknesses alike. Also believe he is pretty close to his ceiling, but if that is very productive player who instantly upgrades any defense, is that such a bad thing?
• Fit is EVERYTHING here. One of the most difficult prospects for me to rank along with Whitmore and Vukcevic.
• Comparison: Paul Millsap

7- Dariq Whitehead

• Pure, rainbow jumpshot that is beautiful to watch. Hits the rim soft and rarely hits rim on a make- picturesque and at a 43% clip. Was fantastic for Duke this year as a catch and shoot guy, showed the ability to create space and shoot quickly off the dribble.
• The consensus is that Whitehead had his athleticism sapped by that foot injury and was never able to showcase it at Duke. When I watched Whitehead play this year, I saw multiple instances where he drove to the rim, elevated, took a strong foul, and put up a look that had a chance to go. These were plays where I said to myself 'Holy shit, look at that guy jump'. Has great body control in the air and didn't seem to be lacking the touch, strength or bounce to finish in the NBA.
• Flashed a smooth handle and stepback, would like to see him improve on using his handle to get going downhill towards the rim rather than step back beyond the arch.
• Just seemed out of sorts at Duke. In every game I watched Whitehead play, there were plays that highlighted just how smooth and special of a three level scorer he can be and other plays that highlighted how out of sync he was with the rest of the Duke team and his confidence. Seemed to not know 'when to do what' as a guy who did almost everything at Montverde.
• Am extremely high on Dariq Whitehead as a guy who showed the ability to score from all three levels and take over games at Montverde, and then once at Duke adapted himself to be a valuable and extremely effective role player despite being clearly out of sorts due to injuries. I buy his floor as a guy with the tools to contribute in a variety of ways, and think that he will only improve as he regains his confidence in his legs and gets more comfortable out there. There is a chance for a star here. A gamble I would 100% start considering at 7 or 8.
• Comparison(s): Gary Harris, Victor Oladipo

8- Kobe Bufkin

• Extremely well rounded game, good size/length.
• Crafty handle that he is able to maintain through contact, good pace to boot. Seems to always be doing something good with the ball at his own speed- I don't know how else to say it. Needs to add some counters, spins into/hops into some tough looks.
• Is a much better finishing guard than a lot of the other guard prospects in this draft; plays within his thin frame by consistently avoiding contact on the drive. Showcases great touch with either hand at full speed, love his layup package. Underrated athlete.
• Capable mid range scorer and a strong shooter from deep. Similar to Hood-Schfino- they are as smooth as it gets getting to their spots. Smooth mechanics and a high release as a lefty.
• Long frame with good hands on the defensive end; is a pest. Can guard 1-3, is a functional athlete on this end. High IQ defender who is in great position more often than not. Will be a plus on this end at the next level.
• Needs to gain some strength in order to fight over NBA screens, has the frame to do it. Will take time and is important for him to maximize his potential and skillset.
• Needs to become a more consistent playmaker. Seems to decide what he is doing with the ball early as opposed to reacting to the defense. This will come with experience. Has upside as a passer and is a solid playmaker in the PnR. Is not doing anything crazy as a passer, but moves the ball well and throws some nice skip passes.
• True combo guard
• Comparison: D'Angelo Russell

9- Maxwell Lewis

• Extremely gifted shot creator and scorer at all three levels. Excels at using a strong handle to get downhill consistently and is able to avoid contact consistently. Plus athlete who throws down some big dunks. Can shoot the ball effectively off the dribble or the catch from three and the mid range. Is able to operate extremely well in tight spaces. Excels at freezing defenders more so than shifting them. Has a bad habit of shuffling his feet off the catch when getting ready to put the ball on the floor, results in glaring turnovers. Very complete offensive game. Looks more like what people think Brandon Miller is than Brandon Miller actually is.
• Average passer, does not hold the ball too long. Can throw some high level passes at times, at others turns the ball over trying to. Makes the easy pass well enough.
• Struggles on defense, gets beat off the dribble and swipes at the ball too much. Needs to work on positioning off the ball. Similar to Jett Howard on this end- has all the tools, just seems to struggle. These are seemingly coachable issues for Lewis, but it is big red flag that he is a high energy player on this end yet still gets beat consistently.
• Context for Lewis is important- playing in one of college basketball's less talented conferences on the worst team in it makes him a more difficult grade. I find myself scoffing at the empty stats argument, however- the shots he is making and the way in which he creates them will function against higher level competition. The guys is, simply put, a very talented scorer. Furthermore, he was the only talented on ball scorer on the Pepperdine roster and was keyed in on by every defense he saw to an almost absurd degree, yet was able to put together some of his best games of the year against the best opponents on their calendar.
• I realize I am about 15 slots over consensus here. The mid-major really doesn't concern me; I buy the jumper, ball handling, and driving ability playing at the next level enough to warrant a team having patience with him as a defender and with the turnover problems. The offensive skills will especially shine as Lewis is allowed to operate off the ball and is not the focal point of defense's game plans. Am partial to prospects who have an elite, bankable skill: Lewis is an elite off the dribble scorer on the wing.
• Find myself asking what the discussion surrounding him would look like if he shot 53% from 3 towards the end of the season instead of the beginning.
• Comparison: Otto Porter Jr., Devin Vassell

10- Jalen Hood-Schfino

• The best playmaker in the class by a wide margin for me. Lethal in the PNR, excellent handle in tight space, fantastic pace and poise, can throw any pass in the book effectively. Sometimes gets caught trying to do too much and is somewhat turnover prone as a passer, think this is normal weakness for a guard.
• Lethal mid range jumper on the move and off the dribble, should be a calling card. Essential for a modern point guard. Solid mechanics and can pull deep range. I buy the shot extending beyond the arch long term.
• Defense is not a weakness. Not very switchable, but will hold his own against other guards.
• Must be a more consistent shooter from deep and improve his finishing- easily bothered by contact and not very elusive in the air. Is able to rely on solid floater game to avoid contact, but he must be able to finish at the cup to be a starting caliber guard in the NBA. Just an average athlete, but crafty and intelligent enough on the floor that I think he will improve here. More a streaky shooter from distance than a bad one.
• Have never seen a player completely dictate the pace and flow of a game one night, then fail to make a tangible impact whatsoever the next night out. It was almost confusing this year. Have to remember he is just a freshman, and the flashes of brilliance as a lead guard are too enticing.
• Comparison: Lonzo Ball

11- Cam Whitmore

• Elite athlete, this plays at both ends. Despite a lackluster handle, seems to get downhill and all the way to the rim often- is dynamite when he arrives there. Ideal transition finisher. Can go through or over defenders in the air. Capable shooter, slow release. Don't expect him to be a volume shooter.
• Excellent rebounder for his size, high energy defender. Very strong player, should be able to handle opposing 2s and 3s, small ball 4s on this end.
• Black hole on offense and does not have the shot creation skill to warrant this; I question his court vision and feel for the game. Do not see him being a plus shot creator; poor lateral mover and very stiff motions. All-around poor body control.
• No chance in hell he is 6'7. Low on Whitmore but athleticism, strength, and energy ability give him a good chance to be a valuable part of a good rotation and/or starting lineup. Really don't see the upside here the same way I see the floor.
• Comparison: Isaac Okoro

-Tier 3: Fringe Lottery Grades-
12- Anthony Black

• Versatile and competent defender who consistently uses his size and athleticism to make an impact on that end. Rarely rattled as a ball handler, makes the right pass consistently. High IQ floor general. Plus athlete on offensive end as well.
• Must improve as a shooter, mechanics could use some work. Like the flashes of shot creation he has shown, just needs to be able to maintain some level of scoring gravity to open up his playmaking at the next level.

13- Jett Howard
14- Jordan Hawkins

• Versatile 3 point marksman who is a plus athlete and a junkyard dog on both ends. I don't know how versatile he is, but I would want him on my team. Modern skillset and a high character guy, flashes of shot creation in tight space. Good in the mid range.

15- Cason Wallace
16- Ausar Thompson

• Love his skillset- elite athlete with a growing mid range and perimeter game, is a plus defender. Cannot find anything he did in OTE that Julian Phillips could not do (besides get away with overdribbling). Still, there is potential here that I cannot ignore, and his perimeter scoring is much further along than his brothers. Better finisher as well. Will need time to be a meaningful contributor, more than I think people are willing to recognize.
• Comparison(s): Josh Jackson, Terrence Ross

17- Gradey Dick
18- Tristan Vukcevic

• 6'10 with a high basketball IQ. Quick, consistent stroke from three. Great touch around the rim. Moves very well with his size, can run the floor and handle in the open floor. Willing and able passer. Needs to gain strength. Serviceable rim protector off the bench, best as a 4 on defense until he bulks up. A ton of upside here and I think if he played in a more visible league folks would be higher on him, have cooled off of throwing a lottery grade on him but think he is a great prospect and is being underrated.

-Tier 4: Solid First Round Grades-
19- Amen Thompson

• I will not deny there is some allure here as a big guard with elite athleticism and solid court vision. Worth a gamble in the first. What I will never understand is how someone who was inefficient against poor competition as the oldest player in the league, struggles to score from all 3 levels, and overdribbles to create any space in a half court offense is a consensus top 7 pick. Amen struggles to make layups and realistically is going to have a steep learning curve as a passer and ball handler in the NBA. Easily the lowest floor of anyone in my first round.
• Comparison: Donte Exum

20- Bilal Coulibaby
21- Dereck Lively II
22- Bryce Sensabaugh

• Excellent marksman from distance who can put the ball on the floor. Was asked to do a lot in the Ohio State offense and performed admirably. Strong finisher, good athlete. Very slow and stiff dribbler, does not create a lot of separation outside of his step back. I do not buy the shot creation, he is just a poor lateral mover.
• Poor, borderline awful defender no matter how you slice it.
• Comparison: Dion Waiters

23- Nick Smith Jr.
24- GG Jackson
25- Julian Strawther

• Pure shooter with a quick release and a serviceable game going to the basket. Great rebounder for the position, holds his own on defense. Gets sped up putting the ball on the floor and can get out of control, over relies on floater.

26- Sidy Cissoko
-Tier 5: Fringe First/Early Second Round Grades-
27- Kris Murray
28- Colby Jones
29- Mo Gueye

• Am consistently amazed this guy is not higher on boards. Was staying up until midnight just to watch him play. Superb athlete, rebounder and shot blocker. Makes a consistent impact on defense and is a strong interior presence. Potential as a shooter, improved almost 30% from the stripe from freshman to sophomore year and hovered around 28% from three. Raw prospect but if he can space the floor consistently in the future he is going to be a steal and a quality rotation piece; shooting mechanics are not a lost cause whatsoever.

30- James Nnaji
31- Rayan Rupert
32- Leonard Miller
-Tier 6: Solid Second Round Grades-
33- Marcus Sasser
34- Noah Clowney
35- Amari Bailey
36- Andre Jackson
37- Mike Miles
38- Julian Phillips
39- Terquavion Smith
40- Trayce Jackson-Davis
41- Ben Sheppard
42- Bobi Klintman
43- Olivier Maxence Prosper
44- Brandin Podziemski
45- Ricky Council IV
46- Charles Bediako
47- Kobe Brown
48- Jalen Wilson
49- Jaylen Clark
50- Jordan Walsh

I'm sure you can guess who gets credit for the original universe.
CW: cursing, spacism, gunfire, predatory activities
Memory transcription subject: Jackson Kern, Human-Venlil Exchange Program Candidate
Date [standardized human time]: September 3, 2136
The news that Salvek got a whole 8,000 credits Not much money at all, but this business is cheap so it's more than enough. was a blessing to me. Ever since I was little I wanted to become a rich businessman in a fancy suit who ate caviar every night, despite the fact I hated seafood. In my defense, I didn't know what caviar was when I was 6, I just knew that rich people ate it.
But I quickly learned that starting a business meant I needed money, and my family was poor. Since my options were either crippling student loan debt, a job at McDonald's or the military, I chose the military. I invested my salary, which was actually pretty decent money for a guy whose only job was to shoot Russians, and I had a good chunk of money and a few profitable investments when my service ended.
I was on the path to success, but the divorce got messy and when she left me and took the kids she also took 167,564 dollars and $200 a week in child support payments.
When I tried to get my kids back, I was framed for stalking and harassing her, probably by a cop friend of hers, and the judge agreed to drop the charges on account of my military service. The sole condition was that I cease all attempts to get partial custody and cede another 80,000 dollars. I told my friends what they did, so some powerful friend of my ex's cooked up a scandal against me. They said I had PTSD from what I did in Russia, and they accused me of beating my wife. I couldn't believe it.
Now, I know she stole 200,000 dollars from me, and I know I served in the military, but I've always hated violence. No one believed me, though, and despite there being no evidence, I was forced out of town.
I decided to take it a step further and left my home planet because fuck those crooks.
I should've known that they were just out for my money in the first place, but I figure that regret doesn't do fuck all so I should stop regretting so damn much.
The tiny bit of my money they didn't steal was invested in several orbital shipyard firms, and I had it set up so that every week, 200 bucks get deposited from my account to my ex-wife's because the day they don't the UN or a squad of exterminators would break down my door.
Does Salvek know about ex-wives? Probably. I should give the furry son of a bitch more credit.
I was probably never going to be broke, since I was smart with my investments, or out of a job, since I was a soldier and every PMC or bouncer-less nightclub needs someone who can fight. I could make even more money on Venlil Prime if someone had the balls to hire me, but that's just one of the many downsides of species-wide racism.
Well, not quite species-wide. Salvek was cool, and I've met around a half-dozen other Venlil from the exchange program who didn't actively avoid me. (In Venlil terms, this means they're real Gs) My UHerd account had exactly eight followers, which is a great achievement on Planet Racist.
My pad buzzed, and I took it out to see that I had a ninth follower, who was a Yotul called Osori. A whole nine followers! Almost ten aliens tolerated me! Okay, that wasn't exactly the best thing to be proud of, but when you used to shit in a can in foxholes in Russia and a bucket was a godsend you kinda learn to take what you can get.
I was forced back to reality by the shuddering of the Venlil train stopping abruptly. God damn, are good brakes a strictly human invention? Or did the retards in charge of the Federation label wanting a smooth and easy way to stop 'predatory'?
I got up, remembering to crouch this time because fuck the designer of Venlil Prime trains for not anticipating that a 6'3 man named Jack would need to use them one day, and the monotone voice that announced everything on the thin slice of planet the Venlil called home droned "Welcome to the Grove District." That was my stop, so I and Salvek left. Salvek and I is the proper grammatical usage, but who gives a damn?
Salvek's third-floor apartment was just eight blocks from the train station, and I left this particular station without any problems of the flamethrower-wielding nature because exterminators here weren't as racist as exterminators everywhere else.
They gave me a few suspicious looks, more than a few but potayto, potahto, whatever but I was with Salvek and he was always protective of me so no one bothered me.
If someone told me a month ago that a tiny alien sheeple would be taking less shit than I did I would have referred them to a therapist, but the last few weeks have been crazy for me anyway.
Me and Salvek got to his apartment around nine PM, which is 'kill yourself' in Venlil time, but it was still fucking bright outside so I wasn't gonna sleep a wink. Why? Because God hates me, that's why.
The second we got inside and Salvek closed the door, I ripped off my mask and dropped it on a nearby table. Salvek had seen me many times before without it, and he didn't visibly panic at the sight of my forward-facing eyes anymore. *Incredibly common Salvek W *
Instead of pissing himself in fear like he did the first time he saw me maskless, Salvek just told me "I'm gonna take a nap. Next claw is my work claw, so wake me up in a bit." and went to his room. Claws are around five-ish hours, so I set a timer for four and a half hours and started doing Jack shit. Not jack shit, as in nothing, but Jack shit, as in shit that Jack does. Why did I refer to myself in third person?
First thing's first, I ate a hearty meal of some alien vegetables that I had no idea what to call but God, they tasted good. I will never understand why Venlil cuisine is so mediocre when they have ingredients like these to pick from.
After I finished off my salad, I poured some U.N. mandated vitamin mix into a blender along with some water and protein powder to make myself a protein shake. That was gonna come in handy later.
Once my protein shake got finished, I started working out since you can't get ripped without working out.
Venlil Prime is a high-G planet, so Venlil bodybuilders must be jacked under all that fur! I wonder if Salvek is ripped or not. Maybe he is ripped and I just can't see it? Maybe all Venlil are ripped but since the Feds tell them they're weak and scrawny they just took that to heart. Their minds might be the only thing stopping them from kicking ass.
Those were just some of the thoughts running through my head as I did my workout routine. For those wondering, I did 150 push-ups, 150 sit-ups and 150 weighted squats every day in sets of 50 each, and there wasn't much else to do but be tired and think when you're working out.
Once I was done with my grueling workout, Venlil have to be shredded if they work out in these conditions. I guzzled my protein shake to get bigger and turned on the TV. The remote felt like lead in my hand, half because of my workout and half because of Sheep World's gravity. Your average sheeple could probably beat the piss out of your average human, so why are they so damn scared of us?
I flipped through the channels Turns out even racist aliens have cable. Who knew? until I found an episode of this one show called The Exterminators. Turns out even racist aliens have cop shows. Who knew? Salvek always changed the channel when it showed up, probably for my sake, but I was kinda curious about how bad it really was.
It was bad. Really bad. Imagine if, back during the 40s and the civil rights movement, somebody made a show about the Ku Klux Klan. That's a pretty good analogy for The Exterminators.
Come to think of it, the extermination guild and the KKK are pretty similar. Too similar, really. But it's not like I can do anything about it.
A cheesy space cop show jingle played from the TV's speakers as the screen displayed a group of lizards Technically Harchen, but whatever. If they call me 'predator' I call them lizards. in silver flameproof suits running around and doing exterminator things. They torched a predator's nest, they torched a cartoonishly embellished Shadestalker with orange splattered on its mouth That was unusually graphic for a Fed show but ok., they torched a lot of things. It was their job to torch things.
As the main theme reached its climax, a beetle-like exterminator truck with a machine gun on top zoomed through the streets of a crowded Harchen city. Finally, the camera zoomed out and the lights of the city winked off until the only ones left spelled 'The Exterminators' in Venlilese. Thank god I could read Venlilese.
Below the main title the text 'Episode 389: Terran Trickery' popped up and I sighed. Why did everyone have to be so damn racist?
In spite of the blatant and unapologetic racism, giving the term 'Show about the Ku Klux Klan' a whole new meaning, I watched the whole episode. It was actually quite good, if you looked past all the racism and anti-human propaganda.
Twitter must have had a coronary when they found out about these motherfuckers. It would've been funny as hell to see, but you get what you get on Venlil Prime.
The episode opened with a scene of our exterminator protagonists chilling in the extermination office when a call came in to investigate a predator attack. They answered it, dropping a few cheesy one-liners along the way, and when they got there they saw three body bags, two cops and a human in handcuffs.
This next part was so fucking racist I can't even make it up. I bet somebody could, because somebody did, but I swear this is what I saw.
The human had claws, fucking eight inch claws that were coated orange, and your average shitty human canines were replaced with sharp fangs that were also splattered with orange alien blood. He tugged at his restraints, screaming threats, and the cops didn't do anything except for keeping a safe distance since no one had the balls to muzzle him.
When the exterminators showed up, the first thing they did was to muzzle the spacist caricature of a human and beat his ass with their electrified batons. Then they asked him if he knew anything about the bodies, to which he responded something along the lines of "You can't prove I ate them." The exterminators beat his ass again for that one.
Holy hell, and these were supposed to be the good guys. It's like a KKK member on an escalator the way the racism is on another level. If I wasn't such a kind and forgiving soul, I would throw a molotov cocktail into the show's filming studio.
The exterminators tortured the poor man for a little longer, and he kept saying things like "I bet you taste great raw!" and "I'll kill all of you like I killed the... no one!" because he was a racist caricature in a Fed propaganda reel.
Then, finally, the Venlil authorities showed up and released him, saying that humans had "diplomatic immunity, so you are not to touch him." That would've been fucking nice. Oh yeah, another thing. The guy who called off the flameproof SS squad was obviously in a trance. He had those spirals in his eyes and everything.
Was this meant to be human mind control? Probably.
The exterminators left, and then they started gathering dirt on the human in a boring detective sequence that was also incredibly racist so I used that time to pull up my pad and work on my business. I had four thousand and two hundred credits in my UN/Venlil Goverment sponsored bank account, which was more than enough for what I wanted to do.
I placed an order remotely for 100 shirts, all with the text "Dear Exterminators, My Eyes Face Sideways" on it. After that, I placed an order for some other household items of various shapes and sizes because fuck it, I have money. Those, unlike the shirts, would be useful to Venlil, so that increased my customer base.
That cost me around 2,300 credits since I was buying in bulk, so I used another 500 to rent a storage unit for 4 months and my last purchase of the day was 500 credits for a transport service to bring the merchandise to the storage container.
I paid my last 700 credits of the loan Salvek took out to a web designer to make a website for my business since I needed a website to sell things on. Two minutes after that, I asked for a refund and resolved to put all my shit up on TradeHerd since it was free. The 10% fee it charged per sale could just be countered by a price increase.
The show was getting interesting now, so I finished my business dealings and turned off my pad. The exterminator buggy had just pulled up to an abandoned Predator Disease facility, and the gang were getting out of it while armed to the teeth. From what I could gather, they had found the human's lair and they were going to put him down.
Of course they have to fight a serial killer in an abandoned mental asylum. Even aliens have clichés.
The exterminators swept the place corridor by corridor, using flashlights to illuminate anywhere where their victim could hide and always carrying flamethrowers. I had to admit that this was a tense and entertaining scene. Racists make good TV, who knew?
Finally, we got some action. The exterminators started to see moving shadows, some huge beast type thing, the usual "hunt down a dangerous ambush predator" type things. I know we're not ambush predators, but the Feds never got the fucking memo now did they?
Finally, the exterminator squad formed a circle to protect themselves and the human revealed its monstrous form. God, I sound just like a Fed right now. Is racism contagious?
He had fangs like knives, claws that were also like knives, and muscles like a bodybuilder who vehemently refused to take a drug test. Even I would've been scared if I met this monstrosity on the street.
One exterminator yelled "It's the predator's final form!" I wish it was. Imagine how much I could bench like that! and they all raised their weapons. The battle I was about to witness would have been well worth the 30 minutes of racist drivel before it. I need to use better words than racist. Bigoted, maybe?
I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for the exterminators to fight the roided-up superhuman, when there was a crash from the kitchen window.
Oh, for fuck's sake! Now I have to miss my show.
I stormed to the kitchen in a fury, scanning for the source of the crash, and I slammed the door open with a force I never would have done with Venlil around. I barged into the small room, looked around, and found what caused the problem.
There's a brick on the floor! How sturdy is this building, anyway?
My initial suspicions were overturned by the sound of another brick thudding against the wall, very close to a broken window. Damn, the window's broken. I'm cracking somebody's skull for that one.
The antics of a group of alien pranksters were nothing compared to what I had seen in Russia, so I was totally calm and collected as I stuck my head out of the window and yelled "Fuck off, my show is on!" Well, maybe not totally calm and collected.
The recipients of my harsh words were a group of two Krakotl, a Gojid and a Venlil who were piled into something that looked a lot like a pickup truck. The Venlil's fur was black, and cut quite short.
Exterminators. It's always exterminators.
"You're not welcome here, predator!" A Krakotl shouted at me before hurling another brick at my head. He missed, because aliens without depth perception couldn't throw for shit, but I ducked back behind cover anyway.
Another projectile also bounced harmlessly off the wall, so I poked my head out again and yelled "Just fuck off! You're all gay retards, and you should kill yourselves!" One of the Krakotl reached into his bag, and I yelled "Oh, yeah, throw another rock! Your dumbasses are just lucky I've got depth perception!"
He did not, in fact, throw another rock.
He drew a gun.
And he shot at me.
I didn't even know exterminators had guns.
If I hadn't served in the military, I probably would've died. But I did serve in the military, and I served in some of the harshest battles they could find, so I immediately recognized the metallic object as the gun I had seen a hundred times before, usually in the hands of people who qualified as civilians 3 seconds ago, and I took the expected response of ducking behind cover.
If I had my own gun, this would have been light work for me. But I didn't have a gun, and I wasn't Rambo or Batman, so I pulled out my pad and called the police.
"1234, what's your emergency?" Came a tinny voice on the other end of the line.
"I'm being shot at!" I blurted out, and I was sure the dispatcher could hear the loud gunfire going on outside. Did that bird-brain think his shitty pistol could breach a brick wall? Maybe Venlil bricks are weaker than Earth bricks.
There was silence over the line for a good two seconds, making the sharp cracks of the Krakotl's pistol the only sound, then the dispatcher stuttered "We- we're t-tracing your call now. Officers are o-on their way." Damn. I should have disguised my voice so as not to spook the poor sheeple. On a very related note, would the Venlil authorities delay the squad cars just because I was a predator?
It seemed like a pretty in-character thing for them to do, so I knew I had to take matters into my own hands at least for the time being. They were only shooting at me with a pistol for now, but what if they had grenades or Molotov cocktails stored in that truck? An exterminator could probably procure a firebomb, or at least a flamethrower, and if they used either one on me I was done.
The sensible thing to do would be to leave the apartment. The exterminators wouldn't know, and even if they used heavy weapons I would be safe from the fallout. As I began to crawl through the debris and broken glass, however, I noticed one thing was wrong.
Where the hell is Salvek? Can that bastard really sleep through a gunfight?
I've heard of and seen soldiers fast asleep while their comrades fired automatic weapons right next to them, so it wasn't impossible for Salvek to be snoozing. Plus, I had no idea how deep a Venlil's sleep was.
If it was just me and my show, I would've evacuated faster than we did in Russia, but I would never leave a friend to die.
Man, times like these make me hate my moral code. I love Salvek, but I don't wanna get shot for the guy!
I picked up a brick that the exterminators chucked through the window, adrenaline pumping through my body, and waited for the pause in gunfire that meant the gunman was reloading. Maybe it was a gun-woman? It doesn't matter, these hands preach equality.
Finally, after what felt like hours under heavy machine-gun fire, the gunfire ceased. I had to be quick now. Only a few seconds remained before the alien reloaded, and I couldn't waste even one.
With speed and accuracy that would make Babe Ruth proud, I took aim and hurled a brick at the Krakotl's head. This is why you don't get into a throwing contest with a species designed for throwing, you stupid pyromaniac fucks!
It hit him as he put the magazine into his pistol, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Only then did I realize that Babe Ruth, the guy who I just compared myself to, was not a pitcher.
The other Krakotl immediately began first aid while the Gojid went for the dropped gun. The Venlil, who was the getaway driver, sped away with typical Venlil cowardice. What? If they can call all humans bloodthirsty meat-eating savages I can call all Venlil cowards. At least I have a pass.
As the truck and its bigoted occupants made their escape, one of them tossed a match onto the space-grass lawn in front of my kitchen windows. It was not flammable, because alien grass does alien things, but a pattern of fire began to form on it.
I had seen that symbol before, when Salvek was clearing out all his religious stuff. It was the sigil of Inatala, the Great Protector. "Holy shit." I breathed, astonished.
"It's the fucking KKK in space."
First Previous Next comes when I say it comes

With 10th edition right around the corner and with its focus on the Nids. I thought it be fun to showcase the Swarmlords various battles and try and get a good idea where he should stand as threat. Since he can comeback stronger every time, I hope we get to see him fight someone like Trajann Valoris. If the nid are going to invade Terra that is.
BATTLES:

• Vs Calgar: Couldn't find a quote, however it comes from "Codex Tyranid (5th & 6th edition)". At "the Battle of Cold Steel Ridge" on Macragge the Swarmlord directed Hive Fleet Behemoth to defeat every one of Marneus Calgar's tactics. Calgar himself was almost killed by the Swarmlord, but managed to escape alive with the help of his Honour Guard while Swarmy killed the Commander of the Guard Aloyseus. The Swarmlord led the attack on the polar fortresses of Macragge defended by Captain Invictus of the Ultramarines' elite 1st Company. In the end, the entire 1st Company was killed and official Imperial reports listed the Swarmlord as slain at that time. Calgar has a rematch with Swarmy in Ichar IV. With Calgar evening the score by killing the Hive Tyrant.

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• Vs Ortan Cassius: Couldn't find a quote, however it comes from "Space Marine Legends: Cassius". He killed the Swarmlord & his Tyrant guard with the assistance of a squad of like 10 marines. However, the only reason he managed to pull it off is because, the Swarmlord wanted to end the fight quickly. So, he resorted to a psychic attack. Unfortunately for Swarmy Cassius had been training with Tigurius on his psychic resistance. So, while the Swarmlord had his back on him. Cassius manage to recover quickly, and surprise attack Swarmy. He hit Swarmy's head with a powered crozius. The Swarmlord's head was then doused with fire from Cassius' combi-bolter's flamer and was forced onto its knees. There Cassius' squadmates pumped its vital organs full of Hellfire rounds while the Chaplain repeatedly beat its head with his powered Crozius. This continued for a few minutes until Swarmy died.

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• Vs Prince Yriel: to be honest not much of a fight. Swarmy kinda just gets one-shot by Yriel using a Crone-Sword. - (Valedor):

”He landed lightly upon the gory corpse of a fallen giant. Before him the swarmlord loomed, taller than a wraithknight and greatly more massive. Its eyes glittered at him with malign intelligence.
‘Great Dragon!’ Yriel called, holding aloft the Spear of Twilight. ‘I come to slay you, as my forefather Ulthanash slew the wyrm Draoch-var with this very blade!’
Three huge creatures lumbered at Yriel, directed by the psychic command of the leader-beast, but he leapt aside from their swipes, the spear granting him unparalleled reflexes. One and then another fell, pierced by the pin point lance beams of the prince’s followers as he bounded closer to his prey. Roaring, the swarmlord attacked, driving down a claw twelve paces long at Yriel. He back-flipped, the wind of its passing stirring his hair. The tip of the claw slammed down into a carcass, slowing the hive tyrant for the merest heartbeat as it tugged it free, but it was enough. The prince landed on his feet. Smoothly he drew back his arm and cast the spear of Ulthanash at the creature. The spear screamed a polyphonic wrath-song as it hurtled through the air, passing in an eyeblink to pierce the jaw of the swarmlord, drive up through the soft mouth into the swollen brain case, and emerge, gleaming, from the top of the armoured skull.
The swarmlord toppled, lifeless. Yriel yelled in exultation, feeling more alive than he had in many cycles. He had become jaded by his life as a corsair. But this! This was the theatre of life full in the round!

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• Vs 3 Custodes: Fought three Custodians, killing two and was fighting on par with their Shield Captain. - (Duty Unto Death):

”A single pod cut through the toxic fumes and the burning sky, hammering into the centre of the plain and the milling confusion of the alien horde. There was an instant realignment, like constellations suddenly clarified in the heavens. The army turned as one, unified by singular purpose once more. The thing which tore itself free from the spore-pod was immense, the pinnacle of genetic mastery and a paragon of inhuman might. The greatest bio-scholars of Terra could not decide whether it was a consciousness in its own right, or an immune response of the hive mind – brought into being when the tide was set against it.
The swarmlord raised its head and bellowed as it rushed forward to meet them.
iIt closed the distance in what seemed like moments. A blur, the storm given form. Blades scissored down against the Custodians. They blocked, even their movements too slow. Bio-electric fields warred with the power fields of their weapons in a whine of feedback and a shower of sparks. It forced Varamach to his knees, and the great cleaver blade descended, burying itself in the armour of his neck. There was a spasm and a gout of blood, and he had only a moment to drive his spear up and into its flesh before he fell. Another loss, too massive to countenance. Natreus ducked under its guard and slashed across its chest, but the swarmlord brought all four of its blades to bear. It pinned Natreus, blades barely containing him as he struggled, blood coating them in furious smears. The Custodian’s spear fell from his grasp, and the swarmlord cast him to the dust.*
Only Tamerlain remained. He broke into a run, swinging his axe as he advanced. The heavy castellan blade impacted against one of the boneswords, chipping it. There was no surprise in its dead eyes, only a snarl of alien hate.
‘This is His domain,’ Tamerlain said, not caring whether or not it could hear or understand. ‘I am His servant, and you shall not end me with my duty yet undone.’ He moved beneath its dance of blades, feeling them scrape against his armour – turned aside by angle, speed and the armour’s inherent strength. It snarled, dripping venom as it stabbed down at him. He dropped to his knees, his hand finding Natreus’ spear. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, and drove the unpowered blade up with such force that it cracked the monster’s armoured sternum. It slammed one of its blade limbs into his side, and he brought his axe up again. An arm flew free in a gush of sour fluid, and it batted him aside with the flat of another blade.
They were evenly matched. Opposites. Mirrors. One the pinnacle of human genetic mastery, the other a crescendo of accelerated hyper-evolution. One was golden, the other base.
They fought down the burning slopes, even as the tyranid swarm wove around them in a tightening noose. By-blows obliterated swathes of brood organisms. The swarmlord did not care as it scythed through its own, as it drove Tamerlain back. He fought with every century of his experience behind him. He could feel the names carved into his armour, pressed against his flesh. Each carried a burden.
He moved as fast as he was able, raising his axe to block and parry or to cut and slash. Their melee devolved into a grinding brawl, drawn out and bitter. He tensed as he fought, feeling the dull ache of fatigue. He struck for its thorax, cleaving it open even as it brought two of its blades round.
It pincered him in place. He felt something break in his armour’s systems, his gauntlet clenching in palsy. He closed his eyes and focused. It was more gruelling and more intense than any Blood Game he had run in the service of the Throne, more pressing than any battle of his long years. He felt his fingers close, finally, around the hilt of his misericordia dagger, and pulled it free. He pushed it up and drove it into the thing’s snarling visage. Dissonator spirits engaged with a flare and the blade blazed golden for a glor­ious instant as it sank through flesh and chitin. The beasts screamed, every last one of them howling in animal agony.
Tamerlain kicked out his leg and drove the dying monster back. Behind him, the world roared again – in sympathetic victory.

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• Vs Dante: - (Devastation of Baal):

" Fifty yards away was the largest hive tyrant Dante had ever seen. Upon backward-hinged legs it stood taller than a Dreadnought. Red spore clouds pumped from the chimneys on its high back. Bonded to its fists were four matched boneswords, with heavy ends as square and brutal as cleavers. He had heard of this thing, the galaxy’s bane, the hive mind personified.
Commander Dante faced the Swarm Lord.
His perception coalesced around the monster. Reality reasserted itself, his visions driven off by the sheer physicality of the hive mind. The past gave way to the present. The sounds of battle returned, albeit muted. The horde was broken into pieces. The howling of his blood-mad warriors was scattered, so isolated there could only have been a few of them left.
In the monster’s eyes glimmered an ancient and powerful intellect. As old as he was, Dante felt like a newborn babe compared to the intelligence staring at him through that unblinking gaze. He sensed that there were two beings looking at him. The monster, and the being that controlled it. They were separate, yet one. A sense of crushing psychic might emanated from it, so great its grasp encompassed galaxies. There was sophistication there, and terrifying intelligence, but all were outweighed by its bottomless, eternal hunger.
For the moment that the man and the monster stared into one another’s souls, Dante pitied it. The hunger of the hive mind made the Red Thirst trivial by comparison.
A rumble sounded in the monster’s throat. Muscle fibres exposed by gaps in its chitinous armour contracted; that was all the warning Dante received. There was no threat display, no roar to intimidate, it simply hurled itself into the attack. The hive mind was nothing if not efficient.
Despite its size, the Swarm Lord moved with staggering speed. Its alien anatomy made its attacks difficult to predict, and Dante found himself fending off a blur of jagged bone. Crystal veins glittered in the blades, generating a shimmering energy field like none Dante was familiar with.
The Swarm Lord’s weapons met the Axe Mortalis with a thunderous boom. Dante reeled back from the blow, letting out a brief blast from his jump pack to steady himself, dodging narrowly to the right to avoid a return strike from the Swarm Lord’s two left-hand swords. He ignited his jump pack fully, making a short leap backwards as the swords from the right smashed into the desert where he had been standing. The energy field encasing the blade exploded the sand.
As the beast slammed down its weapons he snapped off a quick shot with the perdition pistol. His aim was honed by centuries of practice. The meltabeam cut a roiling line through the air, connecting with the Swarm Lord’s lower left elbow joint. An explosion of steam carried the smell of broiled meat out towards Dante, and the thing’s arm went limp.
It made no cry of pain. As it moved forward, its useless arm snagged on the ground. With an total lack of human emotion, it severed the crippled limb with a sword blow and moved in to re-engage. Dante leapt again, jets on full burn. He swooped low, darting in to strike and withdraw. His fuel indicators plummeted, but Dante remained aloft, soaring away from bonesword strikes with expertly timed exhaust bursts. His blows left a dozen smoking scars in the Swarm Lord’s carapace. It responded with a buffeting storm of psychically generated terror that had no effect on the Space Marine lord, so deep in the thirst was he. The thirst grew in Dante until he stood on the brink of the Black Rage, a pit he could never climb from. He resisted the urge to finally throw himself in. The strength this last surrender would grant him would be formidable, but his mind would be gone for good, and so he would perish. Not until this thing was slain would he abandon his last shreds of self-control. He had to know that it was dead.
He focused on his hate, on his desire to kill, on his need to rip this interloper’s head from its shoulders and cast it to the sand.
The Swarm Lord’s armour was thickest on its shoulders, head and back. They duelled for long minutes, Dante landing so many blows that the edge of his fabled axe dulled, and its power unit vented black smoke. All his skill could draw but a little blood. The Swarm Lord snapped and swung at him with undiminished might.
Dante needed a decisive blow soon. The Swarm Lord’s endurance would outlast his own, and one lucky strike from the beast’s weapons could end the fight long before exhaustion set in. So Dante dived in again, axe held low in the manner of a cavalryman stooping in the saddle to strike with his sabre. Jinking through swinging boneswords and into the spore cloud issuing from the Swarm Lord’s chimneys, he raked the blade of his weapon across the leader beast’s face, catching it across one eye. He was momentarily blinded by the swirl of red microorganisms belching from its back, and forced to touch down.
The two combatants wheeled to face each other. The chitin around the Swarm Lord’s right eye was cut down to a gleam of bone. Ichor and humours from its ravaged eye wet its cheek.
Dante smiled coldly. ‘I shall take your other eye, and then I shall kill you.’ In return the leader beast shrieked, a psychic assault that channelled the polyphonous voice of the hive mind into a concentrated mental blow. Dante reeled under the combined sonic-psionic blast. Something gave inside him. He tasted blood at the back of his throat. His mind suffered more than his body, and he staggered back, dazed, his axe dragging through the sand.
The Swarm Lord seized the opportunity and ran at the commander again. Dante blasted backwards, but even as it charged the Swarm Lord assailed Dante with fresh psychic attacks, sending out a lance of psionic energy that cut through his armour into his leg and knocked Dante wheeling from the air. He slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force. His face slammed into his helm, breaking his nose. The terror field halo around Sanguinius’ golden mask buckled and gave out in a skittering crawl of psychic energy. His iron halo’s energy field failed with a bang.
The thing screamed again. Dante’s being was deadened from the soul outward. His vision swam. The energy his thirst gave him was stolen away. The Swarm Lord thundered at him, head down, three swords back, ready to strike. Dante regained enough of his wits just in time, activating his jump pack while he was still on his back. The jets sent him scraping across the ancient rockcrete and sand of the landing fields at high speed, drawing a shower of sparks from his armour. Alarms wailed from every system of his battleplate.
A second, brain-rattling impact shook him as he connected with the wreck of a Land Raider. The systems diagnostics for his jump pack wailed at high alert, red danger runes blinking all over his helmplate. With a thought, he jettisoned his jump pack, rolling free of the stuttering jump unit as the Swarm Lord barrelled into the tank wreck with such force it lifted from the ground. The Swarm Lord turned on him quickly, grinding Dante’s jump pack into a pool of fire and sundered metal under its broad hooves. The Land Raider slammed back down.
More alarms rang in Dante’s helm. On standard battleplate, a jump pack took the place of a Space Marine’s reactor pack, replicating most of its functions as well as providing limited flight capability. Without it, Dante was left in a suit of armour with only residual power.
He had seconds left of combat effectiveness at the most. Emergency battery icons clamoured for his attention, bars sliding quickly down to red emptiness.
The Swarm Lord screamed. Psychically induced horror buffeted Dante’s mind, tormenting him with dread. Dante roared back, unafraid.
‘I am of the Lord of the Blood,’ he said, as he broke into a run, the alarms of his dying armour wailing in his ears. ‘What I do, I do for he who made me. No personal ambition is mine. No glory do I seek. No salvation for my soul or comfort for my body. No fear do I feel.’ The Swarm Lord swung at Dante hard. Dante retaliated with a counter blow, shattering the bone sabre. Thick alien fluids pumped from the broken blade. The eye set into its hilt rolled madly, and it began to shrill. ‘By his Blood was I saved from the selfishness of flesh.’
The Swarm Lord was unmoved by the death of its symbiotic blade. The stroke continued downward, the remains of the sword catching Dante below his breastplate and penetrating his plastron. A combination of Dante’s impetus and the Swarm Lord’s immense strength punched the bone fragment deep into his body, penetrating his secondary heart, scraping on his spine, and exiting the other side of his torso.
The creature snarled in what would have been triumph in any other species. Dante’s formidable progress was arrested. Hissing deeply, the Swarm Lord lifted Commander Dante off the ground, armour and all. Warm blood ran down inside Dante’s bodyglove. Toxins leaked from the Swarm Lord’s weapon, sending spiders of agony crawling along his nerves.
‘By his Blood was I elevated.’ It was over. He began the Mors Votum. The Swarm Lord lifted him high, screaming in victory, and swung its arm down to flick Dante from the blade’s shard so it might finish him on the sand.
Reactive foams bubbled from Dante’s armour, bonding him firmly to the remnants of the Swarm Lord’s blade.
‘By his Blood do I serve.’
The beast hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. As it was raising its remaining two blades to cut Dante in two, the commander raised the perdition pistol. His armour died on him, its systems starved of power, growing heavier with every second as his life ran from his body. His aim did not waver.
‘My life I give to the Emperor, to Sanguinius, and to mankind,’ he intoned. The Swarm Lord’s face was reflected in the dulled metal of Dante’s mask.
Sanguinius’ face shouted silently at the hive mind.
Dante disengaged the weapon’s failsafes with a flick of his thumb.
‘My service is done. I give thanks. My life is finished. I give thanks. Blood returns to blood. Another will take up my burden in my stead. I give thanks.’
He fired the perdition pistol at point-blank range into the Swarm Lord’s face. Its flesh liquefied and boiled off as superheated steam. Its first bonesword bounced from Dante’s armour, ripping long scratches into its decoration. Bloodstones fell from their mounts. Still Dante held his aim true. The pistol’s power pack grew so hot with thermal feedback it blistered his skin through his ceramite. Still he did not relent. The fusion beam bored through the creature’s organic armour. Thermic biogels bled from cavities in the chitin, but they could not stay the perdition pistol’s beam. The weapon glowed with white heat. The Swarm Lord reared backwards. Its cries became gurgles as its tongue cooked in its head. Desperate to be free of Dante, it severed its own wrist with a clumsy strike. Dante blacked out for a moment from the pain of the bone shard jarring his organs as he hit the floor. When he came to he was lying on the ground. The Swarm Lord slumped to its knees alongside him. Its movements were feeble. Keening quietly, it fell forward, chest heaving. Air whistled through its breathing spiracles, then ceased. Dante rolled his head to one side. One of the boneswords lay close to his face. The eye set into its hilt stared hatred at him before dimming. The pupil dilated. The sword, too, was dead.
Dante took a painful breath. Fluid bubbled in his lungs. His body ached all over from the tyranid’s poison.
He was dying."

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• Vs the Overfiend: Couldn't find a quote, however it comes from "War Zone Octarius, Book 2: Critical Mass". The Swarmlord face the second largest ork in the galaxy twice. The first time he charged at the Overfiend, battleling for hours nonstop. However, the Overfiend after getting a shot off at the Swarmlord's midriff, decapitated swarmy. Swarmy angrily was rebirth in a bioship ready for round 2. In said round the Swarmlord bid his time. Only jumping into the fight after the Overfiend had been wounded by a carnifex. He then uses his agility to evade the Overfiend's attacks, in an attempt to tire him. The Overfiend however never relented nor slowed down yet in the midst of a swing the Swamrlord found an opening. Which he use to cut the cable of the Overfiends power-claw. With his power-claw now slowing him down the Swarmlord made quick work out of him. Eating his brains in the process.

First Previous
Advancing with my remaining fully functioning forces, I stop at the first of the four warehouses doors. They were large, about twice my height and three times as wide, and completely made out of some rather dulled plates of steel. I position my two scorpions to face the doors and have the rest of the group form up behind and on the sides of them. Once they are all set up I push the doors open with a heave and quickly rush to the side, giving my scorpions better sight lines.
It is a good thing I did too as they proceeded to fire their beam tails into the poorly lit interior of the warehouse. While the light from the beam faded swiftly, it was long enough for me to see a glimpse of what was inside of the room for a moment. I managed to spot a total of around 10 drones, four of which were scorpions and the rest were a scattered group of spiders. From the looks of it one of the beams managed to hit one of the enemy's scorpions but the rest of them began to give off the familiar humm that my scorpions released just a few moments ago. Realizing what they were about to do I ordered for my drones to break formation and scatter but it unfortunately was too late as 3 beams struck out from the scorpions in the dark, hitting two of my hounds and one of my scorpions.
My four hornets that I brought with me fired off their spikes into the unlit warehouse and from the sudden halt of two of the silhouettes of dark red light coming off from the drones, marking them as MAI's, I would presume that at least a couple of the spikes had found their mark. My hounds were next to act as they all at once rushed into the structure in search of the drones that dared fire upon them and their drones in arms. I ran forward with them, but due to my much greater mass, I only catched up to them after they had begun ravaging a spider drone that was caught out in the open.
The lighting in the warehouse was poor, with only some side windows high on each side of the structure. Thankfully it was enough to see the general contents of the room which was full of crates of various sizes. Seeing a faint glow in one of the said crates I walk up to it and pop the lid open and I find a spider shivering in fear. Looking at it I feel slightly bad for it as it was obviously scared shirtless and was fighting for the wrong person, not that I could do anything about it. Or can I?
I was able to convert that one small drone works to my side so why should it not work on drones too? As I begin reaching down to gently pick up the spider I hear a loud crash followed by the barking of a few of my hounds. I guess it will have to wait. I put the lid of the container on and locked it before rushing over towards the sounds of combat further into the warehouse.
As I pass another pile of containers I find one of my drones stunned against the right wall. Turning to my left I see three of my hounds all teaming up on two of the scorpions. As I start to wonder where the third scorpion is, I dive into the cover of some nearby crates as a beam of energy pierces through the air and hits where I was just a moment ago.
Thankfully more of my drones, in the form of another hound and a hornet, rush forward and reinforce the ongoing brawl. The hornet fires off their spike in the general direction of the one unengaged enemy scorpion but, from the look of it, the scorpion in question managed to duck in time. I really need to find or make a dedicated weapon instead of just picking up whatever it is around at the time.
Sighing as I scoop up a few rebar poles, I take a step back before hurling the pole. Although I am not the greatest javelineer in the universe, through a stroke of divine intervention I managed to impale the scorpion that fired upon me straight in-between their eyes. With that, the engagement has swung into my favor considerably. And just to add salt to the wound, some of the drones the scorpions hit with their stun beam began to regain their control and joined the fight.
Not long after that, the last of the scorpions fell to my hoard of drones and all that was left were the scattered spider drones all across the building. Ordering my drones to capture instead of kill if possible I get a message pop up notifying me that I have defeated the garrison of this outpost. I guess there was nothing else hiding in any of these other warehouses. I wonder what's in them.
I guess this is the perfect time for now, I order a few un-damaged hounds to guard the captured spiders and I send everyone else to get tended by the repair team. With that settled I walk over to the second warehouse and pop open the door revealing much of the same compared to the previous warehouse. Moving over to the third I open up the doors and am greeted with a collection of drone and resource producing equipment. There was a small drone works along with a medium as well and in the corner of the building was a refinery.
If my memory serves me right, the medium drone works need an external power source to function for any extended periods of time. Which means there is something that can generate electricity somewhere. Looking through the doors of the building and to the final warehouse, I could guess where it might be located.
Opening the final door I reveal a generator along with a few small mountains of barrels. Taking a look into the barrels I find a faintly yellow substance residing inside them. Inspecting the generator a description pops up in front of it stating that it was a chemfuel powered generator. I guess that's what is in the barrels. Taking a look at the piles of said barrels, I see that I have a decent supplement of chemfuel which will probably last me for quite a while.
Deciding that I did not need to start up production anytime soon, I left the generator be for now. Walking out of the warehouse, my eyes land on the batch of six spiders. Wait,weren't there seven before? Then I spot the mangled corpses of a spider around a half dozen feet away from the rest of the bunch. Well that explains it.
Stepping towards the imprisoned drones, that were still being dutifully guarded by a couple of hounds, many scuttle as far away as they could before their captors began to growl causing them all to freeze. "Hey guys, I'm not here to hurt you, I'm going to cut you all a deal," A few relax a smidge when they hear me say that I wouldn't hurt them but most still huddled together and looked back with a fair amount of skepticism. "I guess that's fair, I did shut down your scorpion cousins. But that aside, I offer that you can join us or I will let you free on the condition that you give up your ties to my enemy."
I draw a line in the middle of the group, "If you wish to join me then step on the left side, if you wish to be let out into the wilds than move to the right." A pair of drones begin to hesitantly step to the left but are then attacked by 3 their seemingly more zealous brothers and or sisters. I quickly grab the three aggressor and place them away from the group and have my hornets quickly end them.
Once I finish with that I see the remaining spider drones have decided on their fate. The two spiders that decided joining me were better or the threeish options have stepped on the left side and their glowing joints have turned blue that matched the rest of my drones. The last drone had stepped to the left without me noticing and their joints had turned into a neutral gray.
Keeping my word I pick up the gray spider and release them into the wild. Hey, maybe they'll start their own spider colony I jokingly think to myself. I have the turncoat spiders join the others and as they begin to mingle I notice that the turncoat drones are made of a slightly darker metal.
Then a notification pops up stating that I gained a new skill. Expanding the pop up, I see what it was referring to.
"New skill gained: Minor Drone Conversion. Have a 25% chance to successfully convert a captured small drone."
Next
Posts might come in late over the summer due to family outings and such but I'll try to keep this going on my free time if possible.

I find the puzzle in Jarlmoot to be a bit flat - essentially you just cast fly and get the keys, not at all exciting. I think the idea of the trial by combat is pretty cool, and that should be enough to just get the horn. But I'd like to build in another layer into the location with the braziers that will require the party to hunt for items and return later. I will use them as hooks to visit some of the other locations in chapter 2, and as a reward for completion I would open the doors to where the keys/chests are and reward each character with a great tier 2/rare item they have been coveting in preparation for the transition to the latter part of the module. I think by the point of the end of chapter 4 players will be hungry for a class specific item of loot, and I could see this being something that could be completed before or after the dragon, TBH.
In my experience also I find that betrayal by NPCs can cause frustration, and can mess up trust required for other critical NPC interactions, so thinking about having knowledge of Jarlmoot be the bargaining chip that Spellix has for the party to rescue him from Karkolohk. Perhaps the frost druid instead would stalk them as they seek out the items for the braziers or something - like Auril wants whats in there but has not been able to get past the giant guardians or something. Still working that out.
​
But heres what I am thinking for the brazier clues and solutions - a bit tailored to whats left for my group, could be adjusted for each campaign. Probably plenty of creative solutions to each I havent thought of yet, would be flexible there
​
Wyrm - a scale from a dragon - bait to get them to go to the cave of berserkers, or I guess try to get one from Arveiaturace if they are nuts. They will have been to the Dark Dutchess, but could grant them the ability to find one there
Where the wyrm's scale meets flames' embrace,
Brazier's heart awakened, fire's trace
​
Vind - Ideally a hook to visit Velish (would fudge and say he could teach them to make a higher level (4-5) wind spell scroll in exchange for jailbreak) - but could also be from another Arcane Brotherhood member, or just a party member at a higher level.
Mage's scroll, wind's mastery,
A roar of power, unleashed and free
​
Fjell - A stone from the mountain that Skytower is on
From griffon's realm, a stone takes flight,
Brazier's inferno, mountain's might
​
Dod - Something like a troll heart or a heart from an awakened beast - lots of other solutions to this one
From a creature’s chest, a heart so cold,
Brazier's warmth, darkness consoled
​
Krig - Similar to the original clue, a weapon used to kill an agent of Aurils. Could just dip a sword in, doesnt need to consume
Amidst snowy turmoil, a weapon gleams,
Rime's demise, the end of frigid schemes
​
Liv - Blood, as written
Three drops within, life's crimson flow,
Ignites the fire, its vibrant glow
​
Thoughts or problems that you see?

Last Updated: June 7th, 2023 - Added ultimate cooldown time and upgrade costs
Last Updated: Initial Post
This is a stand-alone information guide for this Champion that will be updated as necessary for use during Events or when doing a Time Gate.
If you have questions about this Champion or find something that needs updated, feel free to let me know in the comments. Please know reddit archives posts after a certain amount of time, so PM me if something needs updated and the comments are locked.
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Thanks!
 

Year 6 Champion - BBEG, the Drow Wizard

• Source: The 1 for All YouTube series
  
• Arrival Event: Dragondown
  

You can read their original Champion Spotlight here.

• Slot 3
  
• Good with: Awful Ones; DPS Champions with INT 12 or less; Evil Champions, Lawful Champions, or Champions with a total ability score of 78 or less
  
• Affiliation: None (Adjacent to Awful Ones - Antrius, Evandra, Nixie)
  
• Eligible for Mirt, Strahd (Zariel w/Feat)
  
• Time Gate Priority: High
  

 

Race	Class	Alignment	Gender	Age	Role(s)	Overwhelm Point
Elf (Drow)	Wizard	Lawful Evil	Male (He / Him)	500	Support / Speed	5

 

Strength	Dexterity	Constitution	Intelligence	Wisdom	Charisma
10	13	8	18	15	12

 
Bio: BBEG is the Big Bad Evil Guy, a Drow necromancer who believes immaculate planning will always lead to success. Unfortunately his constant failures contradict this conviction. BBEG likes to monologue and taunt his opponents, leaving his summoned zombies to engage directly in combat.
 
Basic Attack: Chill Touch - BBEG conjures a spectral hand over the enemy with the most health and touches it, dealing one hit.

• Base Attack Type: Magical
  
• Base Attack Speed: 5 seconds
  
• Self-DPS Buff: 1.32e23%
  

Ultimate: Balgronuuth's Undead Horde - Balgronuuth's symbol appears in the air for 30 seconds. While the symbol is in the air, every time Rise, my Minions! summons a zombie, it summons two instead of one.

• Base Ultimate Cooldown Time: 360 seconds

Gaar's Note: This is a huge ultimate due to how Rise, My Minions! works with Sources of Corpses. Having this up as often as possible is nice.
 

Passive Ability

Awful Nemesis: As the sworn enemy of the Awful Ones, BBEG is eligible for any adventure that any of them are eligible for. However, they still don't remember who he is.
 

Interesting Abilities

Evil Overlord: BBEG increases the damage of all Champions with an Intelligence of 12 or less by +100%.

• 1.64e10% after upgrades; Supported by an Item & Feats

Gaar's Note: This is their primary support buff and is fed by another ability. Don't bother using DPS that are INT 13+ with them as they won't get the buff.
Homebrew: BBEG increases the damage bonus of Evil Overlord by 100% for each active potion, stacking multiplicatively.

• 2.56e04% after upgrades; Supported by an Item & Feats

Gaar's Note: Well, that's one way to make us use potions I guess. This counts each size of potion as a uniquely active potion so can get into the 20s in terms of stacks if you use everything you've got.
Rise, My Minions!: Every 10 seconds BBEG creates a plodding zombie that appears in front of the front-most column and slowly moves across the screen from left to right. It takes 30 seconds for a zombie to plod from its spawn point to the right-side of the screen where it despawns. Zombies persist with area changes. Enemies near the zombie take 0.2 second worth of BUD-based damage per second.

• No upgrades; Supported by an Item & a Feat

Gaar's Note: Moving, pulsing AoE damage is a unique ability and can help clear out waves on your tank line as well as stationary bosses in the back.
Sources of Corpses: The time it takes for Rise, my Minions! to summon a zombie is reduced by 2.5 seconds for each Awful Ones affiliation member in the formation, and the damage bonus of Evil Overlord is increased by +25% for each summoned zombie, stacking multiplicatively, with buffs applying to the pre-stack value.

• No upgrades; Supported by an Item

Gaar's Note: Because this bonus stacks multiplicatively and has item support that buffs the pre-stack values, this ability makes BBEG OP. Running up the item levels on this pays big dividends.
Railroad: If the current area is completed (for the first time) in 5 seconds or less, BBEG reduces the next area's quest requirements by 25%.

• No upgrades; Supported by a Feat

Gaar's Note: This is the speed ability and requires you're clearing levels fairly quickly to keep active. It stacks with other abilities that do the same thing to reduce area goals super low.
Global DPS Buff: 9.33e06%
 

Specializations

Powergaming: BBEG increases the damage bonus of Evil Overlord by +200% for each Evil champion in the formation, stacking multiplicatively and applied multiplicatively.

• No upgrades; Supported by an Item & a Feat

Min-Maxing: BBEG increases the damage bonus of Evil Overlord by +150% for each Champion with a total ability score of 78 or less in the formation, stacking multiplicatively and applied multiplicatively.

• No upgrades; Supported by an Item & a Feat

Rules Lawyering: BBEG increases the damage bonus of Evil Overlord by +100% for each Lawful champion in the formation, stacking multiplicatively and applied multiplicatively.

• No upgrades; Supported by an Item & a Feat

 

Equipment

	White	Green	Blue	Purple	Gild Priority
Slot 1: Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability	25%	87.5%	150%	275%	3
Slot 2: Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability	25%	87.5%	150%	275%	2
Slot 3: Increases the effect of BBEG's Rise, My Minions! ability	25%	87.5%	150%	275%	3
Slot 4: Increases the effect of BBEG's Sources of Corpses ability	10%	30%	50%	100%	1
Slot 5: Increases the effect of BBEG's Specialization choices	25%	87.5%	150%	275%	2
Slot 6: Reduces the cooldown on BBEG's Ultimate Attack	9s	18s	36s	90s	1

Legendary Effects

• Increases the damage of all
• Increases the damage of all
• Increases the damage of all
• Increases the damage of all
• Increases the damage of all
• Increases the damage of all

Gaar's Note: Find more information on the Legendary system here.
 

Feats

Here is the info for when you can unlock each Feat Slot:

Feat Slot	Unlocked at Level	Rough Cost
First	665	e19
Second	1565	e38
Third	2685	e62
Fourth	4070	e91

Gaar's Note: Currently, you will need to level this Champion past their current upgrade softcap which will require you changing the blue update indicator from UPG to one of the numbered options.
Here is the info on what Feats are available for this Champion:

Obtained	Recommended	Name	Effect
Default		Selflessness	Increases the damage of all Champions by 10%
Default		Recruitment	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 20%
Default		Balgronuuth's Pact	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 20%
12,500 Gems		Inspiring Leader	Increases the damage of all Champions by 25%
Regular Gold Chest	Pushing	Derailed Campaign	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 40%
Regular Gold Chest	Situational	We Brought Snacks	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 40%
12,500 Gems		Immproved Summoning	Increases the effect of BBEG's Rise, My Minions! ability by 40%
50,000 Gems	Speed	Skipping Ahead	Increases the effect of BBEG's Railroad ability by 100%
Regular Gold Chest	Pushing	Evil Plan Completed	Increases the effect of BBEG's Powergaming, Min-Maxing, and Rules Lawyering abilities by 40%
Regular Gold Chest	Zariel	Motivational Monologue	Increases the Charisma score of BBEG by 1

 

Level Upgrades

Gaar's Note: Level Cost is the cost to go from your current level to the stated level. It is not a cumulative total. However, since we're dealing with very large numbers, it's in the ballpark.

Level	Level Cost	Upgrade Effect
0	NA	Awful Nemesis
1	6,000	Add to Formation
20	1.83e05	Evil Overlord
50	1.01e06	Increases the damage of all Champions by 200%
80	4.35e06	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
100	9.36e06	Homebrew
140	9.08e07	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
150	6.65e07	Specialization Choice
180	5.73e08	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
200	1.23e09	Rise, My Minions!
210	1.24e09	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
250	1.94e10	Ultimate Ability
270	3.75e10	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
300	2.00e11	Sources of Corpses
320	4.30e11	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
360	4.16e12	Increases the damage of all Champions by 100%
370	3.05e12	Railroad
380	4.97e12	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
430	1.35e14	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
480	1.55e15	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
500	2.80e15	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
530	1.49e16	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
550	3.21e16	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
590	3.11e17	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
650	6.41e18	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
700	7.09e19	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
740	4.69e20	Increases the damage of all Champions by 100%
750	3.44e20	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
770	1.47e21	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
840	6.96e22	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
900	1.27e24	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
970	3.95e25	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1000	1.36e26	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
1010	1.11e26	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
1050	1.74e27	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1130	9.84e28	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1170	6.07e29	Increases the damage of all Champions by 200%
1220	7.40e30	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1250	2.69e31	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
1300	3.67e32	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1430	2.28e35	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1450	3.78e35	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
1500	6.34e36	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
1550	7.27e37	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1600	8.34e38	Increases the damage of all Champions by 200%
1680	4.44e40	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1780	5.91e42	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1800	9.85e42	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
1880	7.67e44	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
1900	1.29e45	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
1950	2.18e46	Increases the damage of all Champions by 200%
1980	7.92e46	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
2000	1.70e47	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
2100	3.57e49	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
2190	2.87e51	Increases the damage of all Champions by 100%
2200	1.82e51	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
2220	7.81e51	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
2350	7.11e54	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
2360	4.48e54	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
2400	7.01e55	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
2500	1.07e58	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
2550	1.12e59	Increases the damage of all Champions by 200%
2600	1.29e60	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
2700	1.84e62	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
2780	9.02e63	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
2800	1.52e64	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
2900	3.19e66	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
2940	1.94e67	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
2950	1.42e67	Increases the damage of all Champions by 200%
3100	5.55e70	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
3190	4.43e72	Increases the damage of BBEG by 300%
3200	2.82e72	Increases the damage of all Champions by 100%
3250	7.65e73	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
3300	8.77e74	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
3420	3.34e77	Increases the damage of all Champions by 100%
3430	2.11e77	Increases the damage of BBEG by 100%
3500	1.61e79	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
3650	2.50e82	Increases the damage of all Champions by 100%
3660	1.58e82	Increases the damage of BBEG by 200%
3700	2.47e83	Increases the effect of BBEG's Evil Overlord ability by 100%
3760	5.08e84	Increases the damage of BBEG by 200%
3800	3.24e85	Increases the effect of BBEG's Homebrew ability by 100%
3810	2.38e85	Increases the damage of BBEG by 100%
3820	3.87e85	Increases the damage of all Champions by 100%

Current max upgrade level is 3820
 

Formation & Mission Information

Once you complete the first mission, three Variants and a Free Play show up. It uses a formation that holds 10 Champions. It has a Champ-specific format that I've done my best to re-create below.

Back Column	3rd Column	2nd Column	Front Column
	0
0		0
			0
0
	0		0
0		0
	0

New Player Formation & Specializations:
While I recommend learning to build your own formations, here's a set of starter formations for brand new players to use while they get the hang of things. Anyone with other options should check that link for how to figure out how to make the best of them. You can also ask for help in the #formations channel in the official Discord.

Back Column	3rd Column	2nd Column	Front Column
	Hitch - Charismatic
NA		Bruenor - Battle Master
			NA
Asharra - Dwarves & Elves
	Calliope - College of Valor		Nayeli - Oath of Devotion
Minsc - Humanoids		Jarlaxle - Leader of Bregan D'aerthe
	Celeste - Life Domain

This formation is for the first couple of runs where you're just not going to get enough Gold to get everyone on the field, let alone level people up into their power curves. At this point, Jarlaxle is focusing on being your Primary DPS while everyone else is set up to support him.
The following formation is for once your Hitch starts doing more damage than your Jarlaxle. You can find this out by pulling Asharra out of the formation and swapping Jarlaxle and Hitch around to see whose damage is better. If Hitch is higher, next run change Asharra's Spec to buff Hitch instead.

Back Column	3rd Column	2nd Column	Front Column
	Jarlaxle - Leader of Bregan D'aerthe
Makos - Dark Blessing		Bruenor - Battle Master
			Nayeli - Oath of Devotion
Asharra - (Swap)
	Calliope - College of Valor		Tyril - Wild Shape
Minsc - Humanoids		Hitch - Charismatic
	Celeste - Life Domain

This formation should get you through the Event as a new player. If you have other options or think a different DPS is geared better, try it out and see what happens! Swapping DPS around like this can help you figure out what works best for you with your specific items.
These are the rough Favor values you need to reach to make a Variant say Difficulty: Easy. Keep in mind that this is just a generic rating system and some Variants may be harder than others, even with Favor in this range.

Variant	Favor Level (Normal)	Favor Level (Scientific Notation)
75	20,000	~2e04
125	15,000,000	~1.5e07
175	150,000,000	~1.5e08

 

Initial Adventure: Let Sleeping Dragons Lie (BBEG)

Cost: 100 Dragon Claws
Complete: Level 50
Reward: BBEG + whatever Waukeen's Favor you earned
Info: No restrictions.
Gaar's Notes: This adventure requires over-leveling Champs a lot more than usual due to the AoE damage and stuns coming off the Boss. You may want to add extra Tanks for health share as well. Efficiently farming Favor is very important in this adventure and it may require farming Favor in Free Plays to reach the gains you're used to seeing from normal Time Gate adventures due to the Favor-check status of the Boss.
Boss Abilities (as best as I can tell):

• Claw Swipe - Attacks a random Champion
• Roar - Strikes fear in any Champions that fail their saving throw, preventing them from attacking or using abilities for a short time.
• Breath Weapon - AoE damage to your Champions

 

First Variant: Roll For INT-ish-a-tive!

Cost: 1,000 Dragon Claws
Complete: Area 75
Reward: Gold BBEG Chest & whatever Waukeen's Favor you earned
Info: BBEG starts in the formation and can be moved, but not removed. You may only use BBEG and/or Champions with an INT of 12 or lower.
Gaar's Notes: This isn't an overly-restrictive variant so you should be able to do it rather easily as long as you have the Favor shown in the chart above. If you have any empty formation slots, aim for e01+ Favor more per empty slot to help out.
 

Second Variant: Herding Cats

Cost: 2,500 Dragon Claws
Complete: Area 125
Reward: Gold BBEG Chest & whatever Waukeen's Favor you earned
Info: BBEG starts in the formation and can be moved, but not removed. Every second, a cat spawns and moves towards a random Champion. When the cat reaches the Champion, they are stunned for 3 seconds because of overwhelming cuteness. The cats can't be attacked. Stunned Champions can not attack, but their formation abilities remain enabled.
Gaar's Notes: This may slow down your overall progress, but shouldn't be too horrible as long as you have the Favor shown in the chart above. If you want to be careful, wait until you have enough Favor for the third variant before attempting. Firebreath Potions can be your friend here as they'll keep attacking even when you aren't!
 

Third Variant: It Was Me All Along!

Cost: 5,000 Dragon Claws
Complete: Area 175
Reward: Gold BBEG Chest & whatever Waukeen's Favor you earned
Info: BBEG starts in the formation and can be moved, but not removed. You may only use Lawful Champions, Evil Champions, or Champions with a total ability score of 78 or less.
Gaar's Notes: They're trying to focus you in on the Specialization Choices here. You can test out your formation in a Free Play and see if it can complete area 175 to be safe. If it can't, just convert it to a pushing formation and get some more Favor, then try again. If it can, go do this variant.
 

Free Play

Cost: 500 - 2500 Dragon Claws (Cost scales based on how many you do to a max of 2500)
Complete: Area 50 to earn a random BBEG chest
Reward: See above + whatever Waukeen's Favor you earned
Info: No restrictions.
 

Achievements

Gaar's Note: All of these achievements can be earned at any time, not just during their Event, except where noted.
Recruit BBEG - 1%
Recruit BBEG, the Drow Wizard
This Is Not The Last You've Seen Of Me! - 1%
Complete all three variants of the "Let Sleeping Dragons Lie (BBEG)" adventure. (This achievement can be earned via Time Gates.)
Obliterate The Minotaurium Emporium - 1%
Obtain a piece of gear for each of BBEG's six equipment slots. (Event Champ gear does not come from regular SilveGold Chests. You can earn Event Champ gear from their specific Event Chests, Time Gates, qualifying Patron Chests, and other Chests as noted.)
Let Waking Dragons Fly - 1%
Complete area 275 in any "Let Sleeping Dragons Lie" free play. (This achievement can only be earned during the Dragondown Event, but it can be earned in any Champion's free play.)
It's Hard Raising a Family - 1%
Have 8 of BBEG's plodding zombies active at the same time.
Gaar's Note: Park yourself on a level with a couple Awful Ones in your formation and hit BBEG's Ultimate and wait. With enough Awful Ones, you don't even need the Ultimate.

Hey all,
I want to create a discussion board talking about best champions for solo queue ATM. I have three thoughts with me: 1. Split Pusher (ex - yorick): less reliant to team as they can use macro to win games (even unwinnable ones) 2. Tank (ex - ornn): peel for the carry/go frontline and set up good 5v5 or 4v4/3v3 3. AP Mid champs with high carry potential (ex - sylas): look to win mid lane asap, get decent kills and roam kills, later on in team fight - kill enemy carry
Although ADC has a high carry-potential, I don't think ADCs are the best to play alone as bot lane is a two people lane. Many times, I have met troll support players, and even though I try hard to do well, I cannot carry that game.
If you have any other roles in mind, feel free to comment and I am happy to try it out + give reviews! Just want to make a no-flame/positive discussion channel and win those solo q

Day 1:
Few of the tributes got much sleep that night. The parties all throughout the Capitol did not end until dawn, and the noise could be heard in the accommodation building. Vannery and Carton ate breakfast slowly, like zombies. They were subsequently taken to the holding rooms. Organza wished Carton good luck before accompanying Vannery in her cell. She kept trying to reassure her as she put on her beige shorts and t-shirt. The young girl attached her hair with a purple ribbon that had been provided and climbed into the glass tube. Organza hugged her one last time, feeling her tears soaking her shoulder.
It was Platonia Travers who accompanied Carton. She muttered to herself about the outfit choice for this year. She tried to be cold to the boy, but she accepted to help him tie the purple ribbon to his wrist. He gave her a sad smile : “I probably won’t come back, but it’s nice to know that everyone in the Capitol isn’t heartless.” Platonia stood, mute, as the boy’s platform started to rise. She couldn’t keep the tears in this time.
A few cells over, the atmosphere was as morose. Alexandra had finally deigned to discuss their strategy with Delta. She accepted his plan of staying on the sidelines while he ran to the cornucopia. Still, he looked at her suspiciously and hounded her about working together for the whole breakfast. Halifax gave Delta one last pill to combat the morphling withdrawal, assuring him that the only symptoms he would experience were a mild headache and maybe some stiffness. He subsequently accompanied him to his holding room while Sean Callahan went with Alexandra.
Halifax took advantage of being alone with his mentee : “You shouldn’t trust her. I know these kinds of girls. They look harmless, but they’ll stab you in the back as soon as you let down your guard.”
“But-but…”
“You like her, huh ? Too bad, she doesn’t. So, man up and move on !”
Delta did not know what else to say. He climbed into the glass tube in silence, his brows forming a single black line over his dark eyes.
In the next holding room, another conversation was happening. “You don’t plan on allying with Delta, do you ?” asked Sean Callahan. Alexandra looked away coyly. “ I have other plans… With Angelo, we have an agreement.”
The mentor sighed, but he did not criticize the girl. He just told her to be prudent. You couldn’t trust careers. Alexandra nodded then flinched as the glass tube started descending from the ceiling.
The first thing she noticed as she rose into the arena was the noise. She hadn’t even emerged that she could hear a cacophony of bird songs. It was almost deafening, and she covered her ears before protecting her eyes from the sunlight.
The racket made Delta’s headache intensify. He first looked to his sides ; Hattie (3) cowered on the left while Angelo (2), on the right, was focusing on the cornucopia. This year, it had been made out of a thin weave of golden metal, almost like a very shiny basket. After this zoom on the cornucopia, the cameras started moving around to show off the arena. The tributes stood in the clearing of a dense rainforest. The terrain was relatively flat, with a few creeks and an explosion of colorful flowers. The main attraction of it was the birds, however, as thousands of them fluttered about, sang, and screamed.
As Carton looked around for his allies, Head Gamemaker Vishwa welcomed the tributes and wished the odds to be ever in their favor before starting the 30 seconds countdown. With Borea (5) and the girl from 10 to his sides, he didn’t feel safe. He finally found what he was looking for, but he didn’t like that his allies were so spread out. He made eye contact with Rivage and Vannery but was unable to see Sardine, who stood on the opposite side of the cornucopia.
Vannery caught sight of her district partner, as well as Sardine. She gave them a small wave, but made the mistake of looking to her left, where Perfecto (1) was sneering at her. Georges (N), on the other side, was just as intimidating. Instead, she looked straight ahead. As the countdown reached ten, she spotted a coil of rope on the outside of the cornucopia.
Delta had been pondering, unsure if it was worth entering the bloodbath. Alexandra, who happened to be just two podiums over, winked at him. She then pointed to the cornucopia. He understood. At that moment, the countdown reached zero. He sprinted to the center of the clearing, expecting her to follow, but she stayed on her podium.
On later replays, it was shown that Alexandra was winking at Angelo and not her district partner. As the boy from 2 sprinted forth to the cornucopia, the girl waited for a few seconds. She moved only when most of the other tributes were too occupied and grabbed a knife as well as a small bag of food. Angelo acted like he helped the other career tributes in order to pick up weapons and supplies, but as soon as they were occupied, he joined Alexandra. The pair was actually one of the first to leave the clearing, not counting Circuit (3) and the pair from 10 who had run away immediately.
When Vannery realized that she was running side to side with Perfecto (1), she immediately changed course and ran to Carton. She had to give up on the rope but managed to pick a water bottle off of the corpse of the boy from 9, who had just been stabbed by Glare (9).
If the career pack didn’t notice the disappearance of one of theirs, it wasn’t the case for Delta. When he saw his district partner escape with Angelo, he became enraged. He tried to exit the cornucopia. Fraxen then attacked him to try and steal his backpack. Delta threw him to the ground and punched him so hard it broke his neck. Now he had lost trace of Alexandra. As the fighting started to die down, he ran in a random direction.
Carton had dodged one of Glare’s knives and grabbed a bag of food and an unwieldy lance before Vannery and Rivage joined him. The trio heard Sardine scream from the other side of the cornucopia. Carton wanted to go and help her, but a second gargled wail convinced him that they couldn’t do anything else, especially since Proserpina (2) had now retrieved her axe from Sardine’s chest. As they left, they could hear the crunching of Ora’s neck (12) at the hands of Georges (N).
Meanwhile, Alexandra and Angelo were already far away, giggling at each other. It was only after Perfecto had stabbed Hattie (3) to death that the career pack noticed Angelo’s absence, but they didn’t seem bothered by it.
Delta was halfway to the perimeter when the five bloodbath cannons sounded. He was still seething, and the running helped him calm down. Eventually, he collapsed on the side of and old mossy tree, out of breath. Once he was a little better, he explored his surroundings. The big tree had a hole in his roots where Delta could fit, although it was a squeeze. He decided to stay there for now and used moss to hide himself. He also put some in his ears, which helped with his headache.
Carton, Rivage and Vannery had been running in the opposite direction. They wanted to put the most distance between themselves and the other tributes. They stopped long after the bloodbath cannons had sounded. They set up camp a few hundred feet away from the Northern part of the perimeter, next to a creek. Carton helped Rivage to take inventory. He had the lance, Rivage had gotten a trident, and between the three of them they had enough food to last two days at most. The bottle Vannery had taken was only half full, but the water of the creek was clear and drinkable.
The trio decided to stay put. Vannery and Carton would work on a shelter while Rivage fished for their dinner, as they had agreed to during training. In the early afternoon, they heard hurried footsteps coming their way. The boys readied their weapon, protecting Vannery between the two of us. Circuit (3) came running into their little encampment, which took him by surprise. He skidded to a halt and turned around as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving the trio dumbfounded.
Angelo and Alexandra had quite enough supplies to last a while. He held a sword in his hand and an “emergency axe” strapped to his back, while Alexandra held two knives. At first, they wanted to get away from the careers, but Alexandra eventually convinced Angelo to follow them from afar. They weren’t really hard to track, their bickering could be heard over the constant chatter of the birds. The noise also covered them. Proserpina, Glare and Perfecto were circling around the central clearing, slowly moving away from it. In the late afternoon, they discovered Forger (12) who was lying unconscious. He had received a deep wound during the bloodbath and was now at the mercy of the other tributes. Proserpina killed him.
The subsequent cannon surprised Vannery. She had climbed on top of a tree to get a view of the arena, and the sudden sound almost made her loose her grip. She didn’t fall, but while reaching her hand for a hold, she grabbed something warm and spherical. It crumbled and a viscous liquid dripped onto her finger. She looked up. She had inadvertently grabbed an egg from a nest. She was silent a moment, and a bright purple starling looked at her. “Oh no !” she whispered to herself. The bird screamed louder than she thought possible. Then it attacked.
All the birds in a radius of 50 feet coalesced into a multicolored tornado. Vannery fell to the ground, fortunately not hurting herself on the way down, and a feathery mass started clawing and pecking at her. They also attacked Carton and Rivage, who had been chilling at a distance. They batted the volatiles away, trying not to get scratched. Vannery managed to get up and run to the makeshift tent they had built. She picked up Carton’s lance and swung it, hitting some of the birds. She swung a second time and hit the metallic water bottle with a resounding CLANG! It seemed to stun the birds, but Vannery was too busy keeping them out of her face. Carton, however, noticed their reaction to the noise. He shouted loudly and flailed his arms : “Make noise ! They don’t like noise !”. Just his screaming was enough though. Eventually, the three tributes managed to drive the mutts out by hitting their weapons against rocks and the water bottle and screaming as loud as they could.
Delta also had an encounter with some angry birds. Those were red, with a long curvy beak and fearsome talons, but he managed to kill them all with a big branch he used as a bat. He then ate them, cooked over a small fire. Argus berated him for building a fire that could alert the other tributes to his location. However, the “Aviary Jungle” as it had been baptized by Urania Whimsiwick herself, was way too dense for anyone to see the smoke.
As the sun started to set, Delta squeezed himself back into his root hole, being careful to camouflage himself with moss. He held his branch in front of him just in case. An hour later, two cannons sounded in quick succession. They belonged to the pair from 10, who had had the great idea of making an omelet. The flock did not appreciate that…
When the sun started to set, Angelo suggested he and Alexandra find a place to sleep, preferably away from the career pack. She agreed, so they stopped following. They looked for a safe spot in the light of the dusk, eventually settling on the middle of a tight thicket. It was complicated to get inside, but the small space was comfortable, and the pair even had a view of the darkening sky. They ate some food then laid down, hand in hand. “Your district partner doesn’t seem to mind that you ditched her” joked Alexandra.
“I don’t think she cares. Maybe they believe I’m dead. But they’re not looking for us at least.”
“I think Delta is, though. You should have seen his face when he saw us. I almost feel bad about leading him on.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of him if he isn’t dead yet.”
“I’m sure he’s feeling the same thing”, responded Alexandra before going to sleep. Angelo kept the first watch.
In another section of the arena, Carton took the first watch. He had spent the remaining hours of daylight cleaning his wounds, along with Rivage and Vannery. The two of them slept, hoping to feel better the next day.
A little before midnight, Rivage awoke. He came to sit next to Carton, and the boys talked about their families, their school. Suddenly, a cannon sounded. It belonged to Ulma (7), who had stumbled upon Quinoa’s (9) camp by accident. The younger girl had not hesitated to stab a pointy branch in Ulma’s throat. This cannon prompted Carton to go to sleep, Rivage taking second watch.
At midnight, the hymn of Panem resounded in the arena and the portraits of the 9 fallen appeared in the sky : Hattie (3), Sardine (4), Fraxen and Ulma (7), the boy (9), both (10), Ora and Forger (12). This left 17 tributes after an eventful and interesting day.
Day 2:
Delta didn’t sleep much that night. The uncomfortable position coupled with a strong headache meant that he was up before the sunrise. As the first hints of blue appeared to the east, Delta got up. He needed to occupy his mind. The moss had stuck to his clothes, and he decided to take advantage of it. He caked his face and hands in mud and used it to stick more moss to his clothes. Urania commented that he looked like a green Orang-utang, which prompted laughter in the Capitol. Once he was fully camouflaged, he started roaming the arena. Stealthily at first, but as the sun rose and the birds started their cacophony as well, he allowed himself to move a little faster.
Alexandra and her district partner had spent a restful night. As she awoke, she was surprised to be cuddling with Angelo. Her rousing awakened him, and he turned around to look at her, puzzled. “I guess you’re the little spoon”, she joked. They ate cereal bars in awkward silence. Soon, the voices of the career pack walking in their direction prompted the pair to hide. Proserpina and Perfecto were loudly arguing about someone stealing their water bottles. Unbeknownst to them, it had been Glare who had hidden them in her own bag.
As they moved away from her, Alexandra suggested they follow the trio like the day before. Angelo thought it was a safe strategy as long as they kept their distances. They made their way out of the thorny thicket and followed. A few minutes later, a scream warned them that something was going on. It was Glare (1). She’d walked into a trap laid by Georges the day before and was now hanging upside down from a rope. Perfecto started to help her, but the stolen bottles fell from her bag, along with a few hidden knives and more food. Instead of killing her, as Perfecto wanted to do, Proserpina convinced him to leave her there. She screamed and screamed. Proserpina and Perfecto left her there wiggling. Before Alexandra and Angelo could arrive, the thin rope holding up Glare by the ankle snapped. She fell headfirst on the ground and her cannon sounded. Alexandra winced, but Angelo told her that it was better this way, since you could survive for many hours hanging this way. Then another cannon sounded.
Delta had been unsuccessful for a few hours. He had avoided a couple of poorly made traps and fought off a flock of tiny yellow canaries but had been unable to find another tribute. Eventually, he decided to change tactics. He found a path that clearly looked like it was in use and hid in proximity. His ambush eventually worked. Lavandine (11) walked past him, clutching a meagre stick in her pale hands. She didn’t even notice him getting up and following her, his branch raised. Many viewers thought it looked cartoonish, the tiny girl, followed by a big man with a club, not noticing anything. Glare’s cannon gave him the signal he expected, and he swung at her head. Lavandine flew and crashed into a patch of ferns. Her head was bloody, but she was still alive. Delta walked up to her in order to finish what he had started. The cameras cut to another group of tributes.
For the whole morning, Vannery, Rivage and Carton had been staying put. They foraged, fished, and built rudimentary spears just in case. Vannery climbed trees, very carefully in order not to disturb any more birds, so she could spot any tributes. Eventually she did, a little after midday. The pair from district 5 was heading their way. They were armed.
Vannery transmitted the information to the boys, who debated leaving or fighting. “Let’s fight !” said Vannery. There were 3 of them against 2, and they had weapons. Carton had his lance, Rivage his trident, and her… a spear and a rock would do the trick. So, they waited for what felt like a century. As soon as Borea and Zapp entered their field of vision, they attacked. The pair was surprised, but not enough to let themselves be killed that easily. Borea shouted at Zapp to run while she fended of Rivage’s trident with her sword. She had wrapped metal coil all around her arms, as she had seen on one of the older games. They clashed for an instant, enough time for her to disarm him, and then she ran too. On the way, she threw an egg she’d hidden in her pocket to the group. A flock of angry sparrows was the distraction the pair from 5 needed to escape.
Proserpina and Perfecto seemed to have made up a little and were now actively hunting. Still, they weren’t aware of the couple _ the “double A couple” as they were now called in the Capitol _ following them from afar. They dared not speak, but the looks they shared meant a lot more. They say love makes you blind, and maybe that’s why Alexandra didn’t see the orange and turquoise pheasant she walked on. It screamed and ran away, catching the attention of Proserpina. She turned around and shouted, “I knew it !” before charging at Angelo and her ally. Her first axe hit a tree a few inches above Alexandra’s head. She was hesitant to fight a career, but Angelo had already jumped into the fray and was now battling his district partner. So, she ran at Perfecto, who was lagging behind. He quickly turned around and sprinted when Proserpina’s cannon sounded. Angelo had managed to stab her in the gut. The look of betrayal was still printed on her face as the hovercraft claw took her away.
The pair was unsure if they needed to pursue the boy from 1, as Angelo assured that he was an “ego-inflated wimp” . Instead, they rifled through the bag Proserpina had dropped and decided to rest a little. They could have stayed there longer if it hadn’t been for the fire…
After getting rid of the birds, the trio decided to keep following Zapp and Borea (5) in order to get their supplies. Vannery managed to track them thanks to their footprints and the trail of broken branches. They found them quite quickly. Indeed, the gamemakers had decided to trigger a forest fire in order to move the tributes around a little. This explained why they had seen so many birds flying away. The pair from 5, however, had found themselves cornered on three sides by the flames, and the last side was where Carton and his allies arrived from.
Rivage thrusted his trident straight into Borea’s back, sounding her cannon. Carton’s lance, however, flew past Zapp and into the fiery inferno. The boy from 4 barely had the time to pick up his trident before a tree fell, smashing into the boy from 5 and sounding his cannon. As other trees started to creak and groan, Vannery led the boys back to the creek, where she believed the water would keep them safe.
Delta ran as soon as he smelled smoke. He ended up in a small clearing in the Southern part of the arena. As the grass quickly burned, he jumped into the flames. Many viewers gasped, thinking he had just killed himself, but he just ran a few seconds then stopped. Argus explained that the fire had been controlled in a way that it burned quickly and extinguished itself just as fast. From his spot of scorched earth, Delta was safe for now. From the sky descended a small silver parachute bearing the number 6. It contained a water bottle and some aspirin. Delta was the only one to use this strategy successfully. A few minutes after him, Circuit (3), who was shorter and weaker, tried. He fell face first into the fire and did not get up, his cannon sounding a few moments later.
Angelo and Alexandra were some of the closest to the central clearing, so it was after the three cannons that the fire reached them. They ran. Angelo was practically flying but the fire was catching up to Alexandra. Another tree cracked. It crashed onto the girl, pinning her legs to the ground. Thankfully, it was a much younger tree, and it did not cause her much more damage. For an instant, Alexandra thought the boy from 2 would just keep running. That he would be glad to get rid of yet another opponent. But he turned around. He used his axe as a lever, bending it in the process, to get the girl free. Then he picked her up onto his back and ran again. Angelo was not a very muscular tribute, but he proved to be quite a strong one.
Neither Carton, nor his allies had suffered any injury thanks to Vannery’s quick thinking. The creek was wide enough to protect them from the flames, and they avoided any falling branch. Quinoa (9) had had the same idea. She internally debated reaching the small group, but eventually decided not to. In the late afternoon, it started to rain, revealing that many of the trees and plants of the forest were actually fireproof. It was much sparser now, but the rain cleaned off the soot and, soon enough, the forest was green again.
Rivage, Vannery and Carton huddled together. They stayed that way for the whole evening, until Carton took the first watch while the other two went to sleep.
Delta was almost unharmed too, apart from a few minor burns on his ankles. The aspirin had taken effect, and for once in a long time, he felt totally clear headed. He hoped his district partner had died today.
The fire had changed the landscape quite a lot. What used to be a lush jungle was now less green. The ground was visible in most places, and the humidity levels had gone down. The sky was more visible. It also meant that the traps set by Georges and Odette (N) on the first day were either destroyed or very conspicuous. The boy from 6 avoided them all.
Delta found a pond where he cleaned himself from the soot and the half-charred moss. The fresh water also soothed his burns. He ended up settling close by, between two fallen trees.
Angelo and Alexandra, however, had suffered many burns. Fortunately, as they were setting camp and trying to remove their singed clothes, a silver parachute descended over them. It contained two containers of oil, as well as a blanket and a note from Angelo’s mentors, which he did not show to Alexandra. It would later be revealed that it scolded him for keeping his plan of betraying the career pack secret. The oil was perfumed and designed to almost instantly heal burns. It worked a charm. As the massaging continued, the two tributes started to get more and more steamy. They were intimate that night.
While they were busy, the portraits of the fallen appeared in the sky. The second day of the games had seen the loss of Glare (1), Proserpina (2), Circuit (3), Borea and Zapp (5), and Lavandine (11). This left only 11 tributes for the third day, with better odds now that a few strong tributes were gone.
Day 3:
On the morning of the third day, an announcement was made by Head Gamemaker Vishwa. She informed the tributes that a feast would be held at noon, three hours from now. The 11 surviving boys and girls would find supplies they desperately needed there. She then wished everyone a glorious day and the dampened sound of the birdsongs came back in full force.
The announcement awoke Delta, but he decided not to go to the Feast. He still had food and a source of water nearby, as well as his heavy branch. A real weapon would have been nice, but he didn’t feel safe going to the central clearing. Instead, he decided to just sleep more. He only woke up again when the first cannon sounded.
As for the couple, they were lost in bliss. Their show from the previous night had to be censored, although it was available for those who had enough “connections”. Let’s just say that it was quite memorable, and cemented Angelo and Alexandra’s place as favorites. They got ready after a long cuddling session, grabbing their bags and their weapons and heading to the cornucopia. They arrived with minutes to spare. Actually, they were the last tributes to arrive.
Vannery had been the first on site, scouting for other tributes. Once she had been sure the coast was clear, she had signaled to Rivage and Carton that they could come. They hid in the bushes nearby; this area having been spared from the fires. Little by little, other tributes started to arrive. Kumquat (11) hid behind a tree, Perfecto (1) stood in the open, Odette and Georges (N) huddled together.
As Quinoa (9) and the “Double A couple” finally arrived, the cornucopia started receding into the ground. It reappeared at once, and a bell rang.
Vannery stayed behind. She watched all the tributes run to the center where laid 8 numbered bags, including Carton and Rivage. The fighting raged in the cornucopia. Her allies attacked Alexandra and Angelo, as Kumquat escaped with his bag. Quinoa (9) almost got out, but Perfecto (1) caught her by the ponytail and stabbed her in the throat, sounding her cannon. He then picked up her bag in addition to his.
Alexandra and Angelo fought side to side, covering each other. She scared Odette (N) away, while he pushed back against Rivage. The boy from 4 tried to hit Alexandra again, but her ally caught the trident and almost tore it out of Rivage’s hands. Instead of trying again, he attacked Georges. The trident hit him in the back and sounded his cannon a few seconds later. Angelo took advantage of this distraction to slash at Carton with his sword, causing the boy from 8 to bleed out.
Vannery screamed and ran out of her hiding place, almost colliding with Odette (N) on the way. Rivage grabbed the district 4 and district 8 bags in one hand, and Vannery’s arm in the other, and they ran away together. The young girl cried and struggled to keep up the pace. She wanted to go back, but Carton’s cannon sounded, ruining her hopes.
Angelo and Alexandra were the last tributes to get their bags. One of Perfecto’s knives punctured Alexandra’s. The pair turned back, giving Kumquat (11) enough time to flee. They chased Perfecto into the woods. He was quick, however, and they had a hard time gaining on him.
The following hours were very quiet, boring, even, so Urania and Argus invited a few guests to discuss the bloodbath and the tributes’ different strategies. It was only in the late afternoon that Delta deigned getting up. He was well rested. He ate what remained of his food and started camouflaging himself once again in order to hunt. The tributes were now very spread out, however, and it appeared that Delta was in an area devoid of them. He walked until it got too dark to continue, before letting out a scream of rage. His sudden outburst scared some resting birds. They flew away and hit Kumquat (11) square in the face as he was in the process of climbing up one of the taller trees. The surprise caused him to lose his grip and he fell to his death a few feet away from Delta, his Feast bag laying next to him. Suddenly, Delta laughed and thanked the birds. He emptied the contents of the bag, glad to find some fresh food and water. He settled right there for the night.
Angelo and Alexandra eventually gave up on hunting Perfecto. Every time they thought they heard him; it turned out to be another bird. He was nowhere to be found. The pair settled down near a creek, right where Carton and his allies had camped earlier, in order to clean themselves. It was another spectacle to behold. The couple played in the fresh water, wearing only their underwear, and at one point, Alexandra winked at one of the cameras. This resulted in the appearance of a sponsor gift a few seconds later. She caught it and opened it discreetly once she was dressed again. She checked that Angelo was busy with the campfire before peeking inside. There was a water bottle and a tiny, sheathed stiletto knife, about two inches long. There was also a note that said : “You will only get one chance” – S. She acted nonchalant, thanked her sponsor for the water, and hid the knife in her sock. She took the first watch, jumping when a cannon sounded.
Since they had come back from the Feast, Vannery felt that Rivage was acting strange. He kept pacing and muttering to himself and seemed unhappy even though they had received enough supplies to last five more days in the arena at least. They found another place to sleep, Vannery built a new shelter. As she was about to go to sleep, Rivage approached her, trident in hand. He didn’t speak, so she asked him what he wanted. “I’m sorr-“ he started. Vannery interrupted him : “Behind you !”.
He spun around and threw his trident. It caught Perfecto in the head, sounding his cannon before he had hit the ground. He had been sneaking up behind Rivage with a knife in both hands, but Vannery had a keen eye. Rivage seemed to deflate. He cleaned up his weapon and went to sleep. Vannery tried to ask him what he wanted to tell her, but he didn’t answer. Instead, she took the first watch.
At midnight, five portraits appeared in the sky : Perfecto (1), Carton (8), Quinoa (9), Kumquat (11) and Georges (N). The six remaining tributes were spread out around the arena : Rivage and Vannery to the East, Angelo and Alexandra to the North, Odette (N) in the South and Delta to the West.
Day 4:
The sound of a cannon startled Delta out of his slumber. He was feeling well rested and decided to head to the cornucopia with just his branch and a knife he had taken from Kumquat. With only 5 remaining tributes, he knew that the showdown was about to take place and was about as excited as the viewers in the Capitol for it to happen. On the way, he stumbled upon a suspicious mound of leaves. He almost let it be, until he saw two feet poking out of it. As he bent down to look at it, a sharp pain entered his shoulder blade. By pure reflex, he swung his club backwards, hitting a barefoot Odette (N) in the forehead. She stumbled backwards, clutching her knife, and tripped on a rock. Delta jumped onto her, planting his knee in her stomach, and stabbed her with her own knife. He added it to his “collection”.
The atmosphere between Alexandra and Angelo had been quite tense since they’d woken up. They hadn’t slept so well. When the first cannon sounded, they set out to get to the cornucopia, and by the time the second cannon echoed throughout the arena, they were in position. “We’ll fight together, right ?” asked Alexandra. Angelo nodded solemnly : “Until there’s no one else. I’m so glad I got to meet you.”
“Me too… Too bad one of us will have to die.”
As she said those words, a twig cracked in a nearby bush.
The first cannon had shocked the viewers quite a bit. As Rivage finished his watch, he looked at Vannery, asleep next to him. He murmured “I’m sorry”, so low that it had to be subtitled. Then he plunged his trident in her throat. Before leaving, Rivage let out the longest sigh of relief.
Alexandra climbed onto the cornucopia, hiding herself, a length of rope held tight between her hands. She waited as Rivage entered the clearing. He was focused on Angelo. Delta appeared a few seconds later, on the other side of the cornucopia. He walked under it, oblivious to the girl awaiting him. As Angelo charged Rivage with his sword, Alexandra lowered the rope. Delta let out a choked growl as she pulled. He was much stronger, however. With one labored step, he yanked her off the roof. The rope was still around his neck, but his hands were now around Alexandra’s. Nevertheless, she held on to the rope, using it to hold him at bay. Just before she fell unconscious, she kicked him in the groin. She let out a few coughs, before grabbing the two ends of the rope again and pulling Delta against one of the steel columns of the cornucopia. Delta tried to stab her, but she was behind him, and he was quickly loosing consciousness. With one last brutal pull, the rope crushed his windpipe.
Alexandra watched Angelo dispose of Rivage with one final feint of his sword, and his cannon sounded at the same time as Delta’s.
Silence fell on the clearing. Even the birds had shut up. The couple was breathing heavily. They hugged tight. Something glinted in Alexandra’s hand. She almost reached Angelo’s neck when he gripped her wrist. He smiled, but his eyes were full of sorrow. “I had to try at least !” she half-laughed, half-whimpered. He sat her down and hugged her once again. She told him that he deserved to win. That he was a good man. He took his swords and gently stabbed Alexandra in the heart. She barely cried as he looked into her eyes. A cannon sounded. The last one. Jahani Vishwa announced Angelo Clearfell, of district 2, as the victor of the 119th Hunger Games. He had to be forcefully removed form Alexandra’s corpse in order to be retrieved.
Aftermath:
The games took an immense toll on Angelo, who was unable to speak for more than a month. Even when he had gotten the use of his words back, he fell into a lengthy depression. His interview with Urania Whimsiwick and Argus Brown had to be cut short as soon as they mentioned Alexandra.
After that, he remained alone in his home of the Victor’s village. He received no guests and did not act as a mentor the following years. The other victors of his district described him as “disillusioned” and “a killjoy”. The situation stayed the same until his disappearance two years later.

Ember played with the boys on the floor, their hands reaching for him. Pouring over the files of the latest security breach on our magical borders, my eyes fell on Alex playing with his new friends outside. Waving at me, Jack embraced me from behind. Kissing the top of my head, it felt as if something big was going to happen today. A tender blush rose to my cheeks, my hand cupping his face.
“We need to raid an outpost today. Hopefully we can get information on the main headquarters.” He informed me warmly, biting my neck. Drinking his fill, my crippling anxiety stole any joy it normally would have given me. Missions like these frightened me, every cell in me wanted to turn into a raven and fly away for the day. Finishing up his breakfast, he set down an armored filled dress with leggings. Salford whispered something in his ear, sliding him a pair of car keys. Rising to my feet, I took my new outfit to our bedroom. Changing quickly, the dress felt heavy on my frame, the leggings seemed to be lined with chain mail. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I ran into Jack on the way out. Embracing me lovingly, the keys dangled off of his fingers. Feeling his simple black suit, a light armor lined it. Chewing on my lips, our friends waited for us in matching black armor.
“We are ready to go.” Raven announced proudly, my eyes falling on Salford. “Salford said that he was going to watch the boys.” Adjusting their backpacks, weapons clanged in their bags. Guilt gnawed at me, the concept of putting them in danger sickening. My lips parted in protest, Raven raising her finger.
“We are coming. Those bastards killed my family and they are going to pay.” She asserted firmly, pulling her hair into a ponytail. “Besides, I want to back my friend up.” A deep sadness haunted her eyes, my hands cupping hers. A gentle but broken smile dimmed her features, silent tears staining her cheeks.
“I appreciate it and I apologize for not being there to stop it. I ruined everyone’s life by not being there.” I choked out shamefully, bowing my head. “I failed you and everyone else. I will make it up to you guys, I fucking promise you that.” Grabbing my shoulder, her other hand lifted up my chin.
“You were busy doing your own shit. I heard you showed up, girl!” She chatted pleasantly, my shaking fingers wiping away her tears. “You have a place where humans and monsters get along with ease. Have you been sleeping? You look like hell.” A deadpan expression appeared on my face, her last comment ticking me off slightly. Brushing it off, Jack cleared his throat. Placing me on his back, he carried me to a delivery van. Hopping off of his back, I let myself in. The Tainsworth twins sat in the front with their armor on, Raven climbing in with Ruby. Messing with her curls, Raven basically sat on top of her. Adjusting my bell sleeves, the leather hugged my slender arms. Oppressive silence hung between us, Ruby refusing to look at me. Folding her arms across her chest, something needed to be said. Choosing not to say it, the time passed horribly slow. The van screeched to a halt, Jack pulling me into a hidden compartment. The door squeaked open, heavy footfalls echoed in the back.
“Who are you?” A gruff voice demanded, Ruby speaking up. Clearing her throat, her voice tone seemed rather bitter.
“We wish to join your ranks. I can’t stand vampires, especially their fucking queen. She could die for all I care.” She snapped hotly, truth oozing from her words. “She is hiding somewhere in this van.” Horror rounded our eyes, her betrayal striking us in the heart.” Opening the compartment hiding us, she took a step back. The hunters slapped handcuffs on us all, Ruby grinning evilly ear to ear. Wicked laughter rumbled in her throat, her head cocking back.
“I have been working with them the entire time. There is no information, just the home of your executions.” She gloated sensually, the twins cursing in her direction. “I am not even a teenager. I am a witch who has been alive for centuries. Can I tell you a secret? I am the leader of the hunters. Everyone else was just a puppet.” Sighing with satisfaction, she circled us. Tears welled up in my eyes, Raven sobbed softly next to me. Pulling a gun from her pocket, Ruby shot her in the head. Time slowed, the twins crying out. Emptying her gun into them, a broken wail burst from my lips. Their bodies dropped forward, ruby dripping from the holes in the middle of their foreheads. Jack twitched darkly next to me, my mind officially broken. His bangs hid his eyes, his claws extended from his fingernails. Unlocking his handcuffs, he pretended to get madder as he worked on mine. The metal clanged to the ground, Ruby’s eyes widening with terror. Tears blurred my vision, my scythe sliding into my eager palms.
“You fucking bitch!” I screamed vehemently, pacing back and forth. Reapers held their souls in their palms, all hope of saving them was gone. “You are going to pay.” Shrugging her shoulders, she leaned forward.
“How pathetic for the queen to lose her cool so quickly?” She taunted cruelly, Jack fumed dangerously next to me. “You can’t damage me. You can kill this body and all I have to do is find another one. Angel of darkness! Kill all of my hunters and give me their lives.” The hunters holding us hostage dropped to the ground, thousands of white glowing balls flowing into her. Panic gripped my face, reapers burst from the ground surrounding her. Death himself popped up next to me, one raise of his hand stopping them.
“I am going to bring these souls to Heaven. Take her out.” He commanded urgently, the balls floating into a worn leather sack hanging off of his wrists. “They are all dead. You did all that you could. Good luck.” The last ball of light floated into the sack, a snap of his finger signaling his disappearance. The three of us remained, a ball of shadowy energy building in her palm. A low hissing noise echoed around us, the delivery truck fading to the base of a dead twisted tree. Violet grass danced around me, a chill running up my spine. Gripping my scythe tightly, rage mixed with depression. Sauntering out from behind the tree, a single wave of her hand sent us a couple of yards away. Gone was the armor she wore, a tight leather number hugging her body. Violet needles rested in between her fingers, dead man’s blood dripped onto the grass.
“I suppose you want to hear about my tale and why I am doing this?” She mused with a wicked chuckle, licking the blood off her hand. “I have a bomb ticking away. The lovely thing will release a virus that will kill all of the monsters in the world. Humans will be infected with a magical mind control. Don’t worry about your friends. I killed them because they were annoying me. Do you know how hard it was to pretend to be friends with you and arrange your fucking role? I made a deal with your father to kill you. How did you like the little bonfire?” Wanting to charge at her, Jack held me back. Raising my scythe into the attack position, the corner of my lips curled into a snarl.
“You freaking bitch.” I growled through gritted teeth, leaping into the air. Raising her hands in the air, thousands of needles floated behind her. Flicking her wrists, the rain of needles tore through my body. Jack would die, my boots pushing off the branch. Covering Jack with my body, the needles struck me instead. A burning sensation coursed through my veins, inky sludge pouring from my eyes. Cracks lined her face as needles struck the tree, an idea coming to mind. Jack trembled underneath me, his eyes falling on the blackened veins coursing lining my porcelain skin.
“Shoot her in the hands. She can’t throw her needles if her wrists can’t move.” I wheezed, coughing up blood. Dragging him behind the tree, my chains blocked the needles heading towards Jack. His hand quaked, his bullets hitting everywhere but the target. Lining my free arm up with his, my hand steadied his.
“I can’t!” He protested with wet eyes, his mental state beyond repair. “My friends are dead. My friends are dead! She used to be my friend!” Shimmering teardrops crashed to the grass, the grass darkening to an inky black. Confusion dawned on his face the moment I held his gun underneath his eyes. Teardrops flooded the chamber, my hand guiding his hand to the level of his eyes. Getting behind him, I clicked the safety. Aiming for her palm, a quick yank sent a blackening bullet up her arm. A wave of relief washed over me the moment her needles glitched, the muzzle of his gun aimed for her other palm. Pulling the trigger, the bullet shattered her other arm. Dropping to her side, cracks echoed in the air. The cracks on her face had deepened, my attention turning towards her tree. Swinging my scythe into the tree, her shrill shrieks filled the air as flames raced into the center of the tree. Water snaked around their branches, my chains clinking their way around the thick trunk. Mouthing a silent spell, the needles floated out of me.
“Water from my heart! Flames of the Dead! Chains from my master! I call upon thee to burn the tree down, drown it from the inside. Choke the shit out of it.” I ordered sharply, each word hurting. “Final spell, turn my blood into venom for a witch.” Raising my right hand, a bell rang the moment the tip of my scythe made contact. Closing my fist, the needles dug themselves into the tree. Flames devoured her skin, cold water filled her lungs. Chains snaked up her body, a sea of fiery orange coloring her skin. My vision blurred, Jack snapping out of his paralyzed state. Raising his gun, a bullet whistled into the tree. The bullet being the last thing we needed, the tree decayed to dust along with her. The dimension crumbled away, my legs giving out. Leaning against the destroyed van, fresh tears flowed freely at the sight of our dead friends. Jack picked up one of their backpacks, his tears soaking the top of the bag. Pulling out a medical bag, he ripped out a needle filled with milky liquid. Jamming the needle into my leg, the effects of the venom dying down. Pressing my ear to the ground, an ominous ticking echoed in my ear. Tick, tick, tick! Feeling around the dirt, a metal door clanged underneath my hand. One look in Jack’s direction, he understood. Spinning the rusty handle, he lifted up the door. Gathering the rest of my strength, I popped in. Shutting the door behind me, the lock sealed my fate. Jack protested outside, the top refusing to budge, my heart sinking at the only option. The only way to stop the bomb was to set it off in a dome, the spell caster having to be in the center of it. Praying that my reaper side would keep me alive even Jack had to know that he didn’t stand a chance. Using my scythe as a walking stick, my feet moved with adrenaline. Sniffing the air, the sweet smell told me where to go. Limping through the twisted concrete halls, my breath hitched at the orange angry metal ball. Taking a deep breath, the image of my dead friends and that town I called home flashed in my mind. Pushing through, I sank to my knees. The last of my power built around my hands, a sad smile haunting my face the moment I placed my palms on the surface. A water dome glittered over me, reaper’s flames reinforcing it. Channeling the rest of my flames into core, the metal rattled violently. Preparing for the worst, a giant raven folded its wings around me.
“I will protect you no matter what.” Dr. Death promised warmly, his energy providing me safety as the chemical blasted everywhere but us. “Dissolve the poison.” The colorful particles lightened to a snow white, everything hitting me at once. Ruffling my hair, he disappeared back into my mind. Jack sprinted in, his shattered expression speaking volumes.
“I am so sorry I couldn’t save them.” I blubbered uncontrollably, falling to the floor. “I don’t deserve you. You should just k-” Rushing over to me, he clutched me desperately to his chest. Tears flowed freely, neither of us able to move. Laying back, the clarified chemicals reminding me of snow. A tortured wail burst from my lips, my quaking fingers clinging to his jacket. Saphiro and Hazard skidded to a stop, their faces dropping at the sight of us. Shaking our shoulders to see if we were alive, gracious grins brightened their features at us breathing. Their words faded in and out, a rough darkness enveloping me in it’s sea of madness.
Jerking awake, an eager Alex and Hazel hovered by the white hospital bed. Covering my eyes from the blinding lights, their arms embraced me from either side. Eloise smothered Jack in love, his numb expression matching mine. Bursting into tears, their smiling faces taunted me. Holding me tighter, his words faded in and out. Jack screamed for everyone to leave him alone. Kissing Hazel on the head, Alex dragged her out. Walking over to my bed, his little sister sulked out. Crawling in next to me, his head rested on my chest. Wail after wail burst from his lips, my slender hands being the only thing comforting him. These were his friends and now they were gone. The fault was all mine, guilt eating me raw from the inside. Hours passed like this, him going numb then screaming with raw emotional agony. Swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, he tugged on his boots.
“Are you coming?” He asked hoarsely, offering me his hand. “We need to go home and raise our family.” Accepting his hand cautiously, he yanked me to feet. Placing me on his back, the look in his eyes begged for me to rest my head on his back. Walking into the hall, he ignored the pleading nurses. Saphiro blocked his path, his depressed smile not helping the situation. Tugging anxiously on his navy vest, my mind chose to focus on the midnight black blouse underneath his vest. Clearing his throat, clammy sweat drenched his skin.
“Come with me.” He begged kindly, Jack seconds from saying no. “Please. I have a couple of things to show you.” Caving to his request, we walked for a solid ten minutes to the cemetery. Three caskets waited to be lowered to the ground, Jack dropping me. Struggling to my feet, my heart shattered at him draping his arms over the coffin. Whispering a prayer to them, he took a step back. Pulling me close to his waist, his sobs grew louder as they lowered the caskets into the ground. Death popped up behind us with three letters in his hands, his head bowed in respect to the dead bodies.
“These are from your friends. Call it one final letter.” He informed Jack sullenly, turning towards me. “Thank you for your services. Unfortunately, I can’t remove the curse.” Offering me his hand, my fingers curled around his hand. Shaking it once, he bowed in my direction. Pressing his palms together, a twinkle glinted in his eyes.
“Once everything settles down, we should get together to have tea. I am sorry for your loss.” He expressed serenely, understanding death but not the grief part. Snapping his fingers he was gone, an eager Jack reading the letters. Curiosity burned a bit but my inside voice told me to leave it alone. Tucking them into his pocket, he placed me on his back. Following Saphiro back into town, his crooked grin lit up his face for a quick second.
“They said not to lose you.” He chuckled softly, a bit of hope glinting in his eyes. “Time will heal my wounds.” Hundreds of eyes watched us enter back into town, my jaw dropping at the statue of the five of us. The plaque read the heroes of the dawn, the two of us unsure of what to feel. Jack thanked him profusely, Saphiro pointing to the Victorian mansion at the top of the nearby hill.
“That mansion is yours to conduct your business as well as living in it.” He promised earnestly, fresh tears flooding from my eyes. “We hope you choose this town as your home.” Jumping down, I cupped his hands. A tender blush rose to his cheeks, my real smile illuminating my features for the first time since yesterday.
“Only if you'll have me, good sir.” I returned politely, his brow cocking at my response. Alex ran up to me with the boys in his arms. Accepting them, life was okay. Please karma, grant me peace for the rest of my life.
Epilogue:
Alex had his head buried in his work, the twins ran around the yard. Elise read in the tree, the two kiddos looking so grown up. The morning sun bathed the idyllic scene, a good five years had passed. Holding my swollen bump, two wails snapped me out of my trance. Jack stepped out with our white haired twins Sammy and Raven, the one year old girls reaching for me. Their fiery orange and red eyes glittered with love, my arms scooping them up. Wrapping his arms around my bump, Mark was due in a couple of months.
“Alex, Elise!” He barked with his trademark grin as they rushed up to him. Elise smoothed out her white summer dress, Alex adjusting his glasses in a brisk manner. An irked look greeted him, his stern gaze shutting down any protest.
“Watch the boys for us.” He ordered lightly, passing them wrapped boxes. “I need to take your sister somewhere. Boys, go in and watch a show with your uncle and aunt.” Sprinting into the house, Alex shot him a thumbs up as he followed them inside. Guiding me down the hill and through the town, his beard kept capturing my attention. Grabbing three bouquets on the way, he dragged me to the cemetery. Stopping in front of our friends' graves, he laid a bouquet on each tombstone. Dusting off his navy designer suit, my simple orange summer dress felt like a sad attempt to match him. Rubbing my back, he kissed my bump.
“We came by to tell you how things are going. Alex and Elise are learning how to drive. Yeah, that is as scary as it sounds. Sammy and Raven’s birthday happened a couple of weeks ago. They are both one year old. Crazy, isn’t it?” He chatted pleasantly, happy tears welling up in his eyes. “We have one more on the way. It’s another boy. We are going to name him Mark. I miss you dummies every fucking day. I wouldn’t have survived if you gave me that letter. Thank you.” Wiping away his tears, Sammy and Raven cooed in my arms. Kissing the top of my head, Jack guided me to the square. Sitting me down at the fountain, he took the girls in his arms. Passing me a bundle of envelopes, they were all from the townsfolk and monsters all over the world.
“Word got out about where you live and they all wanted to write their thanks.” He explained jovially, sitting down next to me. “Read them tonight and write back. They would love to hear from you.” Flicking through the pile, this was going to take a while. Popping to my feet, I could sense that Alex was getting frustrated. Walking back home, the fact that people wanted to thank me touched my heart. Opening the door, my boys bounced towards me. Dragging me to the couch, one of Alex’s shows was playing. Climbing onto the couch next to me, Jack took the other seat next to me. Hazel skipped in, her long hair grazing the worn wooden floor. Sitting down by my feet, Elvira laid on her lap. Basking in the moment, this was how life was supposed to be. Thank you for the gift of a good life. All the tragedy led to this moment. All of the scars told the tale of my twisted journey here. Jack leaned his head on my shoulder, the boys laying on my lap. Playing with their hair, I hoped sincerely that this would never end.

Welcome to Camp Redwood!
Are you ready to fight to the death with age regressed forty year olds with the faces of adorable little kids?
How about coming to terms with your entire life, or at least five years of it, being one big fucking lie?
We are so excited to announce our 2018 group! Where you will undoubtedly FIND yourself here. Your true self.
The self you did not know existed.
SO, jump in that military bunker, grab that blunt object to fight against our little campers disembowelling our counselors, and get yourself down to CAMP REDWOOD. WHERE WE START EVERY DAY WITH A CAMP REDWOOD SMILE.
Apply now!
Application end date: 05/02/2018.
…
It’s been a tough few days.
So, I think I will be posting this update in two chunks so I can get everything down and clear my head. I am alone right now.
Yes. I am the last survivor of Camp Redwood 2023 (?). I’ve been unsure how to start this and end this because I really just want to get into the meat of what has been going on.
But… I must ask. I have to.
What year is it?
That doesn't matter right now. I'll continue where I left off.
Teddy did leave us alone in the end. But his screams were still haunting me hours after the thing with his voice had left. I don’t even think I could call it his voice.
It sounded like him but there were pieces of him missing. Like someone had reached into the boy’s mind and pulled out the skeleton of his consciousness, the bare bones of his being—and cruelly stuffed him into a metal shell.
That is what Teddy sounded like.
He sounded like a wounded animal, confused why he was alive. Terrified. I now know what he is the product of. Teddy is a victim of horrifying, unethical experiments our campers have been forcing on kidnapped counselors after taking over the camp. Have you ever heard of the sound of crying which isn’t human?
That is Teddy. He is the product of forcing life into the dead, and leaving it to suffer with its consciousness. Which, in my opinion, is a fate far worse than death.
You’re probably wondering where my two companions are.
Well, that is why I am writing this.
I want to tell you what happened so I can wrap my head around it myself, and choose between killing all of us and sending these psychopaths to hell, or coming to terms with our truth and fighting back. Well, it’s their truth. I wouldn’t say it’s mine. It took us three whole days to get the guts to risk leaving Allison’s secret bunker inside her cabin, and attempting to find a way out of this hell-hole. Harry and I were the ones to do it, leaving a still-not-completely-himself Rowan to guard our safehouse. I didn’t want to leave him alone for a multitude of reasons but due to Harry actually having a soul and a semblance of empathy, I was overruled.
Despite being heavily under the influence of age-regressing animal crackers which had mentally turned him into a toddler, Rowan was still himself to a degree. Which meant he was back to being our leader. I was sceptical at first, because no matter how many times he insisted he was in fact okay, I couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling that the childish parts of him, the warped parts of his mind which had turned him into a child, were still there.
Even if they were very subtle. I caught him doodling on his clipboard, and much later on, singing to himself with an odd smile on his face he had successfully gaslit Harry and I into believing it was just a coping mechanism. Say what you want about Rowan Atlas, he is damn good at swaying your opinion. Even when we were 100% sure Rowan was not his original self, the guy we had both met at the start of camp.
It was almost like him having two minds. The mind of a child, and the mind of a teenager.
For example, he still ordered us around and attempted to take back his role of leader— which had at least secured some normality back into our lives. But he also hated loud noises, and freaked out every time one of the littles tried to get in. There was also the incident we had agreed not to talk about, because talking about it meant facing the fact that our friend was no longer himself.
It was a hours after Teddy left us in peace. Harry was sleeping, and I was on the cusp of slumber, slipping through more files. Rowan had been oddly quiet. Which wasn’t a Rowan thing. Whether he was mentally a child or a teenager, he was still being loud and obnoxious. I sat up to find him cross-legged, playing with something.
I thought it was a worm at first, but no. It was exactly like what I found at the start of this, an eye attached to a nerve. But this time it was undoubtedly human, and now Rowan’s plaything. When I questioned him, he said he was “studying” it. Though there was definitely a difference between studying something and playing with it. The scary thing was, he saw no wrong in it, holding it in his hands and stripping off the metallic pieces cruelly attached to it.
In the end, I took it from him and stamped on it. Rowan didn’t have the reaction I was expecting. Because he was still hiding behind the façade that his mind hadn’t been warped by de-aging animal crackers.
If that wasn’t bad enough, Eleanor Summers had given me a 24 hour deadline to hand over the boys, and we were well over the limit so an ambush was likely imminent.
I still had so many questions. Why were Rowan, Harry and Carmel so important while the rest of us were seen as nothing but spare parts?
That is what the little bitch said. Now physically eleven years old with the mind of a deranged forty year old scientist, Eleanor told me I was nothing to them but spare parts. God, it’s so weird calling her what she is after looking after her kid self, her fake self, for weeks.
Little Eleanor with her golden pigtails and obsession with teddy bear picnics was in fact a complete fucking sociopath. That much of one in fact, that her and her equally psychotic colleagues who engaged in these experiments had been regressed into little kids inside a rehabilitation camp (Nicknamed: Project Spearhead) which was supposed to fix them and had failed spectacularly. Because they’ve taken over. And this time? We’re the fucking lab rats.
The counselors here at Redwood.
I had seen her adult self being interviewed by mysterious Agent Lemrac, a face behind Project Spearhead, the girl who was far too young to be an agent, and have that kind of authority. Also, someone with a soul—who had a clear biased opinion against the experiments.
Part of me wondered if Lemrac still existed. Maybe she was behind the odd phone calls we kept receiving on an old fashioned rotary phone. With Eleanor’s deadline in mind, the two of us made our journey quick. It wasn’t hard to leave the camp itself. There were guards in the form of Callen and Olive, brainwashed and turned into the kid’s muscle, but they were easy enough to get past as long as we distracted them with something shiny.
They were mentally six-years-old so literally anything grabbed their attention.
I quickly realized my mistake once we managed to escape the camp—Harry in front of me, with me lagging behind. We moved slowly, ducking behind trees and throwing ourselves into the dirt. Very cloak and dagger. It didn’t take us long to slip into the woods. Just past the lake were the exit gates to Redwood which led to a road.
Not exactly civilisation, but I would take it over having my body taken apart for “parts” in these so-called experiments.
When we got to the gate, however, I realized I had given the adults too much fucking credit.
Whoever was in charge of Spearhead clearly did not care about lingering survivors, as long as they were successfully cutting us out from the outside world. And that’s what the giant wall I found myself staring at was, an impossible foot monster towering over us and cementing my earlier thoughts. We were screwed. The woman on the phone had made it clear we were being abandoned, and yet some of me naively held onto them maybe still rescuing us.
“Fuck.” I didn’t know what to do, but kicking the damn thing felt like the right thing. I did, and then regretted it half a second later.
This thing was impenetrable. Impossible to climb unless we had a fucking death-wish.
Blinking at it through fraying sunlight blinding me, the thing almost resembled a mirage. It stood under the sun, a giant roadblock completely blocking us from any form of help.
The sun wasn’t helping, scorching through my shirt. I swiped at my sweaty forehead, unable to resist a frustrated scream I had to muffle-gag with my hand. I risked a look behind us. Thankfully, we were around ten minutes away from the main camp. The lake was nearby glittering under a late afternoon sun, and all I wanted to right then was to wade into the shallows and let the murky water swallow me up. The little shits couldn’t swim, maybe I’d be safe.
“Fuck!”
“This is bad.” Harry Carlisle broke the silence after my frustrated cry. With his eyes glued to the wall, he took off his hat and ran a hand through dark brown curls which were catching the light of the sun, setting strands alight across his forehead. None of us were in great shape after spending days hunkered down in a secret bunker. Harry was no exception.
His short sleeved camp Redwood shirt was still covered with vomit, discoloured with days’ worth of sweat stains and lack of showers.
He bent over, grasping hold of his knees. “What do we do?” I could tell by the tone of his voice he was freaking out, and I didn’t blame him. But Harry was still on my mind.
His signature was undoubtedly all over every Project Spearhead file, despite him repeatedly insisting he had nothing to do with it. At that moment, I could almost believe him. The boy looked exhausted and frustrated, pained.
He surprised me by slipping to his knees and burying his head in the dirt and screaming into rough soil. I was struck, then, by the sudden memory of flames. I had been sitting around campfires for weeks at Redwood, but this one didn’t feel like it took place at camp.
Instead, it felt more personal. I could almost see it, flickering orange sparking at the backs of my eyes and the sour taste of beer in my throat. Like the memory was trying to push itself to the surface. This moment felt nostalgic and yet close—as if it had happened yesterday. Like both the past and present had entangled in one.
If I concentrated I swore I could hear the murmur of voices, phantom laughter in my head and a cool night breeze grazing my cheeks.
“Earth to Josie?”
I snapped out of it quickly. “You’re asking me?” I kicked the dirt again. “I thought Rowan was our camp leader.”
Harry lifted his head after a moment, his eyes flicking to me. “You know he can’t make rash decisions right now.”
“Exactly.” I said. “We both know he’s not back to his normal self. He’s both right now. A little kid, and a teenager.” I shuddered. “I’m sorry, did I forget to mention our so-called head counsellor was playing with a human eye like a fucking cat?”
“Mm."
“Well, why aren’t you taking it seriously?”
Harry’s gaze skated the horizon, cotton candy colored clouds blurring into twilight. “Becauuuse the sun is going to your head.”
I could practically hear his eyes rolling. Harry took three strides towards the wall and pressed his face into rough brick. “So, this is it, right?” He muffled into rough cement. “We are really going to die at fucking summer camp.”
“I’m going to die,” I corrected him. “They want you two and Carmel because apparently you’re special.”
Harry made a scoffing noise into the wall. I was starting to think he was setting up camp there, planning to tell all of his grievances to the cement. “Oh yeah, because that’s a good thing? You’ve seen—no—heard what they’ve done to Teddy and the others, and you think them wanting us for something else is special?” his voice broke a little. “I’d rather have your fate.”
The boy’s words made me realize how little I was compared to the others. While they and Carmel were part of some grand, psychotic scheme, I was just needed for extra bulk. “Why don’t you talk to your friends?” I said, after letting the boy throw several punches into the soil. I wasn’t going to comment on his hits being surprisingly strong enough to shake the ground.
Harry didn’t look at me after calming down, resorting to tracing the earth with the toes of his shoe. “Who?”
"The CIA."
I was surprised by his retort, even if it was equally sarcastic. “Oh, you think I’m in the CIA?” He stepped closer to me, his breath in my face. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is bigger than the CIA. Whoever is in charge of this project is way higher up.”
“So, you’re admitting you’re a sleeper.”
“No, that’s not what I—”
“Then what?” I demanded, cutting him off. “Why are your fingerprints quite literally all over this?”
Harry folded his arms, his expression darkening. "You're still talking about this?" He groaned. “Josie.” He planted his hands on my shoulders. “I am not a spy, okay? Yes, my writing being on those documents was weird, but we’re also dealing with animal crackers which turn us into littles.” His lips curved into the slightest of smirks. “I’m pretty sure it would be easy for a group of scientists to use my writing as some kind of red herring. They’re trying to turn us against each other, obviously. And that’s not going to happen.” He squeezed my shoulders and I felt momentary comfort. I was so tired.
I hadn’t slept properly in days in fear of Eleanor coming to smoke us out—and the urge to just sink into the boy’s chest was suddenly overwhelming. Luckily, I had self-control. I took a step back, and he dropped his arms. “That's sobering, yes,” I said. “But I’m still going to try waking you up with those trigger phrases we found.”
When he tried to speak, I shook my head.
“Like it or not, you’re our only way out.”
I had made it clear several times to the two of them that I had no intention to use the trigger phrases we found taped to the back of the door in the bunker, when searching for more intel. But the more I was really thinking about it, if there were sleeper agents capable of taking down a group of forty-year-old tweens, I had no choice but to at least try. Because it was either that, or I gave the littles what they wanted. The boy’s. Whatever they needed, Rowan, Carmel, and Harry were the keys to their plan.
We needed a miracle, and those trigger phrases were our best shot.
Harry, of course, was against this idea.
He did that thing he always did when he scrunched up his nose and curled his lip. It reminded me of a toddler not getting their way. I saw it exclusively when the littles were taking advantage of his piggybacking service. “Josie, I’m not a fucking spy!”
"You could be." I said stiffly. "And until we figure out what is going on with you, I don't trust you. You said it yourself. Your writing was all over the kid's files, so at some point, regardless of you remembering or not, you have been part of this project.”
“So, why did you bring me out here?” He inclined his head. “You don’t trust me and yet you bring me on your little mission to find an exit.”
I shrugged. “I was partly hoping we would be attacked and your natural instincts would kick in.”
“So, I’m your lab-rat?”
“Partially.”
Harry did the scrunchy-nose thing again. “What the fuck, dude?!”
He looked like he was going to argue before deciding against it. Instead, he slipped on his raybans and gestured behind me with a sigh.
"We should probably get going before those little freaks come looking for us and realize we’ve left our safehouse.” I didn’t know how to explain and put into words that to survive we had to try everything—and if there was a slither of a chance that Harry really was some kind of sleeper agent, I was going to take advantage of that. I hadn’t forgotten about Carmel, Callan, and Olive. Rowan too, no matter how screwed up he was. I was counting on getting all of us out. I turned on my heel and started to head back to camp. I didn’t look at him because doing that would make me weak.
“Right. Let’s go.”
There was something going at the camp when we got back. I was startled by an intense blue light illuminating from the lunch cabin, and I had half a mind to turn and run. Then the screams started. Just like Teddy, they sounded both human and not, a horrifying mix of man and machine wailing for death. I found myself paralysed, crouched behind Cassie’s cabin, their phantom screams rattling my skull sending my thoughts into overdrive. “Josie.” I felt warm fingers wrap around my elbow and pull me back. Harry was thankfully there, dragging me away before I could expose us. It was enough to snap me out of it. Enough to drive me into fight or flight.
When we made it back to Allison’s cabin, Rowan was sleeping. He had conked out halfway through a pack of gummy worms. I spent the next few hours going through each trigger phrase written on the yellow sticky note we found taped to the door. I figured if we were going to try and wake Harry up, he would have to be restrained in case he was triggered to hurt us or even himself. “Is this really necessary?”
“Yes.” I said, squinting at the third trigger phrase. The two of us were sitting cross-legged in front of each other. Harry, breathing heavily, and me, trying to make myself calm. Harry pulled gingerly at the jump-rope restraints we had managed to loop around his wrists. I was expecting something out of him, but all I got were his wide eyes staring back at me.
The latest phrase was twisting my brain. It sounded like a kid’s book. I took a deep breath.
“Green Tigers Do Not Live Independently.”
Harry didn’t move, making a deal of blinking rapidly back at me. “No, I mean,” he gestured to his arms pinned behind his back. “Why did you have to make them so tight?"
“Because you’re a spy, dude.” Rowan had woken up, intrigued by my attempts to wake up a possible sleeper. He was pretending to go through the Eleanor Summers footage again, but the boy was clearly invested in what we were doing. Sitting slumped in the spinning chair, he leaned his fist on his chin. There were various things about Rowan I wanted to point out, but I was too scared to. The tips of his fingers were still stained red, and I had no idea if it was new or old. Rowan Atlas used to be the one guy at camp I used to think looked older than he was—and acted older than he was.
Instead of taking part in camp activities, he chose to sit on a branch and read pretentious classics. Yeah. He was one of THOSE guys. The slight stubble on his chin would definitely get him served alcohol, and his intelligence and quick-thinking would easily sway you if you were sceptical. Now he was the complete opposite. Maybe I was imagining things, but he had definitely gotten younger in the face, even if it was just a year or two.
I am not talking about his appearance, however. Rowan’s mentality was drastically different from the guy who held crisis meetings and ordered all of us around like we were his own children. This guy had a certain childish twinkle in his eye when I happened to catch it, a twitch in his lips which was constantly a wide smile like he was constantly seeing butterflies. Before being force-fed animal crackers, the guy had maintained his hair and hygiene no matter what happened. Now, he looked like he’d been dragged through a forest. Literally. There was still grass and leaves caught in his sandy hair, his camp Redwood shirt torn in odd places.
He yawned, curling up on the chair, apparently getting comfy. “No hard feelings, but we gotta keep you under investigation. Like Josie said, your name was all over those shady documents.”
Even his voice was different. I couldn’t call it a squeak, but it was close enough to one.
“I’m not a spy,” Harry grumbled, ducking his head. “I think I would know if I was—what, some kind of government agent?”
“That’s the whole point of them,” Rowan, still with lingering childish traits, winked at him. “They don’t know either.” He raised his hand and mimed the finger guns, protruding them into his temples and pretending to pull the trigger. Adapting a storytelling tone, he lowered his voice to a whisper. Like he was talking to the kids.
“They can live their whole lives without realizing.” I could tell from his tone he was getting excited with the idea of sleeper agents. Maybe it was a kid thing. Rowan sat up straight with wide eyes. “Cruelly brainwashed by a secret organisation at a young age and turned into super soldiers, these guys have no family. No friends.” His gaze flicked to Harry, his lips twitching into a teasing grin. “Only the insatiable urge to kill and follow orders. They don’t have brains to feel or emotions. And that?”
He did a dramatic spin on the chair. I could tell he was revelling in the look of horror on Harry’s face. “That is the most dangerous thing about them. The inability to have free will. Because what happens when they come face to face with people they used to love? People from their old life?”
With both of us enthralled in his speech, the boy smirked. “They kill them. Family members and friends. With one simple order? BAM.” Harry jumped, and I am ashamed to say I did too. Rowan blew his imaginary finger guns. “With one single and yet perfect headshot, it’s allll over. There’s blood EVERYWHERE. There’s brains!” He giggled. “Brains! And it’s like, sooo gross.”
With the way he kept adding to his story, getting progressively more excited and practically vibrating in the chair, the boy was reminding me more and more of my little sister. Which terrified me. Because if this was him back to himself, was this his new normal?
“Rowan, stop.” It took every ounce of my being not to yell at him. “You’re acting like a fucking child.” I was frowning at a sign on the wall warning us to ‘mind our head’. It wasn’t even a low ceiling, and yet that was the fourth time I had seen that sign.
Harry looked mildly horrified. Usually, he was the one who told the ghost stories. I could tell even he was questioning his own identity at that moment, and I paused interrogating him with phrases. “I’m sorry, but who out of us ate our weight in animal crackers?”
“Against my will.” Rowan yawned again, doing another spin on the chair. I had to turn around and shoot him a glare. “That’s the second time you’ve thrown me being turned into a kid in my face. Which is not fair. Did I ask to be stuffed full of poison?"
“Well, you didn’t exactly fight against Eleanor.”
“I was tied up, asshole—and I’m pretty you were in la-la land at that point.”
“I’m allergic to peanut butter, so no,” Harry rolled his eyes. “I snapped out of it when my body reminded me.”
“That sounds like a you problem, dude.”
Harry groaned, tipping his head back. “Holy shit, Rowan. You used to be cool and now you’re like an annoying little brother.”
“Touché.”
“Shut up. Both of you.” I found my voice, grabbing a pen and scribbling out the first line of trigger phrases which were a no-go.
“Rowan, annoyingly, is right.” I said, ignoring the guy’s noise of glee. If he kept spinning around on that chair, I was going to kill him.
The blur of movement at the corner of my eye was driving me mad. Focusing on Harry, I took a break from the trigger phrases for a moment, poking him in the cheek. It was supposed to be light-hearted, but the guy looked offended.
“For the third time, we can’t ignore that at some point you have signed off on all of those files, which means you were part of Spearhead.” I shrugged. “I’m not saying you are, but we have to be smart if we’re going to survive against a group of deranged scientists.”
Rowan chuckled. “What she saiiiiiid.”
"Why aren't we paying attention to the guy who clearly has allegiance to those freaks?” Harry stuck out his tongue at Rowan, which was surprising on multiple levels. Wasn’t he supposed to be the normal one? “Aren't you their favorite counselor?"
"I was literally mind controlled by preservatives, asshole," Rowan shot back. "And I'm not the only one. You and Carmel are on their radar too."
"Yeah, but we’re not the ones playing with eyes.”
"I'm too tired to argue with you." The boy responded in a yawn, cuddling into the chair armrest like a cat. “Also… you’re a noodlehead.”
“Ignore him.” I told Harry. “Just focus on me, alright? You have to look at me.”
“I am!”
“It’s time to make the donuts.” I articulated it perfectly.
Harry surprised me with a laugh. “That one can’t be real.”
“It is. Shush.” I cleared my throat. “The strawberry moon will rise in July.” When nothing happened, I frowned. “Maybe I’m not saying them right.” I peered at the next one, mentally speaking it and then muttering it to myself to get an idea of the tone.
“Or,” Harry shrugged, pulling at his restraints. “I’m just spit-balling here, but maybe I’m NOT a secret government sleeper agent after all?”
“Be mindful of the deep ravine.” This time I practically shouted it in his face, only to get his wide smile in return.
“Josie, this isn’t working.”
“It will.” I was growing increasingly more frustrated. “Just try and listen to them, okay? Don’t push them out.”
I tried one more time, leaning close and scrunching up the sticky note in my hand. Harry’s expression stayed stoic, though from the contortions in his forehead and the twitch in his lips he was trying so hard not to laugh. “It looks like it will rain tonight.”
I was surprised, then, when Rowan jolted in the chair suddenly. He lifted his head, his eyes wide. I was seeing him back to his usual self for the flicker of a second, his expression contorted with fright, lips curling into a scowl. “Do you guys smell that?”
“Smell what?” I sniffed the air, but there was nothing which was out of the ordinary. I had grown used to the combined stink of our body odour.
Rowan wrinkled his nose. He sat up straighter. “That.” He whispered. “It smells like… burning.”
I opened my mouth to ask what he meant before Harry went stiff suddenly. I sensed his entire body seem to brace itself. His eyes hardened. “Untie me.” He said in a croak.
When my shaking hands went to the boy’s restraints, his were balled into fists. I glimpsed muscles bulging through the back of his shirt and forearms. His demeanour reminded me of an animal growing territorial. “Something is… wrong,” he said in a sharp breath. Harry’s frightened eyes found mine. “Wrong.” He said again, blinking rapidly. “Something is...wr–wrong. ” When I pulled the last of the rope from his arms, Rowan shocked me with a piercing cry which sent him tumbling off of the chair, his trembling hands planted over his ears, lips carved into an O.
His eyes were wide with terror, with agony I couldn't understand. Childish terror. Which catapulted him back to his real age.
Before I could hesitate, I was crawling over to him, attempting to snap the boy out of it. But he was inconsolable, his eyes almost unseeing, his body contorting with every shriek. It took me a moment to realize Harry was the same. But instead of a piercing shriek of a scream, he was wailing into his knees, as if to escape something.
His body seemed to jolt left and right, like he was being electrocuted. When I saw glimpses of sharp red pooling between his fingers and down the back of his neck, something sickly crept up my throat. Rowan was somehow worse, his whole face contorting like it was it's own separate being, rivulets of intense red dripping from his nose and mouth, and staining his hands desperately pressed over his ears.
It was a synchronised cry, I realized, after concluding that no matter what I did, I couldn't save them.
It was a sound only they could hear, a high-pitched screech like a dog-whistle which was only affecting them. It was the kids, I thought. Surely. If they could disembowel counselors, I was sure they would have no problem engineering a sound which would only affect certain people.
Stumbling back, I had two choices. I could either try and help them, try and block out this phantom noise slowly killing them-- or I could leave them and find a safer place. With that choice in my mind, I barely noticed the phone begin to ring under Allison's desk.
That same old fashioned trilling rang in my head, and I managed to reach under and grab the receiver, my heart in my throat. "Please." I managed to squeak out, trying to ignore Harry, who was trying to rip out his hair, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. I saw the whites, blood vessels popping one by one.
When he crumpled to the ground, I thought he was dead. But his wails continued into the floor, and I wanted them to stop. I wanted him to die because I couldn’t stand hearing him screaming for help which wasn’t coming. I couldn't help them, and it was killing me. The kids were clearly trying to smoke us out, this time targeting the boy’s. Still though, I had my secret weapon. The Spearhead project.
"There are three of us left," I panted down the phone. "You have to help us. I am at Camp Redwood. You need to get us out of here. Do you hear me? You need to get us out–"
“Attempts to fix the current situation have been unsuccessful, Miss Greenfield," the woman with the British accent's voice came through in a rush of static, cutting me off. Her voice was monotone, and I wondered if she was in fact a programmed bot.
"All efforts for manual activation have failed from the disaster zone. The signal appears to have been sabotaged. I repeat. The E.485 frequency has been sabotaged. Designated models 0115, 0116, and 0118 are now officiated as being faulty and are no longer needed for protocol 9AXC5. Please stand by for standard protocol deactivation. Thank you for your service. Agent Salta. Agent Elsilrac. Agent Lemrac.”
My grip loosened on the phone, and I felt my legs started to give-way. "You're the one doing this to them?”
When Rowan dropped to his knees, blood dripping from his nose, my stomach jumped into my throat. There was no way. I figured it was an attack from the kids, but I was wrong. Instead, this sound, this frequency, was coming from the phone.
I thought back to the video footage. Agent Lemrac interviewing Eleanor Summers. Harry's signature on the paperwork. “Can you… say that again?” I heard myself say in a breath. But the dead ringing tone was already clanging in my skull, a robotic countdown laced within the static. I grabbed the pen I had been writing with, scribbling those names down, my hands shaking.
“Preparing emergency shutdown protocol. Thank you for your service, Agent Salta, Elsilrac, Lemrac.” The voice continued, which was just another stab in the gut. I heard Salta before. I heard Lemrac. But writing them down, I realized what they meant.
Salta.
Elsilrac.
Lemrac.
I was a fucking idiot. No wonder the littles wanted them and Carmel— why they were so important to their plan. Slowly, I could feel myself start to crumble. The phone slipped from my clammy hands, but I could still hear the woman beginning an emergency shut down.
I didn’t feel the impact when my knees hit the ground, but I did start to sense something twisted and sour tickling the back of my nose and throat. By the time I had noticed it, it was already choking the bunker. But somehow, I didn’t care about the stars in my eyes or my own blood being projected onto my hands with every wet sounding cough exploding from my lungs. I could still hear their names, and every time I said each of them, more and more of me shattered.
Atlas.
Carlisle.
Carmel.
“18…”
“17…”
“16…”
“15…”
Laying on my back while my head spun, I was partially aware the boy’s screaming had cut off.
Instead, they were just sitting there, eyes wide and unseeing, the blankest I had ever seen them. There was so much blood running down their faces, and I imagined something rooted inside of them tearing their minds apart from the inside. Letting out another strangled cough, which was definitely biological warfare courtesy of the kids (not enough to kill, but definitely a warning not to fuck with them) my gaze flicked across the bunker, taking everything in. The paperwork we had been going through. The chair Rowan had been spinning around on. The ropes Harry’s arms had been entangled in. I was frowning at the walls, and then the ceiling.
“Please mind your head when you step down the stairs.”
Drinking in the words slowly, my cotton candy thoughts imploding into one blurry mess.
But then I was a little more awake, this time turning my gaze to the wall where the same sign had been taped to the wall. Please mind your head when you step down the stairs. And… there it was again, taped to the desk, and underneath the laptop. Hidden in plain sight. It had been there all along, and yet I only realised when I wasn't thinking about it, when my mind was being suffocated. Something seemed to snap inside of me, and I sat up, driven by pure adrenaline. With one hand pressed over my mouth and nose, I forced myself into a sitting position and dragged myself to Harry, whose head was lolled at an unnatural angle, his eyes closed.
Part of me wanted to smash up the phone, knowing what these bastards had done to their sleeper agents now they were no longer usable. The boy almost resembled a doll. Was this the so-called sleeper which had been planted inside Redwood? Empty eyes, empty everything. He was like a shell with a human face. No better than Eleanor's experiments.
When I grabbed hold of his arms, I had to hold him steady, his body cut from these puppet strings which had held him. “Harry.” I could barely speak, my voice more of a croak. I knew he was awake and aware, but a singeing, almost burning smell was coming from directly inside his head as blood ran from his nostrils in shades of red and pink. Now I knew what the burning was when I pressed my face against his and sucked in a lungful of poisoned air. It was him. He was a defect being set alight from the inside. “You need to look at me, okay?”
When he didn’t, instead crumbling in my arms, I struggled to hold him upright. Twisting my head to Rowan, he seemed in a better state—kind of. At least he was still sitting straight.
My last words were barely audible. “Please mind your head when you step down the—” no sooner had the words left my mouth before the sounds of footsteps coming from above, the unmistakable murmur of giggling getting closer and closer. Harry dropped to the ground like he had been severed from his puppet strings.
I wasn’t aware when I slipped to the floor, whatever had filled my lungs finally taking its toll. Through flickering eyes, I could see our barricade being blown through, the ground rumbling beneath me, throwing me into something warm.
Rowan.
His body was curled up against the wall, haemorrhaging from the ears.
It was only when I was truly taking in the stink curling in the back of my nose and throat as Eleanor Summer’s mechanical grin popped out of nowhere, when I realized I had smelled it before. I had choked on it before. The circle of kids looming above me let out a shrill squeak of, “Found you!” while I found the dark, and beyond that, a memory I thought was a dream.
Firelight flickered in the backs of my eyelids. The blur of orange and shadowy smoke was mesmerising. I stared real hard at the fire like I was told to, at smouldering shades of yellow and orange colliding, thick black smoke billowing into the air while our faces illuminated the circle. I tightened my grip on my beer, swallowing another mouthful. It was cheap shit, but had just enough burn to get me tipsy. I felt good at that moment. Relaxed.
My head was starting to spin, but it was the good spinning, like I was going round and around on a carousel. I wasn't sure why I felt apprehension at the moment.
It was just a game, right? So, why did I want to jump up and go home? Why did I want to squeeze my eyes shut? Milo's words rattled in my skull as I squinted into the fire. "Come forth, those who are no longer with us." Ghosts weren't real, I thought dizzily. They couldn't be.
Not when science and logic existed. However, when the flames began to grow increasingly more erratic, I couldn't resist leaning forward, and... there. Something warm crept its way up my throat.
There was a shadow twisted in the smoke, a very human-like thing stepping directly from the trees, from the hollowed darkness I had been too scared to fully take in-- finding solace in flickering and illuminated sparks spitting from the fire. The others started to murmur to each other as the thing took a step out of the trees. Clea shuffled back with a cry, and Milo and JJ turned twin shades of sickly pale. It was a guy.
Older, by maybe a year. Shaggy reddish hair tied into a loose ponytail. His clothes were a simple leather jacket and jeans, but looking at his face, he was bruised, every part of him exhausted and battered. His eyes, when I caught them, were nothing but twin pools of oblivion glaring back at us.
"Holy fuck." Milo hissed out. “I didn't think that would actually work!" Downing his beer, he whooped. "Alright! Name, age, occupation, and..."
His lips quirked into a grin. "How you died, man!”
The guy inclined his head, his mouth curling into the start of an amused smile. "I'm not a ghost, Jackass."
His British accent was jarring.
"And?" Milo leaned back, crossing his legs. "Play along, bro. Or I call the cops and tell 'em a grown ass man is fucking with some minors."
"But he looks our age," Clea hummed. "And he's kinda cute."
"I don't give a fuck," Milo's eyes were hard. "State your truth, or I get my dad on the line."
The guy rolled his eyes, raising both arms like he was surrendering. "Samuel Joseph Wilder," he surprised me by responding. Now that I looked at him, this guy definitely was not dead. Unless dead people carried a gun latched to their belt, and a cheap iPhone sticking from their jeans pocket. "Nineteen years old." He shrugged. "I guess you could say I'm an ex-student."
He paused, and I caught emotion flicker across his face, his hands balling into fists. "I was killed– no, murdered, by my town."
Milo leaned back, cracking open another beer and taking a sip. Clea leaned closer to him, her eyes wide. “Playing along, huh? I like it. State your truth."
The guy nodded, lowering his arms. His dark eyes flicked to each of us, drinking all of us in. “I just escaped from a secret government facility doubling as a summer camp which has converted half of my town’s kids into mindless super soldiers.”
There was a pause, before Clea burst into nervous giggles. Milo cocked his head. “I said state your truth, not plagiarise The Hunger Games.”
Ignoring Milo, the guy turned his eyes to me. "Josie Greenfield?" He took a step forward before seemingly deciding against it. I didn't move or speak, my heart in my throat. I didn't have to reply. This strange boy continued, his lips curling. "You're going to die tonight, Josie."
At that moment, I realized why I had been feeling nauseous all night. Why my mind had been anticipating something all day, and why, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't brush off his words. Maybe part of me was expecting this.
The stranger's tone was too cold to ignore, the state of him too real to brush off as a joke.
Suddenly, it was just me, him, and fate itself glaring down on us, my life as I knew it exploding into nothing in the charred remains of the dying fire.
His voice echoed in my head, collapsing into white noise, when I noticed how truly inhuman he looked. I fully took him in, illuminated in firelight. "If you don't get the fuck out of this town, you are going to have the same fate as me."
…
I’m going to go out on a whim and say it’s… not 2018 and I’ve been at Camp Redwood for way longer than I realized?

Laying in bed, my hand rested on my bump. How did I end like this? Demonic and pregnant, that very statement sounding like a cheap movie title. Demy slumbered next to me, the day was ours to be had. Demy promised me a date today, and I suppose I should take it. Swinging my feet over the edge of the bed, a black box waited for me. Opening the top, my breath was stolen from me. Golden lace sparrows flew over a scarlet rockabilly dress, my shaking fingers pulling it out. Holding it to my body, the measurements were exact to me. The mattress creaked as Demy sat up, the morning sun bathing his handsome features.
“Do you like it? I ordered it a couple of weeks ago. Hopefully, it will fit.” He yawned groggily, rubbing his eyes. “I also ordered new jeans for you, considering that they won’t fit eventually. Try it on.” Tugging on my snug bra, the dress fit perfectly. Loving the way the skirt floated away from me, Demy was already dressed in a simple black dress shirt and dark jeans. His casual look threw me off, a scythe charm dangled off of his wrists. Staring at him with pure bewilderment, he tugged his hair into a neat man bun. Shrugging his shoulders, he sauntered over to me. His hungry eyes devoured me.
“I like it very much.” I stammered with a fluttering heart. Wrapping his arm around the small of my waist, his lips pressed against mine passionately. Arching my body towards him, time stopped once more. Why did this keep happening! Releasing me from his spell, his forehead pressed against mine.
“I forgot to tell you that I can disguise myself. Now I look like an albino goth.” He explained playfully, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Let me fix your hair.” Brushing through it, he twisted it into a simple side braid. Kicking over my boots, he kissed my forehead while I slid on my boots. Spinning around the room, he swung me underneath him. Smothering me in kisses, he placed me on his back. Walking downstairs, we burst out onto the busy street. People smiled at us as he took every turn to an abandoned mansion. Vines had claimed the red brick, the metal porches barely hanging on.
“I bought it for us.” He proclaimed proudly, placing his hands on his hips. “I thought it was time we got a place of our own. What do you think?” Tears welled up in my eyes, my hand falling on my bump. He didn’t have to, my other hand clenching into a tight ball. Glancing up at the top window, a lone female spirit floated in her flowing nightgown. Cocking my head, shadowy hands ripped her back. Bursting through the front door, dust covered the water damaged walls. Sprinting upstairs, my fingers curled around my staff. The stairs creaked dangerously underneath my boots, a jump in the air saving me from a painful fall as the steps crumbled. Landing on the metal railing, my boots clanged against the metal with every step. A ghost was in trouble, the scene shifting around me. Demy caught up to me, the inside of the house rewinding back in time. Pristine walls with ornate wallpaper greeted me, Demy letting out a long sigh.
“We are trapped in another time bubble.” He groaned to himself, rubbing his forehead. “We know the only way out is to kill the ghost who brought us here. This bubble reeks of something else though. Can you smell the sulfur?” Sniffing the air, he wasn’t wrong. Hiding me underneath the staircase, my breath hitched at his body pressed against mine. A man with chocolate brown hair and caramel eyes landed inches from us, blood pouring from his eyes. A child’s scream snapped me from my horror filled trance, a thirteen year old girl ran by us with her long brown waves flying behind her. A shadow figure chased after her, a jagged blade sliding through her chest. Watching the ruby drops hit the floor, the worn wooden handle became stained with her blood. Dropping to the floor, her hand reached for me. The demon snapped its head towards us, rows of bloody fangs clicked together. Spinning his blade in his palm, his wrist flicked abruptly, Demy’s back caught the blade, his scythe charm glowing red hot. Pushing the knife out with his muscles, the charm grew to its full size. Ravens cawed behind him, the bracelet turning back into his top hat. Scarlet flames twisted with golden flames, the feathers floating behind me. Cocking his head back, crazed laughter burst from his lips.
“You are going to have to find me first.” He taunted cruelly, clapping his hands. “I will never let you claim my home.” Demy narrowed his eyes in his direction, the annoyance disappearing into the floor. Coming out of our hiding spot, jazz music played outside. Creeping around the corner, my flames died down for a second. A pile of bright yellow liquid coated the spot he went through, Demy crouching down to examine it.
“He is ancient.” He grumbled under his breath, his kind gaze watched me take in the information. “The brighter the sulfur the older they are.” Feeling stupid for not understanding him, the solution wasn’t obvious to me. Shifting uncomfortably, no words came to the tip of my tongue. The ghost of the girl floated over to me, tears flowing endlessly down her cheeks. Her hair floated up behind her, her quaking hands gripping her ragged nightgown. Her milky eyes met mine, surprise rounding her eyes at my outreached hand.
“We are going to get rid of him for you. Unfortunately, I don’t think I can free you because of the whole murder thing. Maybe we can find your father.” I offered sincerely, her icy hands cupping mine. “We can turn on the television for you every now and then. I’ll even cook your favorite foods so you can smell them. The one thing you have to do is help me out. Can you do that?” The spirit of the father floated around the corner, his snow white hair danced wildly. Fixing his mustache, his milky eyes fell on us. Dusting off his suit, he cleared his throat. Holding out his hand, I gave it one good firm shake.
“I am Mr. Smillet and that is my daughter Milly. We would love to help you.” He introduced himself politely, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “Unfortunately, we can’t leave because of an eternal curse on the land but your idea sounds lovely. Let’s make this place a home once more.” Floating through the floor, his head popped up through the center of the hole.
“This is going to sound backwards but he is in the attic.” He chirped warmly, pulling himself out. “We will lead the way.” Walking past the photos of them, the nineteen twenties raged outside. Stopping at the attic door, they took a step back. Thanking them silently, we pushed the door open. Pressing our backs against the wall, the stairs creaked with every step. Glancing behind me, the door slammed shut behind us. The only light flickered, my heart seconds from beating out of my chest. Pop! A sea of darkness swallowed us, cold breezes lashing our cheeks. Summoning my flames, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach at his face inches from mine. Slamming my heel into his chest, he smashed into the wall. Climbing the stairs, I kicked a pile of boxes down the stairs. Spinning my scythe over my head, balls of flames whipped in his direction. Stopping them before they hit him, he raised his hand over his head. Hundreds of those damn daggers spun over his head, my metal feathers destroying them upon impact. Snapping his fingers, cold hands smashed through the floorboards. Slicing my palm on an exposed nail, Demy seemed to be dealing with his own problems. Smearing my hand on the wall, the scent was enough for me to summon my pets. Whistling sharply, the attic door rattled violently. Wet snarls echoed on the other side, my three pets taking him down to the ground. Pulling his gun from his pocket, Demy towered over the howling demon. Pressing his gun to his forehead, his finger tugged on the trigger. His bullet burst from the end, his body decaying to ash. My pets bounded up to me, their tails wagging a mile a minute. Rubbing their bellies, they melted into puddles.
“Who are good doggies!” I spoke with my dog mom’s voice, tongues licking my face left and right. The time bubble still remained, my eyes narrowing. Something felt off, a glowing orb bounced in the corner. Walking over to it cautiously, the ball of light floated into my clammy palm. Tears welled up in my eyes, the spirit was her mother. The real reason the time bubble existed was because of her, her soul purpose had been served. She stayed behind to protect them, one more thing stopping her.
“I need you to promise to take care of them.” She spoke gently, the orb floating in the air. “I can’t stay here because I dragged myself outside of the property line. I need to know that they will be okay.” Drops of light hit the floor, sobs bounced off the wall. Demy embraced me from behind, his chin resting on my head. Flashing the orb with his crooked grin, the drops of light slowed to a halt.
“We vow to give them a lovely afterlife. I was thinking we could give them the attic.” He promised sincerely, kissing the top of my head. “We can furnish the space as they wish. Then they can hang out with us downstairs. How does that sound?” Thinking for a minute, the orb floated into the sky. The time bubble glitched, a dusty attic greeting us. Pressing my palm to the splintered floor, a bright light blinded us. Covering his eyes, the light died down. Pristine floors brushed against my palm, a neat bedroom pleased me. The simple furniture would do, a picture of the girl's family hung on the wall. Running downstairs, the two spirits waited on the other side of the door. Opening the door for them, I motioned for them to go on up. Gasps of wonder bounced off the wall, my eyes scanning the scarlet walls. The hall seemed empty, my fingers tracing the one ancient mirror. Demy’s jaw dropped, my finger picking it up.
“If I can heal living things I can bring inanimate objects back to life.” I bragged with a wide grin, poking it to see if it was real. “I didn’t think I could do this well. We do have to get some furniture though. I could only manifest theirs because it had existed at one point. Do you like it?” Parting his lips to speak, a distraught woman sprinted in. One of our marks entered the hall, I put my foot out. Not seeing my foot, his face smashed onto the floor. Pressing my staff into his back, he put his hands up. The silky onyx hair contrasted the restored wooden floors, my three dogs surrounding him.
“If you move a fucking muscle you'll become dog chow.” I snapped hotly, flaming feathers hovered over him. “Tell me why you were cha-” My face dead panned at my former colleague charging at me with a haunted expression. Grabbing her by the arm, I tossed her over my head. The floor groaned in protest, the boards repairing themselves. Examining her closer, her eyes were ruby. Her lilac waves cascaded down her back, the white frilly Lolita dress hugged her petite body. A diamond collar sparkled on her neck, my eyes falling on the inky stain spreading on the white lace. Sniffing the air, I let them both go. A nasty bugger limped down the hall, a curved lilac blade quivered in his sludgy back. Demy raised his scythe, his ravens cawing behind him. Harsh winds blew our hair around, my flames roaring to life. Crouching down to their level, I yanked both of the heads up by their hair.
“If I help you, you join my army. No ifs, and or buts.” I barked sternly, the two of them nodding. “Sit back and watch the show.” Resting against the wall, her master fussed over her. Spinning my staff over my head, flaming feathers landed in the body. Demy leapt over my head, his scythe cutting into the body. The demon roared, horror rounding our eyes as it absorbed our power. Opening up its mouth, a wall of lilacs blocked its path. An idea came to mine, the flames of the burning lilacs illuminating my features.
“We need to hit it with everything we have.” I whispered so it wouldn’t hear, bewildered expressions meeting my determined grin. “You have trust in me.” Allowing my powers to build up at the top of my staff, Demy’s pure power built at the end of his scythe. Swinging our weapons at the same time, a rush of hot air blew our hair back. Taking the mirror off the wall, I held it in front of us. Let’s see how much power he could take. Demy held me by my hips in preparation for the impact. Absorbing the power as I had planned, a beam of our power slid us back a few feet. The beam hit him, the cracks beginning to form on his skin. Absorbing the doubled energy, he blasted the mirror again. The frame creaked, the beam striking the mirror once more. Demy held me down with all of his strength. The game of tennis continued until the energy decayed him into a pile of ash. Lowering the mirror, the house repaired itself. Demy huffed behind me, his arm spinning me around. Kissing me hungrily, he seemed grateful that I was alive. Crouching down to her level, Demy’s top hat absorbed his scythe and ravens.
“Where is she wounded? I won’t hurt her. I want to heal her.” I assured him kindly, the fellow demon taking a step back. “Do you mind?” Lifting up her dress, a nasty spike stuck out of her back. Ripping it out, she cussed like a sailor. Hovering my hand over the gaping wound, her muscle fused back together. Watching her skin patch itself, a nasty scar throbbed underneath my touch. Demy kicked her blade over, her trembling fingers gripping the worn leather hilt with raw terror.
“You must be Davidos Darth and Lilac Mattson. These two defected a couple of years ago.” Demy explained calmly, the petite woman embracing me graciously. “They were just hunted down by one of her sludgy monsters. The Golden Lion must be after you. The question is why.” A two year old girl peeked out from around the corner, her lilac waves grazing the floor. A white summer dress floated away from her body, her ruby eyes falling on me. A bright smile illuminated Lilac’s purple lips, the girl’s purple lips curling into a matching smile.
“Mommy!” She cried out, Lilac tossing me to the floor as she caught her daughter. “I am glad you are safe. I hid in my invisibility bubble like you told me too. Who is the pretty lady?” Crouching down to her level, I held out my hand.
“I am Scarlet Deaclon, your mother’s best friend. How do you feel about living here? Is that alright with your mother?” I inquired sweetly, her face lighting up. “I can’t have you guys running like that. I will put a protection spell on the house if it makes you feel better. Us defectors have to stick together.” Silent tears stained Lilac’s cheek, Davidos seemed seconds from crying.
“Seriously, I can’t have you guys on the street. Fight with me and we can have a miniature family.” I continued jovially, ruffling the girl’s beautiful hair. “I can also babysit if you need it.” Lilac began to sob, several fresh cuts and bruises caught my eyes.
“Why are you being so nice?” She wept softly, wiping away her tears. “I don’t deserve it. We left in s-” Putting my hand in the air, confusion mixed with sadness. Cupping her face, she quaked underneath my touch.
“She is the best reason to leave.” I comforted her kindly, my three dogs bounding up to the little girl. “Don’t worry they don’t bite. What’s her name?” Oreo, Stripes, and Darkness smothered her in love, the girl's giggles twinkled in the air. The four of them played as Davidos helped Lilac to her feet, Demy pacing back and forth. An irritated growl rumbled in his throat, a hand on his shoulder calming him down. He had to know that we needed allies, his lips brushing against the top of my head. Fishing around his pocket, a worn pocket knife sat in my palm. Cutting the blade across my palm, my eyes watched the blood pool. Drawing a powerful protection spell on the wall, the house rattled the moment I slammed my palm onto the wall. A golden dome hummed to life around the house. Mouthing a silent spell, five necklaces appeared in my palms. Golden feathers dangled off of the golden chains, no words being said as I passed them out.
“These will protect you when you leave the house.” I informed them with my real smile, dropping the necklace over the little girl’s head. “This should increase your ability to become invisible.” Clearing her throat, she stood in the attention position. Holding her head up high, Demy grinned at her proud stance.
“I am Lavender.” She introduced herself boldly, cupping my hands. “I vow to be your ally.” Chuckling softly to myself, my hand fell to my stomach absentmindedly. Hoping my kid was this awesome, hope glittered in her eyes. Demy spun me on my heels, placing my necklace over my head. Hooking his elbow in mine, he glanced back with concern.
“We are going to pick up some grub. Is pizza okay?” He asked with his crooked grin, their heads nodding. “We will be right back.” Guiding me out the door, our neighbors stared at us long and hard. Waving to them, they waved back awkwardly. Letting the moonlight bathe me, he spun me around. Holding me by the small of my waist, scarlet colored my cheeks.
“Did you see that adorable little girl? Do you think ours will be as awesome?” He mused playfully, kissing my lips feverishly. A goofy look dawned on my face, the feather necklace I made glittered on his shirt. Following my gaze, he fiddled with the magical charm.
“I would be a fool not to wear what my wife made for me.” He continued happily, his hand sliding down to my slight bump. Getting onto his knees, his lips brushed against the surface. Hugging my bump, a deeper crimson rose to my cheeks. People watched with warm smiles, the older couples holding each other tighter. Rising to his feet, he hooked his elbow in mine. Making me feel like the lead in a romance novel, pride swelled in his eyes. Walking me to the local pizza place, a warmth came over me. A shadow figure darted in the distance, the serenity leaving my mind. What the hell was that?

Peace, Technology, Unity. These are what the council promises to its citizens
Empire size will remain under 100 for the duration of the game with this build if tall is what you are looking for, it is fall that you will recieve. we’re using 4 worlds, But it is technically possible with 3, Unity would be a problem in that case though.
Game settings i’ve tested this on, x1 tech, x1 habitables, x10 crisis, end game start year 2300, late game scaling, grand admiral. Normal ai aggressiveness.
TRAITS
Intelligent, because yes
Budding, it’s better than rapid Breeders for the late game, but rapid breeders can still be interesting since our early game economy kinda needs all the help it can get.
Natural engineers Or Traditional Or Talented if a leader build is what we’re going for, either one of theses is a good pick
Unruly is a free pick for the early years, and can be hopefully removed later, either by us or Composer RNG. An alternative would be nonadaptive, but it has a lot more of an impact early game.
Deviant, the negative governing ethics attraction will probably only end up as a rounding error, we are playing both psionic spiritualist, and tall. Ain’t no way we are getting any problems with diverging ethics.
Solitary is a nice alternative if ethic divergence scares you, we’ll be building city districts all over the place for the building slots, housing will not be an issue.. at all.
For our starting leader trait we’ll be going spark of genius, or logistic understanding, research speed is always nice, but the reduced ship upkeep would also be amazing in the late game, if you’re going with logistic understanding i would suggest picking a governor as a leader, for a couple reasons. Most notably we’ll be having some ringworlds with merchants late game, so the % increases to trade value are very interesting. Researcher is still better for research though, you can get a solid 20-25% so either one is worth a good amount of consideration.
ORIGIN
Teachers of the shroud for early Psionics. But in theory a lot of origins could do here if you are ready to give RNG a shot.
On a related note, the Patron we will be going for is ideally the Composer, since the bonus to pop growth is both good early game and invaluable to fill out our ringworlds. It also has the best Sanctum for our purposes and a decent ship component. Overall, a good option.
The instrument of Desire is also a good alternative, Job output and trade for our eventual ringworlds is good, but the real kicker is the mark of the Instrument, which reduces ship upkeep and increases sub light speed which is by far the best ship component of all the patrons.
Whisperers is okay-ish in the early game, but it really suffers once it gets time to actually fill our ringworlds and stuff. If you’re going for a weird, high evasion ships, super espionage build though.. eh, sure, why not. But otherwise it’s not ideal.
Since we’re going fanatic pacifist, we don’t have to worry about the Eater, like, ever. YAY !
Speaking of ethics…
ETHICS
:: Fanatic Pacifist, Spiritualist
Now this might come as a surprise, so why Fanatic pacifist ? It does lock us into defensive wars after all, and that’s awful… right ?
Well the defensive war only policy, doesn’t make as big a difference as it might sound like. Liberation war already only allows to make claims during defensive wars and that stays unchanged, and for a tall empire, losing the ability to impose ideology, or make a forced vassal through war, isn’t really all that much of a loss. If we want to declare war like, really badly, we will be getting alternative methods through the senate and general diplomacy.
On top of that, Fanatic Pacifist allows us to pick whatever authority we like, and frees up one civic slot which is actually pretty massive especially for build flexibility.
CIVICS
The first civic has to be. Master Crafters, the consumer goods are nice, but what is really a big deal here is the trade value, since with this play-style we’ll be staying with 3 to 4 planets only until our traditions are done, this will allow us to keep our original technicians on our homeworld and roll with it until the endgame.
The second civic:: can be, for exemple, Meritocracy, it’s just a good civic. But depending on what you’re going for you might want to look at something else entirely. Again picking fanatic pacifist really allows us to have a lot flexibility here.
The third civc:: Ascensionists. More Planetary Ascension effect is what the kids theses days would call, "very poggers".
AUTHORITY
Yeah just pick oligarchy. Or imperial if you plan on using feudal society or something.
TRADITIONS
1ST::
Expansion.
Expansion is a good pick for the reduced empire size from both systems and colonies, on top of the extra population growth, it’s just good, it also increases the weight to draw the Composer, which is the best patron by far for the late game. With the 20% to pop growth speed on top of the 10% increase to pop growth speed on Psi corps. It also has the best Sanctum of the patrons with a 5% empire wide production bonus on top of some habitability.
2ND::
Psionics
It’s just good for us to finish this one early so we will save up unity until we can finish the research for Psionic Theory which is generally the second to third technology pick after hydroponics and whatever else that shows up.
3RD::
Diplomacy::
Making a Federation is absolutely critical for our purposes, there is no other good reason to pick this, but the federation bonuses that the holy covenant gives are significant enough. If you’re not able to find someone with similar ethics, find a planet in the middle of nowhere and settle it, before releasing it as a vassal and then releasing the vassal to form a federation with it. That way they will have the same ethics and will be extremely willing to form a federation despite your war policy. You might want to leave that tradition incomplete until you at least get Champions of the empire to reduce the empire size.
4TH
Aptitude::
Leaders good. But the empire size reduction from champions of the empire is basically completely busted for tall players.
5th
Harmony, More planetary ascension, less empire size from pops, and even some extra leader lifespan, what more could a man want ?
6TH::
Mercantile, why mercantile ? Well, simply put. Money. Federations tax all forms of energy income other than trade, so you would be getting 15% more energy from all of your trade sources than any other sources by default with our current build, on top of that the extra merchants will allow us to make ringworlds with a massive amount of them, creating a downright obscene amount of energy, this perk is what fuels our energy economy in the late game, it’s vital that we take it.
7TH
Supremacy
It’s probably one of the best tradition trees in the game. It’s just straight to the point. It’ll ensure that our navy is as big as it can be given our small footprint.
ASCENSION PERKS
1st Imperial prerogative
2nd, Technological ascendency or transcendent learning.
3rd Technological ascendency or transcendent learning.
4th we’ll either be keeping around as free in order to pick Galactic wonders or we’re going to pick nihilistic acquisition (Yes, it requires authoritarian, but we’ll be electing our chosen one as divine sovereign, which switches us over to authoritarian.)
The rest is entirely up to you, you might want to pick up gardians of the galaxy for extra crisis damage.
THE GAME PLAN
2200-2230 is the hardest part, your economy is going to be in shambles very soon. Put down science labs as quickly as possible, homeworld is a tech world.
Find your guaranteed habitables, settle them as soon as you can, your first one will also be dedicated to technology, the second one will be consumer goods and once you find a third one, it’ll be your unity world.
We aren’t going beyond that, we’re playing tall over here, empire size is our directive, if you want a more true to form approach, look up the 3k+ research by 2250 tutorial made by u/yzseven89, this dude knows how to play the game, he will bring you knowledge and technology.
We’re still aiming for a pretty cool 1k by 2230 and ideally 2k by 2250. It should be a pretty reasonable goal since we started off two tech worlds. Buy minerals, in the early years, don’t let the planetary queues be idle, build city districts, then buildings, and repeat. 3k is still theoretically possible, but it requires some good luck, it’s nice if you can achieve it, but i’d say a 2k goal is good enough.
You will want to switch to civilian economy.
In some cases you might even put the factory homeworld designation for a little while if necessary, ideally we want to avoid it since it shoots our alloy production in the foot and reduces our researcher output a little, but it might be necessary to relieve some stress off of your economy.
2230 - 2250 is the calm after the storm of death that is the early years, you have a few more pops to play around with, you have neighbours to make commercial pacts with and vassalize.
Genocidal empires will be the bane of your existence, you can’t out-power them in your current state, you just can’t, diplomacy is your only shield so you better use it well.
Make friends with your neighbours. Grant away favours early on in the relations if it looks like it’s going to turn sour. Friendship is mandatory.
Once the event pops up crown your chosen one as eternal god emperor, The council position it unlocks is the best in the entire game. Since you’re also authoritarian now, you can pick nihilistic aquisition, which will be very useful in the late game once we are starting to feel the effects of the relatively low pop growth that Psionic empires have.
Once you picked nihilistic acquisition with your free perk slot you had saved up, quickly embrace your pacifist faction once again, and say goodbye to the useless authoritarianism.
2250 - 2300
From then on it’s just about keeping your tech up, and making as many alloys as is reasonable on the side in anticipation of mega engineering.
If you have to build a megastructure from scratch, build a mega shipyard, it’s fastest and cheapest one, then i’d recommend the Dyson sphere followed by a ringworld.
Once you have all 7 traditions finished is when you can really boom and start putting down planetary ascensions, so don’t neglect your unity, it’s very important, so if you find yourself lagging behind in the 2250s, don’t hesitate to resettle three to five of your researcher pops to your unity world.
Start off an alloy world down the line and start pumping out them Ecumenopoli, two of your four ring segments to trade, two to research.
2300 - Victory
Make another ringworld, this time entirely for research. As for the rest. Make ships, prepare for the endgame crisis, and that’s about it.

I'm about 30 games into a Moose Franchise, and wanted to share my observations about the changes to their roster in the new game. I think they're still a strong team, but they've been buffed and nerfed in some pretty unique ways.
First, the good. Stallion Johnson sneakily might be one of the most improved players in the whole league thanks to his newfound youth (21 years old) and his new trait, Offspeed Hitter. This makes him really easy to use, as you can sit on offspeed stuff with him and time your power swings to get 99's on those pitches. Invest in this guy, he will pay off for you.
Johnson's improvements are a bit of a double-edged sword, as the outfield is even more crowded now. You're going to want to play Hose Tremendo in CF for home games at Stade Royale. With its 430 foot center field, you need Hose's Cannon Arm out there. You absolutely want Heronimus Jackson's bat in the lineup, and Buck Swiner is a really solid defender with one of the few left-handed power bats on the team. Irene Fast is not getting any younger at 38, and may be the odd one out of this talented outfield.
The Moose's new player is SP/RP Swirly Cutstiff. She's no Norm Fenomeno, but she's a B tier pitcher with a unique arsenal that doesn't feature a 4SFB, but includes an Elite Cutter. Swirly is a Choker and will underperform in the clutch. I've been using her as a stopper early in the game if we're down by 3-5 runs. That way, there's no pressure on her and she can shut them down while we try to make a comeback. It's a bit odd that the Moose received a SP/RP when they already have mop-up guy Felix Farmhand, and the two might compete for player development funds as they're both very young.
Rhiannon Cannon has tragically aged to 32 years old, and you will no longer be able to develop her into Pedro Martinez. Enjoy her Elite 4SFB while you can. Luckily, the Moose have a new SP development project in Sancha Silvio, who is now just 21 years old. Like a true Moose pitcher, Sancha has great accuracy, so focus on improving her stuff and maybe try to get her a fifth pitch.
I am pleased to inform you that Rip Dingers remains That Guy. He has stolen the Low Pitch trait from Perry Quaker, and crushes bombs on low curveballs. Quaker, meanwhile, is now Clutch, and Heronimus Jackson has picked up the Outside Pitch trait. These three are the heart and soul of the lineup, but they're all right-handed, so maybe try to complement them with a good lefty bat in free agency if you can.
Speaking of free agents, if you're using the default ones, I heavily recommend picking up Theresa Ketchum for Pedro Nixon. Nixon is a good hitter, but his defense is abominable and teams will run all over his pathetic arm. And if you want to put Roman Rhoads in for his defense, first of all, his defense is not very good, and then there's no room for Nixon's great bat in the lineup as you're probably going to want to play Heronimus Jackson in the DH slot. So upgrading to a badass defensive catcher with a good bat and a great trait (Mind Gamer) has helped me shore up one of the Moose's only weaknesses, controlling the running game.
Lastly, until they patch out this bug, I thought I'd talk about Lionel Martinez, who is actually useful now. He's got the Pinch Perfect trait, which makes him better while pinch hitting, but will remain if you leave him in the game, as long as you don't change his position.
So there you have it. The Moose. Let's go Moose baby love da Moose